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loveydovey-leviathan · 3 months

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"promise"

leona x gn!reader

summary: leona pushes you away because he wants you to be happy | 2k words

cw: very loosely based on the song "promise" by laufey, reader is yuu, farena uses yuu's happiness against his brother, kinda ooc, leona doesn't know how to handle his emotions or problems, he's a dick but when is he not, leona pushes you away and he doesn't communicate properly, reader chooses leona over their world, happy ending because im not one of those writers who likes to see everyone suffer /j

The day Leona had was too nice and the night too beautiful for him to be putting up with his perfect, always-the-first-choice, thinking-he-knew-what-was-best-for-everyone, and quite frankly just plain annoying older brother.

"What do you want?" he grumbles as soon as he answers the call, lying down on his bed.

"What, I can't call my younger brother just because?" Farena chuckles, a sound familiar to Leona but he knows him well enough to realise that he has an ulterior motive besides just checking up on him.

"You don't call unless it's to tell me something."

"Now, I know that's not true! I've called you plenty of times but-"

"Spit it out."

The voice on the huffs, but it's followed by a few seconds of silence. Leona is about to hang up before Farena finally breaks it.

"I know about your relationship with the Prefect of Ramshackle Dorm, Leona. Did you really think you could hide it from me.?

"I never hid it from you."

"Then how come you didn't tell me? It's been months!"

"I don't tell you anything."

"I know that but I thought you'd tell me this at the very least," another sigh from the King. Leona waits for him to continue because there's clearly more to this pointless conversation.

"Leona, you may not be King but you still have responsibilities to uphold."

"I knew what I was getting into when I chose ___."

"Yes, but do they know?"

"Of course, they do, they aren't stupid."

"Are you sure? And I mean absolutely sure, no doubts whatsoever and everything was made crystal clear since the beginning. I'm not talking about the stupid part, in case you were wondering."

"What are you getting at," it was more of a demand than a question.

"You're a prince, Leona! That's what I'm getting at, you can't be selfish like this!"

"Yes, I can," Leona knew he was selfish, but so many things had been taken from him purely by chance, but you chose to love him. He was your first choice and he'd love you for the rest of his life, consequences and stupid responsibilities be damned.

"I meant concerning ___. They're from another world, correct? Would you make them choose between you and the family they have back in their home?"

Leona doesn't like to think about it. The thought is shoved into the far corners of his mind, where worries as heavy as this are left to fester, waiting to attack on lonely nights. He grips his bed sheets tight.

"You should consider their happiness as well, Leona," he knows that, everything he's done was in an effort to do so– to prove to you that you weren't going to regret loving him.

"And if they do choose you, and if this relationship lasts until both of you graduate, do you think they'll be happy here with you? It's one thing to date during school, but when you leave its confines and truly become a Prince, will they still be happy with you? Royalty has always upheld a tremendous amount of responsibility, and the spouse of said royalty is expected to share that burden alongside them."

Once again, Leona doesn't answer, and Farena sighs. It's one of finality and exhaustion.

"I hope you think about what I've said tonight, Leona. Good night, and I'm always here when you need me," the call ends and the second son puts down the phone. He doesn't know how long he stays awake staring at the ceiling, but by the end of it, he clenches his fist even harder and grits his jaw. He loves you too much to be selfish.

━━━━━━━

You find Leona under his usual spot in the botanic garden. He’s as pretty as always but it’s immediately evident to you that something is wrong. His body is too tense, there are dark circles under his eyes and his tail is lashing side to side in a rapid manner.

“Leona?” you call to him, but he doesn’t answer, though you know he’s awake. You step towards him and sit down near his head, expecting him to drag your body nearer so he can lay on your lap. He doesn’t move.

You know him much more than he thinks you do, so there isn’t a doubt in your mind when you ask “...Did your brother call?”. At that, he finally raises an eyelid and his mouth moves to form the question you’ve become used to, ‘How’d you know?’ but only a sigh leaves his lips.

Suddenly he sits up, and you notice that there’s at least a foot of distance in between you. He stares at your face for a while and the silence as you wait for him to say something stretches more than it should– something is wrong and even though he isn’t acting that weird, there’s a heavy feeling in your gut that spreads to your chest and onto your fingers, begging to hold him.

So you do. You scoot closer and entwine your hands with his. He hesitates for 1, 2, 3 seconds before squeezing back and tucking his head into the crook of your neck like all he wants to do is hide away. Gently, ever so gently, you place his head onto his usual spot on your thighs and he buries his face in your stomach. The action is tight and desperate, his body curls as though he wants to mould his very being to you. It cracks open your ribs and makes your heart bleed because when he hurts, you hurt with him.

The rest of the lunch break is quiet but he doesn’t fall asleep. And when you leave you don’t see him for days.

━━━━━━━

He senses you before he even hears your footsteps, before the warm and familiar sound of your voice fills the hallways of this school. It’s always been like that with you, he realises. He doesn’t even have to search for you– it’s like he already knows his place in the world and that’s by your side, so he just gravitates towards the one he’s given his heart to. But he makes a conscious effort to ignore the tug of his legs that instinctively wants to be near and moves away.

He knows he should just tell you, end it all before he hurts you and the poison in his veins that tells him he’s never going to be good enough taints you as well– which you aren’t, you deserve so much more than a second no-good prince– but he’s also selfish, and he figures out that he is also a giant coward.

The voice that tells him so screams at him when he breaks his promise and goes back to you, tail between his legs and shame on his shoulders weighing him down. It always happens when he’s delirious on sleep deprivation because he can’t close his eyes without seeing you and the hurt expression you try to hide when you think no one’s looking. He tries to push you away, or rather to pull himself away– but he can’t stand the thought of you going back to life without him even though his conscious mind wants you to.

When he first showed up at your doorstep, the betrayal and shock pummelled his soul to the earth and made his heart drop to his gut. But you didn’t say anything when he barged into your personal space and wrapped himself around you like he never left. He half-expected you to demand why he’d been so distant but all you did was hug him back so tight his heart lodged in his throat and tears welled up from the choking feeling. You took him by the hand and you both slept on the couch that night. By the next morning, he was gone without a word and the guilt felt even heavier, knowing he got your hopes up. He promised himself he wouldn’t do this again.

That night repeats days after and the cycle repeats. His visits don’t have a pattern. Sometimes, he comes after 3 days, others a week or more. By the third visit, you look tired- of him. He hates it but somehow it feels right, not in the way he likes but in the way you’re supposed to. The way you deserve to. Maybe if you hated him you wouldn’t hurt.

━━━━━━━

He’s lost count of how many times he’s visited but tonight when he sees you, you look angry, rightfully so. You’re undeservingly patient towards him. When Leona sees your face, you’re angry– furious at him. You look like you want to throw him across all your furniture in hopes that he feels the same way you feel.

“Leona–” he hates the way you say his name. It’s angry and cruel and deserved. “-- what the hell is going on? You won’t tell me what happened to make you act like this and then you ignore me for days right after–”

“Nothing’s going on,” he stubbornly grumbles. Like he’s said every time you’ve asked. Every time he says this you look increasingly frustrated because it’s obvious that he’s lying– and your eyebrows scrunch in exasperation once more.

But this time your face falls and his heart stops.

“We can’t keep doing this anymore, if you don’t tell me– then I can’t be with you.”

He doesn’t know why he’s so frazzled– this is what he’s been waiting for because he was too much of a weakling to tell you himself, why he started all of this in the first place.

But he misses you, and he’s selfish. He always has been and he doubts he’s ever going to change.

“Would you choose me?” The question makes you pause.

“Leona, I did choose you–”

“If you could go back to your world, would you still choose me?” Would you pick me first?

You’re silent then. His palms almost bleed with how hard he clenches his hands as he waits for you.

“...Yes. Yes, I would. If you tell me why you’re acting like this.” He doesn’t know if you’re telling the truth, if you’ll still tell him that if there really was a time you had to choose between him and your world. But he’s so tired, and he loves you more than the amount of stars there are in the sky.

“I got a call from Farena,” this makes you hesitantly reach for his hand. He meets you halfway and you rub your thumb over his knuckles. The action makes him want to tear up– you’re still so gentle with him after everything.

“Do you think you’ll be happy with me? When we both graduate and I have to help my brother rule, will you be happy?”

He feels your hand on his cheeks, lifting his head to look at you properly. The look in your eyes isn't angry or hurt, it’s soft and understanding. He almost forgot how it felt to be on the other side of your affections.

“I knew what I was getting into when I chose you. You’re rough around the edges but you make me happy in ways no one ever did, like no one ever could.”

He moves his arms to hug you but he stops, still not sure if he’s allowed to. You meet him halfway and he buries his face into your neck. You feel tears stain your shirt and he lets out a sigh so deep and tired it makes you smile.

“Haven’t been able to sleep without you, herbivore.”

You chuckle, “Guess you aren’t getting rid of me then.”

“...Sorry.”

“I know. I love you.”

“I love you too, more than anything.”

You hold him with enough love to break his heart all over again, and he holds you like a beast who doesn’t deserve it but will gladly take anything you give him.

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arashrita · 8 months

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HC: Telling him that you hate him during an argument + Aftermath

Why did it come down to this? One moment you two were having a good time and the next moment it turned into a heated argument.

"I hate you so much!"

Now, you can't do anything after those horrible words left your mouth as he stared at you with a heartbroken look on his face.

Housewardens

Riddle: He knew this will happen one day. After all he has done...it was bound to happen right? He has hurt you multiple times, so, it's only fair that you don't love him anymore. He knows. But... why does it hurt so much then...? Why does it feel like someone is stabbing him in the heart again and again? Why...? are his eyes burning...?

You regretted it instantly the moment those words left your mouth. Your heart ached as tears filled his eyes. You wanted to comfort him so much. But, you also knew he needs his space. So, you look away and walk out of his room immediately.

Leona: First he felt anger and it turned into deep, raw sadness. He was used to people hating on him, but you? He stumbled back as your words sank in. He knows he deserved it. He wasn't someone lovable. He just wasn't expecting you to say those words so early, yeah, that's all.

"...Get out."

You did get out. As much as you wanted to comfort your adorable lion, you know your words cut through him deeply. He needs time to calm down and you need to get rid of your negative feelings. You will make it up to him, dosen't matter whatever it takes. For now, you will leave him to collect his thoughts.

Azul: All of the negative thoughts in the world were crowding inside of Azul's head as those words left your mouth. To be honest, he expected that. But (Y/N) you pulled him up from that dark pit, then why did you drop him in it again...? He was ugly and a stupid crybaby and he didn't deserve you. He always knew that. Even now he couldn't do anything as his composure crumbled and he sobbed silently.

Oh... Azul... your sweet boy... How could you say something like that to him?! Shame and Guilt were all you could feel as you ran out of his room. You will have to apologize to him. Just... not now, when the both of you are filled with pessimistic thoughts. You just hoped that he will forgive you...

Kalim: Tears immediately spilled out from his eyes as you said those words. He already heard Jamil say those words once. But you? If Jamil's words broke his heart then your words shattered it into pieces and kept shattering until there was nothing left. He will still try to scoop you up in his arms as you move put of his reach, hurting him more in the process.

You moved out of his reach not because you hated him, but because you were horrified to see the damage you've caused. You bolt out of his room as his sobs got louder. Shit... (Y/N), you messed up real bad.

Vil: You hated him? You? His sweet potato? He felt thousands of knives stabbed him at once as the words left your mouth. He was silent as he tried to process the situation. You didn't mean that, did you? Then... why are you looking at him with those hateful eyes...? Those eyes... who used to have so much love in them for him... are the same eyes that can pull off such a look...?

You couldn't look at Vil anymore. Just what have you done? You wanted the ground to swallow you whole as you ran out of his room. You will have to apologize to Vil. He didn't deserve to hear those vicious false words...

Idia: "Leave"

You oblige without another word. His reaction was something you deserved. How could you say those horrible words to him? You felt like a monster.

Once you left, Idia's cold demeanor shattered as he collapsed on the floor with hot tears running down his face like a waterfall. Your love was the only thing he had. It urged him to move forward. You were his light...and now? his light flickered out and left him to drown in the darkness that mocked him for his foolishness.

Malleus: The fae prince was speechless. You could physically hear his heart shattering. Where did he go wrong...? Just what did he do so wrong for you to stomp on his heart like this...? So, do you also see him as a monster now? He thought you could never hurt him. But look at you now. You managed to hurt him in the worst way possible as his eyes turned into a pathetic pool of tears.

Hurting Malleus was the last thing you wanted to do. How could you say such a vile thing to him, out of all people? Your sweet, loving dragon who never left your side. Who went through so much because of you, who always respected you, always stood up for you, always...loved you... Your heart broke with his as you stumbled out of his room and ran back to your dorm.

AFTERMATH

Riddle: You saw him 3 days ago. You stopped visiting Heartslabyul and in school he avoids like the plague. Even Ace and Deuce were worried. They told you that Riddle isn't himself and that you should probably talk to him.

So, you did. You went to Heartslabyul after school. Riddle didn't answer when you knocked on his door. You turned the doorknob... and it was open? What the heck? Riddle isn't one to be careless with that. But, then you say him. He was lying on the floor, half conscious while he clutched onto something desperately. It... was a photo. A photo you took with him on your first date.

"Riddle!!"

You quickly kneeled down beside him to see what's going on. He had a high fever. Foolish boy... Did he really have to overwork himself to the extent where he gets himself sick?! He probably wasn't taking care of himself. How come you didn't notice before?!

"(Y-Y/N)? w-what are you—

"Riddle... I'm so so sorry. I swear I didn't mean anything I said! I was so stupid... I-I can never hate you!"

You managed to pull him up from the floor and drop him in his bed instead.

He smiled sadly as you sat down beside him.

"It's okay (Y/N), you don't have to stay—

"No, Riddle, I love you. Without you I just won't belong. You will always be the love of my life, Riddle Rosehearts!"

"...I love you too (Y/N), my dear rose."

He pulled you closer to him as you promised yourself to never hurt him like that again. You will pull him back to his feet in no time!

Leona: You didn't have the courage to face Leona after what you did. The two of you successfully managed to avoid each other the whole week.

"(Y/N), I really think you should make up with Leona now. He is in a foul mood since forever."

Ruggie told you one day during lunch.

"I know... I just... don't know how to face him after messing up so bad."

You sighed.

"Well, it's your mess, so, clean it up yourself. He is really hurting you know. Apologize before he starts doubting your love for him."

Yeah, that was the nudge you needed. Ruggie successfully managed to shove you towards the right path. That's why you found yourself inside of Leona's room after school. Ruggie, who was cleaning up, gave you a pointed look and left the room.

You could say Leona wasn't sleeping. He was just lying in his bed with his eyes closed. It was also easy to tell that he was upset because of the way his ears were drooped and his tail was tucked between his legs.

"Leona..."

He didn't move. He didn't open his eyes either.

"Go away, (Y/N)."

That's when you knew you messed up real bad. Leona never calls you (Y/N), not even during arguments .

"Leona, please..."

"Why? Why are you here? Don't you hate me?"

"Leona...! No, I swear! I can never hate you! I'm so sorry that I threw such vile words at you which had no truth in them! I-I never meant to say that... You are my world, Leona, how can I ever hate someone like you? I love you so much. I love you and only you, Leona Kingscholar."

He cracked one eye open.

"Come here."

Once you approached him, he pulled you in the bed. Leona wrapped his arms around you. He was afraid that it he dosen't hold you then you will disappear.

"...Don't leave herbivore. You are the only thing I have. I love you too.

Azul: Four days. Four agonizing days without Azul by your side. Without your favourite octo-mer by your side everything felt so colourless. Yet, you just couldn't bring yourself up to face him and apologize. The tweels were also pretty upset with you for hurting Azul like that, specially Floyd. Jade, in some way was understanding.

"Prefect, I think it's time you make up with Azul, you know."

Jade told you one day when you were heading to your first class.

"I know Jade... I just... you know...I don't dare go up to him after what I did."

You looked down.

"Don't be like that. You know how he is. In fact, he can't focus on anything after your argument with him. Don't let him go back to his self-destructing ways. He needs you the most right now."

"...Thanks, Jade."

Jade was right. You love him and it's time you actually show him how much. However, when you went to Octavinelle after school, you didn't find Azul anywhere. Where did he go? After quite a while of searching you found him alone near the school's botanical garden. You silently walked closer and noticed how his shoulders were shaking. You took a step closer and... you could hear his quiet sobs...

"Azul..."

Your voice was soft but still he flinched. He was ready to run if it wasn't for your hand that touched his shoulder. You hurt him so bad, yet, your touch was so comforting that he couldn't help but stay rooted in his place.

"Azul... I'm really sorry..."

His sobs got louder.

"You don't ha-have to be. W-who would love a st-stupid, useless, crybaby o-octopus like me?"

"Azul...! You are neither stupid nor useless. You are one of the most amazing people I ever saw in my life. You are smart and hardworking. You are loving and caring. You make me feel like I belong and I love you so so much Azul Ashengrotto."

He could feel his face getting hotter, not from his endless sobbing but because of your words. Damn you for breaking his heart and then fixing it up this way. Honestly, he couldn't help but throw himself in your arms and whimper.

"I l-love you too angelfish. So, p-please don't leave like that ever again...!"

Kalim: It was the second night after your argument with Kalim. Honestly, you felt horrible. You don't even remember what were you two arguing about. Now, all you want to do is apologize to Kalim. You miss his warm embrace...

There was a knock on your door. You were a bit surprised. Who came to visit you at a time like this? You opened the door hesitantly. To your surprise, it was Jamil. Before you could even say anything he started speaking.

"Kalim is crying uncontrollably since the night before yesterday. He didn't come out of his room and he skipped classes. He isn't eating, refusing to talk to anyone, including me. Prefect, this is serious. Come with me now and fix it."

There was something in Jamil's tone that prevented you from protesting. So, you followed him to the hall of mirrors and then to Scarabia. He left you in front of Kalim's room and walked away without another word. You could hear Kalim's heart breaking sobs and honestly you wanted to crawl in a hole in shame. You knocked on his door.

"Kalim, it's me—

You couldn't even finish your sentence as the door flew open and Kalim literally flung towards you.

"(Y-Y/N)! I-I'm sorry for whatever I did...! P-please d-don't h-hate me..."

He sobbed on your shoulder.

"Kalim...! Sweetheart, no! I can never hate you! I'm so terribly sorry for being such a bitch. I swear I never meant those words. You mean so much to Kalim! I-I don't even dare to hate you... I love you so much Kalim al-Asim."

"I-I love you too m-my treasure!"

Kalim didn't let you go for that night. The night was spent with words of assurance and a lot of cuddling.

Vil: Two weeks. Two freaking weeks. You didn't want to face Vil, not after what you did. He avoids you like the plague and you are pretty sure this is going to last for another few days.

"Ah mon trickster, what did you do this time? I never saw roi de poison this upset before."

Rook had had enough of Vil's foul mood and your distant behavior. So, he finally decided to approach you.

"We had a nasty argument Rook and uh I said something really vicious and now I don't know how to apologize..."

That was only half of the truth.

"Just be honest with him. Roi de poison dosen't like beating around the bush. So, don't sugarcoat anything and tell him how you genuinely feel. Also, don't let his harsh demeanor fool you. Good luck mon trickster~"

Okay, Rook was probably right. That's why you decided to follow his advice and went in search for the Pomfiore housewarden after school. Vil is a busy person. So, you have to be sincere and quick.

You found him in his room. He looked...defeated. Like, if you looked closer you could see that he was still as vibrant as ever but... something about him just felt off. Rook, who was in his room winked at you and left you with Vil to solve the mess you created.

Vil stared at you. Even his gaze was different. He looked ready to suck up whatever you throw at him and that wasn't the Vil you know.

"What is it prefect?"

"Vil... look, I'm so sorry. I never meant what I said. I can't believe I said that to you, out of all people. I'm so so sorry Vil. I never meant it, I promise. I'm sorry that I didn't reach out to you sooner... I just... couldn't face you after what I did. You mean the world to me. I really love you, so so much Vil Schoenheit."

He seemed a bit taken aback by your words but you would've sworn that you saw a small smile.

"Apology accepted sweet potato. Now, come here. Also... I love you too."

His embrace never felt better.

Idia: You just couldn't reach Idia no matter how much you tried for the past three days. It's like he disappeared. You still can't believe that you actually told Idia that you hate him. You already know how he is. Good heavens, this is not going to be easy. Idia even banned Ortho from talking with you. (You found out because Ortho decided not to listen to his brother.) Anyways, the point is, you have to apologize to Idia and make it up with him ASAP.

So, you made a plan. You asked Ortho about Idia's schedule and waited outside of Idia's room. You have to talk with him when he is outside of his room and the best way? Exactly, wait for him to finish his classes and catch him when he isn't scooped up in his room.

You did exactly that. Just when you caught a glimpse of him you immediately ran to him.

"Idia!"

Well, it almost gave him a heart attack. For a moment he forgot that he was supposed to be upset with you. But how can he? When you were clinging to him like a koala? Then again this was serious.

"Let go, (Y/N)."

"Idia—

"(Y/N), I said let go."

"Idia, please—

"LET GO ALREADY!!"

Idia rarely shouts at anyone let alone you. Well, he had a right to be angry. So, you reluctantly let go of him.

"...Just give me a chance to explain and I promise I'll leave you alone after that, if you want me to..."

"Speak."

Sometimes you forget that Idia can get like this. He usually isn't scary. Idia is a really shy and introverted person. But, well, he has his moments.

"...I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I hurt you. I'm sorry that I didn't bother to hear you out. I'm sorry...that I can't be good enough for you... Still, Idia, I can't hate you, no, never you. You make me feel like I have a place in this world. Because of you, I can be happy. Your love is what I cherish the most. So, yes, Idia Shroud, I love you and I always will."

Idia didn't say anything. In fact, he looked away from you.

You were saddened to see this and decided to give him his space. But, you barely took two steps when two arms wrapped around your torso. His breath was warm against your cheeks and you could hear his sniffles.

"Don't leave...(Y/N)... Stay with me... I love you too."

Malleus: A severe storm has been going on since four days. Four days you last talked to Malleus. Four days...after that fateful night... Seriously, Malleus is the last person you wanted to hurt. Your precious dragon, how could you hurt him like that? You broke his heart in the worst way possible. You wanted to scream and throw things. You still can't believe that you said you hate Malleus out of all people. You didn't need to look at his face to know that he was extremely upset. The storm was enough proof.

Sebek yelled at you a lot. Silver...was well... he was trying to be understanding. Lilia wasn't pleased with the situation but he understood where you are coming from. Also, he is aware that you don't have any ill intentions. So, being the old wise fae he is, he urged you to have a conversation with Malleus. According to him, you are the only who can actually get through him.

"He isn't coming out of his room. As mush as I want to drag him away from his bed, his sad face stops me every time. So, prefect, please go and take responsibility."

Oh, you were willing to do that. Lilia dropped you literally inside of Malleus's room and good lord he locked the door from outside. Damn Lilia.

You sighed and looked at Malleus, who was curled up in his blankets completely. Only his horns were visible. You would think he was asleep if it wasn't for the soft sniffles that was coming from under the blankets.

"Malleus...?"

You pulled off the blankets a little to see his face and his eyes widened immediately. He moved away from you and faced the wall. Uh, that kinda reminded you of a child. Well, he was one, at least to you.

"Malleus, listen, I'm so sorry. I can never hate you. I had rather die than hate you. I'm sorry, I truly am. I'm blessed to have you. I'm sorry that I didn't realize it sooner. You mean so much to me. So, yes, Malleus Draconia, I love you and I always will."

That had him practically jumping over you. Or, at least he wanted to. But still, it was so sudden that you ended up beside him in his bed. Finally, that gorgeous smile was back on his face. The storm stopped rather quickly after that. He was happy... really really happy that you, his love of his life, still loved him.

"My dear child of man, I love you too. Or... should I say future Mrs. Draconia?"

"Malleus!!"

He burst into laughter and honestly you couldn't wish for more.

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da-birb-writes-sometimes · 10 months

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Though The Path May Be Long, I Shall Find You; Leona Kingscholar

A path lies ahead, some are more treacherous than others. At the end of the winding, coloured footsteps is where they can rest; a bird directing them forward, made out of precious stone.

Main Character; Leona Kingscholar

Supporting Characters; Kifaji, Jack Howl

Content; Soulmate AU (I use the term soul match), gender-neutral reader, hurt/comfort, some inner turmoil, bird shenanigans, can be read as platonic, familial, or platonic and that was done on purpose

Content Warning; injury (Leona), I do mention scars/marks but I don't mention where/what they're from

Word Count; 5.5 K

Author's Note; The bird messengers are inspired by mutual relationships that people and some animals have with birds. As with all of my writing, do NOT put my -or other creators' for that matter- works into AI. I did struggle a bit with writing this, so it may read a bit differently, but hey, I wrote it and that's what matters.

Ruggie's Story | Jack's Story

Prologue

Much like the Sea Witch gifted merfolk with soul matches, the King of Beasts did much the same with beastmen. Instead of a song playing in their head or their soul being tugged at by their match, beastmen would receive a messenger made of stone. Typically, this stone messenger would come in the form of a bird, as they can travel far greater distances than a terrestrial creature. And the stone represented what their match would help them overcome in this lifetime. It represented a confidant, an advisor, a friend; the person that they needed most.

And once they were ready to find their match, glowing footsteps would lead them along the path.

These messengers are delivered during the night of their fifth birthday by the southern winds and remain dormant until the time is right for them to start searching their soul match, typically around their thirteenth birthday. If a child does not receive their messenger, it is said to be a marker of bad luck, a bad omen. Not only just for the beastman in question, but for their family and the community at large. This marker is of even greater weight should a member of the royal family not receive a messenger. The last time that happened, a great drought hit the land, causing mass famine and illness. Since then, any member of the royal family who does not receive a messenger is forced to abdicate the throne, even if they are the firstborn. For the common folk though, it holds less weight, even if it is still considered a bad omen.

What if someone does receive a messenger but they don’t activate? What does that mean?

It could mean several different things. It could mean that their soul match has passed before they had the chance to find them. It could mean that their match wasn’t here yet, still to come into this world. These lifeless messengers often bring a sense of loneliness or bitterness, and many a beastman try their best to discard these cruel reminders. No matter how hard they try though, be it magic, force, or distance, the little stone messenger will always come back. Always there as a reminder of what could have been. A reminder that only they can see. The little stone bird will sit by them, vacant of life, but watching them still.

But only they could see their messenger, the only other person who could see it being their match. They would only become apparent to each other once their person decided that they wanted to find their match, that they were ready. Upon finding each other, the two birds will fly around the two, performing an aerial dance. Once this dance is completed, their match’s bird will land on their shoulder, and their bird will land on their match’s in return.

And once these messengers activate they will stop at nothing to guide their person to their match, and cannot be destroyed. It could take hours, days, weeks, months, years, or even several lifetimes, but the bird is determined to find their match, even if the person wanted nothing to do with them. The bird won’t stop, and even though the path may be long, they will always find their match. No matter what.

…

Main Story

…

...

Leona had somehow managed to escape his various caregivers and the supervision of Kifaji… again. But who could blame him? The palace wasn’t the best place for a rambunctious four-year-old. He wanted to play. To explore. To not sit through Kifaji’s boring lectures and lessons. He wanted to just be a kid. And Faleena was always busy, not always able to play hunting games with him and leaving him without a playing partner. So it becomes a habit, to escape the confines of the palace, to trade the grand halls for the grasslands.

The little lion prince continued to walk through the tall grass, running his hands through the swaying blades. The sun was starting to kiss the earth as the sky slowly melted into night, and he could hear the various calls of animals from the brush. But he didn’t pay them much mind, since he was told that they would never harm him, as he was part of the royal family.

Something hopped out of the grass, catching the young lion-beastman’s attention; a butterfly. His eyes followed the slow wing beats and he decided to chase after it. The butterfly didn’t seem to notice or care, staying just out of reach and continuing on its lazy flight path.

“Come here,” Leona called after it, trying to jump and catch it, but the insect avoided his grasp. “Don’t fly away! Can we be friends?”

The butterfly eventually landed on a tree, high up on a branch. Now, why was Leona so determined to catch it? Well, he wanted to get a closer look at it, maybe have it land on his nose before letting it go back into the bush. It was a challenge, one that he wasn’t backing out of so easily.

Leona looked up into the tree and his ears twitched. “Fine then! If you’re not going to come down, I’m coming up!” He started making his way up the tree. Oh, if Kifaji could see him now, he would have grown a white hair on the spot seeing the young prince so high up. But the thought of his advisor’s fretting just made him climb up higher even faster. There! The butterfly was almost within his reach, just a little bit farther-

The butterfly took off, flying off into the sunset, just as he was about to finally catch it too. Leona sighed to himself. At least he had a nice view of the amber sun dipping behind the horizon, turning the sky into warm oranges, pinks, reds, deep blues and violets. Rustling from the canopy caught his attention, and he looked up, curious as to what was making the sound. Sitting on the branch above him was a red-billed hornbill, cleaning its plumage.

“Hi,” he waved at the bird, swinging his legs back and forth.

The bird stopped preening, its full attention focused on Leona. Further up in the tree, he could hear the faint chirping of baby chicks.

Leona stood up on the branch, getting closer to the bird. “Can I see your family? Do you have baby chicks? I wanna see!” He asked excitedly, getting far too close to the bird’s personal space and nest.

The hornbill ruffled its feathers and took flight, but it didn’t go very far. Instead, it turned back and swopped by Leona’s head, trying to tell the child to back away. Instead of backing off though, Leona caught the bird mid-flight. The bird, fearing for its own and its family’s well-being, scratched at his face, leaving behind a large scratch mark going over his left eye.

He let go of the bird, hissing in pain, teardrops starting to form. “Kifajiiiiiiii,” he yelled, tumbling down the tree and running back to the palace, tail in between his legs. “KIFAJIIIIII!” He didn’t want this to happen. He just wanted to play. To have fun. To be a kid.

…

Leona went to bed on the night before his fifth birthday, lightly tracing the still-healing scar on his face. It was still sore, and it stung, both physically and emotionally. Why does nobody like me? He snapped out of his thoughts though, shaking his head.

“You have no one but to blame but yourself, your majesty,” Kifaji said, standing in the doorway to his room. He strode in, and although his words may have sounded harsh, there was a softness in his expression. Sighing, he placed a cool, damp, cloth on the prince’s face. “What were you thinking? You should know better than to run off-” He stopped, noticing the conflicted look on the young boy’s face. Nagging can wait, right now Leona needed comfort, not a lecturer. “…But what’s most important is that you are alright.”

Leona sniffled, “What about my face though? It hurts… I just wanted to play… And it’s going to leave a scar-”

Kifaji smiled softly, “It will heal in time, as all things do. Besides, the King of Beasts had a mark just like it. It may hurt now, and perhaps it will leave a scar, but it proves that you overcame hardships. That you’ve learned lessons.” He tucked in the prince, adjusting the blankets around him. “As for the bird, I believe they were just protecting their family. Your mother would do much the same for you and your brother, as would your father. Now, off to bed with you, as you’ll be receiving your messenger tomorrow.”

“What do you think they’ll be,” Leona asked, his visible eye filled with curiosity. “Do you think it’ll be a bearded vulture? Like Faleena’s?”

Kifaji hummed, “I can’t say, as only you will know that come morning. Now, off to sleep with you. After all, tomorrow is a big day.” The blue-haired man dusted himself off, double-checked the cloth to make sure it was still damp and then left for the night. Leaving the young prince alone.

Leona picked at the dressing on his eye and looked out his window. Outside the stars were shining bright, and the songs of night birds and insects filled the air with their rhythmic melody. A warm breeze played with the curtains, casting dancing shadows onto the walls.

“Please,” Leona whispered to the stars, “please, please, please bring me a friend… I just want a friend.” He pleaded to the night sky. The warm breeze now playing with his hair, lulling him gently off to the land of dreams.

His dream was calm, a starlit sky ahead of him and shifting, glowing sand beneath his feet. All I want is a friend. Can I please have a friend? But he heard nothing, just the gentle hissing of the shifting glowing sand beneath his feet as he walked toward the horizon. A large lion stood in the distance, glowing green eyes looking towards him, beckoning him forward. But when he tried to walk towards them, the sand shifted, having turned into tar. And when he looked back up, the lion was gone. Leaving him with nothing but glowing sand and black tar.

When he woke up in the morning, a small hornbill made out of green calcite sat on his bed stand, silent and watching. And it would have been in perfect condition save for the large scar that cut across the left side of its face, mirroring Leona’s to the T. He touched his scar, remembering that fateful night only three weeks ago. “Why,” he whispered. Why did it have to be a hornbill? Why would the King of Beasts gift him a messenger that had hurt him? Why would he gift a messenger that left behind a scar? And why did it have a scar of its own?

…

It’s been fifteen years since Leona received his messenger, and it has yet to come to life. Yet to fly around. Yet to show him any sign that he had a match out there, somewhere. He took it as a sign that they had either died before they had ever met or, a more bitter thought, that they had yet to enter the world. He didn’t want to be some glorified babysitter.

He has tried to get rid of the damned bird. Thrown it as far as he could when he was younger. Used banishment spells on it as he learned about magic. And when his unique magic had manifested itself, he even used King’s Roar on it. But no matter what he tried, or how hard, the bird always reappeared, even when he turned it into sand. Still as silent and lifeless as it always has been since the first day it had shown up in his life. Still, a bitter reminder that he would rather forget about and pretend never happened.

Even in the ceremonial room, it followed him, taking a liking to his shoulder despite him flinging it off at any chance he could, before just stuffing the annoying thing in his pocket. People would give him a weird look, as they couldn’t see what was pestering the lion beastman, but they ignored him for the most part. Well, most people that is.

“Something bothering you,” Vil murmured under his breath, just loud enough so that only he could hear. “You seem more… irritated than usual.”

Of course, the Pomefiore House Warden would notice his behaviour. He wouldn’t even be surprised if that other third-year and creepy stalker, Rook, was keeping tabs on him. “And, what’s it to you?”

Vil raised a brow, “Just something I took notice of. Can’t be giving your new dorm members a bad impression on the first day.” He paused, as the ceremony was beginning, and welcomed the new Pomefiore students with a practiced smile.

Leona rolled his eyes but welcomed his new wards albeit not as prim, proper, and practiced. They deserved something real, and not dripping with formality. “Well, that ceremony was as boring as ever,” he yawned, having missed his usual nap that he would have at this time of day. “I’m going back to the dorm. If you’re in Savanaclaw House, follow me.”

That’s odd though, that blithering fool of a headmage was nowhere to be seen, and Leona could hear all of the hushed whisperings amongst the students. But he could hear the faint footsteps of two people making their way down the hall. And low and behold, the headmage entered the room in his usual tiring and flamboyant way. Huh, looks like one of the freshmen hasn’t been sorted. He didn’t really care though, even when that cat tried to set the room on fire, or the bickering with Vil. This was all so tiresome, honestly, why did he attend this again?

He didn’t pay much attention to the new Savanaclaw students, leading the way silently. And even though he couldn’t see the other beastmen’s messengers, he could hear the faint rustling of wind as they flew about behind them. His eye twitched, the weight of the stone hornbill weighing heavy in his pant pocket, still cold, still lifeless.

Upon reaching his room, he promptly flopped onto the bed, tossing the bird to the other side of the room with a satisfying crack. Leona closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh, promptly falling asleep. Back to that damned dream where he was stuck in the shifting sands at night, the only source of light being the distant, twinkling stars and the faint gold glow beneath him. And the tar had grown, nearly drowning out the glowing gold.

The stone bird righted itself and came to rest by his head. The orange light from the setting sun warming it. As the sun was traded for the night, the stone bird blinked, finally and slowly coming to life after all these years of stillness.

…

Leona felt something pulling at his hair. Groaning, he grabbed the closest pillow and haphazardly swung it about, trying to get rid of the intruder. “Cheka,” he hissed, as the first person that popped into mind for this annoying behaviour was none other than his young nephew. But when he cracked an eye open, the cheerful five-year-old was nowhere to be seen. Something was still pulling at his hair though.

Flipping over, he finally laid eyes on the intruder, and he stiffened. Sitting on the edge of the bed was his messenger, and it was alive. After a decade of stillness, the pale green crystal bird was finally alive and moving about. He rubbed at his eyes, and the bird was now walking towards him, doing its little call and looking way too happy for his liking. What the- What kind of sick joke is this?

“Oi,” he pushed the crystal bird away, as it had tugged at his hair again. “Cut it out.” Why was it finally awake now of all times? It’s been ten years since it should have awakened, back on his tenth birthday. And now, out of the blue, the now alive and annoying bird had finally decided that now was the time. “Why are you alive?”

The bird flipped onto its back and played with his school uniform ribbon. Why did he expect an actual answer? It was a stone bird. But Leona’s brow was furrowed. Why was the bird finally awake? His face soured even more. I swear if they’re a kid… He didn’t want to deal with another Cheka, especially not for his soul match. Tch, why did I even bother waking up? The bird continued to play with the ribbon, rolling about on the bed.

Leona rolled his eyes and ignored the bird, at least it was pre-occupying itself and not annoying him. Hornbills are playful birds after all, so it makes sense that his messenger would be too. Why again, did the King of Beasts send him a hornbill as his messenger again? “I’m not going to go out of my way and find them,” he huffed, grabbing his ribbon back from the bird.

The hornbill stopped playing and snapped at his hand. “You need to find them,” they spoke in his mind. Ugh, he forgot that they can do that. That the messengers could speak to them in their mind when they deemed it as an important matter. “And they are not a child. They are around your age, from what I can sense. You need to find them.” All of the playfulness from before vanished, suddenly reminding him of Kifaji. Stern… Disappointed.

“What I need is for you to leave well enough alone.” He swatted at the bird, but it flew off and sat on the balcony where they could watch at a safe distance but still have an eye on him. “I don’t need or want you… or them.” They weren’t there then, why should I want them now?

The hornbill ruffled in irritation, “They couldn’t be there, not at the time at least. And you’re lying to yourself.” Their tone shifted, wavering, like they knew something. “You will need them sooner than you realize. When you change your mind, do call.” With that, the bird took off into the morning, leaving behind Leona with his thoughts.

The lion beastman tensed and relaxed his fingers, brow furrowed. “Like hell I’ll need them sooner rather than later,” he muttered to himself. Today had barely begun and he already wanted for it to end. He knew nothing good would come of that bird.

…

You held the green crystal in your hands, turn

ing it over and looking at the carved features. The hornbill was wiggling its toes and singing to itself happily. It was a cheerful little thing and always kept itself busy. And on occasion, you would see a similar bird sitting on the roof, but they never came down from their perch and would fly off before you could investigate further.

You had no idea why or how you came to possess the stone bird. No idea why it was alive the morning after your sudden arrival in Twisted Wonderland. No idea why there was a near-perfect replica sitting on your roof. And you had no idea what it all meant. But in the short time that you had your crystalline friend, you’ve grown attached. Yes, they liked to cause some mischief every now and then, but they were very sweet. They even took a liking to resting on your armchair as you worked, singing their little song.

The little bird even tried to fight that third-year Savanaclaw student, Leona, for you. During the first encounter, where he nearly took a tooth for stepping on his tail they had flown around in a panic; which wasn’t much help. But during his overblot, they had taken a hit from his unique magic, King’s Roar, for you. You had thought that your little friend was gone, forever turned into sand and lost to the wind. Even the bird that sat on the roof went missing for two weeks, but then they were back. Playful as ever before, but there was something else there as well, a sadness of sorts. Frustrated. Restless. Now they also had a large gash, from where they had been hit and it mirrored your own cuts and bruises that you had sustained from the fight. You also noticed that it had other marks, ones that you had sustained back in your dimension.

You should have been angry, but you weren’t. You felt tired, and a sense of guilt. Why had this little bird risked its life for you?

“Prefect,” Jack’s voice snapped you back to the present. Oh right, you had just been forcibly evicted from Ramshackle… the only place you could call home in this world. Now you were sitting in the Savanaclaw Dorm. “Are you alright?”

You blinked, coming out of your thoughts. Jack, even though you two had only just become acquaintances(?), friends(?), was observant that you were spacing off. “Ah… no,” you sigh, all of the stress of the past weeks catching up with you. “No, I’m not alright.”

Jack’s ears twitched, and your crystal friend hopped up onto your shoulder, rubbing its beak on your face. “Do you want to talk about it?” He looked at your shoulder, where the bird was sitting.

“Can you see them?” You could lay your heart bare right now, but you knew most of the answers to them. What you wanted to know was about the bird, and what it meant.

Jack shook his head, “No, but I can hear the flapping of wings.” His brow pinched, thinking. “Has anyone told you? About soul matches?”

Your bird hopped up onto your head and got comfortable up there. “Jack,” you breathed, rubbing your temples, “no one has told me anything.” You paused, realizing how harsh the last part came out. “Sorry, Jack. I didn’t mean-”

But it’s true. No one had told you anything about what a soul match is. Anything about what the bird meant. Anything about how you were possibly going to get back home; if it was possible at all? Anything of real importance when it came to living in this world besides the fact that there were seven pseudo-gods who were villains in your world and that magic was real. You had the scars to prove that much. And you were tired, so tired of not knowing anything.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he placed a hand by yours, in case you needed to hold on to someone. “I don’t know your entire story, Prefect, but I do know that today was stressful… I can tell you more about soul matches, and what your feathered friend means. But that can wait until you’re ready.”

You felt the crystal bird shuffle a bit, letting out a little snore. “I want to know.”

“There once was a king, both noble and fair. Who sought to bring joy to his people’s hearts. The King of Beasts travelled to the horizon and made an agreement with the setting Sun and the whispering winds. On the eve of their sixth year, beastmen and residents of the Sunset Savannah would be gifted a crystal bird messenger. No two were ever the same, as the birds would carry the marks and scars of their person. The crystal itself holds a message on what their match will help them with. These birds are only visible to their person, and can only be seen once they have decided that they wanted to find their match. And though the path may be long, and lead to many different crossroads, the little crystal bird will always find their match.”

Jack’s explanation of the bird messengers played in your head as you stared up at the ceiling. Said bird was sleeping beside you, and much like the story, it had all the same marks you had. The pale green crystal shone softly in the moonlight. Apparently made out of green calcite; a stone meaning to expand your compassion, to heal, of letting go of anger and resentment. You knew that you needed to work on that, but so did your match.

…

Leona was still at ends with himself after his overblot, and that herbivore from Ramshackle was now also crashing at his dorm of all places. But he did owe them, and like hell he was going to let some octo-punk get the better hand. He also happened to overhear the familiar story that Jack had shared with them. So he hadn’t been hearing things, the Prefect did have a messenger. But why did the thought of them having a messenger put a sour taste in his mouth?

You need to find them. You will need them sooner than you realize. He hated to admit it, but the stone bird was right. Maybe if he had taken their offer he would have found them by now. Maybe he wouldn’t have overblotted… Maybe he would finally know that someone could accept him, not because of his title or royal status, but because, just maybe, they would accept him for just being him.

“You were right,” he huffed, turning over and looking to the balcony.

The crystal hornbill was back like it had never left. “Are you ready then?” It flew over and took a roost on his forearm. Are you ready to start healing? It wasn’t spoken, but it was implied, especially after all of that blot had surfaced.

Leona shifted to an upright position, looking up to the stars, feeling the warm air gently surround him carrying the scent of warm earth and blossoming night flowers. “... Not yet.”

The bird nipped at one of his ears, “What are you waiting for then? An invitation?” It continued picking at his ears, trying to get Leona to action.

His ears flattened, from irritation but also to escape the attack. “Oi, cut it out, would ya? I want to make it up to them first before waltzing in like some ‘prince charming’ into their life.” He rolled his eyes at the cliched term. He didn’t view himself like that, and he didn’t want his soul match getting that idea either. He knew that he had aspects of himself that he needed to work on… That he needed to heal. But he didn’t want them taking the brunt of it. He wanted to prove to them, that besides his initial rejection, he was trying. That he wanted to make this work… Whatever this proved to be. Be they a friend, found family, or even something else. He was tired, so tired of being alone… maybe he could finally let someone in.

“Hmph, as long as you don’t keep them waiting for too long.” But the hornbill’s stoney expression softened, joking. Leona didn’t notice how the bird looked off to the side, looking at your sleeping form, nodding at the matching bird sitting beside you. “And they are a lot closer than you think.”

Leona flopped back on the bed, making the bird take flight to avoid getting tossed about. “Mmm, what matters most is travelling the path, whatever it may look like, and finding them at the end of it. Or whatever that bedtime story was.”

Going back to sleep, he was expecting to be back in the endless glowing dunes as he usually was every night. Stuck in the tar. But tonight was different. Instead of barren sands, he was surrounded by blooming flowers, towering trees, and a pleasant filtered light radiating through the branches. He was in the botanical gardens, under his favourite tree, his hornbill chasing after some butterflies… And the lion from all those years ago was back, standing in front of him. Follow the path. Find them. And it was gone, but he felt a hand on his shoulder. He placed his over their’s, squeezing it.

…

You’ve noticed something different about Leona ever since you made your alliance during Azul’s overblot. Yes, he still called you herbivore, but he seemed easier to read, not as closed off. You could tell that he was joking with you by the sway of his tail, and the flicking of his ears.

“Head in the clouds again?”

Oh right, there’s been another new development alongside Leona. Your crystalline friend now spoke to you. Well, not really speaking, more so talking in your mind. The first time it happened you nearly threw it across the room, but honestly, what were you expecting? A talking crystal bird shouldn’t have been that shocking to you after everything you’ve been through.

Your attention snapped back to the lecture Professor Crewel was giving a certain group of first-years about not eating during lab. “Just there’s been a lot,” you said. Seems like there wasn’t going to be any new content taught today since somebody decided to eat the ingredients and get rushed to the infirmary room. You wonder if Crewel just said that his hair was dyed or if he was going white early due to the impulsive thoughts and actions of his students. So you were able to freely discuss as much as you pleased with your stone friend. “What can you tell me about them?”

The bird paused in its fuddling with a spare pen, “I can’t tell you that.”

“Why not?”

“You need to travel down that path on your own decision, not influenced by anyone,” they took off, leaving you alone for the first time on their own free accord. But gold, glowing footsteps followed them, leading the way.

I need to travel the path on my own decision. You knew those glowing footsteps would lead you towards your soul match. But why did they lead to Ramshackle?

…

Meanwhile, in the botanical gardens, Leona was sitting comfortably under one of his favourite trees, eyes closed and tail swishing back and forth peacefully. But he was awake, and he was listening in to the conversation of his hornbill and a new voice.

“How do you think it will go?”

He recognized the voice of his hornbill.

There was shuffling on the branch, a new voice entering his head. “They are both quite stubborn, but seeing the progress thus far, even without them knowing, is promising. But they must go forward, forge their own path.”

He cracked an eye open, seeing the two green birds sitting together on their perch. But something else caught his eye, glowing footsteps. Follow it. So he followed them, the footsteps. Leona saw the other hornbill, his soul match’s hornbill take flight, the footsteps leading in the same direction. He looked back under the tree. To follow or not to follow, that was the question…

He ran after the footsteps, his hornbill clutching onto his shoulder for dear life.

“WHAT IS WITH THE SUDDEN CHANGE OF HEART?!” They squawked, falling off and flying beside him.

Leona rounded a corner, nearly running head-first into a Scarabia student, but he ignored him and kept on running, getting weird looks from everyone. “I’m tired of waiting,” he snapped. But also, he knew that there was going to be no perfect time to find them. He realizes what he needs to work on. He realizes that it will be a rocky path. That it will take time to heal. But he knew that whoever was at the end of the glowing footsteps, that they had the matching hornbill. That they were right. That they were his equal in all things. Regardless of status. Regardless of upbringing. Regardless of what even his first insecure thoughts were.

He stopped running, looking to where the footsteps disappeared under the door. The front door of Ramshackle Dorm. He put his hand on the doorknob, but he didn’t turn it.

They are a lot closer than you think. They weren’t able to be there for you for a reason. So it wasn’t just a sense of owing someone then. That bitter taste in his mouth from when he found out you had a soul match was jealousy that it could be someone other than him. Of course, it was you. One of the first people in a long time where he felt like you weren’t looking down at him, or just judging on initial interactions. That you accepted him. That you rolled your eyes whenever he felt like being snarky with you. That you bantered with him. That he felt… lighter with you.

But his hand didn’t move. He took it off the knob. He wasn’t just going to barge in. So he knocked on the wood, three gentle tap tap taps.

You looked up from the busted wall you were trying to patch up, the ghosts having alerted you that someone was waiting at the door for you. The fact that they were waiting surprised you, usually people would just come in unannounced or just kick the door down. But they were waiting. You made your way to the door and looked through a large crack. What was Leona doing here?

You opened the door, and you noticed the same bird that watched after you from the roof. Both of your birds took flight and danced with the other before coming down and landing on both of your shoulders. Performing the soul match dance.

"I'm glad it's you."

Fin!

Link to Masterlist

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hajimeshoe · 2 years

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Leona calming his neurodivergent S/O down from a Panic Attack

So, this is entirely self-indulgent while I come down from a panic attack lol. Hence, it is based pretty much entirely on what I need when I have a panic attack.

TW: Descriptions of a panic attack

Leona was starting to worry.

He was in the botanical gardens, taking a nap while he waited for your class to end. He had not expected Grim to suddenly rush over, yelling about him needing to go get you.

Once he had managed to calm Grim down enough for him to be able to talk to him, the cat finally explained.

"Y/N's having a panic attack and ran off!!"

And so Leona had run. He's been stalking your favourite places around the school since. But, he still hasn't found you.

"Where the hell are ya, Herbivore?" He murmured.

Then he paused. His ears twitched as he heard it. Crying, gasping - an elevated heart rate.

He took off running once more, skidding to a stop once he reached you. Leona knelt down and placed a gentle finger on your knee, stating your name.

"O-ona?" you gasped.

"Hey, doll," his voice was quiet and calm. "Is it alright if I pick you up so I can bring you to my dorm?"

Unable to find your voice, all you did was nod. Leona reached out and picked you up in a similar manner one would a child. Your legs around his hips, his arms under your butt. He used his chin to nudge your face into the crook of his neck.

As he walked, Leona whispered soothing words and kissed the back of your head.

You were laid down on his bed the second he got back to the dorm. Luckily, what to do had already come up in conversation with him. He used his magic, doing a simple spell to conjure a caffeinated drink for you, to help you calm a bit. He helped you change into more comfortable clothes and tucked you back into his bed.

"I'm here, baby," he soothed. "I'm here, I can do whatever you want me to if it helps you."

When you started chewing on your hand, he was quick to pull it away and replace it with a chew necklace for you.

If you want him to, he'll cuddle you for the rest of the night. He loves you and will do absolutely anything to see you happy again.

#twisted wonderland leona #twisted wonderland #twst #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #tw.panic attack #hurt/comfort

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yomogi-mogi-mochi · 1 year

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Lasting Spring

Pairings: Vil Schoenheit x (Orpheus Inspired) MC

Summary: Great expectations are placed on you, coming from a line of extraordinary poets, bards, and musicians. You fulfill these expectations with ease‒ the lightness of your voice illuminating any room with divine merriment through a swift dance of your fingers on your lyre. Your fame is equally matched with the curse swimming through your family’s blood‒ one which announces death and tragedy to your lovers, unless they are your true love‒ your soulmate. However there is no assurance that soulmates truly exist, only the madness that comes as an endless thirst for it. So you extinguish that thirst, settling for quick, messy flings‒ much to the dismay of your childhood friend, Vil Scoenheit. You lament your own tragedy through woeful verses, masked in the sweltering felicity of your music. Vil always trails that sorrow back to you, wishing to embrace you in his warmth to take it away, even for a moment. But the members of your family who had found love unobstructed by the gods were great lovers to heroes, kings, queens, and warriors‒ who was he, seen by most as a villain, to taint that possibility for you?

Notes: Orpheus inspired reader, with a friends to lovers dynamic with Vil, GN pronouns. Continuation of my myth-inspired series

CW: Mentions of death and suicide, references to depression

AO3 Link Here.

Masterlist

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The child of a legendary line of poets, bards, and musicians‒ you were always surrounded by lush sounds of harps, guitars, and voices which trilled of bittersweet love‒ ones which you echoed with your own youthful voice, plucking your golden lyre with what could only be described as divine sensibility. From age ten, you were rumored to have the ability to command flowers to a weeping sorrow, cap mountains with a fury of snow with a single verse. As such, it was given that your house was often host to lavish festivities, one which you enjoyed particularly because you liked seeing your mother up and out from your bed, shining in her freshly ironed dress and combed hair. It was rare to see her talking so brightly with the guests, but the way the room spun as adults pushed questions upon questions onto you made you scurry off from the ballroom, off to find somewhere to practice your melody.

Finding a window tipped towards the ocean, you sat on the ornate bench facing the high moon, plucking your lure and singing a ballad of two star crossed lovers, soulmates, the lyrics specified, and the events which bled into their untimely demise. Their love so endless, spun into the eternity of myth, deathless as the gods themselves. You wondered a bit if they had any relation to your family, bearing the same cursed blood as you to have their tragedy to be the only thing fossilized into eternity like that‒ your blood cursed with similar ill fate in love until they found their soulmate. Even with the sliver of possible paradise, the gods promised heartbreak and woe to be cried from your throat in form of a song. Despite the ease of which you could spill brilliant notes and verses from your heart, your throat was always raw from the cursed blood inside of you, as if it knew of the coming agony that lay before it.

"Do you really believe in that story?" A familiar face crept into the jewel-toned blue of the moonlight.

You greeted it brightly. "Vil!" Koinonos, companion‒ in anything, perhaps the only one you knew that fit that word.

"I thought I'd find you here." He sat next to you with a weary sigh. "And thank the gods I did. It's getting boring out there."

"I could imagine. Bla bla bla finance bla bla bla business. All they talk about these days. Even mother."

"Hm. My father also. Why can't they speak of more interesting, more beautiful things?" When he speaks, he never breaks the thread between his eyes and yours. Unlike the adults or their children who looked through you, tipping their head to the vastness of your family’s legends, Vil spoke clearly to you, the one that was here, now.

"If you want to hear something beautiful, lend me your ear for this lowly bard." You bowed dramatically with a hand in the air. Vil giggled. That was one of your favorite sounds, even competing with the rich colors of your golden lyre, gifted from the gods. When you returned it to him‒ Vil mirrors your sentiment in his head in a clandestine whisper, only known to you in glimpses in the glassy warmth of his eyes.

You spoke of soulmates and heartache once more. When you ended the song in a mixed tune, Vil lulls his head into his hands behind his neck, flashing the cool violet of his eyes at you.

"Do you believe in soulmates?"

"Hah." You hacked out a laughter from your chest‒ taught and stiff. "It would be a wonderful thing wouldn't it? If soulmates existed." Sure, those who found soulmates in your family married kings and queens, heroes and the finest warriors‒ but the rest? They slipped into madness from relentless heartbreak, twisting towards death as they repeated songs which only reflected their own agony. The gods were cruel this way‒ such ripe, sweet fruit bearing on a tree full of thorns swelling with poison. You had so much of your love to give to that sweet morsel‒ but it felt like such a distant thing, a fairy tale of sorts, that even at your young age you broke that fantasy for yourself before you tore yourself apart trying like you had witnessed your mother had. You decided before your sixth birthday, when you were gifted your golden lyre with the title euainētos, well praised, that you would be content picking at the flowers beneath that thorned tree, occupying yourself with smaller loves, smaller heartbreaks without so much as desiring that fruit ripening at the branches reaching the heavens.

"You don't think they do?" Vil almost pleaded. He could feel the desperation tightening of his throat.

You looked up at the portrait of your family above you, just you and your mother, absent of your late father you had known better of his fists rather than his face. Sometimes, you had doubted you were from your mother’s womb‒ bearing little resemblance to her her face‒ but you felt a seed taking root inside of you as you witnessed her heart break over and over again, ensuring that the cursed blood that was beginning to grow in your body was indeed one which beat under her thick skin as well. You plucked the strings on the lyre, weaving a melancholic tune.

Rare‒ Vil thought‒ you had always paired even your most woeful lyrics with the brightest notes‒ but anything that came from your fingers seemed to have a brilliant magnificence to it, divine, was the only word he could think of. The moonlight beads down the strings of your lyre like thin droplets dancing in the air, and it suspends you in a heavenly glow as you close your eyes, spinning a downwards tune. He flushes a bit at the thought.

"No. I don't think so." You answered simply, a narrow smile and eyes reached your face, turning to Vil.

"Oh."

A light laugh escaped your throat, head thrown back to lean against the window. "Don't be so glum Vil." The liveliness in your eyes dimmed, hands slowing to a feathery sound. "I was just speaking for myself. You're beautiful."

A hair had fallen onto his face, you swept it back with lithe fingers, resisting the temptation to trace the delicate features on his face. Tall, slender nose; rosey heart-shaped lips, lavender eyes speckled with sharp arrows of frosted blue. You tried to liken it to something in your head‒ twisting a poem in your mind‒ but no words you knew were big enough to describe his beauty. "I'm sure there's someone perfect out there for you who can recognize that." You curved your lips, deepening the smile in hopes of communicating your candor.

He turned his tinted face away from you, simply answering: "Play louder."

You did, a blithe color erupting from light beaming onto the strings of your lyre as they danced between your fingers‒ your throat the color of fresh blood as you trilled a song of woeful lovers. Vil didn't dare move his eyelids further up, afraid that if his lashes lifted, revealing your entire face to his gaze‒ his lips would betray him into a shameful quiver. Once he had, when he found a deep sorrow in your eyes, as infinite as the prickling stars in the sky, even with your hands which whirled with such an elated melody. He almost heaved with tears that time‒ he was only ten, after all. But you, the same age as him, seemed so much more wiser to tragedy, bearing it with a silky smile.

He hoped what you said about him was true‒ that he would find a soulmate‒ but when your statement before sounded just as certain. Anything that came from your mouth did to him‒ it rang as clear as glorious mountains forged by the gods, and as robust as rolling waves of the holy seas. Like your ancestors, he felt that you had the power to move nature‒ crumble mountains and make the sun know heartbreak. If you said soulmates didn't exist, he would simply believe that as fact. Still‒ a tightness swirled inside him, one with a feverish heat that wriggled inside his chest.

A few months later, a letter arrived at his home, informing him and his father of your mother's death. At the bottom of the letter rested a wobbly signature, your name, written in red ink. You were only ten‒ what ten year olds practiced their signature enough for it to be as elegant and poised as an adult's? He walked to your house, a bundle of lavender from the garden as an offering. You took it with cold hands when you opened the door to the empty house, letting in Vil with that soft smile.

"I have to…I have to sing at her funeral. And speak too." You stared distantly at the soundless waves, facing away from your family portrait. "What…what should I say?"

"You shouldn't have to say anything if you don't want to." He camped next to your body's warmth, wanting desperately to let it scorch him by embracing you. But he thought it would not be a comfort if he had.

"It's in her will." The adults already decided. "What do I even say that's not already known?" A bitter laugh pushes past your lips. "Sorry for all the trouble of gathering here‒ you all already knew this was going to happen? Yeah guys the prophecy is true‒ you can stop gossiping about it? You think they'll let me off the hook if I just don't stop crying?" You paused your chattering laughter. "I could if I wanted to, you know."

"You should cry whenever you want for as much as you want. We’re young, we should be afforded that right." He felt the stillness blistering in the air. After a moment, you answered with a weariness he wasn't used to seeing in your face. Still, it flowered gracefully in your eyes, soft as the cerulean moonglow and the velvety waves which were pulled by it.

"Will you help me write the speech?"

"Me?"

"Who else? I have no other friends. No one."

Vil's eyes flashed through faces which laughed and danced with you. "How about the others from your party?"

"They're not my friends." You leaned against him, rocking your head in the curve of his shoulder. "Not like you are." Koinonos, companion‒ in anything.

His breath stuttered for a moment, before he muffled it with a deep breath that raised his chest.

"Sorry‒ you don't‒"

"No." He tried again, softer. "No. I'll do it. Of course I will."

"Okay." If he were to guess that quiet voice came from your powerful throat‒ he would have guessed wrong by the crackling whisper of your reply. He also couldn't have guessed you were crying from the stillness of your form, but he knew the trick. The heat that rose to your face and the subtle shudder of your inhale was one he knew well. He said nothing, taking your sadness in without any need for words.

The funeral was planned by you, and a few of your mother's friends since you were not yet at the age where you could sign legal documents. They pat your still back in sympathy, especially when they find through the surrounding gossip that you were the one to find her feet dangling above a tilted pile of scores and books of hymns.

"I'm sorry."

"She deserved better."

"I'm sorry."

"She will never be forgotten."

"I'm sorry."

Who are you all sorry for? You thought, standing above her body blanketed in firewood. You wanted to crawl into her arms, but you felt that she would not let go if you had‒ you knew she was tiring of losing‒ dragging down blood of her own blood. The tightness of her decaying skin, the flowers which were delicately placed to hide her bruised, broken neck slammed your chest down to your small feet, which you heaved back up with steady breaths and rapid blinking, and the privacy of your face afforded when you bent down to place a coin on her cold tongue, your hair veiling the affliction in your eyes.

You played her a song on a harp as long and tall as your grief. At ten, you were seasoned with that agony through blood and bone‒ no tears rose to your flesh during the ritual‒ the song, the speech, the mourning. Most left after you had kindled the fire to her flaring tomb, leaving after squeezing you with empty hands and words. You sat facing away from the blazing fire, weaving your hands in the grass poking out from the seaside cliff. Vil sat himself beside you hours ago, watching the waves crash against the rocks, withering it.

"Do you truly think love exists?"

He sat, thinking what words would comfort you. "I do. When you sing of it in your songs, I believe it." He knew his truth would be as much as he could give.

"When I die, Vil." You looked straight at the swelling waves. "Will you be the one to sing at my funeral? Will you speak for me? Ignite my body?"

Funerary songs were reserved for the direct relatives of the deceased‒ mothers, daughters, sons, lovers, husbands, and wives. You had no father, no siblings, no spouse or children‒ and now, no mother. The thought of you dying before you could even make such connections choked him. "I'm not much of a singer." He says, throat wobbling.

"Your singing is divine, Vil." Your smile draws shakily today. "Sing a happy song for me. Let people dance, sing, laugh. Bring people together." He averted his gaze away from the tears that silently trekked down your face, he knew better than to watch you break. "This is way too depressing. It's better to think of happiness and beauty during times like this, isn't it?"

He wanted so badly to look at you when he answered, "Yes. It really is."

"Don't die before me, Vil. I want to hear your beautiful song." You embraced him to hide your face.

"I won't." He knew at the moment, why Orpheus had looked behind to gaze at his Eurydice's face when he couldn't hear her footsteps. He could barely hear your heartbeat, your crying, against the roaring waves hammering against the cliffside. But he felt stronger than your divine ancestors that day, cradling your face behind his own without turning, still as the rocks sinking and appearing from the cold waters.

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Despite your busy schedules, you stay in touch through piles of letters, small gifts with even smaller notes scribbled: “This made me think of you”, and sly backstage passes to each other's performances. He knows of the messy, brash flings you have with people, and the ease it brings you‒ after all, where else would you put all the love you have? To a curse that promised something unfathomable to you that would lead towards a path of self annihilation? He knew better than to question your actions in that, ready to silently sit beside you during days where it all weighed upon you. Moments you would lay stagnant in your bed reminded you of the slivers of memories you had of your mother‒ furthering the hope that Vil had not forgotten the promise he made on that burning cliffside.That cursed blood receded, and returned to you like the ceaseless oceans‒ a divine revenge coming closer and closer to crashing upon you as you felt the love inside you threatening to burst open at your seams. However, you waded that thick, flushing blood like water‒ carelessly throwing yourself against bodies that desired to devour such a passionate and powerful beast such as your legacy. The sexual pleasure helped a bit with the “muchness” of it all‒ despite the slight dismay of Vil, who saw the growing amount of alcohol and people you consumed during the nights of festivities at Night Raven College you often hosted. However, that would never stop him from checking on you the next day, bringing you cups of water along with a much needed lecture on alcohol consumption. It’s not like you didn’t stop being his friend after all‒ calming and assuring him during moments of his own doubts and rage whenever he was informed he was selected for yet another villain role. Those were rare times where you returned to the tranquility and delicacy of your childhoods‒ belting funny and melancholic tunes of gallant lovers and beautiful princes, wrapped in the blankets of Vil’s private quarters. There was a valor, a resistance in this happiness, the laughter from Vil’s lips making the moments even sweeter. It almost made you want to reach for that tantalizing fruit, but the poison rooted in your blood made you stop before you could even try.

But moments like that, were again, rare. Most of your time was filled with smuggling alcohol into the Pomefiore dorm, hosting elaborate parties and such that gained you the reputation as “party animal”, a raging appetite befitting one too. Some even joked that you bore a similarity to Dionysus, jolly god of wine‒ ironic, considering your ancient records say your ill fate was because your ancestor angered him, causing the curse to fall upon your family. Nonetheless, the title was one you took with pride, becoming host to hours filled with music, food, and drunken splendor.

"Let's begin the festivities!" You fluttered your hands prettily into the bustling air, the gold twisting around your wrists letting out a merry jingle as you let your fingers dance drunkenly towards a bass guitar.

Vil quirked a brow. "You know how to play? I didn't know."

"No." You tested the strings with lithe fingers, humming. "But I'll learn." A smirk fell onto your lips, immediately echoing onto Vil's own. Your plucking already sounded like the most masterful composition to him.

He kept that same questioning curve to his brows while letting out a huff of laugher. So cocky as always he thought‒ but he knew once you whirled around the floor, throwing your head back with an airy laugh to bask in the light of the gods‒ the instrument would be singing a vivid tune. When that dazzling sound came from you‒ you flashed a crescent smile at Vil‒ leaping into the crowd to create high spirits, doing so with a blinding radiance. The warmth of your songs beamed on Vil's face despite you twirling far away, leaving him to his own devices. He knew you were too bright, too limber to be held only by him‒ and it would burn when he tried. Though he would spring to that blistering feeling like flowers to the sun‒ he knew the gods made you so it was almost unbearable to keep all of your splendor to just himself. He watched with a smile from a distance, admiring how you lifted the crowd into a howling merriness that shook heated bodies against each other. He too joined that swelling warmth in the room, smashing his body against it, the taste of alcohol tipped onto his mouth as he poured the drink down his throat in one go. It made his head buzz blindly, letting him loosen his body to whirling movements.

When you cried his name, hollering a cheerful whoop at the quickness of which he drained the drink, he wondered if it was your music or the alcohol that was flushing his cheeks, bringing hot blood floundering to his prickling skin. He shifted his eyes to you once more, but you were no longer looking at him, flashing between bustling bodies, and he ignored the tugging feeling when he thought he saw you dancing next to a certain Kingscholar, throwing your head back into his chest, spilling your hair and drink onto his skin. Vil almost drinks himself to a stupor thinking about it, but reminds himself of the bloating he would have to deal with tomorrow morning if he did. So he turns from you, closing his eyes to the rhapsody of your music.

The night feels endless, and tomorrow feels far. But the tiredness of Vil’s muscles comes sharply, waking him from that distance. The weariness of his body sinks deep into his face as he finishes his skincare for the morning, and he decides a smoothie would give him the burst of energy he needed for the rest of the day. Padding over to the kitchen, he sees a familiar figure slumped over on the couch, a tangled mess in a flurry of blankets and clothes.

“(Name).”

You give a jumbled response, pressing your head deeper into the crevice of the couch.

“You’re going to regret it if you sleep here, you know. I don’t want to hear you complain about it later.”

Another groan, before you sat up, your head lolling to the back of the couch when you did. The openness of your crinkled shirt revealed violet bite marks and bruises blooming on your skin, before they were tucked under your head once more, a smirk reaching your lips when you caught Vil staring.

“What? Like what you see?” Vil hated when you teased like this‒ because he so badly wanted to answer‒ yes, yes, of course I do you idiot, I have for years. But he deflects your question per usual, turning his back to you to make his morning slurry of fruit and vegetables.

“Ugh. Cover yourself, you drunken bard. Actually‒ please change. You absolutely reek of alcohol.”

“Do I? Hardly noticed.”

“Tends to happen when you’re around it so often.”

“Oi! I’m not the only one who was drinking last night. I saw you down that entire cup of sangria last night.”

“Yes but I don’t come back with bruises on my neck do I?”

You see Vil pour out two drinks‒ you’ve never seen him not do this in your presence. Still, you thank him when he hands you the cup.

“Hey nothing wrong with a little roughness.” You spread a sly smile on your lips, lifting your eyebrows in a suggestive manner. ”Besides‒ easier to just let ‘em do whatever, you know?”

Vil squints his eyes in concern, before he takes a sip of his smoothie to suppress the energy bustling out of him, sparked out of the anger he feels in your statement. Still, he’s careful with his words before leaving the room. “Just…be careful.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

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You tried to sleep that day to prepare for the school week that followed, but you were woken several times in a cold sweat, haunted by images of your mother’s dangling feet in the air. You breathe heavily, heart weighed by the burden of your blood. Would you end the same? Seeing glimpses of your mother in your own moments of despondency had brought this question closer and closer as time passed, as the love inside of you was begging to be displaced anywhere but inside your thin, rupturing skin. Perhaps death would be an easier home than finding a residence for that love somewhere.

The gods were cruel even in times like this‒ bidding: sing, sing, turning your blood hot and writhing in your tired body. You moved your heavy limbs from the crushing weight rippling from your chest, clamoring in your hands the golden lyre. Euainētos‒ well praised. By whom but by the gods who dangled the ripening fruit far from your reach, or by the people who rush to your givings, but never return with any of your adoration? Sure your legacy may be well-praised, but what about you? You try not to think about it, or yourself‒ spinning instead a lament of two lovers, one set off to find their beloved in the land of the dead. Perhaps this score could hold your pain, just for a moment.

The softness of your voice comes as a willowy whisper, the blistering rawness of your throat tipped upwards towards the heavens to cool in the pin-pricked starlights and forlorn incandescence of the moon. The flowers near your window drooped at anguish laced in your low notes, you felt a deathly weight unravel from your lips, unfurling into the crisp night air, turning it to a frosty winter, negating all of the sun's warmth mirrored on the high moon. Even on this temperate autumn night, your music brings frost to the delicate petals of the flowers surrounding your window, seizing the fragrant water that slept in the flora in your chilled sorrow.

Vil hears this bellowing ballad from his window, and feels it in the growing coldness of the air. To him, your music always smelled of late autumn winding to winter‒ it's crisp, unforgiving wind warmed with the spices and colors of the mountains; the scent of decomposing leaves and thrashing dirt; its perfume of smoked wood turning to ashes. It also brought him the salt behind his eyes, the copper taste upon his lips when such a levitious melody trailed a fragrance of setting decay. It was almost masked with the aroma you wore‒ a summery scent‒ fresh, sun bathed dew on candied lavender‒ he could follow its deep scent to the sweet smile that always flowered on your face. But it never did mask the scent of endings, the smell of dwindling, evanescent light. He inhaled all of it knowing he could not escape it‒ the salt, the decaying earth, the sweet florals‒ knowing he could trail that scent blindly in the shackles of hell. But this time, that maytime veil barely masked the frosted musk of your tender, singing flesh‒ murmuring a low tune of lovers fated in destruction. It worried him.

"You awake?" He texts you.

The voice seeping through the cracks of his window stops for a moment, before a reply comes. "Yeah. How'd you know?"

"We literally live right next to each other."

"Oh."

.....

"Yeah. Forgot about that. Sorry if I woke you up from your beauty sleep~ Don't kill me please?? I'm too cute to be murdered"

Vil throws the satin covers from his body, shuffling his slippers on and heading to your door. He barely knocks once before you're opening it, blanket tangled over your body. Your scent washes over him like the mild sun, but is quickly chilled by a wintery aroma that freezes his breath tightly in his lungs. The bags that weighed under your eyes accentuated the hollowness in them, if not then by the your smile that didn't bother to reach past your lips.

"Come on. We're doing face masks as long as you're interrupting my beauty sleep. Those eye bags are going to take care of themselves."

"A way with words, this one." You watch Vil march over to your vanity, pulling out a bottle that was part of a gift he had given you during your many exchanges. "And I thought I was the only bard." You squint your eyes a bit to make the curve on your lips more believable but Vil returns the look with a slather of a cold substance onto your skin.

"Ack! Your hands are freezing you heartless bi‒!" He smacks another glob on your cheek.

"I wonder whose fault that is, hm?"

You look at him perplexed, before he pointed his gaze towards the roses that had begun to wilt at your window.

"Oh did I…?" They weren't like that before. Those blooming buds had been alive just now‒ you swore it. But now, turned gray and cold, they began to behead from their stems onto your floor. "I did it again, didn't I."

"Can you undo it?" Vil asks softly, now spreading the substance onto his own skin.

"I mean I could. Theoretically, yes. But right now I just‒" A sudden pain lurched inside your chest, clutching your throat in a quiver. You quelled it with a thick breath in, swallowing it down the constriction of your throat. "- I‒I just can't‒ I‒"

His gaze softens, and he places a clean hand on top of your own, warming it from the cold metal instrument that sat below your palm. "It's fine. You don't have to. It's okay."

"Okay." Your voice comes small and frail like a newborn bird. It swoops to Vil’s heart, soaring it‒ but he brings it down to earthly terrain, macerating the hunger of his hands, begging to take all of your pain away‒ to squeeze it out with his love. But what right did he have, tainting your legacy, your potential like that? You were meant to intertwine with legends and the blood of royalty, heroes, mighty warriors‒ he felt that you would be deathless in your art as the gods, divine power swelling in your carnal body reaching the eternity you deserved. Then maybe he could break the promise he made by the cliffside, never having to face your own flaming pyre.

But he is reminded of your humanity when you shake silently like a wind whipped oak‒ that trick of yours he knew never to voice‒ for a moment, decorticating the towering facade hardened by the curse, the legacies, the thickness of your blood, withering away until it revealed your small form. He felt small too, returning to similar moments like this in childhood where you cried a whisper louder. But like Eurydice's final footsteps, your woeful imprint on this earth were beginning to sound more and more distant, and it grew the fear in Vil that you would disappear somewhere far off from him. Still, the stubbornness of his doubts and self image tethered to his insides like a quick, sinking poison, suspending him in a moment of paradise and hell. He imagined this was the reality you lived as well.

In a moment of weakness, he determined, he indulges in his grasping notions, hugging a single hand to your bare shoulder, feeling the smoothness of your skin as he rubs it. You sink into this warmth, moving your head to his lap and unwinding into his heat. His satin robes smelled of lavender and rich vanilla, sweet as his plush palms lulling you to sleep.

You hope he stays the night, caging you in this warmth until you wake again, but he never does.

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It's the weekend again, which means yet another celebration hosted at the Pomefiore halls. You begin the preparations at late noon, having slept off the exhaustion of the week's low mood until the last possible minute. It wasn't much effort, it's not like people your age were particularly picky as long as hard liquor and junky snacks were involved. You took a quick swig of the nearly empty bottle, enjoying the dizzy fever it brought to your head.

"Drinking already? Honestly (Name)..." Vil sighs as passes by the hall, returning from his workout.

Feeling color rise to your cheeks as your eyes glaze over his exposed body, you decide it was a perfect opportunity to chalk up to your growing alcohol intake. "Uhh yup. You know me." You smile tightly, as he enters the ballroom, emptying the water bottle in his hand in huge gulps, ripping the mound on his throat in a rhythmic wave. The way his hair curls messily at his neck, sweat beading down his chest makes your head spin some metaphor likening his stature to mighty marble masses‒ but the sound of your heart thundering away at your ears makes you deaf to your own song.

"What? Like what you see?" He mirrors your exact words from the other day, a mischievous glint in his eye. As much as you detested the teasing, you loved the look of his face. Not Vil Schoenheit, the actor; or Vil Schoenheit, loved by all‒ just, plainly, Vil. Your Vil‒ Koinonos, companion‒ in anything, your heart blared. But you killed that voice as soon as it rose, busying your head with the ecstacy of boozy daze with another swig of another bottle. This would be your companion for the night.

"Suck my‒" You began, but was met with a solid chest right as you swiveled on your feet to exit the room, the intoxication reaching your movements when you knocked back onto the floor on your behind.

"Elegant." Vil responds with a raised brow.

"Sorry!"

You recognized the face but not the name, prompting you to scramble through your memories for one. "Hey Uuh…" Blank. Nope. Nothing. "Sorry‒ what was your name again?"

"Oh! Yuri, remember? We uh‒ you don't remember last week?"

It clicked in your brain. Shit, why was he here? Usually your flings knew to avoid pursuing or meeting you again because of the whole curse situation. But situations like this happened now and again, you were just hoping it was resultant from a lack of knowledge of your bloodline than some extravagant declaration of "love". You answer, with a poised smile on your lips. "Yeah, I do, sorry my memory gets foggy sometimes. Can I help you with something?"

"I…" His eyes sway from yours to Vil's. "I was just‒ here!"

To only your slight surprise, an envelope is shoved in your face. His hands shake a bit from his nerves, ears tinted dark while his face hides in the deep bow he positions his body in to hand you the paper. Inhaling a mulled breath, you wrap your hands softly around his wrist, tugging it to raise his face. He doesn't meet your eyes‒ you don't blame him.

"Hey." You begin, setting the bottle of alcohol on the table. "Let's talk in the hall, okay?"

He nods, retracting his hand from your back to his chest. Vil shoots a concerned look at your now completely sobered expression, but you just smile and wave, shutting the door quietly behind you.

"I appreciate it. I really do. But you know about my bloodline‒"

"I do! I'm ready to make that commitment! I think‒ know I know this is love! Don't you feel it too? Isn't that why‒"

"Do you honestly believe true love exists? We're strangers. We forever will be." You notice his eyes that look distantly through yours.

"When you sing of it, I do."

You blink. Somehow, those same words from Vil sounded less believable when this man‒ declaring his unflinching commitment‒ utters them. There’s a certainty that is embedded inside you that you’re not used to, that says you’d believe Vil’s words hell and back over any other person in this world‒ even over any other arduous confessions of love no matter how much you wanted to seize an opportunity, a chance, any glimpse of serendipity in love. But you placate that hunger, bury it deep in your darkened stomach, killing it kindly with the fragrant flowers that seat beneath that tangling tree of ripening fruit. There’s a whiff of lavender which trickles from above, but you pull yourself from it to focus on the moment.

"It doesn't exist. Neither for you or I, or anyone. Do you want to know what happened to my ancestors and their lovers?"

He shakes his head. "I don't care about any of that, I‒" You take a hand to his pulse, measuring it’s speed with the stilled rhythm of your own.

"Some die horrifically, ripped apart by furies. Some go mad and take their own lives because they can't stand the thought of potentially suffering a death like that. Others have been killed, poisoned, struck and tortured by the gods. You’ll become their little plaything, like me." Relief floods you as his pulse begins to quicken, stuttering at your words. But, these words come as a generosity. "Are you ready for something like that? A fate worse than death? For something as flimsy as 'true love'?" His eyebrows furrow, he squeezes the envelope between his clammy fingers.

You decide to make this easier for him, taking the words from his heart and whirling them on your tongue. You've heard it plenty before from your days of romantic pursuit, despite the sacred promises to yourself when you were younger. But you're glad it gives you the script for times like this. The words roll off like practiced notes on your lyre.

"You're fun, you're beautiful, I like you and all…" A smile crept on your lips, like an infinite curse, widespread and flowering on your face. 'I know, I know' it says, the muchness of it all, I know. What else could you do but smile in the face of such heavenly concocted absurdity? "But we both know how this ends, right? Put your love somewhere else. Somewhere precious, yeah?”

He nods silently, and you afford him the dignity to leave as such. Vil’s eyes flicker to your expression, then back to his phone when you slip back into the ballroom, which fills with silence. You take another swig of the bottle to beat the growing heaviness pounding a crater inside your chest.

“Carter called, says he’s bringing his friends over soon. With the amount of people that were on the call you’ve got a lot of work to do.”

“Correction‒ they will have a lot of work to do. They’re going to help me.” You drop your back onto the couch, sinking into it and Vil’s shoulder. He flashes you an annoyed look, but he doesn’t budge.

“In that case I’m going to get changed. Don’t want to have a drunken bard ordering me around.”

“Okay, I’ll let you know when my servants finish up with preparations~” You reach to your lyre and strum the strings carelessly. You imagine the giggle that would emit from Vil’s throat, but you’re met with a stiff laugh, his usual vibrancy between you two smothered by the concern of his eyes. You play a merry tune to soothe this expression, relieved when his posture seems to relax a bit. This silent language is thrown between you at all times, and it forges a weltering tension in your chest, something you try to pacify with the bright song erupting from your lyre. But the music seems to dull when Vil leaves, relaxing your smile into an empty gaze to the skies in his absence.

——————————————————

Preparations are done just in time (much to the resistance of Carter and his friends) before people begin flooding into the dorm, reaching immediately for the alcohol that loosens their nerves. You're quite drunk by then, babbling on about some ancient heroic hymns and the process of which ambrosia is dedicated to the gods, dancing your fingers across a lute with a whirling fervor. You swing your body with a feverish madness, throwing it against the vivacious bodies bouncing across the room, sinking your mouth into the bitter lips of a bottle once more‒ hoping to jostle and boil the ache in your body with some lunatic passion. But soon, that cavity in your chest grows too heavy for you to move your body with such vigor‒ and you excuse yourself out of the room onto the balcony, despite the pleas for another song. Even with their roaring solicitation, begging for another intoxicating melody, promising a dimness in the room if you leave it‒ the space remains hot and lively as you turn from it, sobering you with the chilled autumn evening, and the darkened blueness of the world.

You find the golden lyre in your hands, your florid fingers grazing the engraved wreath composed of the many titles your ancestors bore. Orphéfs, Aoidan Patēr, Tælætárkhis, Kælefstís, Khrysolýris ,Prophítis, Khrysáoros, Onomaklyton, Chrysolyrēs, Paian, and finally, Euainētos. It spans the entire arch of the metal, beginning from the coiled head of the instrument, ending with your title at the opposite tip, filling the space with each letter‒ E U A I N Ē T O S‒ to leave no capacity for another. Perhaps it was all fated in the beginning, to slowly chip away at your bloodline‒ until someone like you remained, alone, and ended your legacy in that way as divine punishment. Even on these nights you sung wonderful merriness into, you retreated like this‒ helpless to the waves of pity and the axis of despair that spun you dizzy‒ whipping and cracking against your crumbling heart as you were reminded of the burden of the gift, the kindness, the everything you had to keep giving while killing any sort of expectation for anything. But at times that hunger for that tantalizing fruit swelled, the sweetness of looking into the face of love gathering the pieces of your heart and molding it together in its temporary warmth. Surely, it is not bravery, but perhaps blindness, stupidity‒ that reeled you back like this every time, whispering against bruised flesh‒ the hurt would be worth it this time. You really never knew if it was, having a seasoned sense to extinguish that voice when you remembered the poison that would lay in your path because of it.

During times like this, you were careful not to weave your own poetry‒ afraid that if you had unleashed all of this emptiness at once, the world would decay and pulverize into stardust, quieted from all of its life and launched every which way into the eternal cosmos‒ the gods, tipping their ears to your destruction, and punishing you with another effortless thrust that hurdled you off the cliff of your mountain of love into the endless pits of your grief. So you recited a hymn of two star-crossed lovers, encrusting the roses that weaved onto the balcony with a white frost.

“Hey.” The gentleness of that voice for a moment brought a stuttering warmth to your song‒ breathing a lifted radiance that bloomed into the flowers. But you quelled the muchness, the everything even as it burns in the tightness of your throat, managing to return a small, “Hey” back to Vil.

“Tired already?”

You scoff with a slight smile on your lips. “You wish.The night is still young.” You make room for Vil on the bench, dangling off nearly half your body when you do. He sits with a delicate grace, his sweet perfume reaching your nose with a twinge of alcohol melded in.

“The air feels nice. Reminds me of back home.”

Home. You try to imagine it, and you're just met with dusty, barren rooms‒ and Vil, Vil, Vil. He is everywhere in your memories and tethered to home, filling that empty house with his laughter, his warmth. Like your memories, you allow yourself to sink into him, filling your chest with his sensation. The bench is not meant for two people, but you manage.

“Tell me, which one of your stories were you babbling on about?”

“Oh nothing, really. Just some old tale, not any of mine. I’m tired of having to thread something from myself.”

“All these old tales‒ they all end the same don’t they.” He recalls his career, strife with the same, fairytale endings over, and over, and over again. The villain, no matter how bright, how cunning, how beautiful‒ will fall, slain at the feet of the hero. He understood your sophistication to this tragedy at a young age, bearing this destruction over and over. Still, your back remained ever brighter than anyone he knew despite being whipped against this ceaseless death. “Why don’t you sing of something more bright, beautiful, happy in your life?”

You chuckle. “What, like you?” The air cools the slight flush of your skin. Raising your hand to the skies like a muse, you lift your body to the balcony railing, lunging towards the heavens. “Oh gods lend thy ears to my hymn dedicated to very best companion‒ Vil Schoenheit‒ his beauty surpassing all those on this land even you dreadful creatures‒ kindness penetrating all of sentient beings; hair silky smooth as Galatea's skin‒ whoa!”

Vil catches you by the waist before you tip over the edge of the rail, almost melting in your mild aroma if it wasn’t for your loss of balance. He swings you down to the balcony floor.

“You.. half witted, drunken bard. I’ll kill you if I start wrinkling at this age because of your antics.”

You lean back onto the balcony, afraid of the soaring feeling his touch engraved in you. Your breath stinks of liquor as you let out a laugh, throwing your head back off the rail. “The god won’t hear anyway. The story I must tell is already composed in the stars by their hands.” The corner of your lips weighs into a softer, mathematical smile‒ one which ensured it warranted no pity, no kindness, no woe. “I have no true say in what I sing. It doesn’t matter. None of it does.”

You avoid Vil’s face, but your eyes heave over to them in a covetous gaze. There is no pity, no kindness, no woe‒ but understanding‒ something which makes you want to fall deep into the earth, all the way to the chamber of Hades, to bury yourself deep into the cold ground to shackle down any desire that may arise for that dangling fruit. But you yield to the celestial warmth in them, one which reflects the heat of your fluttering heartbeat in the tender lavender of his eyes. A warmth that did not burn, or was fed by taking your own, one which glowed with sublime beauty and touched like warm flesh. It takes an agonizing effort from you to sink and sabotage your heart from enjoying that tender touch, instead reaching your hands to the wintery, still metal of your lyre.

“...I understand that feeling. It's the same when you get type-casted over and over again." He stares at your hands plucking a wistful tune. "It's like you have no story to tell but the ones people keep deciding for you."

Your hands move ceaselessly to twist a sorrowful song, so shamelessly in front of Vil. You plucked with mulled, languid fingers, aching to play something much faster, much lighter than the weight licking against the strings of your heart. But a growing force born of your own flesh, would not let you, seizing control of your body and its movements, intoxicating it with a rupture, a breaking, a splitering that followed the lines of old scars.

“You’re so beautiful, Vil. And so diligent, resilient too. You could command the seas and the stars if you pleased.” You giggled to squint your eyes, hoping it would shade the absolute adoration within them. “You’ll be whatever you want to be. That’s the Vil I know. I don’t care if you’re a hero, or a villain. You’re…” everything. All of it. “...you’re always that beautiful Vil to me.”

He believes every word from you, he always does. Anger sparks in him. "What about you, then?" Those words came fast, escaping his throat without a hesitance prickling through it.

"Hm? What about me?"

"You're the same‒ you could shake the earth with your songs, and you do." A heated temper welled inside him, buzzing, swollen like a burn. How dare you speak like this? How dare you speak so lowly, so carelessly to the one he loved? "What about you? What will you become?"

"It is already decided‒"

"By who exactly?" He demanded, louder.

"By the gods of course. The ones which my family dishonored‒ "

“I am asking about you‒ what do you want? What will you do with all your love?” What about us? He wished things were a certain way so he could have tasted the sweetness of those words. But he bit his tongue.

A hollow laugh thrusts past your lips. "But why should I try? Only few have returned from the trials of love with someone to share that victory with. Many take their lives‒ you know‒ my mother did." You rested your hand on top of your instrument. "It all ends the same. They all leave.”

"But they're not you."

"The same blood flows within me." He was being so persistent tonight. You wished he’d give up, but it would also break you if he abandoned you at this moment.

He can’t help the sarcasm lacing into his voice, rising from the rage swelling inside him. "I wasn’t aware you passed down the same heart too, is it a family heirloom?”

The silence hurt your ears like a bitter, frosted wind, matching the feeling in your chest that ached so freshly at those thrashing words.

“They don’t.” You answered finally. “But this heart is neither theirs nor mine. It is for the gods to ravage. And I don’t know where to put it. All this love.” You turn towards the sky, sparing him the sight of your tears.

“Okay, fine.” Vil sucked a breath in, he was feeling brave now‒ perhaps it was blindness, stupidity. “Then let me have it.”

"...what?" He sees the tension grow in your shoulders, the heave of your white breath against the inky, cold air.

"Give it to me." He said with more greed, hunger rumbling, plump in his veins.

"No." You gripped the gilded gold handle of your lyre. "No. I cannot do that to you. I won't. You're‒ you're‒" Everything. Love. My memories. My love. My everything. The words came tumbling from your mouth. "You're too precious, Vil. What would the world do without you?" No. You felt those weren't quite the right words. "What would I do without you?"

Vil swallows the space between you two with one step.“You won’t have to live without me. I’ll be here. With you.”

“You don’t know that! Don’t‒ don’t say things like that.” You shake, those words sharpened at him, lashing against his sweetness. “I can’t lose you. You’re different, you’re unlike anyone I’ve met. Even the gods cannot tear you away from me. I…” I love you. “...I could not bear it if you sunk below this mortal sea‒ if I robbed you of your life. Don’t do this. Stop.”

He embraces your form. You want to lurch away from his tender arms, but you can’t. His arms station themselves like ancient stone around your body. “The gods have always been merciful to you when they brought us together. But you have not been the same to yourself.”

You thumbed your title on your lyre numbly, pleading. “Stop. Don’t do this. Don’t say things like that.” Don’t, don’t, don’t.

“Don’t take me for a fool, tell me why, then. Did all of these years mean nothing to you?“

“Because it will fade. Love is ephemeral, it dies, it withers. Do you truly believe it is eternal? Like some stupid fairytale?”

He remembers your words towards him. You could command the seas and the stars if you pleased…You’ll be whatever you want to be. “When you sing of it in your songs, I believe it. You make eternity out of love. You’re more of an idiot than I thought if you won’t do the same for your own.”

You don’t answer him, leaning the back of your head against his flaying heartbeat, trembling.

“It seems I can’t get through to you in these flowery words, you stupid bard.” He turns you to face him, a smile reaches his lips despite him seeing, for the first time, those greedy, fat tears that fall from your face. “I love you, dumbass. I will plow my way out of heaven and hell for you to hear this.”

“I…” You want to run, hide, thrash against his grip with the decaying vehemence of your song. Instead, you force out thick, hitching breaths with a burning in your lungs. “Is this‒ are you‒”

“I’m certain. I’ve had about an excruciating decade to be certain, (Name).”

In your lifetime as a balladeer, you’ve trained your throat to trill the highest notes, sung your muscles raw to commit epics to memory, thickened the flesh of your lungs to cry bellowing poetry for colossal crowds. The world knew a thousand words from you. But the sun had never touched the words spilling from your mouth, pouring out corroded and rusted with the heat of your heart. It comes as a babbling rustle, rough as a child’s cry. Your arms move on their one, tangling into his neck and burrowing your face into the curve of his shoulder. It's warm, so warm. “I love you too. I love you, I love you.” You feel suspended in the heavenly, prickling starlights in his embrace.

"Tell me this isn't a dream‒ some cruel dream spun by the gods. Please?" The metal of your lyre sings as it hits the ground. You would not let the gods interrupt you this time, holding his face to look for any semblance of betrayal, cruelty‒ anything that would tear down this moment like the gods had promised. But it never came. This was your Vil.

"Can I show you instead?" He peeled your lip forward, exposing the flushed color to his eyes. Was this the color of your blood? Your throat? Perhaps he could taste it if he tried hard enough.

Your breath was already mixing with his when you begged. "Please‒"

His lips molded against yours‒ you tasted the faintest twinge of candied apples sticking against his plush flesh. He pulled you closer, hoping to color his insides with your smell, your taste‒ more, anything that would bring you closer to him. When you separated to breathe, you greedily gulped the air scented with his sweet fragrance, before diving back to his lips. Again‒ one more time‒ just to make sure this was all real. The bruising of your lips and feverish fluttering of your breaths made you believe, indeed, that this was reality. You grinned‒ your cheeks throbbing.

“There is so much you have to make up for.” He says, smiling against your grazing fingers against his lips, committing every curve and grove to your memory. You would fill yourself with him like this. “Or‒ we have a lot to make up for.”

You enjoyed the way his eyes flushed with a sea of violet as they squinted, crushed from his brimming cheeks. “I’m sorry. I will. As much as time will let me, I’ll make it up to you again, and again.”

“Show me.”

You dip your mouth onto his once more, tasting the fountain of sweetness spilling from his throat. A smile, one for yourself and no one else, flowers on your face. "I'll have to shape us into a song. I'll make sure they'll paint of us, sculpt us, sing of us‒ they'll remember us. Two lovers, you and me, a constellation of love." The lightness of your laughter almost pulled him up to the heavens. Finally.

"You have such a talent of making everything sound so stupidly splendid."

"Because you make it so.”

You strum your lyre, lacing your adoration into the notes, each finger weighted by the love in your heart. The roses of the garden grow fragrant, fruit and flowering buds swung from the trees, lavender sprouting from between the crackling veranda floor. An everlasting spring of your love, infinite as the elements that grow, and wither, and die, and rebirth into the earth allows you to plant your feet next to Vil’s. You look to him, finding mischief, kindness, and tenderness swirling in the violet, speckling with the glassy blue. It was as if the whole expanse of the sky lay within each of his eyes‒ infinity‒ you thought. Your infinity, a garden of lasting spring you would grow with each loving note from your throat. There would be frost, there would be decay‒ but not even the gods could lay their hands upon this infinite season. You titter, filled with its warmth, listening to the beat of his heart, spinning a song, an eternity from it.

——————————————————

Notes:

Title inspired by Shakespear's poem "Orpheus" “Orpheus with his lute made trees / And the mountain tops that freeze / Bow themselves when he did sing / To his music plants and flowers / Ever sprung; as sun and showers / There had made a lasting spring.”

Euainētos is an epithet for Orpheus, meaning well praised. I thought it would be interesting for an MC who has many people who love them for what they can give, rather than love them as a whole (the whole “people love me but don’t like me” dilemma). Love an angsty epithet.

Lavender has historically been a symbol for both lesbians and gay men‒ an overarching mark of queerness. I try to be as inclusive as I can with my language and writing‒ but all art is a self portrait of their creators. So, because I'm queer, my writing will inevitably be queer coded too. I thought it was a nice touch to add because I do headcanon Vil as queer‒ both in his gender and sexuality. The pronouns he uses in the Japanese version has a historical connection to the "Okama"/"transsexual" and contemporarily, queer people in Japan. Our culture I think often twists gender expectations and language because of the rigidity in our language and social structure as an extension of ourselves (language = very strong way to express the self = entices subversive use of this powerful tool). We also have a great history in queer gender performance in our performance arts‒ such as Kabuki and Takarazuka which have deep influences in our overall society and culture. Though western literature and society has not seen these people explicitly "queer" I think westerners (and Japan as it is affected by Western ideology) need to expand their definition of queerness so that it is culturally inclusive. So to me I think Vil falls within that definition of queerness (also, his dress/uniform slays) on the gender and sexuality spectrum and I thought lavender was a good, subtle nod to that.

Also, the hanakotoba (flower language) for Lavenders is "I await you", silence, hope, hesitancy, elegance, "love that forgives'', and "please answer to me"- it has both positive and slightly sorrowful sentiments, and an aspect of yearning that I love lol. I love flower language so fucking much I use it with every chance I get

Title is also inspired from this plus, yes you guessed it, our lord and savior Mitski (First Love/Late Spring)

Your mother's body is burned because cremation was popularized by the Athenians and became common practice by the Homeric era. Coin placed in the mouth (Charon's obol) is the payment for Charon to carry you across the river of the dead.

Why are there so many convoluted parental relationships in my fics? Easy! I have mommy AND daddy issues. Yes ladies you really can have it all

All the names I mentioned that are engraved onto the lyre are different epithets of Orpheus

Working on the Azul x Siren hanahaki fic soon~ Here is the post of myth-inspired ideas if you haven’t seen it

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rightpastnowhere · 11 months

Note

Zone of Truth with the twins? >:D

hurt/comfort spell ask meme

so... i know who you meant by "the twins"........ but since you didn't specify in words i am going to be mean >:D

ZONE OF TRUTH: You create a magical zone that guards against deception in a 15-foot-radius sphere centered on a point of your choice within range. Until the spell ends, a creature that enters the spell's area for the first time on a turn or starts its turn there must make a Charisma saving throw. On a failed save, a creature can't speak a deliberate lie while in the radius. You know whether each creature succeeds or fails on its saving throw.

An affected creature is aware of the spell and can thus avoid answering questions to which it would normally respond with a lie. Such creatures can be evasive in its answers as long as it remains within the boundaries of the truth.

also this prompt got way out of control whoopsie. i used this as a warm-up to get back into writing after my very long hiatus, so it's not my best, but i love the twins <3 so here you go!!!

It's dark.

Not dark enough to blind - he has darkvision to thank for that, enough elven blood passed down for that - but dark enough to obscure details, to mess with his sense of where he is. His hands are tied, but not his feet, so theoretically he could try to get up and flee, but-

A panicked whimper, small and quiet, from beside him reminds him why he can't just up and run. They'd taken Leona's glasses, smashing them under heel, and darkvision doesn't amount to shit when your vision's that bad.

"What are we gonna do?" Leona whispers, a shrill string of her voice threading through in her panic, and he doesn't want to snap but she's being too loud. "Mum and Dad don't know where we are, we don't know where we are, we don't know what they want-"

"It's okay, Leo," he hisses, not to scold but just to interrupt - he's switched into elvish, too, just in case none of them speak it. He wishes, more than ever, that he'd paid more attention in any of Mum's other language lessons. "They'll be able to find us. Mum can find anything, remember? Like when Egg dropped her necklace in the garden that one time?"

He can see Leo's eyes when she turns, and meets them as steadily as he can, even knowing that she can't see the details of his face from this close. "It's okay," he whispers again, as fierce and solid as he can. "We'll be okay."

The door to the room they're in opens, allowing a single woman to step through. She walks over slowly, heeled boots clicking on the floor; each click is in time with his heart until the latter picks up pace, gradually running out of sync until his pulse is in his ears.

Breathe. Calm down. In, hold, out. In, hold, out. Dad's voice in his head, Mum's hands on his shoulders, a memory of a panic attack curled between the bookshelves of the family library.

Wolfe is usually one of the first to panic with things like this. He hates to admit it, especially in comparison to his siblings, some older-brother instinct

Leona's hand, somehow having found its way into his, squeezes so tight he feels his knuckles roll together; it hurts, but just enough to ground him.

"Do you know why you're here?" the woman asks, her words scraped at the edges by rough-accented Common.

"Because you brought us here?" The words trip out unbidden, stumbling past his lips in a shaky mockery of his usual snark, and he almost winces. This isn't the time to act smart.

You might want to throw out some cheesy one-liner or whatever to act cool, but it's not worth the risk, his mother's voice chimes from a memory, the three oldest kids sitting in on interrogation training with the newest Grey Hunt recruits. It might seem like a way of keeping the power on your side, but it's just as likely to make your captors even angrier.

Lesson one failed.

Luckily, the woman doesn't rise to the bait; she just chuckles, stepping closer to crouch down in front of them both. He shifts his body best he can, trying to put himself between her and Leona, trying to shield her.

"How cute," she says, "but you know that's not what I meant."

Wolfe swallows thickly.

"You're little de Rolo brats, aren't 'ya?" The woman leans forward, and Wolfe fights the instinctive urge to cower away. "I bet you know alllll sorts of secret entrances and whatnot into the castle, right?"

Shit.

"We never used those," Leona croaks from behind him. "Guess you fucked up and got the wrong kids."

She still manages to sound smug and haughty, even with her voice wobbling with fear. He would be proud in any other circumstance, but now he just holds back a wince, meeting the woman's eyes best he can as she frowns.

"If that's how it's gonna be," she growls, sending a shiver down Wolfe's arms. He feels a mirrored shudder go through his sister, trembling in her hands like an echo.

Another figure steps in through the door, this one cloaked and their face obscured. They're carrying an old, thick tome, and Wolfe has spent enough time around magic users to recognize a spellbook when he sees one.

"I'd just beat the answer out of you," the woman says, far too casual for Wolfe's liking, "but we don't have that kind of time. Your parents will probably catch on soon. So."

The cloaked one begins to murmur under their breath, and Wolfe curls back, bracing himself for whatever is about to hit them. Leona goes tense, squeezing his hand again and burying her face against his shoulder.

He feels the magic as it hits him, but it doesn't hurt. It... it feels like something is pushing at his mind, in his mind, like a Message or a Sending but much, much stronger. Like pushing through a locked door. He thinks to brace himself, somehow, but before he can, the lock is broken, and magic floods through his head.

"Let's try this again." The woman leans closer, too close, he can smell her breath from here. "Do you know where the secret tunnels into the castle are?"

Wolfe tries to say No, with as much force and conviction as when he tried to convince Mum that he hadn't snuck out or that it was Leona who'd pranked the Curator. But when he opens his mouth, all that comes out is a choked, strangled sound.

He and Leona tense up at the same time. Zone of Truth.

The woman grins at their realization. "You kids are smart, I'll give'ya that. Now are you smart enough to stay alive?"

Half-truths, his father's voice reminds him, a sudden reminder of an old lesson. Mum had called him paranoid, and Dad had said he was just cautious. If staying silent is too much of a danger, try and get by on half-truths. Don't give away anything that you don't have to.

He scrambles to think of something to say, something that's just true enough to get by. He can't deny the existence of the secret passageways, and he can't say he's never used them... dammit, think think think-

He feels Leona pinch at his hand, breaking his train of thought. He resists the urge to snap at her, wondering what the hell she's getting at, when he remembers the scar that sits right under her thumb and forefinger.

The scar he got from climbing in their bedroom window - or, more specifically, from the tree just outside it that he'd hastily scrambled up to avoid being caught by the guards. The tree that he always climbed to get back in after sneaking out.

Gods, his sister is a fucking genius.

"I've never gotten into the castle using secret entrances," he says, confident and certain, locking eyes with the woman as her lip curls into a snarl. He thinks of his mother, every time Syldor has come to visit; he thinks of his father, every time someone questions the integrity of Whitestone.

He thinks of them both as they tell him, be brave.

The woman growls, and he does not flinch. She doesn't do anything, just turns to his sister, and somehow that is harder to stay strong in the face of.

"What about you?" the woman hisses. "You gonna be more useful to us?"

He feels Leona's hand tighten around his before she says, "I've never used them in my life."

Wolfe swallows down a shocked noise, because yes the fuck she has. Leona was the first one of the twins to discover them - she'd been tailing Vesper through the halls, and turned a corner to find their older sister had disappeared. Leona used them far more than Wolfe did, even if it was mostly for traveling within the castle than getting out of it.

But if she was able to say that, bold-faced, then... she must have resisted the spell. Leona, with the lowest constitution out of all of the family, managed to resist the spell.

Holy shit.

The woman snarls again, but turns her ire to the cloaked figure instead. "Did your stupid fucking spell even work?"

"I - I knew I felt it catch, but I..." The cloaked figure pulls out the spell book again and hastily flips through it, ripping at least one page along the way.

He never gets a chance to find it; there's two arrows through his neck before he can, and his book falls to the ground only a second before he does. The woman barely has a chance to draw the crude-looking axe from behind her back before the crack of a gun fills the air, and her head bursts into a bright-red spray. Wolfe cringes back instinctively, and covers his face with his arm as well, but that's more to spare his own eyes from the gorey details.

Footsteps rush into the room, and Wolfe feels a gentle hand on his cheek - his mother's, from the uneven pattern of leather-covered and bare fingers, a signature of her archery gloves - and lowers his arm at her frantic voice calling his name.

She's kneeling in front of him, with her other hand a mirror on Leona's face, and Wolfe smiles in relief. He feels tears prick at his eyes when she sweeps a thumb across his cheekbone. "Hi, Mum," he chokes out, his throat thick with a building sob.

Leona echoes him, sounding similarly fragile, and their mother's face crumples into a shaky smile, her own eyes welling up with tears. "Hello, darlings."

Dad runs up just behind her, looking even more fraught than when Gwen had gone missing with one of his guns. "Are you two alright? Are you hurt?" He falls to his knees beside Mum, and Wolfe winces, thinking of his bad knee.

"We're fine, Dad," Leona says, her voice a little stronger. "I just can't fucking see."

Wolfe surprises himself with how loud he laughs. Maybe it's the stress of the situation, but something about Leona taking advantage of being actually fucking kidnapped to swear in front of their parents without consequences - because he knows they're going to be too relieved to have them back to lecture her, of course they are - just fucking breaks him.

Then Mum starts laughing too, and Dad looks at her the most bewildered Wolfe's ever seen, and that just makes him laugh even louder.

#okay so it's a lot of hurt and not a lot of comfort. oops.#wolfe de rolo #leona de rolo #perc'ahlia #critical role #percival de rolo #vex'ahlia de rolo #perc’ahlia #vex’ahlia #perc'ahlia children #the de rolo family #vox machina #blorbologist #I'M SORRY THIS IS SO FUCKING LONG LMAO #nova writes

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saltylandland · 2 years

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I’m writing this instead of sleeping bc my roommate is moving out at 11pm 💀 also I know realistically it makes sense that Leona would be smelly but I don’t want to accept that 😭

Warnings: implied depression, hurt comfort (somewhat?)

———

In some sense you could understand Leona’s lack of motivation. You’ve seen his worse days and you’ve been there for him as best as you could.

You know that nagging him would only go through one lion ear and out the other, if not further discouraging him out of shame. You could relate to struggling with ‘basic’ necessities, things like bathing or even eating, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to let him wallow in his room. Instead of fighting, you find solutions. This instance being one of them.

Tugging Leona out of bed was eerily easy, but you were still gentle and slow nonetheless. This concerned you as Leona always put up somewhat of a fight, whether it was some sharp verbal jabs or his refusal to move a toe. But as he slowly rose out of bed, not looking you in the eye, you wonder what got him in this state. Perhaps his demons were winning today. You decide not to pry due to his haunted look.

Slowly you two made your way into Leona’s private bathroom, another perk for being dorm leader. You opt for the standing shower instead of the tub, not wanting the possibility of having to lug his body out of the tub if he spaces out too much. Starting the shower startles Leona out of his haze enough and he starts to peel off his uniform as you get the water to the perfect temperature.

Turning around you try not to make a face at the smell that comes off his uniform. He clearly didn’t bother to change after practice but he does chuck his clothes into a hamper outside the bathroom door, for which you are thankful.

After taking off your clothes as well you guide Leona in with you, noting with a grin that he finally forms an expression of distaste at the water but follows you nonetheless. He does nothing but lean his forehead against your shoulder as the shower beats down his back. Wrapping his arms loosely around you, a hybrid mix of a broken purr is low against your ear as you gently run your fingers through his damp hair.

He rarely lets go, only when you reach for your shampoo and conditioner as you wash both of your hair separately. Turning around to clean your body, when you turn back you see Leona doing the same thing. With tired eyes, it looks as if he was emulating your movements as you cleaned yourself. His lips formed a fine line as he can’t bring himself to make a retort.

After washing off you grab your robes, tying his hair into a loose braid down his back and lazily drying off your hair, both of you too mentally exhausted to do anything else as you lay down in bed. He pulls you close as he mutters a weak “thank you” into your skin as he drifts off, this time his dreams are peaceful.

#leona kingscholar #twisted wonderland #twst #twst leona #drabble #tw depression #tw depressing stuff #hurt comfort sorta?#posties

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blackhakumen · 4 months

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Mini Fanfic #1168: Comforting With One Another (King of Fighters)

1:46 a.m. at Yabuki's Apartment's Living Room......

It was a dark, clear night in the streets of South Town where almost everyone are at their homes fast asleep for the rest of the evening.

Whereas our two lovebirds, Shingo Yabuki and Leona Heidern, are sitting down on the sofa together holding onto their mugs of hot coco after waking up from their respective nightmares.

Shingo: (Takes a Sip of his Drink Before His Eyes Begins to Sparkle in Awe) My god...... (Takes Another Sip of Coco with a Bright Smile on his Face) This has to be the best cup of coco I've ever tasted! I don't even think mom could ever top something THIS amazing no matter how hard she try!....D-Don't tell her I say that once we see her again, 'Kay? (Chuckles a Bit Awkwardly)

Leona: (Giggles Softly While Playfully Rolling her Eyes) I won't say anything, I promise. And I'm so glad you enjoyed it. Seriah used to make me mug whenever I stayed up late in this hour, until she taught me how to make on myself. (Uses her Plastic Sppon to Whirl her Coco Around a Bit) It's not perfect in comparison, but it does help calm my nerves from time to time. (Takes a Sip of her Drink)

Shingo: (Takes Another Sip Before Nodding in Agreement) Yeah.....I think it's helping my nerves a bit too, Leona-san. Which is great, cause I.....(Takes a Very Deep Breath Before Frowning) Really don't feel like going back to sleep anytime soon......

Leona: (Frowns as Well While Laying her Side of her Head onto Her Boyfriend's Shoulder Next to Her) Me neither. I can't remember the last time I had a nightmare this bothersome.

Shingo: Same.

Shingo/Leona: (Turns to One Another) What was your nightmare about? Oh! Sorry. You first. Please, I insist. (Stare at Each Other For a Brief Second Before Giggling a Bit)

Shingo: (Rubs the Back of his Head Back and Forth) We're both a real mess tonight, aren't we?

Leona: More or less. I can tell mines first if you want.

Shingo: Sure. Take as much time as you need to prepare yourself, okay?

Leona: (Happily Nodded) I will. Thank you. (Takes a Deep Breath Before Frowning and Speaking) My dream.....It....mostly involves my Orochi side.

Shingo: (Frowns in Worry) And....how you lost control?

Leona: For the most part, yes. (Puts Her Mug Down on the Coffee Table In Front of Her) It's not nearly as horrific as the previous dreams I had in the past, but.......('Sigh') It still managed to find it's way into terrify me when I least expected....

Shingo: I see......(Eyes Suddenly Begins to Widened at the Realization) Wait. You said that you and the Colonel have been doing those special training sessions together that help keep it under check, right? How's that been going along, i-if you don't mind me asking.

Leona: It's been going along smoothly for the most part thankfully. It wasn't without It's challenges mind you, but it still helped me out a lot since then. It made me feel more calm and....more in control than I ever was since then.

Shingo: (Smiles Brightly) That's great! You're making progress and I couldn't any prouder.

Leona: (Snickering a Bit) You sound almost exactly like my father whenever I give him status report.

Shingo: (Starts Snickering as Well) Me? Sounding like the great Colonel Heidern? I don't believe it~

Leona: (Giggles Softly) It's true!~ In private whenever no one was around the area, he would always brag and tell me how proud he is of me and how far I've come to get to where I am now.

Shingo: As he should be! Any parent would be proud of the progress their offsprings would make. (Gently Grabs Hold of his Girlfriend's Habds) And look, I know how scary and stressful this Orochi fiasco gets overtime, but keep doing what you do best in your training. I know what you have it takes to overcome what him and his followers would have thrown on you. Because what your name is?

Leona: (Stares at Shingo in a Brief Second Before Giving him a Determined Smile on her Face and Salutes to Him) Leona Heidern, the first woman in the Ikari Warriors, daughter of Colonel Heidern......(Forms a Bit of a Flirty Smirk on her Face) And the woman you've fallen over heels for~

Shingo: (Chuckles Lightly) You God darn right! You're amazing, Leona-san, and I believe in you 150% percent, always! (Gives Leona a Thumbs Up While Grinning)

Leona: (Giggles Some More) Thank you, darling!~ It means so much hearing this from you. (Gives Shingo a Kiss on the Cheek) But I'm afraid we're not done here, are we?

Shingo: ('Sighs a Bit in Defeat') No....Not even close.

Leona: (Gently Place her Habd on Top of Shingo's) You know you don't have to tell me if you don't feel comfortable enough in doing so, right?

Shingo: (Gives Leona a Bit of a Reassuring Smile on his Face) Yeah, but you were brave enough to tell me yours. It's only fair if I return the favor, you know?

Leona: Take as much time as you need to tell me. I won't go anywhere.

Shingo: (Happily Nodded) Yeah. (Takes a Very Deep Breath Himself Before Speaking Again) Okay! So......I'm....certain you've......remember the time i....accidently blurted out the time I.....almost died trying to protect Kyo from a Wild, Orochi Controlled Iori after 11th KOF Tournament ended....

Leona: (Simply Nodded) I remembered, yes. And it still worries me to no end.

Shingo: ('Sighs Heavily') Yeah, I figured you say that....But that was the dream I had tonight. Only this time.....No one was there to save us.....I wasn't strong enough to protect Kyo......or to fulfil Chizuru-Senpai's promise.........(Tears Starts Falling Down From his Eyes).....And I....('Sniff') wasn't able to see my mom and sisters again on that night.......

Leona: (Starts Getting Worried) Shingo.......

Shingo: And..... ('Sniff') I know. I know it's dumb of me to keep thinking about that now that I'm.....still alive and breathing....And I'm pretty sure Kyo has already gotten over it a long time ago, but.....('Sniff') I-I don't know! I....('Sniff') Just.... the thought of the possibilities of us not being so lucky at all kept scaring me nonstop!

Leona: It's....starting to get too much for you, isn't it?

Shingo: ('Sighs Heavily') Pretty much, yeah. (Starts Wiping the Tears Away) ('Sniff') Pretty dumb, am I right?

Leona: (Gently Grabs Hold of Shingo's Hand) No it isn't. Believe me, I know what it's like to have past trauma trying to weigh you down at your very lowest at times. But you can't let it take toll out of you forever.

Shingo: (Takes Another Deep Breath as He Starts Calming Himself Down) Yeah....You're right. I still have my whole life ahead of me to look forward to right now. ('Sigh') I just wish it wasn't too.....complicated, you know?

Leona: It's never gets easier down the line, but never lose hope. (Gives Shingo a Reassuring Smile on her Face) I know you have what it takes to overcome it completely one day. And I'll be more than happy to help out and support you every step of the way.

Shingo: (Heart Begins to Melt in Pure Happiness as He Hugs his Girlfriend Lovingly) You really are too good to me~

Leona: (Starts Pouting at her Boyfriend a Little) Don't say that. You know as well as I do that you've brought just as much happiness to me the moment we started becoming friends.

Shingo: (Chuckles Lightly) I know, I know, I was only kidding. I am really thankful for you making me feel a lot better though.

Leona: (Smiles Softly as She Hugs Shingo Back) Likewise. You're a truly wonderful person, Shingo-Kun and Ihpile I could aspire to become more open and strong willed as you are as I grow another year older today.

Shingo: I'm sure you'll- Wait, another year older today?

Leona: Well, it's technically my birthday today given it's midnight.

Shingo: (Eyes Widened in Complete Shock) You're BIRTHDAY IS TODAY!? I didn't know that!!

Leona: (Smiles Sheepishly) That's....probably because I've never gotten the chance to tell you until now. My apologies

Shingo: ('Sigh') No. It's my fault for not asking you about it a lot sooner. Now I got a lot planning to do........

Leona: (Starts Yawning a Bit) Let's worry about that when the sun raises back up. I'm sure we'll have plenty to do by then.

Shingo: (Yawns as Well) Definitely. But I'm definitely gonna buy you gift while we're at it.

Leona: Only if you promise not to buy me something too expensive.

Shingo: I'll try. I love you.

Leona: (Kiss the Top of Shingo's Head) I love you too~ Thank you so much.

Happy Birthday, Leona Heidern

@thelexhex

@tampire

@albion-93

@ma-lemons

#king of fighters #leona heidern #shingo yabuki #heidern (mentioned)#kyo (mentioned)#orochi (mentioned)#night comfort #cute romance #hurt/comfort #a little bit of angst #shingo x leona #fluff

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msola · 1 year

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Angelique Boyer como Leona/Marena en El Amor Invencible (cap. 32)

#angelique boyer #this show is breaking me #Leona is breaking me #i felt her pain in this scene #you know #she is this close to her heart to her son #who had been hurt #and she can't do anything #cause he doesn't know that she is his mom #and she needs to stay away #but can't #and his adopted mother is comforting her son #and all she can do is to watch #my heart...#leona y benja #el amor invencible #leona bravo/marena ramos

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casper-perry · 7 months

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azul voice: what the fuck, idia-san

author: vsa_kiby

summary:

Azul pinches at the bridge of his nose. He swears he’s getting a migraine. “Good lord.”

“I know,” Idia groans, “I know.”

#twisted wonderland #leona kingscholar/idia shroud #azul ashengrotto & idia shroud #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #idia shroud #jade floyd riddle and ortho r all mentioned #pre relationship #character study #for both of them ish tbh #azul’s attempt at being a good friend. not that he knows #Episode: e06 Guard of the Underworld Spoilers (Twisted-Wonderland)#hurt/comfort #platonic relationships #aroace azul but u’d have to squint #angst

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ashtavula · 3 months

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I am dragging this out, but I love the kiss scenario. Okay, so, let me set the scene. The overblot gang overblots, and almost as soon as they come out of it their S/O would run over to them embrace them, and kiss them in pure relief and joy at them being okay. Reactions?

I am so sorry for taking a while to get to this ;~;

cw: spoilers for all the overblots under the cut

Overblotters react to you kissing them in the aftermath

Riddle:

-He feels like crying. Scratch that, he is crying. When you rush up to him, he immediately reaches out to you, and sobs into the crook of your neck. He blubbers out countless apologies, his words blurring together. Then, you kiss him. You can taste his tears, and he lets out a whimper, his knees buckling. You both crash to the ground, and he continues to cling to you, like a child seeking reassurance. Know that your presence is extremely comforting to him. and that he's more than grateful that you're there even in one of his darkest moments. Even as Ace begins to yell at him, he snuggles close to you, his tears staining your shirt.

Leona:

-You nearly knock him off his feet when you suddenly tackle him. He lets out a huff, and wraps his arm around your shoulders. "Easy, herbivore. No need for all that," he grumbles. Still, he lets you pull him into a kiss. As the others start declaring that they're going to wipe the floor with him in the spelldrive tournament, he takes their ribbing with ease. But you can feel the way he leans on you for support, and you can see that he's more exhausted than he's letting on. Later, he'll collapse on top of you, and sleep until well past the morning, cradling you in his arms.

Azul:

-When he comes to, the first thing he sees is your worried face hovering over him. You gasp, and immediately embrace him. Azul blinks, willing away the tears that are starting to form. You kiss him, and he lets out a muffled whine. He feels pathetic, but your affection is comforting, to say the least. You break away, only for Floyd and Jade to come in to ascertain if Azul truly was alright. Later, when you see the picture of him as a cute, chubby kid, he'll do his best to cover your eyes, and he'll blush when you coo over how adorable he was. Maybe...you don't actually mind how weak he used to be.

Jamil:

-He sighs, and rolls his eyes when you kiss him. "Being worried about someone like me, even after this... You really have no sense of self-preservation, huh?" Despite his harsh words, he holds you close, and buries his face in the crook of your neck. "I'm glad you don't," he mumbles, sagging against your body. When Kalim tries to hug him too, sobbing, Jamil pushes him away, and yells at him. But as he raises his voice, he still remains with you, even covering your ears to make sure he won't hurt you with his volume. When all of this is over, he'll worry about you changing your mind, and deciding that you can do better than a servant who's betrayed his master. For now, though, he's content to have you close, and maybe he'll give you a few more kisses in private to reward you for staying despite everything.

Vil:

-It's over. It's all over. He's shown you the absolute worst side of himself. The petty, jealous, downright ugly part of him hidden deep within his heart. He's fully expecting you to say it's over. So when you instead rush into his arms, crying out in concern for his well-being, he's uncharacteristically silent. He only recovers when you kiss him, showing him proof of your continued affection. He cups your cheek, idly stroking your skin, and he lets out a huff of laughter. He can still feel your kiss on his lips as Malleus repairs the stadium, and as he dances and sings on stage. When it's all over, he'll return to you, weary, but somehow happy. "Come, my little blossom. Stay with me for a while. After all, a queen is nothing without her loyal king."

Idia:

-He's shell shocked, for more reasons than one. Seeing Vil's wrinkled face, losing Ortho again, and now? Now, you're clinging to him and giving him kisses. He stutters over his words, his hair flaming up to a rather familiar pink as his hands flail. He's not sure if he's embarrassed about you kissing him in front of everyone else, or if he's just relieved to still be on the receiving end of your love. After a few moments of unceremonious floundering, he gives in, leaning into your embrace. He sighs deeply as the others start calling out for him to fix the system and seal the gate. Can't he just stay in your arms a little while longer?

Malleus:

-His arms are slow to wrap around you, but he tightens his grip when you tug him into a relieved kiss. He feels...oddly empty inside. He did all of this to keep Lilia, you, and everyone else with him forever. And he figured that this might have been the end. You'd seen just how possessive he could be, and how powerful he was. He wouldn't have blamed you if you'd been scared of him. But here you are, in his arms, right where you belong. Still loving him, despite the things he put you through. He pulls you closer, almost crushing you against his chest. "Don't leave me. Please..."

#riddle rosehearts #riddle x reader #leona kingscholar #leona x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul x reader #jamil viper #jamil x reader #vil schoenheit #vil x reader #idia shroud #idia x reader #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #twisted wonderland #twst reader insert #twst x reader

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oepionie · 1 year

Text

— "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:

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arashrita · 7 months

Note

Hi can we have this but the opposite way?? I feel like hearing this from kalim would break my heart! Thank you 💜!

Hey there! Hope you are doing well. I'm sorry for being late. Enjoy and have a great day/night/afternoon. Thank you! 💜💜

HC: He says "I hate you" during an argument + Aftermath

"I HATE YOU !!"

Housewardens

Words can cut deeper than a sword.

"I hate you"

Riddle: He was horrified. How could he say that to you?! He can never hate you! He wanted to apologize immediately. But, words froze in his tongue. He couldn't do anything but watch in shame as you leave the room.

Leona: Oh no... He never meant that! He was furious with himself for letting his anger and pettiness get the best of him. You, out of all people didn't deserve to hear such horrible words. His ears drooped in shame as you run out of his room.

Azul: No no no! There's no way he said that to you! Literally ends up sobbing in front of you. He seriously hates himself. You still couldn't forgive him. So, you turned on your heels and left him alone with his thoughts.

Kalim: Personally, I don't think he will ever say that to anyone. Even, if he does he will end up crying a river right then and there. A string of apologies will follow. If you choose to leave, he will understand.

Vil: His tongue froze just like Riddle. He will be hella guilty. But, he still won't apologize easily. His insecurities will end up getting the best of him and he might just end up gaslighting you. Just turn around and leave, really.

Idia: Speechless. He said that to you? He is in denial. There's no way, right? But, in reality, he ended up hurting you in the worst way possible. He just wants to disappear at this point. It's better to leave him like that for awhile. Once he musters up enough courage, he will eventually apologize.

Malleus: Instant Regret. You can't really expect this guy to say such a thing but, trust me he is hella petty when he wants to be. The dragon prince wants to apologize and hold you, but, you step back. You have something called self respect. Will definitely go out of his way to apologize when the both of you have calmed down.

Aftermath

Riddle: He will invite you for tea. If you decline, then, he will approach you himself and ask you again. However, if you accept just for the sake of him, then, he is touched. Will apologize multiple times. He will understand if you end up breaking things off with him. However, if you accept his apology he will definitely do anything for you to assure you that he loves you.

Leona: Confronts you when you were alone in the botanical garden. He doesn't say much, but you can tell he is sincere. He is ready to accept whatever decision you make. If you end things with him, he will be heartbroken but will accept your decision. If you forgive him, he will go out of his way to make you feel better.

Azul: Can't look you in the eyes. You avoid him like the plague and he is too scared to approach you. A little nudge from the tweels will work eventually. He will apologize again and again. He is ready to cry. Don't let him hate on himself by the way. If you break-up, he will need years to come to terms with it. If you forgive and take him back, he will make sure to show you just how much he loves you.

Kalim: He won't last two days without you. Apologize for every chance he gets. He will bring you your favourite food, leave letters and gifts at your doorstep. Really, you can't stay mad at him for too long. If you still choose to break up then he will understand, but it will take too long for him to go back to his old self. If you take him back he will give you so many hugs and kisses. Get ready to be spoiled.

Vil: He just dosen't know how to apologize. He doesn't deserve your forgiveness, he knows that. But, that one part in him still hopes that you will take him back. He is getting torn apart without you. When he finally apologizes, it's on point and sincere. He admits his every mistake and promises to rectify himself. If you choose to end things with him, he will accept it with a heavy heart. If you take him back, he will cancel every single thing for the day and pamper you.

Idia: He can barely form a proper sentence while apologizing to you. It takes several attempts for him to actually apologize properly. He knows he doesn't deserve you. Why would you even want someone like him? Stop him there, or else he will just end up shit talking about himself. If you break-up with him, he will hole himself up in his room for a week and cry his heart out. If you forgive him then he is ready to do whatever you want, yup, even interact with normies.

Malleus: You are upset and so is he. He let his emotions get in the way of his common sense and he regrets it. Just like Kalim, he will spoil you with extravagant gifts. He will apologize to you as well. He might just tail you if you decide to walk away from him. Be prepared to have a sulking dragon following you like a lost puppy. He will apologize in every way he can. If you still end up breaking up with him then be prepared to face a long-lasting bad weather, since the prince is absolutely heartbroken. If you take him back, he will treat you like a queen for the rest of your lives.

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da-birb-writes-sometimes · 10 months

Text

Though The Path May Be Long, I Shall Find You; Jack Howl

A path lies ahead, some are more treacherous than others. At the end of the winding, coloured footsteps is where they can rest; a bird directing them forward, made out of precious stone.

Main Character; Jack Howl

Supporting Roles; Jack's parents, Vil Schoenheit (if you squint), Leona Kingscholar, bird messengers

Content; Soulmate AU (I use the term soul match), gender-neutral reader, this can be read as platonic, familial, or romantic, made up some lore for Jack's family, hurt/comfort (but not as much as the others)

Content Warning; brief violence (not reader or Jack), some swearing, nightmares (reader)

Word Count; 5 K

Do not put mine - or other creators’ - works into AI; that shit steals.

Prologue & Leona's Story | Ruggie's Story

Winter was in the air, despite it only being the start of September. But this was the Shaftlands, winter always came early, and a thin blanket of snow would be covering the ground before the end of the month. Jack was out picking berries with his father, as his mother was out hunting game to fill their freezer for the long winter nights. The Howl family was stocked up on almost everything, but having some fresh and rare cloudberries were always welcomed; especially during the long nights that were to come. A raven flew overhead and came to rest on his father’s shoulder, croaking into his ear.

Jack’s ears perked up, but he continued picking berries, trying to overhear the conversation between his father and his messenger, made from sodalite. Hmm, oh there’s a large patch over there! Dad’s busy so he wouldn’t notice if I went ahead and picked those!

“What news do you bring,” the older man asked the bird. A particular harsh wind rustled through the evergreens. Seems like winter would be here early this year, earlier than usual.

The raven puffed up, and shook their head. “The Mrs has harvested a moose, a large bull. Enough to feed the household until spring.”

Mr Howl nodded his head and his raven was off again, going back to reunite with the others. “Jack?” He called out. Nothing. “Jack?!” He looked to where he was earlier, but he wasn’t there. “JACK?!” He shouted, causing birds to leave the trees in a panic. “JACK HOWL?!”

Jack was still busy picking berries, and he stopped upon hearing the echoing, concerned, yelling of his dad. How had he gotten so far away? “Dad? I’m over here dad!” He stayed calm, and stayed put. Should you ever get lost, stay put. Should you panic and run more you’ll only get yourself more lost. He got up on a rock and waved his arms, in the hope that his dad would notice the movement. “I’m over here! DAD?!”

A twig snapped in the undergrowth, and Jack stopped. The wind was moving towards him and he could smell something, something dangerous. He wedged himself into a narrow rock overhang and held his breath. Slow padded footsteps thudded outside and soon he could see the brown fur of a brown bear outside of his hiding place. And he could hear and feel the hot breath entering the crevice.

“JACK?!” His dad shouted, and all he saw was something white and furry fighting the bear. But it wasn’t his dad, it was his mom. “Jack, come on! Hurry!” His dad forcibly dragged him out of his hiding spot and made a beeline home.

…

“What were you thinking,” his mom inspected his face, looking for any marks, even though during the fight with the brown bear a claw had left a gash on her shoulder blade. “I told you to stay with your dad while out foraging-”

Jack’s eyebrows were knotted, and his lip trembled. His mother stopped and cupped his face.

“Love,” she embraced him in a crushing hug, “we were worried about you. Please, just stick near us. Okay? You’re okay, Jack.”

Jack squeezed her back, tail in between his legs. “I’m sorry Mom.” He just wanted to pick some cloudberries, his mom’s favourite. He wanted to surprise her with enough so that they could make some jam together. But all the berries that he had picked had been destroyed during the fight. It was all for naught.

A light knock on the front door made him stop, and his mother went to answer it. At the door stood a blond boy a few years older than Jack, bright amethyst eyes looking up. “Excuse me, Mrs. Howl, but can I play with Jack?”

Jack’s mom looked at Vil, taking mind to make sure her wound dressing was still covered. “Sorry Vil, but-” she stopped and looked towards her son. “But, you’ll have to play here, in the yard.”

Jack looked up, asking silently for permission, and his mom nodded a yes. “What do you wanna play,” he asked excitedly, grabbing some of their usual play things.

Vil smiled, and helped bring the toys outside. “Hmmm, what about knights? Trying to save the village?”

And the two boys went off and played. Vil would continue to visit every day, until a large ice storm rolled in on Jack’s fifth birthday, forcing everyone to stay inside.

That night, as Jack was starting to fall asleep, he looked outside. The ice had temporarily stopped, and a bright orange moon hung in the sky. Green and blue auroras painting the night sky. Jack didn’t know what to ask for when it came to his messenger. He knew it was going to be a raven, as it was customary for a raven to form a bond with a wolf pup.

“Can I,” he paused, thinking. What do I want? “Can I have someone there for me?” He was about to turn in for the night, but an unseasonably warm wind opened the window. He rushed to close it, and when he looked down there was a raven messenger, but it wasn’t made out of typical stone. It was made of petrified wood; representing trust, grounding, and knowledge. But he didn’t know that, all he knew was that he had a raven. That he had a soul match. That’s all that mattered.

…

Jack placed his belongings down on the floor and the desk beside his bed, looking over the room. He didn’t know what to expect of Savanaclaw, but he was thankful that he at least had a dorm, unlike the one student. They also smelled… different, not a bad different, but different. They didn’t smell like they were from Twisted Wonderland, that they were from somewhere entirely different. But that wasn’t any of his business, and he wasn’t about to poke his nose into someone else’s business, let alone a complete stranger.

He shook his head and started placing his items where he thought they would go best. And since he was now in a place temperate enough without any harsh winters, he could finally start growing some plants he saw in a book once; some cacti. The little green plants spoke to him; they survived in harsh conditions and adapted to not only survive but to strive. He could appreciate that, even if the plant did prick him every so often, he couldn’t blame it for doing so, that’s what the spines are meant for.

His mind wandered, wondering if his siblings were doing okay? He knew that his parents were more than capable of looking after them, but he still worried. Ever since his mom fought off that bear, she hasn’t been able to use her left arm like she normally did; weaker from nerve damage. Her raven also had the scar, and couldn’t fly due to it. But she never alluded that she was in pain, keeping on a brave face for Jack, and later on for his siblings.

Jack looked down to his raven. Unlike the others, his raven was made of fossilized wood, preserved throughout the aeons. He turned it over gently, his hands dwarfing it in comparison. It would stay small, small enough to hold until his soul match’s bird awoke… that is if he had one at all. Apparently, messengers made out of anything other than stone were rare and could be seen as a blessing, but also as a warning. A warning that hardships may await them in the future. He didn’t want to dwell on that though, he had a messenger so that in itself proved that there was someone out there for him. Be they a friend, found family, or life partners, like his parents.

“What lessons do you hold,” he asked quietly, ears twitching making sure the coast was clear. He placed the wooden bird on his desk carefully, and when he was satisfied, he left the room, heading off to the dining hall.

A cold breeze entered the room, which was rare for the Savanaclaw dorm. It carried the smell of snow, pine trees, and a lone snowflake landed on the wood raven, resting between their eyes. They shook their head and stretched out their wings, flexing them for the first time. The cold wind was gone as soon as it came, the warmth from the sun-baked stone returning.

The raven hopped to the window sill, looking out to the rapidly setting sun. “The time is nigh. They are here.” And they took off, but not to find Jack.

…

You couldn’t sleep, but what could you really expect? You had just arrived to this ‘Twisted Wonderland’ and everything you knew had been flipped upside down. Magic was real. There are merfolk, fae, and beastmen?! All of the fairy tales were true but they were Disney-fied; honestly that probably saved your butt, since the originals are… well you would have had fewer chances of survival let’s just say that.

“I swear if I see one more Mickey Mouse easter-egg-” you muttered under your breath, rubbing your temples. It didn’t help that your new place, Ramshackle Dorm, was not up to code. How that ‘Headmage’ thought the decaying mansion was suitable to live in was beyond you. To be fair, he does seem to be quite a few screws loose.

A gust of cold wind blew the windows open and you scrambled to close them. When you finally got them closed a low croaking was behind you. You turned around and on your bed were two ravens, but they looked to be made of stone instead of flesh and feathers. “Finally arrived, I see,” the one said, hopping up to stand on the bed frame.

You blinked a few times, but the ravens were still there. “Uhhhh, I just got here.” You had already been exposed to so much today that, sure why not, talking stone birds are totally normal now. Totally normal. Nope, not internally freaking out. You are totally zen. WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?! Not having an existential crisis. Everything is normal here.

“We have been waiting many years for you,” the other raven spoke, their voice being deeper than the previous one. They stood stoically, unlike the more hyper one which was tracing patterns in the hole-ridden bedsheets. “However, there is much to learn here. You must grow before I or your messenger digress any further information. For now, know this; many a hardship will fall your way, but you must stand tall. You are stronger than you give yourself credit for.” They bowed to you and took flight, exiting through the window from whence they came, leaving you alone with the more playful bird.

Many a hardship will come your way. You had just gotten here and that cryptic line of advice sounded more like a warning than something comforting. I must stand tall? I’m stronger than I give myself credit for? Haven’t I already received enough character development? I just… I want to go home.

You felt a soft tap tap tap on your hand. The raven had stopped making patterns and was sitting beside you, looking up at you. “Come now, it has been a long enough day for you. You cannot do anything if you are not well rested. Off to bed with you now, shoo shoo!” They flapped at you with their wings.

You planted your feet down, and stopped. “And why should I listen to you?!” You snapped. For all that you knew, this could be a prank, a hazing ceremony of sorts.

The raven stopped and calmed down. “I am a part of you. Once you awaken tomorrow, I shall tell you everything that you ought to know.”

You would have protested more, but in all honestly all of your energy had been drained throughout the day. The mattress was hard and lumpy, the sheets thin and with holes, but you fell asleep quickly. The wood raven silently looking after you.

“King of Beasts,” they said in a hushed tone, looking up to the moonless night. “Make haste, for many a challenge will face them. Send their match on his quest for them… before something else finds them.”

…

When Jack got back to his dorm it was dark out, being held back by a fight between Leona and the Diasomnia housewarden. But when he opened the door he stilled. When he left, his wood raven was sitting on his desk, and now it was flying around and collecting anything shiny it could find. “Oh, this would make for a lovely present, yes, yes, that will do nicely!”

His soul match was finally here then. He should have felt happy, but all he felt was confusion. Should I be… happy? “What are you doing?” He asked the raven, as it had made a mess of his side of the room.

The raven squawked, and dropped a coin it was carrying. “Ah, Jack, my good fellow! Finally back I see! Oh, I’m just gathering up some exquisite gifts for you to give to your match!” They presented all of the ‘presents’ they had collected; several coins, a bobby pin, and some dryer lint. “Are they not lovely?”

Jack’s ears pulled back, “You didn’t have to do that, I can do it myself.” He wouldn’t classify any of those gifts 'exquisite’ or ‘lovely’. “Nevermind that. How are you alive?” He already knew the answer but he wanted to hear it, to have confirmation that this was real. That this was really happening.

The raven hopped down to the floor and bit at his tail, hard.

“HEY-”

“There, proof that I’m alive. There should be a bruise tomorrow as well.” The raven looked smug, and puffed up with pride. “Oh your meeting shall be splendid! Their raven and I have it all planned out-”

“No,” he interjected. “Nothing is planned out, it’s not your place to plan how, when, or where, we meet. Don’t force them to do anything.” He didn’t want to force his match with anything, even if both of their birds wanted nothing more than to plan some horribly cheesy scene. “We will meet when we meet.”

The raven stilled in its actions, looking at the things it had collected. “Which will be when, Jack? It has been over ten years since you received me.”

Jack pushed his hair out of his face, centering himself. “I’m not sure, but one day. It could be tomorrow. It could be a week. Months. Or years. But we will meet when we deem ourselves ready. That isn’t for you to decide… So please, let us do it on our own terms.” He sighed, and sat down. He wasn’t planning on any of this happening and it was only his first day at Night Raven College, and there was still yet more to come.

…

Jack had adjusted to life in Savanaclaw and the college. He may not always agree with how… underhanded some of his peers may be, but he wished not to rock the boat. But he had stepped out of his comfort zone, he had confronted others when they abused their power. But even with all of that chaos, he had made a friend; you. But he knew that you hadn’t told him everything, and he wasn’t going to push you for it either. You would do that on your own terms, and he would patiently wait. Unlike his raven who kept on pushing him.

“It’s almost winter break,” they croaked in his ear. “Do you not wish to inform your parents of this wonderous news? That your match is here?”

Jack shrugged the bird off, and sighed. “I would, but I would like to know that for certain that they, my match, are prepared for… that. Mother can be… overprotective.” He may not be a young pup anymore, but his mother still doted over him. And yes, he loves her, but he doesn’t want to throw his match to the wolves when it came to his family. He didn’t want to rush into it. He wanted a slow progression where they got to know each other.

The raven relented in its actions. “Ah, I understand… have you seen the footsteps yet?”

“No.” No, he had not. There was no trace of any glowing footsteps, and he has yet to be visited by his match’s raven, which means that they were not ready. There was still something they were looking for; either in themselves or around them. He just wondered; what were they looking for?

…

Books upon books upon books, and there was absolutely nothing. No word of your world, the only thing coming close being this world’s version of Paris. Other than that, nothing. You were frustrated. Have the weeks of pouring over volumes of text been for nothing? And now winter break was nearing, and you would be left alone here… stuck as you have been for the past several months.

“Prefect, you look unwell,” Jack’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. He had become an unlikely friend during your time here. He had helped you so many times before, and now he even brought you some lunch, as you were hunched over yet another book. “And you’ve been reading non-stop.”

You looked over to your friend, and there was concern in his warm, golden eyes. A lot of people saw Jack as aloof, but you saw him as warm, but not overbearingly so. “Just trying to understand a few things is all. You don’t need to worry about me, Jack, you’ve done more than enough as is!” He had even brought you a plate of pear compote, his favourite.

He didn’t look convinced, his ears pinned back. “You can just ask, Prefect. I may not know everything, but it’s best to not let things cloud your mind.” He sighed, scratching the back of his neck.

“What do stone birds mean?” You quickly closed your mouth, regretting that you brought it up. As far as you could tell, no one else had a stone bird. “Ignore that-”

Jack cocked his head. “Prefect, do you have one?” He didn’t need an answer, as your expression, body language, and fast heart rate was one enough. “A stone bird means that you have a soul match. Someone who is right for you. They can come in many forms… but a lot of people wish for a romantic one. The more common ones are familial or platonic matches though.” He reached down into his bag, getting out a small journal with a wolf and raven on it.

“Don’t get your hopes up, herbivore,” Leona took a seat at your table and eyed the journal. “Shouldn’t be letting some bird tell you who to bond with.”

You picked at your plate; both of what they said playing in your mind. Jack’s ears twitched, and he opened up the journal. In it were crystal meanings, common birds for the different clans of beastmen. “Bitter, aren’t we?”

Leona’s ears pinned back, and Jack shifted closer to you. He didn’t know why, and he knew that Leona wouldn’t try anything, but he felt compelled to protect you from harm, even if it never came. And the hairs on his neck stood on end, much as the hackles of an agitated canine would.

Leona raised an eyebrow at Jack and rolled his eyes. “Not bitter, herbivore,” he sighed. “Just don’t like havin’ someone else call the shots for me, let alone some pesky bird and some long-dead king from times past.”

Jack huffed and handed the book to you, ignoring his house warden. “Hopefully this helps, since the messengers can’t tell us anything of substance-”

“What’s your stone bird?” Your eyes widened, and you fumbled. Why did I do that? That’s something that only… his soul match should know? What’s the etiquette on asking about soul matches? Did I offend him? Why is Leona looking so smug right now?

Jack rubbed the back of his neck, “A raven, that’s the messenger that wolf beastmen and their soul match receive.”

Huh, that’s- Wait a minute MY ‘messenger’ is a raven- Your brain was scrambling trying to put that information together. “That makes sense, I guess,” is what came out of your mouth instead of some hot word vomit. “Since, ya know, ravens form friendships with wolves and help lead them to food- Well in this case not food, rather their soul match…” You stopped talking, feeling like you were just digging yourself into a deeper hole. Best stop while I’m ahead. STOP RAMBLING! “But, uhhh, thanks for the book Jack!” You smiled warmly, finally having at least a few answers to the seemingly never ending list of questions you had.

“It’s no problem,” Jack offered a small smile and a nod of his head. But you knew that it was genuine, you could read him like an open book.

I don’t get why people are intimidated by him. Jack’s a nice guy. Sure, he’s a bit aloof at first, but he means well. “Just let me know if there’s anything I can do for you, okay?” He had already helped you out so many times before, so you only thought it would be fair for you to help him out in return in the future; not to repay him, but because you’re his friend. Friends help out friends.

He gave you a nod and the bell rang, and you were both off to your respective classes. Both of your wooden messengers flying after you, giving each other a nod.

…

Ink. Ink was everywhere. Hands were everywhere. And eyes, so many eyes were looking down at Jack. What is this? He shook his head and the scene changed, there were still eyes looking down, but the hands were gone, and there were only a few puddles of ink? Overblot? But there was no one around. The scene shifted again, and this time he was in the magishift field. Leona’s overblot?

“It’s their nightmares, I’m afraid. Rather rare for their dreams to enter into yours.” His raven said, but was nowhere near, off in the physical world. “I cannot do anything I’m afraid.”

But why is my soul match having nightmares of overblots? Only certain people have witnessed them… But he walked forwards, the field shifting into water, the browns and tans fading into blues and purples. Azul’s overblot? But only- But he was ripped out of the dream by his alarm blaring. He shot up out of bed, in a cold sweat. “What was that,” he huffed, trying to calm his racing heart.

His raven hopped over, and handed him a towel. “Night terrors. Premonitions. Awful things. They’ve been haunted by them for months now.”

This caused Jack to frown. His soul match has been haunted by dreams, dreams that he had just witnessed for months? How in the Seven were they able to get any sleep if their dreams were filled with the fraction of what he saw? They must be exhausted… “Is there anything I can do to help?” He hadn’t really thought it over, but the urge to help his soul match, whoever they were, was strong

“Hmm, until you properly meet through the path, no. but you know them, so just keep on supporting them-” the raven stopped, realizing its blunder. Jack wasn’t supposed to know that he had already met his soul match.

He narrowed his eyes at the wood bird. “I know them,” he said, not amused. “How long have I known them for?”

The raven did its impression of a guilty smile. “Oh since about… Actually, I can't say that, as that would be a dead giveaway and can’t have that happen, no no, can’t have that happen at all.”

Jack just stared at his messenger, and he bounced his knee, thinking. If my raven won’t tell me anything maybe their’s will… But that would have to wait until later, right now he was behind in his morning routine. “Fine, I’ll leave you alone then.” If you won’t tell me, maybe their raven will.

…

Night after night has only been nightmare upon nightmare. Waking up, sweating, gasping, and feeling like there were eyes everywhere. But they were just dreams. Dreams aren’t real. Dreams shouldn’t scare you. But they did. And tonight was no different.

The sun wasn’t up yet, but you couldn’t fall back asleep. You didn’t get up either, staying in a fetal position, trying to rid the feeling of sticky ink and the sensation that you were being watched. “It was just a dream,” you whispered, “it was just a dream.”

“Dreams have meaning,” the throaty voice of someone said. Out of the darkness walked forward a raven, much like your own. “It is good to heed them.”

Dreams have meaning. “Who is the wolf then,” you ease out of the fetal position and sit up, staring at the raven. Your soul match’s raven.

Amongst the nightmares, the being that saves you is a large white wolf, standing between the darkness, the hands, and the eyes, protecting you. A white knight in furry armour if you will.

The raven clamoured into your lap, getting comfortable. “Thought it would have been obvious. The wolf is your soul match, dearie. Afterall, ravens are the messengers and companions of wolves.”

You knew that much already, and looked down at the wood raven. “That’s not what I meant, and you know that.” Why can’t they give me a straight answer? It’s not that difficult of a thing. “Who are they?”

The raven sighed and propped itself back up. “I cannot tell you that… but I may give you this; you know him. And he is closer than you think.” They perched themself on the window sill, the full moon backlighting their silhouette. “And he knows you. Why do you think he’s in your dreams? It’s a very special link, do treat it with care.” They took off into the night, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You looked up to the sky, searching for answers. “Should I follow?” A brisk wind entered through the cracks of Ramshackle Dorm, ruffling the sheets and loose papers. It was cold, but in a comforting way. You closed your eyes and breathed in, and when you opened them again you saw glowing footsteps the colour of the harvest moon.

You are ready. The breeze seemed to say. The time for waiting and second-guessing was over. Now was the time for action.

…

Jack was doing his morning workout session early since he couldn’t fall back asleep after that nightmare, and running tended to get his mind off of things. He was running laps when he noticed something glowing on the ground. Footsteps. “Did you have something to do with this?” He looked up to where his raven was flying overhead.

The raven swooped down, coming to glide by Jack’s head. “No, just some reassurance is all.”

“What did you tell them,” he huffed, speeding up his pace. The footsteps followed him, but they led outside of the field, to the tree that always grew flowers. That’s where they ended. That’s where I’ll meet them?

The raven soared overhead, looking between Jack and the tree, where someone was sitting patiently, picking at the hems of their sleeping clothes; you. “That they know you. And that they are a lot closer than you think.” The raven stopped in front of Jack, making the wolf-beastman stop right in his tracks. “Go to them. They are ready, Jack. And so are you. Can you feel it? It’s in the air.”

There was a slight breeze that carried the smell of winter, but there was something else. Anticipation. And if Jack focused just right, he could hear the anxious heartbeat of his soul match, waiting for him. He looked towards the tree, where his raven was looking, and saw your outline, the weakest hints of the waking sun rising behind you and lighting your features in soft pinks, purples, and orange.

The footsteps led to you. And Jack could feel his tail wagging furiously. Wagging so hard that it was hitting his legs.

Go to them.

He wanted to run forward, but he controlled himself to a calm walk, not wanting to surprise you. All while trying to control his tail which would be a dead giveaway that he was beyond happy that it was you; his soul match had been you all along.

You sat under the tree, as the footsteps lead you there. And so you sat, watching the dark navy of the sky change colours as the sun rose. You heard footsteps approaching you, but you didn’t look up or get up. You knew. You knew they were your soul match.

Closing your eyes you turned to them, and took in a deep breath. “I don’t know exactly what soul matches are, but I do know that I want to put in the effort to befriend you. Not because some raven told me too. But I do hope we can be friends at the least.” You stopped, waiting for his response.

Jack tilted his head, and huffed out a breath of air in amusement. “I don’t think that will be a challenge.”

Your eyes shot open, and Jack was sitting beside you, the light of the rising sun reflecting in his gold eyes. Your raven was on his shoulder, preening his hair, and his raven was on your’s, fixing your outfit. The two birds stopped their actions, realizing that both of you had finally noticed the other. They took off, and performed their dance before falling back onto your shoulders.

“So,” you started, picking at the hem of your shirt, a nervous habit. “What now? Does this change anything between us? Do you want anything to change?”

Jack looked at you softly. “I’m okay with whatever you’re comfortable with… Do you want anything to change?”

I feel safe with you. You gave him a soft smile, “Not really… but I’m okay if it changes as we do. As long as it’s together.”

Fin!

Author's Note; Jack's story is the one with the least amount of hurt/comfort, so he deviates a bit. Happy with how this turned out though! And I hope I did Jack some justice in this! This story also concludes Savanaclaw's part in the Soul Match AU.

TWST Masterlist (if you want to read more)

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