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light-yaers · 11 months

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Take Care: Chapter One

Fic Masterpost | AO3 | Chapter List

Warnings: swearing, eventual smut, emotional themes.

Word Count: 13k+

Chapter One

“Thank you so much for accepting me,” you said, stepping into Shannon Hart’s office, Head of Applications at Richmond university. “I’ve been so looking forward to finally getting into publishing and writing.”

Shannon gestured for you to sit opposite her. You dropped yourself down into the swivel chair facing her desk, as she cleared her throat and adjusted her sleeves. You stared at her thoughtfully, taking in the slight twitch of her brow and the vein popping out on her forehead.

“Are you okay, Shannon?” You frowned.

She intertwined her fingers and placed them on the desktop before her. “We’ve asked you here today to let you know, with great regret, that your placement at Pluto Press has been… mixed up.”

“Mixed up?”

“Royally.” Shannon stared you down.

“Royally how?” You leaned forward, all decorum going out the window immediately.

“Our paperwork was sorted wrong. It’s an internal admin error, one that’s– frankly– deeply embarrassing–”

“Just tell me what the deal is, okay, Shannon?” you said, trying not to yell at her to just say it.

Shannon cleared her throat again. “You weren’t the name that we sent to the Pluto Press administration. Which means… well, it means–”

You smacked your hand upon her desk, making her flinch. “I mean this in the nicest way, but for the love of God, spit it out.”

“Your placement at Pluto Press was filled by someone else.”

You squinted at her. “Someone else?”

“Yes.”

“But, I can still get a spot, right?” you asked.

“Regrettably not.”

“Not?”

Shannon nodded. “Not.”

You toyed between the urge to scream at the ceiling, or round-house kick the woman sat in front of you. Both seemed appealing, both seemed necessary, but instead you did nothing. You sat like a rock before her, ignoring the upbeat dump-dump of your heart beneath your ribcage. You weren’t an angry person, no, but this was the closest you’d been to booking into a rage room.

“So… you’re saying, I won’t be an intern at Pluto Press starting next week?” you said, trying to comprehend it fully yourself.

“Correct.” Shannon stayed frozen.

“So…” You leant forward, fully, leaning down on your arms and looking Shannon directly in the face. She gulped anxiously, with nerves, and for good reason. “What the fuck am I supposed to do now, Shannon?”

“Ah, well.” Shannon squeaked out. Sweat dotted her brow and as quickly leaned back in her chair. “This is what I wanted to discuss. Your options.”

“My options,” you repeated.

“Of which there are a few. One, you could defer the year and be ensured a space on this masters next year, with your original placement at Pluto Press–”

“Fuck no,” you said immediately. “Listen, Shannon. I’ve put off this masters for four fucking years. I’m not waiting another year. I mean, I’ve already moved to Richmond. I’ve taken out my student loans. So, abso-fucking-lutely not.”

Shannon’s eyebrow twitched intensely. “I was hoping you wouldn’t say that,” she whispered. “So, your second option.”

“How many options are there?”

“...Two.”

“So, this is my final option?”

“If you don’t wish to drop out completely, yes.” Shannon was a stone-cold fox, you could tell. As much as her eyebrow twitched and her brow glistened, she was certainly blunt and to the point. It was something you could admire, despite the want to storm out of her office.

“So, my final option is?”

Shannon leaned forward again, strongly. “There is one other placement available for this course. They’re new, and we were originally going to try them out with a student who wished to be a sports journalist, but…”

“But?”

“He changed his mind about the course and went into the fried chicken industry, instead.” You squinted at her quizzically. Shannon’s face stayed as still as a gargoyle. “It’s a social placement. You do Instagram uploads, copywriting, player profiles and articles, things like that.”

“Player profiles? For what?”

“Football.”

“Football?”

“AFC Richmond, to be exact.”

The day had gone from bad to worse within a matter of seconds. Not only had you been wrongfully pushed out of your publishing placement, but now your only option was to work for a fucking football team. Football had been something that went over your head from the start. If it wasn’t the fact that boys from the school football team, when you were twelve, laughed at you incessantly, then it was the visuals of grown men clutching their knees and whining on a pitch that made you hate it completely. Football was not your thing. Football wouldn’t allow you to publish your first novel.

You widened your eyes. “A fucking football team?”

Shannon winced, and it was like a layer shed off her in an instant. “Can I be utterly transparent with you?”

“Please.”

“I know it’s shit,” she said bluntly. You let out a huff in agreement. “But, you still have the opportunity to network. Big name footballers have connections, as does Rebecca Welton, the club owner. You’ll still have all the access to publishing opportunities that you’d get through Pluto Press, just… in a slightly unorthodox way. Your coursework will be slightly changed, and the term structures will be different to match up with the league, but.” Shannon shrugged. “This is still something worth doing. You can write on the side, too. And who doesn’t want to be around some attractive footballers?”

“Me,” you said plainly.

“Scratch that last part, then,” Shannon replied. For the first time since entering her office, she attempted to smile at you. It was almost frightening to look at.

So, it was fuck all. You had no choice. You’d moved into your flat two days before, a tube ride away from Pluto Press, and coincidentally a walk away from the Dogtrack. There was no way you were backing out now, not when you’d been deferring your application for years. This was a time where you had inspiration, motivation, and wanted to succeed. You had to strike while the iron was hot, even if that meant dealing with footballers, of all fucking people.

As much as you’d batted away Shannon’s comment about them, you had already heard of a few players that Richmond. Jamie Tartt was well-known, and you’d be lying if you hadn’t thought he was fit when you’d seen him on his girlfriends’ socials a while back. They were a different breed, though, so entirely excluded from the world that you existed in; far away from the stoicism of footballers and their swinging dicks that fell into one too many vaginas. You didn’t want to be another working woman in the background, especially in an industry that you knew fuck all about. But– this was the best option. It still got you the same opportunities, still gave you the time to write and work on your own novel.

You inhaled sharply and sighed deeply. Shannon stayed put, eyeing you up as she pursed her lips.

“Fine,” you said. “I’ll do it.”

You had less than a week to prepare. Not in terms of your masters or education, but mentally. You were thrusting yourself into the proverbial belly of the beast, a football club full of men who, most likely, smelled really fucking bad. You made a list in your head– Febreeze was right at the top. It wasn’t just about the uncertainty and horror of it all, it was also something that transcended that. What if they didn’t like you? What if this entire experiment went drastically wrong? You knew fuck all about football, and would be surrounded by those whose literal entire lives revolved around the sport.

You felt like an imposter more than anything. More than the rage of the fuck up. More than the fear of things going wrong with your degree. You were an imposter, entering into a world that wasn’t your own, being handed opportunities that others would die for.

That’s all that went through your head as you stood outside AFC Richmond, just off Nelson Road. It looked like a typical football ground from the outside– a green and vibrant field directly to the right, where someone on an industrial mower was cutting the grass. The car park was full of expensive vehicles; Lambos, Jags, Martins. As you focused your breathing, a hulking pitch black Jeep came careening around the corner. You flinched as the driver parked it in one of the top spots, next to a bright green monstrosity, so low to the ground that your knees felt weak just looking at it.

The driver side door of the Jeep burst open, and a man, dressed exactly like his fucking car, jumped out. His jeans were black, his t-shirt black, his leather jacket– black. Atop his head sat a close cut mop of black hair, and his beard was trimmed to absolute perfection, almost to the point of robotism. It was, you guessed it, black.

You stared at him with a mixture of confusion and utter amazement. Was this the Grim Reaper, come to take you away for your sins and tell you your life was all but over? He looked back at you with an indifferent sort of stare, one that penetrated deep into your chest and made you want to violently throw up, or run away immediately.

As he approached the double doored entrance, his back to you, he stopped suddenly. He turned around slowly and laid his dark eyes upon you. “You a fan?” he asked.

“What?” you stuttered out, taken aback by the deepness of his voice. There was a scratch to it, one that resembled a growl. Was this man actually real? He came across as some kind of mythical creature that represented a bad omen, or someone gruff enough to mend the goalposts with his bare hands.

“Meet and greets only happen after games,” he continued. Your face soured with amusement.

“I’m not here for a bloody meet and greet,” you let out. “Do I look like a football fan?” you added quickly, suddenly afraid that you looked like the kind of person to wait outside football stadiums, just to see players.

He shrugged. “I don’t fucking know.”

You took a step forward. “I’m here to see Rebecca Welton, actually. I just…” You glanced around the car park, trying to find the right words to say that you’d been afraid to go inside. “I just didn’t know whether to wait outside or not.”

He followed your eye movements, looking around at the cars alongside you. “Well, she doesn’t seem to have an office in the car park, does she,” he stated. You let out a small huff, embarrassed.

“No, I guess not.” You looked into his eyes, tracing the outline of his stoic face. He was sort of… soft around the edges. If that was even possible. “Do you know where her office is?”

“Do I look like a fucking tour guide?” he said bluntly, and you flinched backwards. Your expression dropped, replaced with something other than the tinge of softness you had before. This guy was an arsehole. An utter arsehole, wearing leather and too tight jeans. When it rained, you bet droplets trickled off him in grey washes, picking up the black dye off his stupid fucking clothes.

“Well,” you said, regarding him. “No, not a tour guide. Maybe the caretaker?”

He raised his brows. “The fucking caretaker?”

“Yeah.” You squinted at him. “I can picture you mowing some grass, fixing some posts, DIY and all that.”

He shuffled on his spot. “Who the fuck are you?”

You crossed your arms. “Someone who’s trying to find Rebecca Welton’s office. And you are?”

“Not the fucking caretaker,” he said, before he turned on his heels and headed to the door.

“Hey, wait!” you yelled. “Hold on!” You rushed towards the door, flashing him a vaguely apologetic stare, but you didn’t dare say one outloud. He didn’t deserve one.

He peered down at you, letting out a literal growl. You backed up slightly, looking at him in absolute awe. “Did you just growl at me?”

“I growl at everyone,” he said.

“Has anyone ever told you that’s a bit weird?”

“All the time. I don’t fucking care,” he said bluntly.

You shrugged. “Fair enough.”

A moment of awkwardly comfortable silence followed. He continued to peer down at you, flicking his eyes across your own, perhaps in an attempt to intimidate you. It didn’t work, not after you’d got under his skin by mistaking him for the caretaker. You raised your brows at him silently, pleading with him to just fucking tell you where to go. You understood that they probably didn’t have many mid-twenties girls around the club, but the least he could do was help, just this once.

He rolled his eyes quickly. “All the way down the corridor, up the stairs. Her office is right there.”

He pulled open the door, reluctantly standing to the side for you to go first. You smiled. “Thank you!” you exclaimed. You rushed inside, fast-walking down the corridor until you found the set of steps up to Rebecca’s office.

He stayed back, peering at you as you went on your way. Before he turned to head down the stairs, he found himself subtly smiling at the scene that played out priorly. You had guts, that’s what he gauged. You had guts and you weren’t afraid to use them.

Rebecca Welton was the most intimidating, yet beautiful, woman you’d ever laid eyes upon. As you sat opposite her in her office, cup of tea in her grasp and hand moving through the air as she talked, you couldn’t take your eyes off the alarming look on her face. She was glowing, talking smartly and confidently, while you all but cowered before her like another male suitor.

“Did you catch any of that?” she asked abruptly, bringing you back into the room. You’d heard nothing, not when you’d been looking at the almost perfect way her face moved when she spoke.

You widened your eyes. “Yes. All of it. In perfect detail.”

“Great.” She stood up quickly, downing the remaining contents of her teacup. “I’ll introduce you to the team. Come on,” she said, rounding her desk.

You scrambled up from your seat and followed her immediately. Her shoes clicked upon the floor dramatically, as you made your way down the stairs and back through the corridor you came from. She took you down another set of stairs to the lower portion of the stadium. You passed multiple offices, and a gym, before she whisked you past a few back rooms.

“Locker room here.” She pointed to her left as you passed. You stuck your head around the corner quickly, taking in a wave of red and blue. “Manager’s office,” she added from a bit further up. “Beyond that is the kit room, and physio on the right.” Rebecca stopped in the corridor suddenly, making you gasp. She let out a breath, before turning on her heels and heading back down the way you both came.

You followed her without question, clutching onto your tote bag for dear life as she whisked you through the grounds. Her legs were too long to keep up with fully, so you were forced to partially jog behind her every few seconds.

“Um, Rebecca?” you asked.

“Hmm.”

“Do I get an office space?”

She stopped again, next to the gym. “Of course,” she said, peering down at you. “It’s there.” She pointed to the right, further away from the gym. A small room is all you saw, devoid of windows, with nothing more than a desk sat in the partial darkness. “I’m sure you can make it… homely.”

“Yes,” you said, smiling up at her from fear. Now wasn’t the time to be criticising your workplace amenities. Maybe when you’d paid your dues, or done a good job, could you ask for something more.

Besides, Rebecca seemed incredibly eager to be done with this tour. She hadn’t exactly been enthralled at your arrival, nor did she seem keen to talk to you for longer than she had to. You’d heard things about her before– a cheating husband, enough money to buy a skyscraper in Dubai, probably. You did your best to keep up with her, avoiding personal questions and trying to retain everything she told you.

The two of you turned the corner, headed for a long corridor, with daylight streaming in at the end. This was obviously the tunnel where players entered onto the pitch. You’d never stepped foot in a stadium of any kind, let alone been on the under-layers like the players themselves. As the both of you made your way to the doors, you imagined what it would be like for them– anticipation, nerves. You’d be shitting yourself, probably.

“I’ll take you to the team, now,” Rebecca explained. “Do you like football?”

“No,” you said immediately. From the look on her face, she wasn’t mad. Maybe this was as good a time as any to explain that you knew fuck all about all this, and actually didn’t want it.

Rebecca peered back at you. “Not at all?”

You sighed. “I know nothing about football, if I’m being honest. I’m a writer, not a sportswoman. I don’t care for sweaty men, or their reasons for fighting one another on a field. I’ll do my job, that I can assure you Ms. Welton, but I won’t deny that I couldn’t give a shit about this game.”

Rebecca slowed her speed, letting you catch up with her. Her quizzical expression quickly turned into a triumphant smile. “Fantastic,” she said. She was being genuine, and you had no idea why. “Well, come on!” she exclaimed, as the two of you burst through the double doors and onto the pitch.

The players bundled up and down the pitch with speed, kicking about a ball as they were split into two teams. You watched them for a few moments, following their movements as they scrambled up and down, kicking the ball between them, until someone finally went for a shot– he got it, but no one seemed happy about it. That was number nine, Jamie Tartt.

“I was wide open!” number twenty-four exclaimed.

“Well, so was I. So, I went for it. Sue me,” Tartt replied, in his staunch Mancunian accent. He stuck out his tongue like a schoolboy as he walked away, leaving number twenty-four with a sour expression on his face. He was comforted by a few others, telling him to brush it off.

You and Rebecca approached the coaches. “Coach Lasso,” Rebecca began, prompting the men to turn around. “This here is our new placement from Richmond university. The one I told you about last week.”

A man with the largest moustache you’d ever seen regarded you. “Oh, yes! I remember now. Welcome!” he said happily, shaking your hand abruptly. You shuffled your falling tote bag back onto your arm, smiling at him awkwardly as he kept shaking your hand.

“Great to be here,” you muttered.

“Call me Ted. You and I are both newbies, you know. Same as Coach here,” Ted said, gesturing to a man beside him. He wore mirrored glasses and crossed his arms intimidatingly. He said nothing, only sent you a nod in hello. “So, what brought you to us, huh? Got a love for football? Got a burning Tobey Maguire for the beautiful game?”

Tobey Maguire?

You looked to the other coach for help. “Burning desire,” he said bluntly.

“I’m trying out my own version of Cockney rhyming slang. Tobey Maguire, desire. Sylvester Stallone, the phone. So far it’s all actors, but we’re getting somewhere.” Ted peered down at you with a cartoonish smile. He was like no one you’d ever met before, someone so overly happy that you could hardly believe it.

“You’re doing… great,” you let out, from lack of what else to say. “But, well– I don’t know a lot about football, but–”

“You and me both, sister,” Ted interrupted.

You laughed awkwardly. “But, I’m happy to be here, and excited for the next year.” A lie, but one that needed to be said. You weren’t here to fuck up this club, or get overly buddy-buddy with its players. You were going to do your job, get your degree and use it afterwards. That was the goal, but during that, you had no Tobey Maguire to upset the team or the management.

Ted and his second in command, Coach Beard, turned around to the pitch. You stood next to Rebecca, who stood next to them, looking out at the players like they were being judged for the next season of So, you think you can dance?

Ted blew on his whistle shrilly. “Gather around, boys!” he yelled. The men obeyed, halting play as they all gathered before their new coaches, with some of them looking more than exhausted.

You couldn’t imagine the physical damage all of them went through, or how fit they had to actually be. You could hardly reach a level six in your bleep test at school, let alone be able to sprint up and down a pitch for two forty-five minute halves.

“Where’s Roy?” Ted asked, prompting one player to appear through the hubbub. When you met his eye, you almost choked on air. It was the guy, the not caretaker. The one that growled at you not an hour ago. “Ah, there he is. Listen up fellas! This little lady here is the placement from Richmond college–”

“Uni!” one of the players yelled.

Ted shot him a wide-eyed look. “God, you call college something different, too? Anyway, yes. Richmond uni. She’ll be doing a few things around here for us. Not PR, but keeping up with player profiles on the website, small updates, and all that jazz about the season coming up, maybe an article or two.”

As Ted spoke, you forced yourself to look anywhere but at number six– Roy Kent. He was staring you down like you’d done something ungodly, like you’d burned down his house or kicked his dog. His stance was one that you’d never seen either, like he was constantly on high alert and ready to strike a punch if needed.

“This here is Roy Kent, the captain of the team.” Ted gestured to Roy. He growled at you. You frowned at him. “You’ll be working with Roy for the next week on player profiles–”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Roy stepped forward. I’ve told you all before, I don’t get involved in PR or website shit,” Roy spoke up. “Get one of the other lads to do it.”

“It’s just for the time being, Roy. Just until she gets acquainted with the grounds.” Ted tried. “As much as I’m happy not to have you in front of a camera– believe me, that’s up to you– as a captain, and as your coach, I’m asking you to do this for the newest member of the Richmond family. Okay?”

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. All you wanted was to start and not stop for a year, so time could go faster. All you wanted was twenty pairs of eyes to stop looking you up and down like something shiny and brand-new.

Roy’s fists balled tightly, until his knuckles went white. “Fine.”

You let out a long breath. “Great,” you muttered. Roy’s eyes found your face, and you looked at him with no effort to be nice. You and he both knew that this was going to be long and annoying. It was better to get it out in the first place than to keep it all in for a year.

After meeting the team, you headed to your shoebox of an office. You had the day to set it up and make your own, before things kicked off. Ted and Beard were still running coaching for the rest of the day, so you were effectively on the lower floor by yourself. You set up your office, popped down your laptop and made a new folder in your documents. You went through your upcoming assignments, and started planning for what you could do. Rebecca gave you the various passwords for the social accounts, which you started filing through to get a sense of what they posted.

It was all the type of shit that your mum would like on Facebook. Brilliant.

If this was what you had to do to get to where you wanted, then so be it. It would all be worth it when you had connections and a network around you. That was the goal.

You opened your ongoing novel on your computer and scanned the pages. This was the endgame; to get the baby published. It was fiction, not once mentioning any sport, but it was all you wanted. Years of delay had led you here, so you had to embrace it while you had the chance to. Downtime was something that you’d have an abundance of, which was another perk, you supposed.

By four in the afternoon, the players tickled back inside. They passed your office with subtle curiosity, peering around the corner as you sat at your desk, filing through emails and starting on a subtle plan for your first assignment, due in at the end of the week. As soon as you’d got the courage up to grab Roy for a quick chat, you could get started.

When the players began filing out of the locker room to head home, you packed up your own belongings. You passed a few of them in the corridor, smiling sweetly and saying subtle hellos as you made your way through, until you almost slammed into one of them.

“Oof!” you exclaimed before him; it was number twenty-four, the one you’d seen before on the pitch.

Gently, he held you steady by your shoulders to stop you falling. “My apologies,” he said kindly.

“Don’t worry. I’m still getting used to this place.”

“It can be a lot to begin with, but I’m sure you’ll get used to it very soon,” he reassured you. You smiled up at him, before he stuck out his hand. “I’m Sam Obisanya. It’s nice to meet you properly.”

You took his hand. “You too. I’m excited to get to know you all.”

“Well, if you want, come and join us later this week. It’s Isaac’s birthday, so we’re all going out to celebrate.”

“Oh,” you said bashfully. “I don’t know, I don’t want to intrude.”

“It’s fine, bruv,” another player turned the corner from the locker room. Isaac McAdoo. “Come along. The more the merrier, you get me.”

Player Colin Hughes appeared in the doorway after him. “Definitely. Come and join in on the fun.”

“Especially before the season starts next weekend,” Isaac added. “Gotta get our freak on while we still can.”

McAdoo and Hughes left together, and you got the sense that they were two players who had a long history of friendship. You turned back to Sam and shot him a smile. “Count me in, then,” you said.

“Brilliant. I’ll put it in our group chat,” Sam said sweetly, before he made his leave.

You turned to the locker room, pleasantly surprised at how that had all gone. If all of the guys were like that, then you’d have no issue with them whatsoever. But, then came Roy. You entered the locker room hesitantly, scooting out of the way as other players said their goodbyes for the day. To the right was the manager’s office, where Ted and Beard still sat at their desks. Directly opposite the door, however, was exactly who you wanted.

You approached Roy, as he pulled on a pair of shoes, and cleared your throat. He looked up at you slowly, resting a hand on his thigh as he lazily skittered his eyes across you.

“So, you’re definitely not the caretaker,” you said, in an attempt to diffuse the tension.

“The last lawn I mowed was my grandad’s when I was nine,” he replied bluntly.

“Noted. I can put that in your player profile, if you wanted.” Sarcasm fell from your mouth, but you got the sense that Roy didn’t appreciate it. He growled, going back to doing up his laces. “I just wanted to talk to you about that, actually. About what Ted said.”

“If you think I’m going to gab with you about the team for the next week then you’re a lot dumber than I gave you credit for in the car park,” he said plainly.

You waved at him in dismissal quickly. “No, no, that’s what I meant. I really don’t need you to do that,” you said transparently. Roy looked up at you with interest, waiting for you to continue. You let out a sigh. “I’m not going to pretend that all this is a dream come true for me, the same way that you won’t pretend it’s something you give a fuck about helping me with. I can go around the players on my own, don’t worry.”

Roy finished tying his laces, before he stood. He towered over you, but the intimidation he’d displayed priorly was starting to wear off. You got a sense that he was just like this, all of the time. You’d read a few articles about him earlier, about his start at Sunderland and his triumphant years at Chelsea, before he moved to AFC Richmond. Roy Kent seemed like a player entrenched with respect. He was one of the greats, that’s what every article had said. You wouldn’t admit it out loud, but you were intrigued to see it all for yourself.

“Fair enough,” he finally agreed.

You let out an innate sigh of relief. “Great. Thank you,” you said, before you turned and headed for the door. Before you left, however, you stopped abruptly. The locker room was empty now, bar the coaches in the other office. It was just the two of you, and you had a nagging feeling within your gut. “You can tell, can’t you?” you asked.

You turned back to Roy. “Tell what?” he replied.

“That I don’t want to be here.”

“You were stood outside the building this morning like you were walking to your fucking death,” he said. “Of course, I could fucking tell.”

“Just double checking,” you muttered, subtly embarrassed.

“Why are you here then? If you don’t want to be,” he asked, grabbing his bag from the bench. He stood to full height again and took a few steps toward you. It was only then that you realised he was assuming for you to both walk out the building together.

You stepped out of the locker room, falling into step next to Roy in the corridor. “The university fucked up. This was the only placement they had left,” you admitted.

“That’s fucking shit.” Roy’s candour was something you were growing to appreciate, almost. “So, you don’t like football?”

“I don’t know a single thing about it, besides it being people kicking a ball on a field.”

Roy let out a long, low whistle. “Fucking hell. No wonder you didn’t want to come inside.”

As the two of you emerged into the car park, you felt lighter than you had all day. Roy headed to his Jeep, and you stayed a few paces back. “It’s not… ideal.”

“That’s an overly nice way to put it,” he said, looking back at you. “And it’s a fucking lie. Why are you doing this to yourself?”

You shrugged. “I want to publish my book. This is a way to make it happen.”

“Fair enough,” Roy said, jumping into his Jeep. He rolled the window down and switched on the engine. “Just don’t fucking include me in it, alright?”

You scoffed. “You think I want to write about you? Don’t flatter yourself, Captain.”

Roy winced. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he muttered, before he put his car in gear and sped out of the car park. He left you without a second glance, turning onto the street and careening down the road as fast as he could, just to get away from you.

You found yourself walking home with a strange sense of peace. Yes, the situation wasn’t in your favour. Yes, you’d already fucked up and called the team captain the caretaker before you’d even stepped foot in the club, but things didn’t feel bad. The boys were nice, the coaches were welcoming, and even Rebecca Welton didn’t give a shit that you knew nothing. Things were slotting into place faster than you expected, but you were happy about it. As you made your way through Richmond, back to your flat, you realised that you didn’t feel awful. You felt almost happy, content, ready to take on the remainder of your first week and bosh out your first piece of coursework.

You spent the evening on Google, looking up the history of the Dogtrack, of AFC Richmond, of their star players. You learned that Jamie Tartt was on loan from Manchester City for a season, which made things all the more interesting when it came to his sportsmanship with the rest of the current team. You watched old game highlights, not understanding a single thing they were doing on screen. You gave up after a few hours of them kicking a ball around, too tired from the prior stress of last week to stay awake any longer.

The next morning, you got to work. You made an announcement to the locker room, while the guys pulled on their shin pads and football boots. “Over the next few days, I kindly ask that you all fill in a small worksheet for me. A bit about your backgrounds, your current positions, your birthdays, even. It’s for the updated player profiles on the website, and I’m on a deadline, so please do this as soon as you can!” you explained.

Sam was the first to hand his in, doing it almost immediately after you made your announcement. He dropped it into the small basket on your desk before he headed out to training, shooting you and a small smile as he left you at your desk. Soon after, McAdoo, Hughes, Bumbercatch and Zoreaux followed suit. You had enough information to start.

By the end of the day, you had almost half of the profiles written. You’d expected the workload to be more, or something intensely focused on football plays, but this was piss. You’d definitely be done by the Sunday deadline, just a few days away.

As the days flew by, you got better at approaching players on their own. You made yourself known and didn’t pester (unless they needed it), just reminded them of the task at hand. Isaac's birthday celebrations loomed ever closer, which meant the guys were in a boisterous and excitable mood for the final half of the week. They would play games in the locker room after training, laugh in the gym during work out hours, and pass by your office, waving at you with chuckles on their lips.

By Thursday, you’d cornered Jamie after training.

“Come on, man. It’s not hard to do. I just need it done by tomorrow, so I can write them all up for Sunday, is all,” you pleaded with him.

He took off his football shirt swiftly, making you roll your eyes. “I don’t have the time this evening. Got a prior arrangement, you get me.”

“I really don’t care about your prior arrangement, Jamie. I need this done. It’ll take you two fucking minutes, literally.”

“Sorry, love,” he said, and the patronising tone in his voice was one that you couldn’t stand. You were older than him by a few years, yet he was acting so inherently high and mighty. “I can’t change what evening I get waxed or the lady gets upset.”

“Waxed?” You grimaced.

Suddenly, a shrill high-pitched voice rounded the corner into the locker room. “Alright, boys!” it yelled, and when you turned around, you almost collapsed to the floor. Keeley fucking Jones stood in the middle of the locker room, beaming at all the boys with a genuine smile, and wearing an outfit that you’d never think would work on paper, but it absolutely worked in practice; on her.

You froze where you were, as she peered around the room and met Jamie’s face. “Ready to go, babe?” she asked, before she caught your eye. She smiled and shrugged her shoulders in greeting. “Who’s this?”

Jamie shrugged on a new shirt, packing some of his belongings. “New social person, or somethin’.”

“Social placement,” you corrected him, looking only at Keeley. “Sorry to stare, it’s just… you’re Keeley Jones, aren’t you?”

“The one and only!” she exclaimed. “You’re a newbie, are you? Welcome to Richmond.” She leant towards you warmly, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder in greeting. “Now, I’ve gotta get this one here to his waxing appointment.”

“Oh, sure,” you muttered, peering back at Jamie and trying not to imagine exactly what needed waxing. It was almost traumatising. “Before you go, take this, though,” you added, before you handed her one of your worksheets to her. “I really need him to fill this out by tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry,” Keeley said, folding it neatly and putting it in her bag. “I’ll make sure he gets it done.” She winked at you, making you blush.

The final lads trickled out of the locker rooms, while you reminded each of them to get the worksheet done. A few picked up a new copy, others nodded at you in agreement, but Roy Kent– he didn’t so much as growl as he passed you for the door.

You followed him immediately, rushing down the hallway to meet him.

“Are you giving me the silent treatment or something?” you asked. He growled in response. You scoffed. “You definitely are.”

“Excuse me if I’m not used to nagging uni students getting on my back,” he replied.

“It’s been years since I stopped being a uni student, Roy. I’m in bed by ten thirty every night, I’ll have you know.”

“A boring, nagging uni student, then.”

“Ouch,” you muttered, feeling a slight sting, but you weren’t going to let him phase you. “Have you done the worksheet yet?” you asked. He let out another growl, to which you peered up at him with a blunt expression. “Please, just get it done by tomorrow.”

“Only if you piss off and leave me alone.”

You stopped in the hallway abruptly. “Done and done,” you said from behind him. He kept walking towards the car park, looking back when he realised you weren’t doing it just for show.

You walked back down the hallway, the way you came, as you went for a different exit. Roy stopped walking without your knowledge, furrowing his brows at you as you turned a corner and disappeared. He readjusted his grip on his gym bag, sighing out of his nose.

“Fucks sake,” he whispered harshly, before he entered the car park, door slamming behind him with an echo.

You woke in the morning feeling anxious. It wasn’t just because today would be the first time you socialised with the lads outside the club, but today was the last, easy day that you had to get the remaining worksheets. Your deadline was in two days, and you wouldn’t see the players after today for the entire weekend. It was crunch time, and as much as you wanted Roy and Jamie to be easy and mouldable, you expected the absolute opposite.

Your anxiety dimmed when you arrived in the morning to a full tray of completed worksheets in your office. All but one had been filled out and left for you– and by no surprise, Roy Kent was the last.

“Fucks sake,” you muttered under your breath. You hoisted yourself from your chair and made your way out the office, headed for the locker room. There was a certain confidence in your walk, reserved only for when you were at the end of your tether.

Roy was a grown man. Was he really incapable of filling out a simple worksheet? It drove you insane that he was one of those people who intentionally didn’t do something, even when he’d been explicitly asked to multiple times. Like a child who did the opposite of what their parents said, or when your mum tells you to do something that you were planning on doing yourself, but now don’t want to because she asked you herself.

As you approached the locker room, you let out a whining “Roy!” loud enough that everyone could hear you. You turned into the room, flickering your eyes across the players.

Roy wasn’t there. “Where the fuck is he?” you asked Isaac.

Isaac shrugged. “Think he’s already out on the pitch.”

You made your way out to the pitch, filling the hallways with the same whine that you’d released previously. If this was what it resorted to, then so be it. If you had to make Roy hate you even more just to do this damn worksheet, then you’d fucking do it.

Ted turned to you as you stormed onto the pitch. “Howdy!” he exclaimed. “Jeesh, did someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning? I did that once, too, when I first moved here and slept on the opposite side of the bed. It was crazy, like the universe was all mixed up and upside down. I almost threw up.”

“Where the hell is Roy?” you asked, ignoring him as you looked out to the pitch. The boys were milled around, waiting for the others to come out so they could start warming up properly.

“Well, he’s right–” Ted began, pointing out to the field. He shimmied his finger around, like a cat obsessed with a laser pointer, before he dropped his hand in defeat. “He was right there before.”

“He’s avoiding me,” you let out with a scoff. “This is fucking unbelievable. He’s a literal child.”

“Hey now,” Ted said. “When I see him, I’ll send him to your office, okay?”

You nodded, pissed off beyond comprehension. “Okay.”

The day went by too quickly, but you managed to get all the other profiles written. Not once did Roy come to your office, and when the guys came back in at the end of training, he was nowhere to be seen. You approached Colin, who said that he’d been right behind him, last he’d seen. That was the same as Sam, as Isaac, as the rest.

Roy Kent’s back up career should have been a magician’s glamorous fucking assistant with how much he’d been able to disappear without a fucking trace.

“That’s it. I’m going to kill him,” you said, leaned against the locker room frame as the guys got themselves ready for the evening.

Sam turned to you reassuringly. “He might come tonight, who knows?”

“I can give you his number, if you want?” Isaac suggested. “Can track him down and make him pay, and that.”

You smiled. “Please do. I don’t care if I have to call him twelve times, I’ll fucking do it.”

“Why do you need it done so badly anyway?” Jamie chimed in, shaking out his football shirt.

You copied Roy’s number into your phone from Isaac’s, sighing as you looked back to the room. The boys stared at you expectantly. “You guys know how this placement is for my masters degree, right? Which means I have certain assignments and coursework to get done. This is my first one, and I need all the players to participate, or it’ll be a big, fat fail.”

“Oh shit,” Isaac said. “So, you get graded for this?” You nodded sullenly. Isaac puffed out his chest abruptly. “Listen here, boys! Any of you see Roy, you get him to fill out this fucking sheet, kapeesh?”

You smiled, feeling bashful. “Thanks, Isaac.”

“No problem, girl. Now, turn that frown upside down. We’re getting drunk tonight!”

The locker room erupted into cheers. Jamie sprayed far too much Lynx in the air, and Colin almost cracked his head open as he jumped up and down on a bench, but even you couldn’t deny the atmosphere was electric. They were all good in their own ways, just some were a lot harder to let their walls down.

As the guys filed out of the room, you peered over at Roy’s cubby. Gently, you walked over and placed an unfilled sheet on his shelf. You stuck a small post-it to the paper– do this for me and i’ll never come to you for anything else.

You left the locker room in silence, trying not to worry too much about having incomplete work for your deadline. You had Roy’s number now, anyway, so even if it was something small over text you were certain you could get something. A crumb, maybe. You didn’t panic, not yet. Panicking would be for the Saturday scaries, and the remainder of your Sunday. Panicking wasn’t for now, as you followed the boys out to the car park and piled into the front seat of Sam’s car. A convoy of you left for Isaac’s house, before you all hit up the club later in the evening.

By the time the sun had set, your legs were jelloid from dancing, and your abs were coming in from laughing. You’d gabbed with Keeley for hours at the house, and were still gabbing now on the way to the club.

“What is it with Roy? I just don’t get it,” you asked.

“What, you mean his rugged good looks, or the fact he’s emotionally constipated to the max?” Keeley replied, and you let out a scoff.

“Definitely emotional constipation. He’s not that hot,” you let out. Keeley’s mouth dropped open.

“Oh, please. I know you don’t like him, but you have to admit that he’s gorgeous.”

“I won’t admit that, because all he’s been to me is ugly.” You stuck out your chin stubbornly.

Keeley smiled deviously. “Call him.”

“Absolutely not,” you said, shaking your head. “Hard pass.”

“Just call him. As soon as you get him on the phone, he can’t avoid you. And if he does, he’s a real arsehole. This is for your degree, for fucks sake.”

“I don’t think he knows that,” you said timidly.

“Then tell him! Yell it at him! Get him to do it.” She urged you, and you had no choice.

As the guys strolled forward towards the club, you and Keeley found yourself leant against a wall in a quiet corner. You found Roy’s number in your phone and dialled before you could chicken out. You tried not to vomit when it rang, and with each dial sound you were close to calling it a day.

After five or so rings, he actually picked up. “Who the fuck is it?” he asked, his voice gravelly over the line.

“Roy!” you and Keeley let out in sync, both equally surprised that he’d actually answered.

“Yeah. Who the hell is this?”

“Roy.” You took over, letting out a shaking breath. “It’s–”

He sighed, cutting you off. “I know who it is, now. I swear to God, if you’re asking me about that fucking sheet again, I’ll blow my top.”

All of your fear dissipated. It turned into immediate rage. “Oh, you fucking arse, Roy Kent,” you let out harshly. “I asked you to do this one thing, something that’s important, and you chose to avoid me all day instead.”

“I wasn’t avoiding you!” he yelled back. “I was busy, and I didn’t need you breathing down my fucking neck even more!”

“Oh, fuck you!” you screamed. “Just fucking get it done– please!”

“Why do you even fucking need it?” he asked, booming his voice over the line. You sucked in a deep breath, trying to control yourself.

“I need it for my d–”

“Know what, I don’t actually care,” he cut you off. “I don’t fucking get involved in club PR shit.”

“This isn’t just for the club, Roy–” you pleaded angrily, but he wouldn’t listen.

“The other guys do, but I don’t. I don’t want the fucking marketing collaborations, the articles, the profiles, whatever the fuck else your job actually is. I’m too old to fucking deal with this shit.”

“Are you fucking serious?” you exploded. “Do you hear yourself right now? You’re a professional footballer, Roy. This is part of the fucking job!”

“Good-fucking-bye,” he said.

“Hey, wa–!” you yelled, but the line went dead before you could get another word in. You called back, but the line went to voicemail immediately. You assumed he’d blocked your number. “I’m going to– I’m going to fucking–”

“Use your words, babe,” Keeley said, trying to calm you down. Soon, though, your anger turned to tears. Your eyes started watering, and you sniffed back snot. Keeley quickly wrapped her arms around you. “Hey now, hey, come on,” she crooned sweetly. “It’ll be okay.”

“My first assignment and I’ve already fucked up. It’ll be docked at 40% for being incomplete,” you explained. Keeley pulled back, looking at you softly.

“I’m sorry, babe. Can you tell them he was being an arse?”

“I don’t know. They might not believe me.”

“It’s Roy Kent. Everyone knows he’s a prick.” Keeley gently brushed a few strands of hair behind your ears. “Come on. Let’s have some fun and try to forget about this tonight, okay?”

“Okay.” You sniffed, breathing out to try and expel the anxiety from your stomach. “I need a drink,” you said.

Keeley twisted her arm in yours. The two of you walked down the street together, with Keeley cracking jokes to cheer you up. “I think you need more than one drink, to be honest,” she whittled on, and you allowed yourself to relax. Just for the evening, just for then.

When you got home, you sent Roy a drunk text. It was short and to the point, and when you woke up, you didn’t have a reply. You weren’t expecting one, not after that phone call. You read over the text, over and over, imagining what Roy must feel like.

This was for my degree, my first assignment is due on Sunday. It’ll be incomplete without you.

You didn’t even know if he’d read it, but you were past the point of trying. You’d done all you could, and still he’d denied you. This was on him, not you.

Roy spent his Friday evening in anguish. Sat at his dining table with a beer, he got out a crumpled version of your worksheet from his gym bag. He looked over the questions he’d already answered– his birthday, his prior positions through the years, but the one question that made him want to rage was still unanswered: What do you want from your career in the future?

The future for Roy was different to that of McAdoo, and Tartt, and Obisanya. Roy Kent’s future was up and coming, and he knew it wouldn’t involve running around a pitch anymore. Seeing that question hadn’t just made him upset, it had ruined his entire week. So, he’d avoided you like the plague, he’d spent every night doing the same thing; trying to fucking answer it and getting nowhere.

So, he’d decided to say fuck it, and not do it at all. After he’d hung up on you that night, his anger at you quickly turned to guilt. On Monday, he’d apologise and hand it in, just without that question answered. But for now, he wanted to sit in silence, read the latest Dan Brown novel he had, and drink beer until he fell asleep on the sofa.

Roy turned off his phone for the rest of the weekend.

You slept with yours the entire weekend, but still got no reply from Roy. You wanted to scream at him, tell him that he was an entitled arse, but you knew it’d be useless. Roy Kent obviously didn’t give a shit about you, so why would he care about your insults? You spent your Sunday compiling the profiles that you had already, putting them together to make something coherent. On the front page, you had to specify that one player had not completed the task, which would be your downfall. When you submitted your assignment, you slammed your laptop shut and immediately went to bed. You didn’t want to stay up thinking about it, or think about the email that you’d have in your inbox tomorrow, saying how it would be docked at 40% for being incomplete.

You slept like shit, but still you rose on Monday morning. The walk to Nelson Road was particularly bleak, with black clouds bustling over Richmond and rain on the forecast for the next few days. The atmosphere at the stadium was tense, too, what with the first game of the season being that weekend. The boys were all conserving their energy, all working hard. When you arrived at your office, you flicked on the light– a crumpled worksheet lay on your desk.

The name at the top– Roy Kent.

He’d done the majority, but crossed out the final question. You wondered if he’d done that as an apology, or as an attempt to piss you off further. You’d texted him about your deadline, told him that it was on Sunday. Had he not even opened your message? You picked up his sheet and read it through, trying to keep at bay the anger that you felt in your chest. Maybe he hadn’t meant it to be, but this was cruel. He’d given you enough to make a decent profile, but a day late. It came across like he was laughing in your face.

Quickly, before you lost your nerve, you picked up the worksheet and booked it to the locker room. You stormed down the corridor, turning into the room strongly. You didn’t look at anyone else, just eyes forward, and latched upon the number six at the top of Roy’s blue cubby opposite the door. The boys stopped talking, going utterly silent at your arrival.

Roy turned to you, shooting you a quizzical look. He peered down at the worksheet in your hands, then back up at your blunt and glassy-eyed expression.

“What?” he asked plainly.

You responded by thrusting the worksheet into his chest. He grabbed hold of it, not expecting an altercation this early in the morning. You stepped back, exhaling from your nose, looking at him with such disappointment, before you left them to it.

Roy looked at the worksheet in his hands, utterly confused as to why you gave it back after trying so hard to get it in the first place. He glanced around the room, taking in the pursed lip expressions of his teammates.

“What the fuck just happened?” he asked them, booming.

“Her deadline was yesterday, bruv,” Isaac said. Tension descended over the room.

“Deadline for what?” Roy asked.

“Her degree, Roy. This was her first assignment,” Sam added.

“How the fuck was I supposed to know that?” Roy said, furrowing his brows.

“She tried to tell you, man,” Colin joined in. “On the phone with Keeley.”

“And in a text.” Jamie pointed to Colin, before looking at Roy. “Keeley told me that she sent you a message that evening, explaining why she needed it.”

“Got docked at 40%, innit,” Isaac added, pulling up his socks.

Roy’s eyes found a spot on the wall and zoned out in realisation. He’d turned his phone off all weekend. “Fuuuuuuuck,” he breathed out.

As much as Roy wanted to be left alone, he wasn’t cruel. If he’d known it was for your degree, he would have grown the fuck up and handed it in sooner. Now, as you sat at your desk and read over the reply from your professor, probably over and over again, he felt awful. It’d only been a week, and he knew you didn’t even want to be doing this specific placement. He felt like an arsehole, a real, fucking arsehole.

At training, he could hardly focus. The thought of you, sat at your desk, pissed off, upset, writing another Instagram caption or article that you couldn’t give a shit about, made him angry at himself. Roy had never gone to uni, or done a masters. From the age of nine, he’d been destined to be a professional footballer. He’d got lucky, alongside working hard for the entirety of his career. He knew you also worked hard, just from the fact you put yourself in a shit position to get what you wanted. That took guts, even Roy could admit that.

When he missed another assist during training, his third miss for the day, he stomped his feet on the pitch and let out a loud, “Fuck this!”

Roy pulled off his bib, throwing it at Nate, the kit man, before he stormed off the pitch. His boots clattered against the concrete floor as he skidded his way through the stadium, all the way to your office. He didn’t knock, but instead bombarded his way inside.

You let out a small gasp at his arrival, but stayed sat down, glued to your spot.

“Why didn’t you fucking tell me it was for your degree?” he boomed. “I would have fucking handed it over sooner if you had.”

“Why would that make any difference?” you said, keeping your voice steady.

“Because it’s not just for the club, it’s for something you’re working towards.”

“So, you’re saying, if it was only for the club and not myself too, you wouldn’t have done it at all?”

“Fuck no. I don’t do PR shit,” he said bluntly.

“Even if it was my job to do it? Even though it was something you had a responsibility to contribute towards?” you said, raising your brows at him. “That’s no fucking better, Roy.”

“I just–” he stuttered. “I didn’t mean to fuck this up for you, that’s what I mean.”

“It is what it is.” You shuffled some papers on your desk, rearranging your notebooks just to keep yourself busy.

“Isaac told me you’d get a bad mark,” Roy said.

“Isaac is right,” you confirmed.

“Well, now I feel like an arsehole.” Roy breathed in deeply, and exhaled sharply.

“You were an arsehole, Roy,” you said immediately, strongly. “But, it’s done now. This was the only assignment I had that included the whole team, anyway. So, from now on, I’ll be sure to stay far far away from you.”

Roy short-circuited for a moment. He opened and shut his mouth a few times, he balled his fists, he shuffled on the spot. He looked like a robot that had lemonade poured on his circuit. His jaw clenched, and you watched in awe at the sheer skill he used to tense his body in such a way.

“Roy?” you asked, concerned.

“Fucks sake!” he exploded, before he left your office immediately. You got up from your desk and zoomed to the door, watching him walk away from the field and to the locker room instead, muttering to himself all the same.

You didn’t see him for the remainder of the day. You bumped into Ted on your way out the stadium, to which he shot you a perked brow look. You let out a long sigh, followed by a slightly awkward chuckle.

“Well, what a day,” you said.

“You could say that again,” he agreed. “The first match is on the horizon, and our captain walked out mid practice session.”

You winced. “Sorry about that,” you apologised.

“Oh, please, it’s not your fault,” Ted reassured you. “Gotta say, it’s not the first time a player has abandoned us halfway through the day, but at least it was today instead of on Saturday.”

“Wait” You stopped in the corridor, right before the doors to the car park. “He didn’t come back afterwards?”

Ted squinted at you. “You didn’t know? He flew off into the wind like one of the Wicked Witch of the East’s monkey henchmen. One second he was yelling obscenities on the pitch, and the next he’d driven off in his Jeep.”

You let out a stuttered breath, trying to compute Ted’s words. Roy had vanished after storming into your office, and no one knew where the fuck he’d disappeared to. It didn’t make sense, and you didn’t think this ordeal would mean that much to him in the aftermath. You weren’t trying to beat him up after what he’d done, as much as it had hurt you and pissed you off about your mark. This was odd, though, and incredibly out of character for Richmond’s captain.

“Weird,” you let out.

“Really weird,” Ted repeated. “But, who are we to question a football star?”

You squinted at him. “Isn’t that your job?”

Ted shrugged. “Hell if I know.”

You walked home, stunned into silence, trying to figure out what was actually going through Roy’s skull. You were half-tempted to text him, but you still didn’t know if he’d blocked you or not. You almost wanted to reassure him that it was fine, even though he was the one that fucked up your assignment. It was odd how that worked, wasn’t it? How those who had been done wrong felt the need to check in after the wrongdoer realised their actions. You had no reason to tell Roy it was fine, but you still wanted to. If his outburst had told you anything, it was that he felt bad about it all. That was good, you supposed. That meant he wasn’t as emotionally constipated as you’d thought.

Roy ignored you for the next three days. It was blindingly obvious to everyone at the club, even including Rebecca, who you met with for lunch on Thursday in her office.

“I think he feels bad,” you explained.

“I suspect he does. That’s no reason to be behaving like a child.” She ate a mouthful of salad.

“I suppose not… but other than that, it’s all going very well!”

Her face soured. “Oh?”

“I’ve given the Instagram captions a revamp, and I’m in the process of updating the website, too. I had this idea to do articles about the employees and why they wanted to get involved with AFC Richmond, and their passions outside of work, too–”

“That all sounds very interesting,” Rebecca cut you off. “But, unfortunately, I have a meeting to attend.”

“Oh,” you said, as she stood up. You followed suit, picking up your salad and juggling the rest of your lunch in your arms. “Well, this was really nice!” you said, as she started herding you out of her office. “Maybe we should do this again–?”

“Maybe,” Rebecca said. “Bye bye, now!”

You stood outside her closed door. It almost touched your nose from where she’d slammed it, your arms full of your belongings. You let out a sigh, and headed back down the stairs to your office sullenly. You found that what you missed the most out of everything– not the sunlight, or the decor– was having a woman work friend. You felt almost isolated being one of the only women who worked in the building. It was lonely sometimes.

You shuffled your belongings back into your bag on the walk down. You passed the gym as you approached your office and took a peek through the window. On the treadmill, facing the corridor by your office, was Roy. He read a book as he did an incline walk, reading the words thoughtfully, before he turned the page.

Suddenly, he looked up and caught your eye. You flinched, but stayed frozen in your spot. Roy’s face flattened into an unreadable expression. You gulped away the shock, and instead raised your hand and waved at him awkwardly.

Without warning, Roy fell off the treadmill. You gasped immediately, letting out a “Roy?!” as you dropped your bag to the floor and made your way to the gym.

You careened through the door and peered at the floor. Roy was there, crumpled, book thrown under a weight bench on the other side of the gym. “Are you alright?” you asked quickly, offering him your hand.

The other boys stopped what they were doing to witness the scene. Not one of them helped Roy up themselves, but instead waited for you to rush to his aid. It was beyond odd. Roy couldn’t even meet your eye, let alone take your hand.

You frowned at him, hurt. “Roy,” you tried again. “You know you can look at me, right?”

“I’m fine,” he croaked, and forced himself to look up and meet your gaze. “Just tripped.” Knees clicking, he got himself up off the floor. That’s when he caught your eye properly, frowning sullenly. You’d never seen him don such an expression, let alone this close.

You stepped back a little, confused as hell. You looked around the room at the others, their silence descending upon the entire stadium floor, not just the gym. They were all acting strange, making you feel like you were on the outside of an inside joke that they all knew well.

You scoffed, annoyed, as you reversed towards the door. “Okay,” you let out. “You’re all acting so fucking strange this week.” You reached the door frame, and went to leave, but stopped. You looked back at them all, before your gaze landed on Roy strongly. “I don’t like it.”

You left, walked back to your office, and shut the door with a bang.

Roy turned to the guys in the gym, still catching his breath from before. The guys looked at him like he was wounded, almost, and not just from the abrupt fall. Roy breathed out deeply, taking in their pitying faces.

“Stop fucking looking at me, alright!” he burst.

“Sorry, Roy,” Isaac said first, followed by some mutters from the others.

“I’m not some fucking baby bird that’s fallen out a fucking tree, alright?”

“Then why are you acting like one?” Jamie said suddenly. He sauntered forwards, and the rest of the team held their breath. “What, am I wrong? You haven’t said two words to her in days, not since you went AWOL on us earlier this week.” There were nods of agreement, some shrugs of confusion. “Where did you even go, like? You just took off.”

The yeah’s of agreement are what made Roy lose it. Everyone wanted to know where he’d gone, why he’d left, but he hadn’t been able to get it out since he’d done it on Monday.

“I went to her fucking uni!” he bellowed over their mutterings. “I went to her uni and spoke with her fucking lecturer, and said how much of a fucking arse I was.” The room went utterly silent. Roy looked to the floor. “That’s why I haven’t said a fucking word, because I don’t know if I made it better, or if I fucked it up even more.”

Roy balled his fists. He’d been feeling ashamed since Monday, more than he’d expected to feel. Guilt was his least favourite thing to feel, even though he often faked being unbothered.

Colin took an abrupt step forward, snapping the tension. “That’s fucking badass.”

Roy sent a confused arch of his brow at the Welshman. “Really?”

“Hell yeah, that’s badass. That’s a proper grand gesture, boyo. One that shows how bad you truly feel about it all,” Colin reassured him. The lads nodded in approval, sealing the deal that Roy had done the right thing. “She doesn’t know?”

Roy shook his head. “She hasn’t said anything. I don’t know if anything’s come of it.”

“Tell her tomorrow,” Sam spoke up. “Tell her tomorrow and I assure you, she will be okay about it all. I do not get the sense that she holds a grudge, you know? She is a kind person.” More hums of agreement filtered around the room. “Also, you cannot do it today. Not after that display on the treadmill,” Sam added, wincing.

“True,” Roy agreed reluctantly.

Isaac approached his captain then, placing a huge but reassuring hand on his shoulder. “She’ll forgive you, bruv. I’m sure of it.”

Roy nodded. “Thanks, Isaac.”

You locked yourself in your office for the remainder of the day. It was too odd out there, both on Roy’s and the guys’ part. You had no idea what had them acting so off-puttingly, but you wanted no fucking part of it. You dived into work, completing a plan for a new article on the website, before writing your novel for the rest of the day. Shannon Hart had been right– you had so much spare time to write that you already felt like an author already. You were on the clock while tapping away, getting paid for writing your book already, it seemed.

Near the end of the day, an email was pinged into your inbox from your lecturer. You had the jitters every time you received an email from him now, after reading what he had to say about your incomplete first assignment. You’d come to accept the 40% outcome over the past few days, but it still stung. You didn’t want to be considered a failure in your course, especially when you’d only just started.

You opened it up nervously, skimming the contents quickly until you realised it was nothing bad– in fact, it was something very good. “Shut the fuck up…” you let out, trailing off as you read it properly.

An impromptu visitor graced the halls of the Richmond university faculty building on Monday in the form of Mr. Roy Kent, number six and Captain at AFC Richmond. He had a lot to say about you, and about your recent assignment, most notably that he’d ‘massively fucked up’ and was a ‘gigantic arsehole’.

He explained everything about why you submitted your work incomplete, and assured us you were not to blame. I’ve taken this into consideration, and have remarked your work today on my own time. When before you were capped at 40/100, I have remarked your work at 87/100; a grade A1.

Congratulations. You must be doing something right for those footballers.

“Shut the fuck up!” you screeched, jumping up from your desk at lightspeed.

You could hardly believe it. This was what Roy had done on Monday, after he’d left training for the day? He’d gone and knocked on the door of your fucking lecturer, not leaving until they understood that he’d messed up the assignment for you. This was immense, and not at all what you’d been expecting. That explained Roy’s aversion to you over the past few days, and the abrupt fall in the gym today.

You let out a shocked cackle. It reverberated around the walls of your square office, bouncing back into your ears and only making you laugh more. This was hilarious– a footballer such as Roy Kent taking it upon himself to do something so rash was incredibly comical. But, it also warmed your heart. He’d felt so bad that he’d taken matters into his own hands.

This was probably the nicest thing anyone had ever done for you, if you thought about it too hard. This was a grand gesture, a proper apology, if you’d ever seen one. It made you smile like the fucking sun in the sky.

Roy left the stadium after everyone else, taking extra care after his fall in the gym. He’d scraped his knee up pretty bad, and even gone to the resident first aider for a knee brace to make sure he was fine before the first match of the season that Saturday. He made his way out, entering into the car park. He was expecting his lone Jeep to be there, but was surprised to find you leaning against the hood. Your arms were crossed, bag on your shoulder, as you looked out at the setting sun over the green grass of the Dogtrack. He slowed to a stroll, tightening his grip on the straps of his gym bag. You turned your gaze and met his eye, shooting him a knowing look.

“Working overtime?” you asked. It was a redundant question. You had a look in your eye that Roy could sense from a mile off– you knew.

“Just making up for lost time at the start of the week,” he replied, coming to stand opposite you.

You stood up straight, and peered up at him. “Ah, yes. I heard you disappeared on Monday.”

“Did you now?” he said. “Who said that?”

You shrugged, stalling to get the point. You were enjoying the silent amusement between you. Both of you knew what was up, but you had to admit you liked the subtle tension. “Just Ted.”

“Oh,” Roy said, his tone the slightest bit sunken.

“And my lecturer, actually,” you said finally. “He emailed me an hour ago to tell me that you popped in for a visit the other day.”

“Really?” Roy faked confusion.

“Mhm.” You tried not to laugh. “He remarked my assignment. I got an A.”

Just like that, all the stress and tension in Roy’s chest dissipated. It flew into the sky and was caught by the breeze instantly. You smiled at him knowingly, regarding him thoughtfully. He shuffled on his spot awkwardly, looking out towards the setting sun on the horizon, over the pitch.

“That’s great,” he let out genuinely.

You stepped forward. “You didn’t have to do that, Roy.”

He snapped his stare on you. “Yes, I fucking did. I was an arsehole.”

You shrugged, scuffing the ground with your shoe. “You were an arsehole, yeah. But arsehole’s don’t go to my fucking uni and ask my lecturer to remark an assignment.” You scoffed.

“It was the least I could do,” he said, and there was a softness in his tone that you didn’t think he’d been capable of. Roy Kent left you with more question marks the more you spoke to him, but you liked a mystery.

“Well, thank you,” you said, peering up at him sweetly. There was a section of yourself that was different, softer, sweeter, reserved only for those rare moments where people fully exposed themselves to you. Their true intention, their true selves. This was one of those moments. “Really. Thank you, Roy.”

He nodded at you, not knowing what to add. The sun cast an orange glow over the car park, reflecting off his Jeep vibrantly. It looked like the car itself was bright orange, so different from the black paint that stuck out like a sore thumb, usually. His car was so big and bulking, the same as the man that stood before you. But you knew that wasn’t all he was, not after what he’d done for you.

“Heading home?” he asked, changing the subject.

You nodded. “I’m exhausted.”

He scoffed. “You and me both.”

“How are you feeling about Saturday? The Arsenal game?”

Roy shook his head. “Let’s not even go there today,” he said, and you immediately backed off. You knew it was a lot of the team, having both a new management team, in the form of Ted and Beard, on top of someone new skulking around the building– you.

“It’ll be the first football game I’ve ever gone to, you know?” you added.

Roy perked his brow at you. “You really know fuck all about football, don’t you?”

You scoffed abruptly. “Fuck all indeed.”

The smallest smile graced Roy’s face, and you found yourself savouring it. You didn’t want to jinx it, but after almost two weeks of headbutting, you wanted to believe it was over. Perhaps, you and Roy would coexist happily now. Without the meanness, or the miscommunication, or all of the inbetween. In terms of the team, you’d done well with the crew and the boys, bar Roy and Rebecca, but things were looking up.

You felt content again, like you could actually do this after all.

“Need a ride?” Roy asked suddenly.

“Oh,” you let out, looking back at his Jeep. The orange was fading from its reflection. “Sure, I could use a lift.”

“Hop in,” Roy said, as he made his way around to the driver’s side.

He shoved his bag into the backseat, as you opened the passenger side door and jumped in. You slammed it behind you, getting comfortable, as Roy jumped into the driver’s seat next to you. There was a comfortable silence that settled over the car, as the two of you buckled yourselves in. Roy turned on the engine, and the radio turned on harshly, blasting you with an 80s song far too loudly.

You both flinched back, wincing, and Roy clicked a button quickly, turning off the sound. “Fucking hell,” he said. “I think Heart are trying to deafen us.”

You let out a chuckle. “I’ll listen to 80s music over the charts any day.”

Roy perked his brows at you, putting the car in reverse. “Good on you.” He reversed out of the car park and turned onto the main road.

You didn’t talk much, just small talk here and there. It felt oddly intimate being driven home by Roy Kent, but you tried not to let it rattle you. Acquaintanceships always started off patchy, with neither wanting to step over a line, until something resembling friendship ended up shining through. You told yourself that, maybe, a few months down the line, it would be normal for you to catch a lift home with Roy in the week.

You directed him to your street, pointing at your door with a smile. Roy pulled up to the curb, cutting off his engine as you unbuckled your seatbelt. You weren’t expecting him to fully kill the engine, but you didn’t pay it any mind. You jumped out of the car onto the road and rushed onto the pavement, peering up into his, now open, window.

“Thanks for the ride,” you said with a smile.

“It’s fine. I live just around the corner, actually.”

“Don’t tell me you live in one of those big fuck off houses down the street,” you said, pointing down the end of your road. To the left beyond was an array of giant houses, all with blossom trees outside and large gates guarding them. They were gorgeous, huge and expensive.

Roy squinted at you. “I’m a professional footballer. Of course, I fucking do.”

You huffed in amusement. You were about to say I can’t wait to see it in person one day, but stopped yourself short. Was that a weird thing to say, even to a colleague? You bit on your tongue instead and stepped back towards the steps that lead to your door. There was something unsaid in the air, mostly from Roy. You got the sense he wanted to say something more, as his fingers tapped anxiously on the steering wheel.

Instead, you sighed. “See you tomorrow,” you settled on.

Roy inhaled deeply, and raised his hand in goodbye. “See you.”

His window ascended and he started the engine again. He sped off down the road, before he took an abrupt left at the end and disappeared from view. You let yourself into your building and stepped into the hallway. You sighed once more, contentedly, before you closed the door on another interesting day at AFC Richmond.

CHAPTER TWO

#roy kent x reader #roy kent x you #roy kent #ted lasso #brett goldstein #ff #fanfiction #x reader #reader insert #enemies to friends to lovers #angst and fluff #lightyaers #ao3 #wattpad #archive of our own #writeblr #jamie tartt

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seraphimaa · 26 days

Text

Doll for a day - Part 2

Soft(ish)!Raphael x fem!Tav x Haarlep

Raphael sets out the terms for his forgiveness. After all, it’s not nice to feel left out.

Raphael makes her fuck his incubus in front of him and then tests her dedication.

Warnings: selfish idiots with feelings

PART 1

She can’t stop her face from cringing. It’s all the confirmation he needs and he falls into silence, processing. He is furious, yes, but he can’t help the faint relief that is flooding him. The board is still in play. Her mouth forms the shapes of letters but nothing seems to come out. She takes a breath, utters only the word, “leaving”, like he’s supposed to find reassurance in it, and turns to flop onto her stomach, beginning to drag herself by her arms towards the edge of the bed.

“No.” She feels his thighs clench to hold her own, the thick ropes of muscle halting her movement. Her face hits the silk and she lets herself simply collapse in defeat under the master of the house. “What the hells is wrong with you? You come into my house, look at my things, touch my things, fuck my things.” He’s spitting with rage the more he rambles and with every word she pushes her head further and further into the covers, half in an attempt to smother herself.

“Then you think you can just what? Scamper off? Tell me, Tav, is your sheer aptitude for being this insufferable nature, or nurture? Did somebody drop you on your head as an infant, or were you simply born this way?”

“Born...” Her words are barely comprehendible through the bedding. He grunts in acknowledgement and takes a break from frowning at the detailing in the wallpaper to look down at the fleshy heap. She looks pathetic and entirely resigned.

“And what, on all of the planes, were you ever hoping to achieve, pray tell?” Her shoulders shrug limply. “Hm.” He hums, unimpressed, and lets her stew in the silence until he hears her again, clearly desperate to move things along .

“No reason.”

“Oh thank goodness,” her ears perk at the happy tone, “I find so much comfort in knowing you would cause all of this chaos for no reason at all.” Never mind.

“And what did you plunder and soil?” He sniffs indignantly, “other than my sheets and incubus.”

He expects another short, mumbled response but instead he feels her begin to shake under him rhythmically. For a brief moment, he thinks she’s laughing like a maniac but then he hears her sobs.

Her head lifts just enough for her cries to ring clearly. “I’m sorry! Okay? I payed that lady to open the portal. I don’t know what I was thinking. I promise. I wasn’t going to touch anything, just look. Then I ended up here and you were here too and you were so nice but it wasn’t you but he looked so good and he felt so good and I didn’t want to stop, I couldn’t, I don’t know what I was thinking-I wasn’t thinking!” It all comes out in a jumble and her head flops down again as she shudders in another wave of sobs. Haarlep’s tail can be heard wagging against the sheets absently, only paying attention the indirect praise aimed his way.

For what feels like the hundredth time in one day, he heaves a massive sigh. It feels like an eternity that the scene drags on. Raphael ponders whether this is all a cruel, fated karma playing out. He considers what sins it were that landed him in the constant circus show that he appeared to ringlead daily. He looks at the three of them, on the bed, and thinks that they would fit perfectly on renaissance style painting. Haarlep is crouched with knees to the side, looking every part the demonic gargoyle of a creature that Raphael considers him to be, tail wagging in the air and looking very pleased with himself. His mouse is splayed dramatically on the bed like a tortured damsel, wailing and he is slumped in his own pose of enduring anguish. He considers giving her a further tongue wagging but she appears to be torturing herself just fine for now. Hells, you’d think she was the victim here.

Her sobs hiccup as she feels Raphael twist and rise from the bed. She cranes, terrified to see what kind of torture he is about to impose on her but her puffy, wet face is met with the curve of his bare spine and hips as he strides to the desk against right wall. She definitely doesn’t look at the jiggle of fat on his ass as he stomps over and throws himself back into the chair. She definitely doesn’t look anywhere in particular as he reclines back, neck craned at a sharp angle over the back of the oak. His eyes snap to hers, and he crosses his legs with a frown, and she averts her gaze to the wall beside his head for no related reason. He tears open a drawer and brings out a dusty bottle of vintage. He busies himself with uncorking the bottle, and pulls out a glass. He fills it without any grace, almost overflowing the rim then knocks it back, taking his time before he swallows it down. She’s tempted to ask him what comes next but the withering look he shoots her way as she intakes air to begin makes the words die on her tongue. She swallows with an awkward nod and settles her face back into the covers. She is good at ruminating and wallowing. This is fine. Even the incubus seems to pick up on the sudden lack of energy in the room and he flops back wriggling around, fluttering his wings and swishing his tail, as he gets into a comfortable position. His leg thumps her own and he whines until she shuffles over, half hanging over the edge. He mimics the brooding duo and lets out a sigh, his own airy and perfectly content.

Raphael is surprisingly the first to break the peace.

“Why did you sleep with it?”

There’s hesitation in his tone, almost like he couldn’t decide if he truly wants the answer. She is completely caught off guard and lifts her head after some thought, enough to respond but not enough to have to face him as as she does.

“It was just a really bad mistake.”

Haarlep seems to take offence to this, his tail whipping her leg as it beats back and fourth in protest but he stays silent, intent on listening to this play out.

“No,” his tone is wary but he speaks like this is something important to him, “you knew the risk. As much as you would like to galavant through life like a court jester, you are smart. What was it exactly that made you decide to take that miscalculated risk?”

“I don’t know! I was, I was just…” She seems to sway between deflection and truth but eventually finds her answer.

“I was just desperate.” He cocks an eyebrow as if deciding on how to perceive her words but when her face emerges pink and swollen from the sheets, intense and ugly, altogether striking, he sees the burning honestly. “Really desperate.”

“Excuse me!” Haarlep cranes to look at her, wings flaring, entirely offended. He is not reading the silent layers of communication happening amongst the rude guests of in his little sanctuary. “And just what, exactly, are you trying to imply? Don’t act like I didn’t have you mewling happy as a kitten, eyes crossed in bliss as you bounced yourself around dumb and drunk on my cock. Don’t act like you didn’t throw yourself at the chance to come undone under me, specifically. You said that you needed him, me, raw and undiluted. No rude lies on my bed, please.” It is the first time, in the short span they’d shared together, that she’d seen the fiend seem truly displeased. They both pointedly ignore his bruised ego and the implications of his words.

“And what was it, exactly, you were so desperate for?” She gives a small shake of her head in protest of what he is trying to drag out of here.

“I just wanted to be touched.”

“Then you would have gone to the brothel. Try again.”

“I wanted to be touched by someone who I knew.”

“Then you would have crawled your way into the tent of one of your willing companions long ago, I’m sure. I’m tired, little mouse.” She builds her courage enough to glance at him through damp lashes and he really is slumped in utter defeat. He’s nursing a new glass, and his face has never looked so tired. It feels violating to witness him like this, even more so than seeing him naked ever had. he takes in her face, full of fear and pain. She looks like saying it might break her, like it’s the last thing she wants to do. She looks at him like he is cruel, and she is begging him to spare her. His face hardens and he drains the last in his glass, not hesitating to empty the bottle in its place.

“I..” he trails off, before shaking his head and standing up, throwing his hand out dismissively.

“Forget I said anything. Go. Get dressed. I’ll organise a portal out.” She openly balks at him. “But what about-“ he doesn’t wait for her to finish.

“Please. You’ve done enough. Spare both our dignities any further blows for one day and just go.” He falls back into his chair, tapping his finger on the desk impatiently, staring into the liquid crimson in his hand. She swings herself up, sitting with her back to him and she is glad for the fact because once again, to her frustration, her eyes blur with tears. She feels like everything is crashing down upon her and the reality of the day is setting in, finally. This is unfixable. She’d taken a running jump over every boundary they constructed and respected until now. It was like a game. The flirting, the teasing, the goading. It was relentless, but they both played by the same unspoken rules. They were both smarter than to fall for the words the other spun. It had felt, in a way, safe. But she isn’t smart. Somewhere along the way she’d come to anticipate their next encounter. She felt a flutter in her stomach when he smiled down at her, so dashing and smug. She played their conversations over and over again when alone, trying to spy a crack in his performance, a subtle sign that he harboured his own strange fondness for her. She’d replaced the face of the imaginary companion with his when he brought herself to completion late at night. If she leaves now, there’s no going back. She decides to speak before she can change her mind. If she walks away then he’d take this as her final answer. It would mean whatever they had would be over.

“No.” She stands from the bed. She ignores the withering look she shoots her and strides around the bed. “I’m not going. You can’t make me.” He is close to reminding her that this is very much not the case but she keeps coming closer, stopping when her legs bump his knees and suddenly her hand is around the glass, brushing his, as she pulls it from his grip and tips it back. The liquid seeps around the seam and drizzles down her chin, falling and painting her nude frame. She finishes it with a gasp and sets it back into the desk, he holds his breath as she leans over him but she keeps her gaze detached from his. She plonks herself onto the bed, facing him.

“I was desperate for you. I just wanted you. I couldn’t have it so I took what I could. Im a greedy, selfish, depraved asshole and I know I really messed everything up but you can’t just send me away. You have to forgive me. I’m not leaving here until you forgive me. I’ll stay right here, as long as it takes, but you have to tell me what it is that I need to do. Please, Raphael, how do I fix it?”

She begins so doubt herself the longer he remains catatonic and brooding but at last he humours her.

“You’ve found a way to rewind time, my sweet little fool?” She shakes her head but isn’t willing to give up now that she had his attention.

“Without hindsight I’d have done it again, to be honest. Something else. Realistic, maybe.” She’s slowly gaining back that deplorable attitude and confidence.

“Watch your mouth, mouse. Remember exactly what has landed you here. If you want my forgiveness then I should know exactly what I am forgiving.” She quirks a brow at this, feeling an uneasy flutter at the way his face morphs to a determined smile, as if setting a challenge he expects her to fail.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Well,” he crosses one leg over the other and his posture is creeping back into its usual confidence, “how could I ever forgive you when you went behind my back and now, when asked to simply take responsibility and admit to everything, you wail like a bairn. One would be led to believe that it was your form that had been violated so rudely from across the planes from all this hysteria. It’s madness.” They glare at each other as he lays his condition before her.

“I need to even the playing field, Tav. Any embarrassment you have caused me will be returned tenfold. You see, I’m starting to feel rather left out. Like the only one not in on your little joke. You will show me as everything that happened after you entered this room. Your recreation must be convincing enough to make me believe the words you say and you will show me every detail of how it happened.”

He watches as she rises at once with a yelp.

“I’m sorry, you want me to do what?”

“Haarlep does love to put on a show. Quite the performer. All you need to do is read the lines as they were written. You should be familiar with them as you did write them yourself, did you not?” Haarlep lets out a happy sound behind her. She falls to her knees, reaching for his legs.

“Please. Eternal torture, death, anything but this.”

His foot kicks to smack her beggar hands away.

“Oh feeling embarrassed? Humiliated? Violated? My, my, mouse, quite a turn of a tables, is it not?”

She glares up and tries to feign dignity as she clambers back onto her feet.

“And if I do it then everything will go back to normal? Forgiven and forgotten.” He considers her phrasing.

“Forgiven? Why of course. I am a man of my word after all.” She puffs herself up and turns, making her way to behind the pool partition. She emerges from the far side, walking in an unintentionally exaggerated manner, every single movement screaming discomfort. She gasps loudly in surprise at the incubus on the bed, lounging back in character.

“Gracious, Raphael, your buxom bosom is exposed to the elements.” She raises her hand to her forehead, feigning as if to faint at the sight. It draws a giggle from Haarlep and a groan from Raphael. Can’t please everyone, she supposes.

“That’s strike one. On the third I’ll drop you into the middle of the sea with a snap of my fingers. I swear it.” She gawks at him as he sneers at her, entirely unimpressed. He was definitely not in the mood.

At his instruction, she begins the scene agin, from the top. This time she echos her words, verbatim.

“Ah, Raphael! Why…are you dressed like that?” She was not born for the stage, but it will do. Haarlep is bristling with excitement as he begins his part of the act. Ah, Roleplay! How exciting!

“My, my. Is that a little mouse skittering through my house?” His grin is as devilish as she remembers it. “How very naughty. Come to serve yourself to the cat? What a surprising course of events indeed.” She studies him as she recites his greeting to her just as he had.

“You’re not Raphael. You look different. Younger. Who are you really?” Haarlep smirks.

“I’m impressed. Very perceptive of you, indeed.” He raises onto his knees, legs spread and muscles rippling as he balances his weight. His abdomen is adorned with keratin ridges leading and pointing down to-no. She wasn’t looking there. She had, but she will safeguard the shreds remaining of her dignity where she can. He doesn’t have to know that.

“My name is Haarlep. You’d do well to remember it for you may just find me drawing it from your lips, like prayer. Very soon.” His hands are spread wide, inviting her to bask in his form. He look like he’s carved from scarlet marble. Like an angel. She instantly remembers exactly how she’d fallen to ruin to quickly. He’s so convincing that she almost forgets that she hasn’t really been taken back to that moment. She does not have to fake the way she freezes under charm of the incubus.

“The master must attend to business. I’m afraid he’s currently buried so deep into his work. You should know that he likes to finish very quickly.”

Raphael grunts, storing this for when he next wanted to berate the demon spawn. Haarlep breaks character to throw a glare over his shoulder.

“What? You said to recreate it exactly.”

“Shut up, Harlot.” He sighs, waving his hand. “Continue.”

The incubus’s gaze is instantly locked back onto hers as he resumes his act and again, he drinks her in. it’s like everything else in the room disappears.

“How lucky you are little mouse. He should not be back for quite some time. You’re all alone with me.” She holds her ground, as dangerous as he looks when he falls onto his hands and begins to prowl towards her. “I propose a little game. One I simply insist you must play before you go. If you don’t, well then I’d just have to assume we’re not friends. If were not friends then you’d be intruding and I would simply have to tell.” Haarlep, and reaches to grab her hands, giving them a light squeeze. She’d looked so scared the first time.

“Come on. I promise it’s not a mean game. I won’t make you do anything bad. I promise. Trust me. Play with me.” His smile is so sweet and gentle that she melts all over again.

“O-ok.”

“Oh goodie! Here are the rules. I ask you one question. Just one! You must tell me the truth. I will know if you lie to me. That’s all.” She frowns, not believing that it could be so easy.

“Oh come now. I won’t tell a soul. Nobody will ever know. It’ll be our little secret. I promise.” She nods and the breath leaves her as the incubus surges towards her. She doesn’t flinch this time, as his face brushes hers. Instead of going for the kiss he teases near her open mouth, he presses his lips to her ear, hissing his question.

“Do you want to fuck me?”

As she had before, she turns, locking eyes with the sultry, demonic slits. Their faces touch from proximity. True to her actions, instead of answering aloud, she closes the distance. She’d been so lost in the spell he must have cast on her when they’d met. There was no other explanation for why she’d been so overcome. But then, why was she feeling it all over again?

The incubus sighs against her mouth as their tongues dance and she’s pulled on top of him. He had undressed her as she lapped the venom straight from his mouth but they are both already naked this time. She grinds and squirms on top of him as the venom begins to seep straight to her head and loins. A heat spreads through her abdomen, hot as coals, and she can feel the trial she’s drooling onto his hard abdomen as she grinds against the rough, leathery skin. The room spins and that drunk feeling washes over her all over again.

She almost forgets that they are not alone, so focussed on the forked tip of his tongue playing with hers and the friction his scaled body is offering. He flips them around and it makes her stomach clench as he pins her below himself. She pants as he pulls away from her, desperately trying to catch her breath and ground herself in reality. Her eyes open and her stomach flops again when she sees Raphael, watching her intently, upside down. Their eyes lock and his lips part slightly as he looks down at her. wild and flushed, completely under the effects of the tainted saliva.

Haarlep fills her view again, coming back down to capture her lips. His hands brush her, his fingers curling though her hair as his thumbs dance over her cheeks. He cradles her face, joining them once more. His hands trail down, one travelling her collar bone and down her arm. It captures her hand in his. The other trails from her collar bone, fingers teasing against the fat of her breast as it tickles down and comes to caress the hardened bud. She whines into the kiss as the smouldering heat flickers to burning and another wave of slick dools from her. His fingers pinch and flick as she grinds and thrusts up at him, desperate for more. She needs to be closer. She needs him inside. He growls a laugh as his hips slam back on top of hers, pinning her to the mattress. Gods, now she understands how they ruined the sheets.

“What an enthusiastic answer, little mouse. Have you been waiting for this? To feel me on top of you?” The first time he’d asked she’d been completely taken by the fantasy that he really was Raphael but now, she was absently aware of his presence elsewhere. His hand tails down the curve of her stomach, toying at the mound of her push, not quite close enough to where she needed it. Now he was truly Haarlep in her eyes and she burned for him all the same.

“Say it. Say that you’re desperate for me. Admit now that I was the only one that you wanted when you came here, that you wouldn’t have done this for any other. I won’t touch you again until you take back your cruel words from before.” She lets out a yelp, squirming with fury and glaring daggers into his beautiful face.

“You didn’t say that!” The incubus giggles and raises his eyebrows, waiting.

“Strike two. Last warning.”

“WHAT? That was him!”

“At least he stayed in character.”

The incubus is all shades of smug, tail wagging.

“Ugh. Fine.” A finger dipping just a breath from her clit drags her back into under his spell and he hums in anticipation.

“Yes,” she chokes, “I only wanted you. I only needed you. I just want you to want me too.” The words pull a hiss from the cambion who can’t deny himself the sincerity, for once, he hears in her voice and knows that her words are for no other than himself. Haarlep hums again, pleased. His finger rewards her, brushing over her clit and her hips jump as she gasps. He giggles again, and squeezes down on her hand. His finger circles around before dipping between the soaked, swollen lips. She quakes and sings out so sweetly as the incubus works to undo her. Raphael’s hand wanders like an independent entity over his clenched thigh, until it finally comes to rest on his groin, fingers ghosting at the base of his hardening length. He watches the flashes of her pleasure revealed to him through the flapping cocoon of wings curled over her. His hand, not by his own volition wraps around himself and he hisses again. His mind is plagued by the memory of how tight and wetly she’d wrapped around him and his hand feels like a pitiful substitute. Nevertheless, he finds his it working slowly, squeezing up and down his weeping cock. His sighs are lost in the chorus of the two menaces on his bed, singing so beautifully.

“My, my. Don’t you two play nicely together. I can see that any worries I may have had that this was a one sided encounter were truly misguided. It seems you both posses no higher rational thinking than the drive of your genitals. I can see why you two get along so well now. It makes perfect sense.” He’s talking more to himself than anyone else but his cock throbs at the whimper it pulls from her anyway. She comes back to her senses enough to realise that she has not yet given Haarlep any attention, too completely lost in the endless throes of pleasure he was wracking upon her. Her hand comes down and wraps around his length, pumping it with desperation, eager to make him feel nearly as good as he did her. The incubus keens and grins into the crook of her neck. He feels the spark of ecstasy from his master as his hips jerk from the seat at the ghost of her touch. His master is already worn out tonight. His hand comes to wrap around hers, halting its motion.

“Ah, ah, mouse. I think we might need to improvise. Wouldn’t want the show to finish before scheduled.” She tries to understand the implications of his words as he flips her over, pulling her ass high into the air. Her eyes are closed as she feels the fiend position behind her and she waves her rump through the air, drunkly whining at the lack of attention. Her eyes shoot open, mouth falling slack as for the third time that night, the shape of Raphael’s cock slides without warning inside of her. Her vision is filled with the man in question, teeth clenched as he takes the sight of them in, cock in trembling hand.

The incubus rocks his hips without urgency. She moans, long and low, with every drag his cock as it carves and stretches her walls around it. One hand is driving into her spine, bending her up and onto him while the other wraps around her hair, pulling her head up and exposing her fully to his master. she’s pulled up and back. He bounces her, leaning back to let her land onto his upturned hips with a wet smacks. She squeals his name, shrill and pitchy.

“Fu-fuck! Haarlep!” He groans in satisfaction, wings fluttering at the sound of his name on the lips of another. For all that he screams inside to just ruin her and drive her into the mattress like last time, he’s not prepared to meet Raphael’s fury if he embarrasses him now. He keeps the pace lazy and controlled, watching the other fiend intensely and reading his pleasure for the signs that he was getting too close. It is like wrestling a feral cat, trying to hold her still and stop her from throwing herself back onto his length without abandon.

Raphael seems to recognise his nearing end as he lets go of himself entirely, gripping the arms of his chair until his knuckles pale.

His voice is strained and gritty as he needles her one last time.

“You know I’m entirely unimpressed. You were so adamant that you wanted me but but it seems you’re able and willing to do little more than bounce on my incubus. It looks like maybe are just desperate, after all. Perhaps I was wrong, you will just throw yourself on any willing cock that asks nicely. how disappointing.”

She hates his stupid, condescending sneer and all at once, she has kicked and fought her way free of the now whining and complaining incubus and is clambering toward the edge. She throws herself from the bed, landing on the floor and crawls like a possessed person to his feet. Her face has an intensity to it that makes even him pause as she bares her teeth and howls in rage.

“Fuck you!”

She’s on top of him now, her hands in his hair, and his scalp burns as she yanks his head backwards.

“I wanted you! You never gave me anything!”

She spears him into her, feeling him shudder.

“You’re all I ever wanted! You’re the only person who makes me cum. You’re the only person I trust. I hate you.”

She’s riding him hard, throwing her weight into every thrust that brings her cunt to press on his pelvis.

“I fucked your incubus. You fucked me. Now I’m fucking you. Everyone can just get fucked!” He would usually be disgusted in her uncivilised language but holy shit, he’s never been so turned on. She is terrifying, and hysterical, and she looks like a queen as she rides.

“You’ve tried to humiliate me but guess what? It didn’t work. It didn’t work because I know you feel the same, don’t you? Am I the one that makes you cum too? You’re just as pathetic as me.“ He’s choking on a moan as she bring her face over his, staring down his eyes and breath venting across his neck.

“I did your fucking deal. You forgive me now. You ever want to get fucked like this, until you can’t feel your own cock, again? Then you cum for me right now and prove right now that you’re no better than me.” He wants to be angry, and hateful. To shove her off and smite her into the depths of hell but instead he flops backwards, body quaking and shuddering as he releases inside of her, her own orgasm milking his seed from him as she screams and collapses onto him.

They stare at each other, panting and trying to find their breath. She leans closer and for a terrifying second, he thinks she is going to kiss him. She doesn’t. She pushes herself up and brings herself to stand on shaking legs. The room is silent as she redresses. When she is done, she turns to look at Raphael expectantly. With a snap of his fingers a swirling portal forms before her. She pauses before disappearing through. She looks to the incubus, reclined back on the bed and gives him a small awkward wave.

“It was nice to meet you?” It’s asked like a question. He nods enthusiastically and waves back with a smile.

“Do come back! It’s been so long since I’ve had a friend! Ta ta now, little mouse.”

She looks to the cambion still flopped in the chair. He is back to his absent brooding. She opens her mouth to say goodbye, maybe apologise, maybe ask what the hells all of that means, but a pointed look tells her that she has done enough and now it is time to go. Happy to avoid the confrontation that awaits them at some point on the inevitable future, she simply gives him a nod and disappears from his home. Peace, at last.

“Well,” the incubus rises with a stretch and makes his way to the heated water of the pool, “wasn’t that just a delight. Do you think she’ll come back at some point? I really could use a play mate, you know.” Raphael again, ignores the ramblings of the lesser fiend and rises to leave. He needs his own bath and the sweet embrace of sleep. He most definitely did not have the energy to deal with the little demon right now. Before leaving the boundary of the room, he half turns to address the incubus.

“I was wondering, did you happen to-“

“Yep. I obviously wasn’t going to let her go without a little payment.” The voice of his little mouse echos from the steaming water with a laugh, like chiming bells.

“Good. Good job, Haarlep.”

He hears an excited intake of air at his praise and takes his leave.

“Get Korrilla to deal with the sheets before tomorrow. I don’t wish to be disturbed again tonight.”

He has forgiven his little mouse, as promised. That did not mean he was near ready to forget. There was no way she would keep herself from him now. Not when he was so eager to explore his new toy in the days to come.

Hello! I hope you liked it! It’s the longest thing I’ve posted and I’m terrified that it was a let down after the first part. Please lmk what you think, I welcome discussion and feedback. This was meant to be a softer, lighter take on Raphael, haarlep, and their mouse but I hope I still somewhat made them likeable and recognisable.

Also, poor Korrilla.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #raphael bg3 #haarlep #raphael the cambion #baldurs gate raphael #bg3 raphael #raphael x tav #raphael romance #raphael x reader #raphael smut #raphael fanfic #raphael #haarlep the incubus #haarlep x you #haarlep x tav #haarlep baldur's gate 3 #haarlep smut #original content

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clockwayswrites · 1 year

Text

Specter of Starlight - Part 2

Part 1 Mind the CW at the top. (which together will = chapter 1 ones it goes up up on ao3)

WC: 1068

He looked around the roof assessing the scene again, then at the other person.

They were leaning casually on the gargoyle now, unconcerned about the height. The new pose did cause them to throw one leg over on the roof side of the ledge, though, and Tim felt the bundle of nerves inside him unwind just slightly.

“Odd place to be then.”

“Maybe. I find height comforting. I’m Danny,” they said.

Tim was a little startled at being given a name so easily.

Danny gave him a lopsided smile. “Not that it’s not obvious who you are, but usually one guy tells another guy their name, they get a name back. There are social motions to go through here. There are expectations.”

Tim tilted his head at that, fighting back a smile. “Are social motions still in place when we’re sitting on a roof at—” His eyes darted to the hud feed inside his lenses. “—three twenty-two in the morning?”

“Hum,” Danny seemed to be actually thinking about that as he picked absently at the fang of the grinning gargoyle. “I suppose we’re exempt from most. In my defense, I think I lost track of time.”

“While star gazing.”

“Cloud gazing. I think we covered that already.”

“Red Robin, then, if we’re pretending to be normal,” Tim acquiesced.

“’Normal’ says the guy in the bird suit. Wait, I’m sorry, that makes you sound like a furry. Not that furries aren’t delightful people, but don’t really think you are one.”

It took some effort not to laugh, but he finally gave into the smile. “No, just a vigilante.”

“Got to say, that’s probably a pretty big step down from furry, sure you want to admit that?”

He was being teased. He was being teased by a random guy on the edge of a roof at three in the morning. This wasn’t at all what Tim expected but he would take it.

“You’re lucky Batman isn’t around to hear you slander the good vigilante name like that.” Mostly because Bruce was dealing with Justice League business. Really, right then, Tim was the only Bat who would be in this particular area to notice Danny (other than Oracle’s all seeing eye, but this high up didn’t have a lot of cameras).

“Okay, but seriously,” Danny said, spreading his hands, “Batman is way more furry adjacent than you. He’s got the wings—”

“It’s a cape.”

“—and the ears.” Danny brought his hands up, holding a single finger up on either side of his head. He gave them a little wiggle.

Tim wasn’t able to help the snort of laughter that time. “I’ll let you bring that reasoning up to him yourself.”

“No thanks, I don’t really want to have a run in with the Batman.”

“But I’m fine to have a run in with?” Tim wasn’t really offended, he knew he wasn’t nearly as terrifying as Batman. Or Red Hood. Or the latest Robin. Not to mention the girls… Okay, so he wasn’t the scariest Bat by far, alright?

“I’m not minding your company so far. Besides, you’re way cuter than Batman.”

He could feel the heat of the sudden blush on his cheeks. Hopefully the the dark night would hide it.

From Danny’s smirk he guess it didn’t.

Tim cleared his throat and grappled for a topic. “So were you hoping to see any particular stars?”

“I mean,” Danny let his head tilt back over the gargoyle, exposing the long line of his neck as he looked back up at the sky. “That always depends on the time of the year.”

If Tim was a less composed person he would have rolled his eyes. “Yes, well, what on this specific March night would you have been looking for?”

Danny’s gaze jerked back down to blink at Tim, but he couldn’t gather what for. Did Danny really think Tim didn’t know something as basic as the constellations changing with seasons?

No, Danny seemed to take a notice breath (why was it so noticeable suddenly) and relaxed again.

“Well, for March, we’d be seeing Orion,” Danny said, returning his gaze to the sky as if they could see anything. “He’s pretty easy to spot even in cities, because of how bright his starts are and his belt. His belt isn’t the brightest stars in Orion, but since they line up people have been spotting them for ages.

“In ancient Arabic they were Al Nijād, also the belt, but in modern they refer to them as scales, which is what the Chinese maybe called them too. They’re also sometimes called the three sisters or the three kings. There’s three stars on it, all pretty bright. Well, we call them three stars, but two of them are actually star systems— shit, sorry, I’m just ranting at you now.”

“No,” Tim said quickly. He hated the way Danny was curling into himself now. “It’s interesting. What do you mean they’re not three stars?”

Tim felt like he was being judged as Danny’s eyes swept over him. Judged and expected to be found wanting. How many times had people dismissed Danny when he was talking about this?

Tim must have passed because Danny started talking again. Slowly, at first, as if he was waiting for Tim to change his mind. “Well… see, the left most star, Alnitak, is a triple, maybe quadruple star system. We’ve known it was a double start since early eighteen something something— I’m not so great with remembering the dates— but then we found another star with the primary later which is super cool. And the right most star Mintaka is also multiple stars and one of them has a unusual metal abundance which is also really cool.

“Now the middle star, Alnilam, is a massive blue super giant. And I mean like, forty times the size of our sun massive. It’s the, twenty-seventh or twenty-ninth or somewhere there brightest start in the sky but even then, it’s only the forth brightest start in the Orion constellation. Like I said, super noticeable. Most people think Betelgeuse is the brightest because that’s one of the larges stars visible to the naked eye. If you thought Alnilam was big at forty times our sun’s size, Betelgeuse is over twelve hundred times bigger…”

A soft smile gracing his lips, Tim shifted to be more comfortable and hear all about Betelgeuse and Rigel and the other bits of starlight that made up Orion.

____

AN: Well, this decided it really wanted to be written, like now (now being 4am). But to be fair, I did rewrite two scenes of the next chapter of lbfd first. (And seriously, no shade on furries, they really are a wonderful community and the best cons to vend at.) Hopefully not too many mistakes, fresh migraine hell over here.

I hope Danny nerding out about the stars there at the end wasn't too dry? I don't know if I need to trim it down? Fun (?) facts, Orion is my fav constellation and my brother actually helped study the metallic content of starts because he's crazy smart. Anways, I love Danny being able to completely change the mood on Tim just by being his delightful, dumpster fire self. You all stay delightful too, darlings!

#dc x dp #danny fenton #tim drake #brain dead #dead tired #specter of starlight #i feel like I'm forgetting tags #ugh I forgot messing with the html wiped out the read more #sorry about that

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bluesylveon2 · 11 months

Note

Hello!! May I request 6. I Won't Say I'm in Love from Hercules with Malleus? I'm quite the malleus connoisseur !! ❤️😭 Thank you!!! <333

Hi!!! Idk why but this one was hard for me to write 😅. I tried to keep the song in mind while writing it. It ended up being less of "I Won't Say I'm in Love" and more of "I didn't know I was in love. ft Lilia" I hope that this fits since you are a Malleus connoisseur!

Note: Malleus is oblivious to love. Small Spongebob, Ice Age, and Frozen reference

Word Count: 844

Warnings: not beta read and possible OOC characters

"Lilia-"

"Ahem," Lilia, wearing his long lab coat, cleared his throat from his spot on the couch.

Malleus sighed as he lay on his bed with his hands on his stomach. His mind was jumbled with thoughts about the Prefect. Lately, she has been stuck in his mind, and Malleus had to consult Lilia for his wisdom, but was Lilia rearranging his own room into a doctor's clinic necessary? "Doctor Lilia."

"Much better. Now what are you here for?" Lilia smiled and returned to writing his shopping list on his clipboard. Malleus did not need to know that.

"It's about the Prefect."

Lilia nodded and jotted more items down. "What conditions are you experiencing right now?"

"That I want to be next to her right now."

Lilia hummed in thought. He waved his hand, and some mist appeared. Inside the mist was a Yuu smiling at Malleus, "How would you feel when you see Yuu?"

Malleus sighed for the nth time that day, "Well, I would feel happy like when I get ice cream, excited because I am spending time with her because I could tell her more gargoyle facts, my chest gets this feeling when I see her, I can trust her with Gao-Gao Drakon-kun…."

Hours had passed, and the sun was beginning to set when Malleus was still rambling and didn't look like he was going to stop.

Meanwhile, Lilia had already dispersed the mist and focused on how to scare his sons instead.

I can scare Sebek and Silver if I draw a ghost on the other side of this shopping list, put it on a fishing rod, and hang it in front of their faces. Khee hee hee, those boys will be in for a treat.

"And she occupies my thoughts day and night! Thinking about her now makes me want to praise her for everything, almost like Rook."

"What would you do if someone? Let's use Leona, had the same feelings you felt for her now?" Malleus frowned. If looks could kill, then the roof would have a big hole going through it. The sound of thunder could be heard nearby. Lilia held up a hand and shook his head. He already knew his answer. "Malleus, I know what you're experiencing, but first, let me give you a hint so you can figure it out."

Malleus sat up and crossed his arms. "Aren't you supposed to be the one to diagnose me?"

"Hush, who is the doctor here? Now, it states with an L.."

Malleus' eyes widen in shock, "Leprosy!"

Lilia chuckled, "No, no! Not that. It's four letters and ends with an e."

"Starts with an l. It is four letters and ends with an e," Malleus whispered to himself. His chin rested on his fist while his face was deep in thought. There was only one word that came to mind.

"Lice?"

Lilia could not hold back his laugh. In fact, he could not stop laughing (he even threw his head back and slapped his knee) for a whole ten minutes.

"Are you done?" Malleus asked with a frown on his face.

"Ha ha…phew…I have not laughed like that in so long! Yes, Malleus. I am now. What you're experiencing is love."

Malleus' mouth opened up in a small o, "Love…can you explain it, Lilia."

"Love is both a physical and emotional feeling. It can turn your cheeks red and give you butterflies in your stomach. Not literal ones, of course, but it feels like it. Love is also putting one's needs before your own."

"I see…" Malleus trailed off, deep in thought.

Lilia chuckled, "What do you think love is?"

"Whenever I think or see the Child of Man, I feel happy. I felt the butterflies after she gave me a ticket to the VDC. She is also one of the few people who was not scared of me after knowing my identity. She even has similar interests to me. If she asked me to get her a rose from Briar Valley, I would do it. If she wanted me to follow her to the end of the universe for her, then I would; she is the Earth and Heaven to me. Had she gotten injured by Schoenheit’s overblot, I would have been devastated…. " Malleus looked up at Lilia, the realization set in his face, "Love is Yuu. I love Yuu."

Lilia smirked, "Took you long enough to realize it. You always have a lovestruck face when you see her. I'm surprised that you never concealed it."

Malleus ignored Lilia and shot straight out of his bed with a determined look, "I need to go."

"Where are you going?"

"I need to tell Yuu I love her! Thank you for helping me, Lilia!" Malleus disappeared, leaving a small trail of light where he once stood.

Lilia stood up and brushed off the imaginary dust off his coat, "Kids these days," he chuckled and grabbed his clipboard, "Now let me do my shopping at Sam's. I hope he has a fishing rod in stock, khee hee hee."

400 event is still open!!

Disclaimer: I do not own Twisted Wonderland and its characters. Those belong to Aniplex, Walt Disney Japan, and Yana Toboso.

©: This story belongs to bluesylveon2 2020-23. DO NOT modify, republish, or plagiarize my work.

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #malleus draconia x reader #malleus x reader #malleus x yuu #malleus draconia #thank you for the ask!#400 follower event

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faebaex · 2 years

Text

Love is Blind

author note: jealous Leona, jealous Leona, jealous Leona (≧◡≦) this is spicier than i usually write, but no explicit nsfw. maybe later? who knows. i still don’t know if i want this to evolve into a love triangle but i did like the idea of it looking that way, bc Mal is just so happy to have a friend＾◡＾

characters: Leona Kingscholar x F!Black Footed Cat Reader

warnings: Suggestive/Mature content, toxic/jealous Leona, slight dubcon if you squint? general angst

Your life at Night Raven College had fallen into a comfortable rhythm. During the day, you’d attend your classes and try to take as many undisturbed naps as you could. Ruggie had assured you that Leona had called off the disruption of your naps but Jack was a little harder to reign in, still riding the high of being delegated a duty by Ruggie that he insisted on checking up on you, no matter how many times he was told he didn’t need to anymore.

During the night, you’d occasionally meet up with Malleus on the Ramshackle grounds. After quitting the science club, you’d officially become the second member of the Gargoyle Studies club and you supposed many of your evening walks with Malleus could count as club activities, as he’d point out many gargoyles during your walks and explain their history in great detail. The more time you spent with Malleus, the more you realised that he was just like anyone else at this school. Sure, he was the future ruler of Briar Valley and sure, sometimes the way he said things came out rather more sinister than intended, but he was more beyond that. He was intelligent, passionate and kind. In fact, during the start of your friendship, he would constantly gift you with little things, until in the end you had to tell him to stop after he gifted you a particularly delicate looking bracelet. He relented, but looked absolutely delighted whenever he saw you wearing it.

Yes, your life at Night Raven College had settled into an agreeable cadence in all but one area. And that area was associated with one person in particular...

Leona Kingscholar.

It was difficult to define your relationship. You weren’t officially dating, nor were you just friends. You seemed to be stuck in a sort of purgatory, with neither of you being the one to take that final step. You wondered if you should be the one to pursue him. It wouldn’t be unexpected, women from the Sunset Savanna were well known to actively pursue a partner if they found them suitable. But you found yourself reluctant. Leona would blow hot and cold. You’d spend afternoons napping together, curled up in each other’s arms but on other days, he would be cold and distant. It was jarring.

You were currently dealing with another bout of this temperamental behaviour from Leona. You had no idea what his problem was this time, but you took to avoiding him, not wanting to deal with his bad attitude. You stopped taking naps in the botanical gardens temporarily as a result, opting for your bedroom instead.

Classes were over for the day and you were on your way to return to your bedroom when you ran into Ruggie near the lounge, looking more ragged than usual. He scrubbed a hand over his face when he saw you, “if I was you, I’d steer clear of Leona. He’s in a foul mood today. I’m pretty sure half the dorm has fled. Save yourself.” You raised an unimpressed eyebrow, “he’s been in a foul mood all week.” You huffed, and Ruggie hummed in agreement. “Well, I’m going to be hiding out until he calms down. Ain’t nothing to gain when he’s like this, yanno?”

You hummed in response as Ruggie gave you a wave and hurried off in the opposite direction. Now that Ruggie had mentioned it, you did notice that the dorm was much quieter than usual. Had Leona’s bad mood really cleared the dorm? At least that meant you’d get to nap in peace.

Luck was not on your side, however.

You were walking down the corridor towards your room when you ran into the angry lion himself. Ruggie wasn’t wrong - the tension around Leona was palpable. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at him and decided against engaging with him. You went to walk past him, only for a large hand to shoot out and grab your shoulder, suddenly shoving you back against the wall. You opened your mouth to spit a scathing complaint, only to be cut short when Leona shoves his face into your neck, taking a long, aggressive sniff. A dark growl rumbled out of his chest as he pulled his face from your neck and loomed over you, his arms caging you in.

“You stink.”

You blinked, taken aback by his sudden comment. But your features soon morphed into offense when the meaning of his words hit you. Your lip curled up in anger, “How dare--”

“You smell like that lizard,” Leona hissed, cutting you off, “the whole dorm stinks of it, and it’s because of you.”

Again, you found yourself taken aback by his words. His usually sharp green eyes were dilated and dripping in scorn, his ears flat to his head to signal his irritation. The way his tail whipped around both of your legs was a clear signal that Leona’s mood was volatile. But you couldn’t help but feel dumbfounded. Lizard? What on earth was he talking about?

“And you’ve been avoiding me. Barely have any time for me now that you waste it all hanging around with that damn lizard at all hours, huh?” Leona continued to rant, his hot breath puffing against your ear, causing them to twitch involuntarily. “Leona, I have no idea what you’re talking about--”

“Hah. Don’t play dumb with me. You think I wouldn’t notice that you are rarely in the dorm at night?” Leona’s chest rumbles as he takes another deep breath of your scent, only for his nose to wrinkle in disgust and his tail to lash violently. His nose traces the outline of your ear as he growls out, “it should be my scent that is all over you, not his.”

Finally, the penny drops for you when you realise what this is all about. “Is this about Malleus?” You ask rather dumbly, but you can’t help it. Whilst you realise they had their differences, you didn’t realise that it run quite this deep. Malleus’ name falling from your lips only caused Leona to snarl in irritation, and suddenly you were pinned tighter. Sandwiched with the wall at your back and Leona’s chest at your front, you couldn’t move an inch. Your own tail thumped against the wall now in discomfort, although you couldn’t ignore the heat that bloomed on your cheeks and in your stomach, a heat that only increased when Leona pressed a knee between your legs.

“Don’t say his name.” He rumbled into your ear, his mouth travelling down from your ear to trace a line down your cheek, hesitating to press a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips before he continued down his trail to your neck. He was scenting you.

“Leona...” He let out a deep rumble of satisfaction when you breathed out his name, “... This is ridiculous.” You felt his lips curl up into a snarl against the skin of your neck in response to your words, and you groaned as you felt a short, sharp pain at your collarbone as he nipped at the sensitive skin there and sucked.

“Leona!” You hiss, feeling a fresh flush of heat shoot down into your stomach and you shifted your hips, only really succeeding on grinding yourself down onto his thigh and you sunk your teeth down into your bottom lip to stop the moan that threatened to bubble out of your throat.

“It’s about time I marked you as mine.” Leona continued to pepper kisses against your skin, eyes narrowing in annoyance when he is stopped by the open collar of your shirt. You felt him huff against your skin before his hands reached up to pull at the buttons on your shirt.

“Leona!” You grit out more firmly, shoving a hand at his chest in an attempt to get some space, only for Leona to catch your hand and continue the trail of his kisses up from your elbow instead. He nipped again when he reached the pulse point of your wrist, staring down at you with deep, smouldering eyes. Sevens, why did he have to be so hot and irritating?

“Stop struggling, frosh. I’m not stopping until you’re dripping in my scent.” He pressed his leg between your thighs, as if to emphasise his words. Your eyes narrowed and there was a sharp glint in his eye - he knew you hated it when he called you that. His eyes fell shut, ignoring your annoyance as he nuzzled into your wrist, only for his nose to bump into the bracelet that rest there. His eyes shot open and he glared at the jewellery before aiming the glare back at you, baring his fangs.

“Who gave that to you?”

You stayed silent, aiming your own glare back at him. Your silence only confirmed his suspicions, and before you could even think to move, he was already tugging at the clasp. You yelped in irritation as he pulled dangerously at the clasp, reaching a hand to stop him only for him to bat it away. “Stop, you are going to break it, Leo--”

“Are you dating?”

“... What?!”

“Are. You. Dating. Him?”

“No!”

Your denial does little to calm Leona as he continues to snarl at you, “Then why are you accepting jewellery off of him?”

“It was a present! We’re just friends!”

“Hah! Friends? Are you that blind that you can’t see when someone’s trying to court you?”

You frowned, you arm going slack as you processed Leona’s words, which was all he needed to pop the clasp of your bracelet and pull it from your wrist. He scowled at it before tossing it over his shoulder like it was no more than trash. You felt anger brew in you at his actions, and you snatched your wrist away from him before he could tighten his grasp again.

“You’re just jealous,” you spat at him, and you shoved at his shoulders with all of your might, Leona’s eyes widening in surprise as he was forced a few steps backwards, “you think you can just come around whenever you feel like it, and that I’ll just happily put up with it whenever you have a bad mood? Get over yourself. Maybe I hang around with Malleus because he’s better company than you, did you ever think of that?” Leona snarled at that, your words digging right into his insecurity, “You don’t get to police who I hang around with, Leona.”

You huffed, side stepping past him and marching over to where the discarded bracelet had landed, scooping it off the floor, “you’re so full of yourself that you clearly have no idea what is going on around you. You have the nerve to call me blind but have you ever thought the blind one is actually you?” You spat at him, not keeping the venom from your tone, “I’ve made my interest in you clear for weeks, all but proclaiming it for the whole dorm to hear but all you want to do is play games. Like I’m some prey for you to toy with.” Your lip curled up in disgust at your words, showing clear your distaste and frustration with how things have been going.

“But now you think I’m interested in someone else, you’ve decided you’re interested? Jealous even? Give me a break. Just what kind of signal is that supposed to send?” Your words were bitter as you bared your fangs at him, your stance aggressive, frustrated, hurt. For once, Leona kept his mouth shut, his eyes guarded as you continued to rage at him.

“Just what am I to you, Leona? A fun way for you to pass the time while you stew over whatever particular thing has pissed you off that week? You know what, don’t even answer that.” You scrubbed a hand over your face in frustration as you felt yourself start to run out of steam. “I’m so over this.” You grumbled and turned away, starting to make your way towards your bedroom.

“Just... Leave me alone, okay Leona?” You huffed over your shoulder, not bothering to look back at him as you slipped inside your room and slammed the door with finality. You immediately threw yourself to your bed, burying your face into your blankets as you heaved out a sigh of frustration. Remembering the bracelet in your hand, you rolled onto your back to examine the clasp in the light. Thankfully, Leona hadn’t appeared to have broken it when he pulled it off your wrist, although you bet he wished he had.

You stared at the jewellery that dangled off your fingers, and your mind couldn’t help but ponder over what Leona had said. Malleus, courting you? The idea was absurd to you. You reached out and felt around blindly until you could place the bracelet on your bedside table, and retracted your arm back to your side. You wondered what you should do now, and again found yourself scrubbing a hand across your face in chagrin. Except, you caught a whiff of something as you did so. Another sniff confirmed it was Leona’s scent, attached to your wrist from his previous ministrations.

You felt yourself scowl as your irritation flooded back, and you pushed yourself up into sitting position. First things first, you’d have a shower... You could worry about everything else later.

#twst #twisted wonderland #disney twst #leona kingscholar #twisted wonderland x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar x y/n #twst leona #leona x reader #leona x y/n #twisted wonderland x y/n #twst fic

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been-taking-muay-thai-classes · 1 year

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I Can't Heal What's Broken (All I Need Is A Change)

This was supposed to come out like a week ago but then I kept having ideas for things that could happen during Rollo’s first day at nrc and then I kept second guessing if the guys were in character and long story short it’s 12k words again, whoops.

We don’t really have too much to go off of given how little time Rollo has had so far (yes I totally expect him to come back I am booboo the fool 🤡) and then there’s the language barrier, but hopefully the guys feel accurate enough.

Also, I allude to the Prefect being a somewhat good painter because I noticed there’s a canvas on the room in-game and I thought ‘hey if I or anyone painted regularly for a few months we’d probably get good at it, right?’ Also because I thought it made for some nice interaction with Rollo.

Trigger Warning: descriptions of anxiety attacks.

The Prefect was trembling slightly, whether from cold or nerves they weren’t sure. Probably a combination of both.

In just a few minutes Rollo would arrive and change everything about how Ramshackle operated. They felt excited yet anxious, what if they didn’t get along? It’d be miserable to share a living space with just one other person and not get along. But worse it’d be if Rollo couldn’t adapt to life in NRC.

‘Quit shaking henchman! You’re making me dizzy!’ Grim complained from his spot in the Prefect’s arms. They let out a quiet apology and let him down as they saw Crowley approach with someone in tow, Rollo.

The Prefect gulped down their nerves. There was no more time to overthink this, the decision was made. Time to show Rollo the determination and friendliness they were known for here at NRC.

‘Grim, please behave today, we don’t want to make Rollo’s first night here anymore difficult than it already is’ By the way Grim opened his mouth and furrowed his brow, he wanted to retort something but soon chose to shut up and scamper off back to the dorm muttering something about counting how many snacks he had before anyone tried to steal from him.

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Rollo was perplexed. Two months after the symposium, when he admitted in front of the student council what he had done during the symposium- no, why he had suggested the symposium in the first place, he expected looks of disgust and betrayal, words of anger and demands of punishment, to be kicked out of the school and thrown in jail. Sure, the other students had looked betrayed, and they had also risen in anger to demand answers but ultimately they didn’t punish him as harshly as he had expected, as he had hoped.

‘Presid- Rollo, please…please tell us this is a joke’ The desperation in Yeshua’s voice was palpable, they all knew Rollo was not one to joke around ‘There has to be an explanation, a reason why you did that? Please just tell us’ Tristan was noticeably quiet, staring at the floor in deep thought.

Rollo didn’t feel like explaining, not after the way those Night Rave students reacted, like their anger had been tempered by sympathy. Rollo didn’t need sympathy, he needed to atone so that this guilt would finally go away.

So he remained quiet, just looking at Yeshua with a blank stare.

‘The gargoyles said that you were troubled’ Ah, so they talked to other people besides himself ‘That maybe we would manage to reach out to you since we are made of flesh and blood, but it seems you’re not ready yet Rollo’ Tristan’s hand felt warm on his shoulder, reassuring almost.

His eyes told him he was hurt, utterly heartbroken but also ashamed, as if the depth of his fear and sorrow was something they should have been able to know.

Rollo’s stomach twisted and turned, he felt his lungs battle to get the air in, his head spun and suddenly the room was too tiny. He had to get out, now.

He rushed outside, breathing madly in and out, saliva coating the corners of his mouth as he tried to calm himself. The world kept spinning so he closed his eyes, took a deep breath in and tried to remind himself that he was fine, he just had to get this over with so the guilt would disappear. Soon he’d be in jail and all thought of his plans, of his time in this school and of his talks with the people of the city would be erased by time.

He turned around when he heard the click of the door and saw his classmates standing there with troubled looks. Clearly still processing what he said. Rollo hoped they would decide something already.

Instead, Yeshua and Tristan brought the situation to the Headmage who quickly tried to make sense of everything. Naturally he couldn’t just tell the authorities about the Crimson Flowers, it could damage the school’s reputation and in turn the other student’s prospects for the future. There was also the fact that Rollo was a model student, dutiful, serious and responsible and Headmage Tirmont had to also admit that being able to bring a flower back from extinction was a most impressive feat, even if the flower itself was dangerous. Truly Rollo could do great things in the future! But for that he had to have a future.

He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. What to do? In the following weeks he consulted with the rest of the student council, to see the perspective of the students who would be most affected by this going public.

While heartbroken, they agreed that Rollo had done much too good for their school to just be labeled a criminal for the rest of his life, and they also hoped that he could be reformed since nobody had been permanently hurt in the chaos the flowers wrought. Surely if he had confessed it was because he knew in his heart that he did wrong and wanted to make amends.

The Headmage then sent letters to a few other schools, hoping to find one that would give him advice on this peculiar situation. It was then that Rollo pointed out that the students from Night Raven College were aware of his actions and chose to not turn him in at the time so they could enjoy the ball. He asked the Headmage to send a letter to their Headmage so they would convince Tirmont that he deserved to be imprisoned.

Yeshua and Tristan once again argued, saying that he didn’t deserve such a severe punishment but he was certain they only said that because they admired him for years, until he let them down.

When all the letters had been sent, Headmage Tirmont admitted that he considered expelling Rollo, much to the chagrin of his classmates. He almost smiled but then the Headmage explained ‘There have been many overblots in Night Raven College this year, and yet all the students who’ve overblotted have reintegrated classes just fine. I think that whatever the reason, Crowley has the key to ensure mister Flamme can atone without ruining his future’ At this, Yeshua smiled brightly and Tristan yelled in elation.

Rollo was…touched, even if his face showed displeasure. Yet, a part of him still wished for proper punishment. He hated being eaten by guilt every time he cleaned the Bell of Salvation or whenever a student complimented him for his dedication to the school or when the people from the city smiled brightly at him for his help after the disaster. He had done so much in the days after the symposium hoping to quell the guilt growing in his heart, hoping that he would not have to face justice… but he was a Noble Bell student, the student council president in fact, and one does not study here without wanting to emulate the Fair Judge at least in some aspect.

No, Rollo could not live with himself unless he admitted his crime and faced proper punishment for it, it was only fair.

This was not fair.

Getting expelled from Noble Bell College extra-officially only to be sent to Night Raven College so he could finish his studies seemed like a slap on the wrist to him. The Headmage assured him that it’d be punishment enough but Rollo kept arguing for more. Deep down he didn’t want to have to face the Night Raven College students again, after the way they stopped his plan and made him face his own demons, it left him feeling worse than guilty, it made him feel vulnerable.

‘Rollo, you are a great student, ask anyone at Noble Bell College and they will say so. You have done so much since your enrollment, and twice as much since the symposium I assume because you wanted to repent somehow. And even if you weren’t such a reliable student, there was no permanent damage, nobody lost their magic and nobody got seriously injured, so to punish you the way you wish to would be disproportionate, it’d be unfair’

The Headmage’s words were pushing through his carefully placed barriers. Rollo couldn’t voice it but he did want a second chance, the opportunity to regain his classmates' trust and hold his head high when visiting the city. Maybe he should listen to what the Headmage wanted to propose.

‘See my boy, I contacted some other Headmages in hopes of sending you to finish your studies in a different school, because I firmly believe that you must graduate and use your talents for good, but I also think you can’t stay here’ Rollo was no fool, he understood perfectly why that would be best for him but it still hurt ‘Between how the students would feel having you here everyday and how much you love our city, I believe this must be part of your punishment: once you leave for your new school you may not return until we believe you have atoned properly. To that end, the city council and I will grant you an audience on this day five years from now to see how far along you have come. Until then, you are banned from entering the City of Flowers’ Rollo tried to suppress his emotions but…well he wasn’t made of stone, unlike the noisy gargoyles. His face showed the shock and hurt coursing through his heart. He grit his teeth and tried to swallow the knot forming in his throat, for as much as he hated to say it this was what he had wanted when he confessed his crime, a fair punishment.

So why? Why did he feel like this? Why did he feel like hiding under his bed to cry?

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The day had finally come. Rollo’s bags were packed and he stood solemnly in the front gates of Noble Bell College, wearing casual clothing instead of his uniform. The Headmage had given him a few indications to reach Night Raven College safely as well as his tickets to Sage’s Island. He warned him that the trip would be long so he should try to use it to prepare mentally for his new life.

Throughout his whole explanation, Rollo’s eyes were empty. As much as he knew this was a much better outcome than what he deserved, he still felt awful. To leave his beloved City of Flowers for so long…maybe forever if his guilt remained as strong as it was now. And he didn’t even want to think of what would await him in Night Raven College.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of heels clicking on the cobblestone. The rest of the student council. They looked conflicted to be here, still grappling with someone they respected so much doing something so awful and yet wanting the best for him. Rollo was surprised to see them seeing how early it was, and half expected them to start crying waterfalls amidst their goodbyes. Once again they surprised him. ‘Ex president Rollo…we have come to bid you goodbye’ Yeshua stepped forward with a solemn expression and soon the rest followed ‘We hope that in Night Raven College you may find redemption, not just from others but from yourself. We all agreed to give you this second chance because we believe there is still good in you and we want to see you become that dependable man again, so please do your best’ They all gave a small reverence and Rollo felt guilty all over again. As foolish as they were for being so kind, he still saw in them some of the best students Noble Bell had to offer…and he almost ruined their futures…

‘I will return when I am worthy’ Rollo was never good at goodbyes, or at greetings or at conversations. He wasn’t the most social person but he could make do when it was required of him. Still, the boys in front of him knew him better than most and knew he meant every word. If he didn’t feel worthy of the city, of the Bell’s forgiveness, even if the council deemed him fit he would not return. With that, he entered the carriage and looked one last time at the city that saw him and his brother grow… he saw the stores selling their goods, he smelled the freshly baked croissants and he heard the goats bleating happily and a single tear trailed down his cheek.

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Arriving at Night Raven College had proven to be quite the long trip. Once at the airport he had to take a train, then transfer to a bus, board a ferry, transfer to ANOTHER ferry and once he finally was at Sage’s Island he took another bus to finally reach the imposing gates of the prestigious College. During the long journey, Rollo made use of the Headmage’s advice and thought of what might await him.

To say he was nervous was an understatement. Rollo fully expected to be received by a group of students still mad at what he had done, ready to lynch him. Instead it was only one man standing imposingly at the front gate. His semblance was grim, with unblinking eyes hidden behind a pointed mask, the feathers on his coat swayed with the wind and for a moment he swore he felt that same breeze run a nail across his cheek. Rollo shook his head to clear his mind and stood as straight as he could. ‘Headmage Crowley, thank you for accepting me amongst your students despite my conduct, I will not waste the opportunity you have given me’

Crowley remained unblinking but the movement of his eyes told him he was being studied thoroughly. Naturally Rollo tried to stand taller, to appear more confident and ordered than he was. Finally, the man spoke ‘Why yes! Of course I am happy to give such a bright student a second chance, for I am ever so kind! I’m sure you will fit right in with the students of Night Raven College, mister Flamme. Do follow me now to your new dorm’ With an arrogant smile that hid his previously threatening aura, the man turned around and opened the gate.

The creaking of the metal made a chill run down his spine. For some reason, Rollo felt as if crossing that threshold were an end, to what though? His life? In a way, yes. Once he walked into the campus he would officially be a student of Night Raven College, and while the thought itself wasn’t fastidious, it didn’t feel right. So he took a deep breath and steeled his nerves. This was his punishment, so he had to take it in stride if he ever wanted to return home.

Rollo followed Crowley silently, his steps barely making a sound. Just a few meters away from the gate, the man spoke again ‘Headmage Tirmont tells me you are banned from returning to the City of Flowers until further notice, so I can’t allow you to use the Dark Mirror to visit but if you find yourself wanting to visit some other locations, I’ll be so kind as to open a pathway for you’ He acknowledged his words with a simple thank you and a nod.

Reaching a crossing, the Headmage turned right and proceeded to explain what some of the buildings were. ‘Opposite of where we’re going is the Coliseum, where the Spelldrive matches are played. Over here is Mister S’ Mystery Shop, where you can restock on almost anything really, Sam always has a good selection of anything you may need’ Rollo glanced in the direction of the shop and noted it’s location in case he ever needed something, but other than that didn’t pay much attention to the details. He would do that come morning.

‘Over there is the Hall of Mirrors, it is the only way to reach the other dormitories as they exist in pocket dimensions. In theory students can come and go as they please but some dorms are more welcoming of visitors than others, so I advise that you use it with discretion’ A small nod was his only answer until he realized they were not going towards the hall but rather around it. Wasn’t he going to live in one of the famed seven dorms? Come to think of it, he didn’t undergo the Mirror Ceremony he has heard about, so where are they going? ‘Headmage, may I ask where will I be staying?’

‘Oh don’t worry about it, we’re almost there. Anyways over here we have the Alchemy Workshop and over there is the Botanical Garden’ The Headmage just kept talking in his chipper tone as if Rollo had never made a question, which irritated the boy a little ‘You are free to visit them on your own time, plenty of students like to maintain a variety of plants both innocuous and dangerous in the Botanical Garden, although I must warn you that everything there is communal so as much as you can make use of plants grown by someone else, they may make use of the plants you grow’ There was a certain glint in his eyes that made Rollo embarrassed. He was teasing him for what he had done with the Crimson Flowers. No matter, spreading the flowers here would be a monumental task and he would rather focus on his studies.

As they kept walking in silence, they approached what seemed to be some abandoned woods in the back of the school. Then, he noticed the building in the distance. Ah, that must be the Ramshackle dorm the Prefect had spoken so fondly about, although it didn’t seem nearly as dilapidated as they had described it. All their effort fixing it up must be paying off, it looked beautiful. Rollo couldn’t help but smile, while they hadn’t talked as much as he wished during their visit, he appreciated how hardworking the Prefect was. The fact that they had to do everything without magic simply added to his admiration.

‘Well, here we are, your new residence: Ramshackle dorm’ Crowley made a grand gesture towards the gate while the Prefect walked down the staircase smiling all the way.

Rollo hadn’t forgotten how they looked, but his memory certainly didn’t do them justice.

‘Hi Rollo, welcome to Ramshackle, I hope we can be friends’ Their smile was warm and inviting and Rollo desperately wanted to smile at them too, but he held back, giving instead a polite nod and a handshake that lingered for just a second more than was strictly necessary.

‘Are you certain that you are okay with me staying here? I would understand it if you would rather I stay somewhere else’ Rollo had to make sure, he didn’t want to impose on them after what he put them through. ‘It’s fine, I’m actually looking forward to sharing the dorm with someone’ He couldn’t tell if they were being sincere or just nice, but whatever the case he had to accept the answer. He wanted to believe they were being sincere.

‘Well then, mister Flamme, I leave you in the very capable hands of the Prefect. If you need anything please don’t be afraid to ask them. Behave’ The threat went unheard by the Prefect but not by its intended target. The swing between the chipper, arrogant Headmage and the powerful, threatening sorcerer was baffling to Rollo…and a little bit intimidating.

It occurred to him that maybe living so far away from the rest of the buildings on campus meant he could easily be disposed of if he angered the wrong people.

The Prefect seemed to sense his worry for they spoke in a calming manner ‘Ignore him, Crowley tends to not be a very attentive Headmage. In fact, most of the time I’m the one doing his job for him. Anyways, your bags are already inside, I can show you around so you can pick a room to settle for the night’ They led the way to the dorm, making amicable talk on the way. Mostly the Prefect asked about his trip, how he shouldn’t be afraid if he heard odd sounds since it was probably just the dorm’s ghosts playing some prank and how they would help him if he needed anything.

Rollo felt awkward, while he appreciated the Prefect’s kindness, he couldn’t help but feel much like he did back home: filthy and undeserving of their warmth, guilty.

It wasn’t fair.

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Rollo’s first night in Ramshackle was…….interesting, to put it mildly. First there was the loud familiar who kept demanding he bow to him “as the boss of the dorm” and whom the Prefect seemed to entertain. He considered bowing a little but quickly discarded the idea with a noticeable blush. He would feel ridiculous bowing to a familiar like that but he still chose to entertain the little creature to maintain some peace among them and also because the Prefect seemed fond of him.

So, Rollo crouched a little, looked Grim in the eyes intensely for a few seconds and then patted his head tenderly. The monster-cat didn’t wait a second to make his displeasure known, yelling ‘Ngyaaa! What’re you doing?! I am the Great Grim, you must treat me with respect! Not like some common cat!’ Rollo ignored him and kept petting him, hearing the purring underneath all the yelling and sensing the familiar moving his head closer to his hand. The Prefect stifled their giggling at the sight and rolled their eyes, probably used to this behavior by now.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Rollo smiled earnestly, basking in the warmth that spread in his heart.

If only the night had continued like that, maybe he would have been able to sleep. Instead, the Prefect showed him around, explaining that while most of the first floor and some of the second floor bedrooms were clean and ready to use, the dorm still needed quite some fixing.

‘The plumbing’s working though, so don’t worry about the water running cold. Heh I used to have to rush when I first got here because the hot water would come and go at random’ The Prefect shuddered for dramatic effect in an attempt to make him laugh and Rollo only felt pity. Stranded in this strange new and dangerous world, and the Headmage hadn’t seen fit to at least give them decent living accommodations? Dreadful. At least while he stays here, Rollo should try and help with the cleaning and repairing of the dorm, it’s the least he could do to reciprocate the Prefect’s kindness.

This thought remained in his mind until he finished showering and prepared to go to bed. Sitting on top of the comforter and staring at his hands, there was not a sound to be heard in the whole dorm, not even the creaking of the floors.

Rollo had avoided thinking too much about…well anything really, since his travel began. Yes he had grown used to the idea of studying in Night Raven but that didn’t really strain him much. No, what he had avoided thinking about was everything else.

His brother, playing with his magic and showing him all the tricks he had learned recently. ‘Look! I can make the light change colors!’ ‘Don’t worry, I can get the fruit from the top of the tree with a breeze! Watch out!’ ‘Please Rollo, tell me that story again. I love the way you tell it’

Yeshua running behind him, talking with Tristan and asking for his opinion of everything, be it student council related or not. ‘Should we remind the students that they need to talk with the teachers themselves if they will leave on vacations early?’ ‘Do you think the blue compliments my eyes? Or maybe I should go with the cerulean?’ ‘We were searching for a place to go eat with the rest of the student council, would you join us?’

The people of the city, welcoming him with big smiles and relying on him like a trusted friend. ‘Ah, Rollo! I saved you some croissants, I know they’re your favorite’ ‘There you are Rollo, I just received this package for Laurent, can you give it to him? He said he can’t visit the city until he’s done with his homework’ ‘Dear, would you lend me a hand? My feet are killing me and these bags are much too heavy for these weary old hands’

His breathing quickened with every memory, he felt as if his chest was constricted, heavy. It was impossible to get air into his lungs. He stood up and walked to the bathroom, still trying to control his breathing. He splashed water on his face and when that wasn’t enough he did it again and again and again.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror, a mess of tears and ragged breathing desperate for respite. He filled the sink with water and, taking one last look at himself, dunk his head in.

He remained there for as long as he could. Around ten seconds later he rose up and dove back in, this time remaining for a good twenty five seconds. He repeated the process until he was sure his breathing was back to normal.

He sat down on the cold tile floor and grabbed his head. These bouts of fear were becoming increasingly common and he didn’t know how to fix it, could barely contain them when they happened. Maybe he should stop thinking about the past. Seven know he won’t be getting anything good from reliving his failures.

After drying his face, he sat back on his bed and closed his eyes, trying to catch some sleep, or at least allow his eyes to rest some.

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Rollo’s first day of class was full of…how to put it? Exciting happenings.

First thing in the morning he was met with the Ramshackle ghosts the Prefect had mentioned the night prior.

They haunted some of his things to make noise and wake him with a jump but since he was warned of their little pranks, he sort of expected it. It didn’t help their attempt to prank him that he was already awake when they began haunting his furniture and bags.

As he stood there, toothbrush in his mouth, staring at them unimpressed, the ghosts semi-stopped their shenanigans and introduced themselves.

Rollo could tell by the tone of their voice that they were disappointed they couldn’t scare him and he felt slightly bad for them. Sure they were ghosts, and from what the Prefect had told him they were also prone to these sorts of tricks, but they had also said the ghosts cared for them a lot since they had given them so much support during their most uncertain times living here. So he relented a little and pretended to faint to make it seem like he had been processing the sight of actual ghosts.

They yelled in happiness, praising each other for their welcoming prank on the boy and then asked him about himself.

They reminded him of the gargoyles back in the belltower, annoyingly nosy and sentimental… he smiled as they told him to come to them if he ever needed someone to talk to. So similar…

The Bell was shining beautifully today, after Rollo’s careful cleaning. Just below, he could hear the gargoyles moving around, probably trying to predict when he’d come down so they could hound him with their incessant questions about his day, attempts to prank him and offers of games and idle chat.

Rollo had no time to entertain their childish conversation, he had to prepare study guides for the freshmen, discuss the schedules of the physical exams with the teachers for the students who had to leave early on holidays and he had to talk with the club leaders to see if there was anything they may need for the upcoming semester that may be harder to get into the budget.

‘Rollo! We were just thinking about how great it’d be if you joined us for a game!’ The gargoyles hopped around him, trying to show him the board game they had acquired -he had gotten it for them at their insistence- and which was their recent obsession seeing how little they had to do around the belltower.

‘I am afraid I have much to do right now, perhaps next time I can join you’ It was a blatant excuse, and one the gargoyles had heard a few times by now so they responded differently this once ‘But Rollo, you always say you’re busy and then you come back at night just to sit and stare pensive at the horizon. Why not play with us instead? Then maybe you won’t feel so overwhelmed at night’ … Since when were the gargoyles this perceptive?

Rollo sighed as he allowed the gargoyles to lead him to his seat. He already knew the game, it was the classic Life but with locations specific to the Shaftlands. Still, he said nothing as the gargoyles explained the rules and set the board.

They were so excited for a simple game they kind of reminded him of someone dear to him……… Sighing, Rollo threw the dice and moved his piece. He picked a card and again moved his piece.

The game continued like this, with the gargoyles trying to make him open up and him avoiding it with simple comments about his school life.

He could sense his defenses weakening, at some point once the board was all purchased and only three players remained, Rollo caught himself almost confessing to having trouble sleeping due to the guilt. Luckily he managed to shut up before the gargoyles could hear him, who knows what kind of sentimental talk they would give him if they knew he was feeling troubled.

Once the game was over he dusted his clothes, gave a small bow and thanked them for the game. Serious as ever, he made to leave when the gargoyle spoke ‘Rollo, I know you don’t think we can be of much help because we are made of stone and live here on the belltower, but sometimes all you need is someone to listen and we excel at listening, so please don’t forget we are here for you. And if you really don’t want us to listen, at least remember that there’s always someone who cares’

Rollo stood there for a few seconds and for a moment the gargoyles thought he would stay and share his burden with them, but soon that fantasy was shattered by his steps growing farther. Rollo would never admit it to the gargoyles directly but their words had given him something to think about.

When he heard the ghost’s laughter disappear down the stairs as they told the Prefect how much they liked this new student and the Prefect responded happy that they were getting along, he knew he made the right decision. Even if it cost him dirtying his clean shirt.

Going downstairs to meet with the Prefect and Grim, he noticed them staring at him while Grim eyed the uncooked food. Ah right, back during the symposium he was wearing the Noble Bell uniform, today he wore only the school pants and a white shirt since he hadn’t found the school jacket provided by the Headmage. Even so, Rollo felt a little self conscious, was his appearance that different without his robe? The Prefect kept glancing down to his torso and back to his face as if to make sure it was really him and he started to feel like covering up. He steeled his nerves and tried to match the Prefect’s stare. Soon their eyes were locked in a sort of unblinking game.

When their game lasted for a few seconds too long and Grim heard them giggle slightly, he yelled ‘Hey, henchman! You’re supposed to give him the jacked! Stop playing around! Hyeee!’ The monster-cat grabbed the jacket from their hands, startling them with the volume of the yell, and Rollo saw a little flush on their face. He didn’t have time to notice anything else as Grim handed him the jacked and demanded praise for being such a thoughtful boss.

Rollo looked at the cat, then at the Prefect who simply shrugged, and then back at Grim. With a little embarrassment, Rollo scratched Grim’s ears while muttering a small ‘Thank you, Grim sir’ that made the cat purr, although he pretended to be indignant at being treated like a cat. The Prefect once again commented how happy they were to see them all get along so well and Rollo felt proud at exceeding their expectations.

After sharing a nice breakfast with the Prefect and Grim, consisting of an egg omelet, accompanied by some toast, fruit and coffee, they were on their way to class.

On the way to the main building, the Prefect made good on their word of showing him around the campus so he could actually recognize the buildings he’d have to use for the rest of the year.

Rollo was impressed with the size of the campus now that he could appreciate it in its entirety.

He could understand why Night Raven College was considered such a prestigious school, seeing the quality of its infrastructure and knowing firsthand the proficiency of its students.

‘Anyways… uh… we have different classes since I’m a freshman and you’re a third year but if you need help getting to your next class, come find me. I have potionology with professor Crewel’ The Prefect gave him the directions to their classroom since Rollo didn’t have a phone to contact them in case they wanted to meet up. He repeated the instructions perfectly and headed to his classroom before the bell rang, bidding them a good day.

The class itself was easy enough, history of magic was a subject he didn’t struggle with (not that there was any subject he struggled with) and thankfully there were no group assignments for the time being. Still, he couldn’t help but feel…observed. While the teacher turned around to write on the board, Rollo made a quick survey of the room to try and figure out who was staring at him. Sure enough, he found him sitting just a few rows back.

Rook Hunt, one of the guests for the symposium. Rollo remembered him well enough, what with his extravagant speeches, cheerful disposition and that awful nickname he gave him. He wasn’t sure what to make of him underneath all of that, but he got the feeling he was more dangerous than he seemed, especially with the way his gleaming eyes didn't match his smile.

Rollo gulped, worrying that he would get in trouble so soon. He could endure the rejection and even hatred he may get from the students here, after all he didn’t really have any attachments to them, but he would rather not make more enemies if that would cause trouble for the Prefect as well.

When class ended, Rollo grabbed his things and left to find the Prefect immediately, not wanting to risk a conversation with the blonde.

He found the Prefect laughing at a heated argument between two boys about who’s fault it was that their potion took so long to work.

‘I’m telling ya it was all Juice’s fault! He kept stirring way too slow!’ The redhead boy signaled to a blue-haired one who seemed to take issue with his statement.

‘I was stirring at the right speed! You just told me to stir in the wrong direction because you never read the instructions Ace!’ Rollo realized then that these must be the Prefect’s friends, Ace and… Juice? He couldn’t quite remember what his name was but he felt somewhat certain that it wasn’t Juice, maybe it was a nickname? The people of Night Rave College seem to be rather fond of those.

‘Boy ‘m I glad that I don’ have to partner up with either of them’ The Felmier boy said crossing his arms behind his head. The Prefect nodded in agreement and then noticed him standing there, awkwardly.

‘Rollo! Do you need help getting to your next class?’ The Prefect’s voice cut the chatter and at once all eyes were on him. The air grew tense once the boys realized he was here.

Ace and Deuce exchanged looks while Epel took a step in front of the Prefect. They all looked ready to fight, he better diffuse the situation before something bad happens to them ‘I didn’t mean to interrupt but I do not know where the classroom for my’ He checked his schedule ‘“Ancient Curses” class is located’

‘Oh, Leona and Rook have the same schedule I think, come on I know where it is’ They tried to tell their friends to go ahead to class without them but the trio refused, claiming that they wanted to keep talking. Rollo knew they were keeping an eye on him.

Good, at least they cared for their friend.

Once the second class was over, the bell rang and Rollo made his way to the cafeteria as per the Prefect’s instructions. He should thank them, their instructions were very clear and succinct so he could remember them easily.

As he entered the cafeteria, he started looking around for the Prefect, not wanting to share a table with some unknown person or worse, a known person.

After scanning the place for a couple of minutes, he saw them enter the cafeteria with several friends from the other side and took long strides to reach them before they picked a table. With any luck, they could sit by a window in a far away corner.

‘Rollo! Good to see you didn’t get lost, I was a bit worried my instructions were confusing’ The Prefect scratched the back of their head and their friend, Ace, imitated them in a mocking manner. A big muscular boy rolled his eyes at his antics and the other boy, Zigvolt, ignored them both in favor of staring at him.

‘Not at all, in fact your instructions were clear enough that I got here earlier than my classmates’ He motioned for them to sit on a nearby table, away from the others and the group of freshmen complied without fuss though still with some tension in the air.

As Rollo sat beside the Prefect, the other boys picked their places around the table. Spade, Felmier and Zigvolt sat together across from him while the wolfman and Ace sat on the other side of the Prefect. Grim took the Prefect’s lap as expected.

‘We better get some food, yo Prefect, come with me Juice is too prone to mess up the orders with his indecision’ Ace grabbed the Prefect by the arm and forced them to go along before they could even answer.

Sitting in front of him, Juice? Spade muttered ‘That happened once’ in an annoyed voice.

Rollo had known these kids for all of ten minutes combined and already he could gather what their group dynamic was.

‘So…how’re you liking your classes? I hear you had professor Trein for first period’ Spade made the first move and Rollo was thankful he chose such a neutral subject.

‘It was quite enriching. Professor Trein has vast knowledge and a commanding presence so paying attention to him was no problem’ Both Spade and Felmier looked at him like he had grown two heads, well that couldn’t be good ‘Did I say something wrong?’

The question seemed to awaken them as Felmier spoke up ‘Ah no it’s just- normally people complain that Trein’s classes are boring but they can’t sleep through them because he likes calling out misbehaving students. I suppose we shouldn't be too surprised though, you seem like the studious type’ While Rollo took it as a compliment, he felt slightly offended by the arrogant smile the boy was giving him.

‘Really it’s just them, most people go to class hoping to learn but these two and Ace like to cause trouble, so take whatever they say about the professors with a grain of salt’ The wolfman spoke so suddenly Rollo had almost forgotten he was there since unlike Zigvolt he wasn’t staring at him like he wanted to murder him.

‘Wha- Jack, that’s not true! We pay attention to class, it’s just hard because Trein speaks very slowly and Lucius makes so much noise too it makes it hard to pay attention’ Spade clearly didn’t like being called unattentive by his friend, meanwhile Felmier added in ‘And we aren’t as troublesome as Ace! If anything, you’re talking about Grim! Those two are the real troublemakers of this group’ He seemed to fully stand by his words with how he puffed out his chest.

He deflated as soon as he noticed Ace had returned with the trays of food and was threatening to not give him his unless he apologized for blaming him for their shenanigans.

‘I don’t cause trouble! It’s you two and Grim who can’t keep up with me and my awesome ideas! If you did, then all my plans would work just fine and nobody’d get in trouble’

Naturally the boys began arguing on whether he was right or wrong, with Felmier and Spade mostly defending that he was the major contributor to the chaos amongst them ‘And what do you mean we can’t keep up?! We got our Unique Magic before you, if anything it’s you who can’t keep up at all!’ They kept arguing for a little longer until the Prefect finally spoke ‘GUYS!’ They all looked baffled at them ‘Please quiet down, we’re gonna get in trouble and I really want to make Rollo’s first day here better than mine’ They gave Spade and Ace a look which made them blush brightly as they stuttered shut.

Once Felmier and Spade relented, Ace plopped down next to the Prefect and gave him a curious look ‘Say, I heard from Juice and the others that you were a big deal back in your old school, so how come you didn’t enroll here to begin with?’ His bluntness was surprisingly refreshing after all the strange looks and veiled intentions he had gotten so far.

‘I chose Noble Bell College because of its history. While you all may be proud to be students here, I was proud to be there. The City of Flowers is- was my home, and I was honored to be accepted there. I can only guess it was that disposition that made me ineligible for Night Raven College since the election process is a mystery to all but the Headmage’ Rollo started slicing the steak the Prefect had gotten for him and noticed the rest of the table’s attention was still on him so he tried to say something else so they would go back to their conversations ‘Also I wasn’t a big deal, anyone can become the student council president with enough dedication since the position is for those willing to be responsible and dutiful to the school and its students’ To his dismay, his words had the opposite effect.

‘That’s right! You were the student council president! So that means you probably were an honors student, right? Can you tell me about that? I want to be an honors student myself’ Spade raised his fist in determination and Rollo didn’t know how to answer. He just wanted to eat his steak in silence and pretend he was back at the belltower.

He looked at Spade, trying to figure if he was being polite in asking more things or if he was honest in his goals. Feeling the rest of the boys awaiting for his answer, he spoke ‘Um…well…uh…studying is the hard part I suppose, but if you can pay attention during class then reviewing your notes becomes much easier’ Both Spade and Felmier scooted a bit closer to hear him better in the growing noise of the cafeteria.

‘Some people will tell you to highlight the important information but that’s futile if you think everything is important. Instead you should rewrite your notes in a way you understand and then make a brief summary of the things you struggle to understand so you can ask your classmates or teachers about it’ The way he launched into his helpful senior student self was like a switch had been flipped, so used he was to aiding his own classmates with their studies and questions.

By the time the cafeteria was clearing out a bit, Epel, Deuce and even Sebek were happily telling him about some of their own tips for studying their favorite subjects. Ace looked at the Prefect confused while they simply shrugged and kept cutting pieces of their meal before Grim swallowed their unattended tray.

As it was, lunch would have been perfect if those were the only noteworthy events of the evening, but of course the animated table was interrupted by someone joining out of nowhere.

‘Roi du Mouchoir! I am so glad to finally find you! And with Monsieur Pommette of all people!’ Rook Hunt was standing right behind the Prefect, looking at him with a big smile and an unsaid threat in his eyes. At once Rollo felt his temperature drop but remained impassive as the Prefect welcomed the blonde to join them on the table.

‘Why were you looking for Rollo, Rook?’ Epel asked in between bites of his steak. Hunt sat beside him and praised his poise while eating, much to the boy’s dismay or was it embarrassment?

‘Oh I simply wanted to talk, see I noticed him during our history of magic class and tried to approach him when it ended but he left so fast I couldn’t catch up’ He gave a small pout that fooled absolutely no one here, they all knew if he wanted to catch someone like Rollo he was perfectly capable of doing so even if he disappeared from his sight.

‘I needed the Prefect to help me with something. At any rate, whatever you wanted to talk about, I hope you don’t mind the Prefect and their friends listening now’ Rollo wasn’t sure what to expect from this boy. On the one hand he was clearly well trained and powerful enough to be a vice housewarden, on the other hand he seemed to be friendly back when they first met and now too the Prefect wasn’t giving any indication that they worried about this interaction. Maybe he was just assessing him?

‘Oh! Just wanted to see how you are adapting to the school, I know when I transferred from Savanaclaw to Pomefiore I experienced such a noticeable change in atmosphere and that was within the same school, I can only imagine how different things are here compared to Noble Bell College’ Rollo was right, he was assessing him. Hunt kept looking at him with a friendly face but he could feel the faintest aura of danger emanating from the eccentric boy.

‘So far everything is good, professor Trein gave a wonderful class and I think I learned quite a bit in Ancient Curses. The students haven’t given me any trouble either…yet, and I hope it remains that way. I have no desire to make enemies nor cause any problems for the Prefect with my issues’ The Prefect tried to say that it was no problem but everybody at the table silenced them by saying some form of ‘You already have enough on your plate’. Heh, it was cute how they all cared so aggressively for each other.

Rollo and Hunt maintained eye contact, unblinking. But unlike with the Prefect that morning, this wasn’t lighthearted, oh no, this was a test. Rollo couldn’t look away or Hunt would think him suspicious or insincere. They kept staring without saying a word until the freshmen realized what was going on.

‘Rook…I think you should leave this to us’ Felmier spoke softly to his dormmate ‘We actually have been talking to Rollo and…um I think he’s alright. Even Sebek has been giving him a chance and we’ve learned some neat things from him. So please don’t be so hard on him, let’s give him a chance to show us how he’s changed’ His words made Hunt look at him in surprise.

‘Oh Monsieur Pommette! Your words are so full of kindness and wisdom! I am so proud of you and I’m sure fair Vil will be as well!’ His laughter made the boy blush with a queasy smile, probably happy to make his senior proud ‘Very well, I will leave you alone for now, but Roi du Mouchoir’ Rollo was getting dizzy from all these sudden mood changes, so he just looked at Hunt with a raised brow ‘Please, do talk to me in class, I will be more than glad to partner up with you in any group projects’ Once again Rollo felt a vague threat emanating from the blonde’s high yet dry tone. Was everybody at this school so weird?

The last period confirmed that indeed, everyone at this school was very weird.

They were to have lab class with the students from class E, which on paper seemed alright, more students meant he was less likely to be paired with Hunt. But then he was actually paired with Trey Clover and all his hopes of having any semblance of a quiet, normal school year went out the window.

At first he introduced himself politely, shaking his hand and welcoming him to Night Raven College, and Rollo felt nothing wrong with this. His attention at first had been grabbed by the intense staring he felt from somewhere in the room.

He turned around to find Hunt working happily with some student from…Octavinelle? So he kept searching but the presence disappeared. Strange.

‘Are you alright? If you need to see the nurse I can take you’ Clover seemed reliable enough so Rollo apologized and got to work on the potion as per the chalkboard’s instructions.

While they worked, Trey made polite conversation to get to know him better. It felt utterly fake, like he would rather be partnered with anyone else but him, but Rollo understood the feeling so he didn’t hold it against him.

Then he felt it again. That stare. He turned around and saw nothing out of the ordinary, but he could still feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing. Who was staring at him so intently?

He must have said it out loud because Clover actually answered ‘Sometimes Lilia likes staring at people, I swear he can be even sneakier than Rook’ Lilia? As in Lilia Vanrouge, the vice housewarden of Malleus Draconia? Well, that would explain two things.

‘I see, he must not be happy having me here after what happened’ Rollo still wasn’t sure how much people knew about his actions but he would rather play it safe, no use in exposing himself like that on his first day.

‘Don’t be silly, I am very happy I can meet the boy who helped my boys grow a stronger bond’ When did he get here?! Rollo jumped back with the spoon on his hands, completely startled by the short boy standing upside down beside him.

‘Lilia please don’t do that, he could’ve ruined our potion and this mixture is very volatile’ Clover’s chiding tone was very gentle, like a parent explaining to a toddler why they can’t bite something dangerous. How could someone so normal handle such bizarre situations so easily? Was this just a side effect of studying here, developing mechanisms to deal with the strange?

‘Kee hee, sorry Trey. I just wanted to see the new student Malleus spoke so passionately about. He had a lot of opinions about you transferring here you know’ Of that Rollo had no doubt, but so far he had managed to avoid Draconia and he hoped he would keep it that way for the next few days or weeks if he could ‘But don’t worry, the Prefect made him promise he’d be nice so long as you’re nice’ The boy disappeared and reappeared beside him, standing on the ground this time.

He was handing him his hand to shake, Rollo took it tentatively. ‘Oh ho, don’t be so shy now. I feel like we know each other so well already! Me with all these stories I hear about your doings during the symposium and you with all the hits you took from my boys~ Oh and the singing! I hope you liked the song. I showed it to Malleus so they could sing it as a present’ His smile was childish but his voice and demeanor betrayed his experience. Rollo wasn’t sure where Night Raven got all these walking contradictions but he supposed the Headmage must have a knack for selecting students similar to himself in that regard.

Rollo was half tempted to retort something smart back to the odd little man but just as quickly as he had come, he went back to his station. Sigh he better focus on the potion before it explodes. He really doesn’t want to get detention on his first day here, the day has been exhausting as is.

He followed Clover’s advice for a while until he noticed the potion changed color, it shouldn’t do that yet. He checked the ingredients they had added and sure enough, they had added a couple in the wrong order. Nothing too terrible for this potion but precision was important in alchemy for a reason: plenty of potions did change drastically if the ingredients weren't added in a certain order.

He was about to signal to Clover to come over so they would start stirring slower to account for this change when he saw the ghost of a smug smile on his face. Was this another test? Why was he smiling like that? Did he do something wrong or right? Rollo felt a headache incoming from all the overthinking he had done today. Class couldn’t be over soon enough.

‘Ah, Clover we are ready to start stirring, although we seem to have added some ingredients in the wrong order, so we should start slowly to account for that lest the potion explodes’ Clover’s eyes crinkled happily and Rollo knew then that indeed, this was a test. Great. Even the normal students had something suspicious about them. Now he almost feels offended at the Headmage saying he’d fit right in.

They finished the potion without fuss and the professor acknowledged their clean work, allowing them to leave early so long as they cleaned their space. With the practiced hand he acquired from helping maintain the school grounds and the belltower in Noble Bell, Rollo was done in a few moments. Clover didn’t have time to be impressed as just a second later, Rollo left for Ramshackle.

He needed a quick bite, a shower and to sleep for a thousand nights.

Once again night came and with it Rollo’s ugly thoughts came chasing him in his dreams. He couldn’t run fast enough, he couldn’t leap far enough. No matter what he did, there was no way of reaching his brother.

The flames engulfed everything, from the floor to the ceiling. Rollo tried to crawl through them, he knew he could he just had to use his Unique Magic. ‘Crimson flower, scorch my soul-’ It was futile, he couldn't feel the well of magic within. He was empty, completely devoid of magic.

There was no way to save him. But he had to try. Rollo kept crawling closer, the flames growing hotter every second. Soon he would feel the same pain his brother felt, at least this time he wouldn't abandon him.

‘ROLLO!’ He was jerked awake by the warm hand of the Prefect. Rollo looked at them perplexed, it was a dream? He scrubbed the sleep from his eyes and with it the tears that had fallen in his sleep. Oh. He must have made the Prefect worry if they could tell he was having a nightmare.

‘I’m sorry for waking you, Prefect. Please don’t worry about me, you should go back to sleep’ He tried to sound convincing but his voice had that tremor it did whenever he was about to panic. The Prefect sat by the end of his bed hesitatingly, afraid they may be imposing.

‘When I told you I was here for you, I meant it, not just for the academic stuff’ Their voice was soft and quiet but carried so much weight in the silent space between them he felt compelled to scoot closer. ‘If there’s anything you need to talk about, chances are I can help you…I’ve been through my fair share of bad times myself…’ They left him a choice. He could run like he had done for these past few months- no, for the better part of his life since his brother died. Or he could confide in the Prefect

‘There's always someone who cares’ The gargoyle’s resigned voice rang behind his head.

‘Maybe we would manage to reach out to you... it seems you’re not ready yet Rollo’ Yeshua and Tristan whispered at each side of him, eyes pleading for an opening.

‘It’s not your brother or the world you want to save...it’s just yourself’ Idia Shroud’s voice echoed loudest, dispassionate yet truthful, heavy with the sentence of someone who understands far better than anyone should be able to.

‘I just- I don’t know what’s happening to me’ For the first time in forever, Rollo allowed himself to be vulnerable without putting up a fight. All these years he had built his carefully placed walls, hoping to keep the pain outside. Instead all he had done was lock himself in with all of it and no way to ask for help. It was time to stop.

The Prefect cradled him on their chest carefully, rubbing his back in soothing circles and whispering reassurances that he could speak whenever he felt ready. He was crying uncontrollably and he hadn’t even noticed until he felt the dampened shirt of his dormmate.

They stayed like that for what felt like hours until Rollo could not cry anymore. He felt lighter if a bit embarrassed. Sniffing, he pulled back and looked at them with a thankful nod. He needed a second to recollect himself.

‘.........I feel guilty that I couldn’t save my brother. I was the older brother and it was my duty to protect him……if only I had gotten my magic sooner-’ ‘Don’t do that’ The interruption took him by surprise ‘Blaming yourself like that, that’s a sure way of driving yourself crazy’ They grabbed his hand and made him stand up.

Near the window, Rollo saw the dim light of the moon ‘We can’t change what’s in the past, but we can choose how those events affect us into the future…how we remember the people we lost’ Their hand squeezed his reassuringly when it trembled ‘You have to decide: do you want to remember him as he was on his last moments? Scared and in pain? Or as he was the rest of the time? As the person you loved so dearly?’ Their words sounded so much like Shroud’s, not just in what they meant but in how their voice had this faint tremor, some barely contained emotion. The Prefect knew what he was feeling, they had lost someone too. Slowly he turned his head to look at them and sure enough they were crying too now.

What a sight they must be, two newly dormmates crying in a dark room in the earliest hours of a saturday morning. Instinctively he draped his arms around their shoulders and pulled them against his chest like they had done earlier, tucking their head under his chin. ‘Thank you’ His breathing was calm, the calmest it had been since the symposium. Equally the Prefect’s breathing slowed down until it evened out completely. Rollo looked down to see them dozing off.

He held his chuckle and brought them to his bed. He tucked them in and sat next to them on top of the covers, waiting for sleep to claim him.

Come morning he would wake up to the Prefect hugging him like a stuffed bear and Grim complaining about him stealing his minion, but for now he enjoyed a good night’s sleep before the chaos of another day at Night Raven College.

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It was nearing the end of Rollo’s first week on Ramshackle and things admittedly seemed far better than he expected at first. In just these few days he had ‘squirmed his way in’ into the Prefect’s friend group (according to Ace) by inadvertently joining them on their shenanigans, he got to assist the Prefect in cooking during the weekend and enjoyed exploring the grounds along with the freshmen. He even got to work with Hunt for a class project which gave them great results. All in all, his week had been full of excitement.

Yes, some students had been naturally suspicious of him upon meeting him (the housewardens in particular had been prone to interrupting his time with the Prefect for the most random reasons), but he supposed those feelings came from the retellings of what happened during the symposium. And even if they didn’t know, he couldn’t exactly blame them, what with how unapproachable he seemed (or so the Prefect told him on a few occasions) and the strangeness of his transfer.

There was the difficulty of how different the schools were, for sure. Noble Bell was full of tradition, with the students following it dutifully and gladly, while Night Raven College was more…innovative. There was tradition as well, certainly but in general the students seemed eager to break the mold and stand out in their uniqueness. Rollo wasn’t used to that.

But in all, his assessment of the school was positive. Maybe Headmage Tirmont had been right in sending him here.

These thoughts occupied his mind as he tossed and turned around on his bed. The clock of his room indicated the hour to be 2 AM. He turned around on his bed again and tried to close his eyes, to force himself to sleep but no matter how long he kept them shut, it didn’t work. For some reason tonight he couldn’t drift into unconsciousness. He blamed the heat wave and the dorm’s poor insulation.

Deciding to not waste his time getting annoyed at his lack of sleep, and fearing another bout of anxiety if he remained stirring in his thoughts, he got up and wandered out to go grab a glass of water. Maybe that would cool him enough to get some restless sleep at least.

Walking on the hallway to the first floor, he noticed a faint light coming from one of the unused rooms. Odd.

Curiosity piqued, he grabbed the knob and silently opened the door. While he expected the ghosts to be doing something here, he was instead met by the Prefect, shrimp-pajamas covered by a white coat, painting on a big canvas. Far bigger than the one in their room.

They hadn’t noticed him yet, so he debated for a second whether to let them be or approach and inquire about the unknown flower in the canvas. He took a look at the Prefect’s hands stained in purplish-blue and white paint, their clothes equally colorful and a second later he caught the sound of humming. A song.

As it was more and more common for him, Rollo felt like in a trance as he walked closer until the Prefect noticed his presence.

‘Oh! I’m sorry, did I wake you?’ Ever caring, they were more worried about his comfort than their own. How cute.

Rollo didn’t reply, instead bringing a thumb to their cheek and smearing some of the purplish-blue paint on it as he tried to clean them. Their eyes widened while his intense stare remained on their face and from this close he could notice so much more about his dormmate than he had in the days prior. The way their breath caught making the smallest gasping sound, the way their mouth opened just a little bit as if unsure of what to say, the way their face heated up to the tip of their ears.

Wait what

‘Prefect, you’re warm. Are you alright?’ That seemed to raise their temperature even more, to the point where he placed his hand on their forehead to make sure they didn’t have a fever. The Prefect squealed and quickly turned around. ‘I’m fine! I’m fine! Just forgot to open the windows!’ Rollo looked around the room and noticed that indeed the windows were closed and with how hot it was tonight, that just wouldn’t do.

He gave them some space while he went to open the two windows in the room before returning his attention to the Prefect.

‘What is the name of the song you were humming? If I may ask. It didn’t sound familiar’ Rollo had learned in these past few days that while the Prefect could make people open up surprisingly easily, they themselves didn’t share much about their own life. Probably to avoid growing nostalgic for their home, so he didn’t know exactly what the boundaries were for asking personal questions yet. He still felt as if the moment they shared the other night had been a dream, knowing something about them that no one else knew made him feel special.

‘Uh, it's a song from a movie I used to watch, the song is called “my favorite things”, it was very popular to sing it for kids on certain holidays’ They eyed their supplies searching for something or maybe deciding how to proceed with the painting. Rollo didn’t know too much about painting, but he knew this one was coming out beautiful.

Once they picked a smaller brush and dipped it in paint, Rollo walked closer trying to see if he could recognize the flowers from this distance. He couldn’t.

‘Are those flowers from your world too?’ His voice came out soft and subdued, barely hearable but they answered anyways ‘Oh yeah, they’re called jacarandas. I haven’t seen any of them here, even in the books from the library, so I figured maybe they don’t exist here? So I chose to paint them before I forget what they looked like. What do you think?’ Their voice was happy on the surface but Rollo detected something under that, a tinge of sadness that stroke his heart.

‘I think they are beautiful’ His eyes traced every line, every petal and trunk and came to the conclusion that, if the Prefect’s painting was a fraction of accurate to the real thing then the flowers must be a sight to behold.

‘I think so too, there are some in pink and white that also are very pretty but I prefer these purple ones’ Their smile grew just the littlest bit and Rollo could tell that the sadness was subsiding. Good, Rollo wasn’t opposed to consoling the Prefect but he much rather preferred to make sure they don’t cry to begin with.

‘Anyways, I’m sorry I woke you up Rollo, I didn’t think my humming and painting would make that much noise. I guess since Grim is such a heavy sleeper and the ghosts have never mentioned this, I assumed I was in the clear’ Rollo saw them clean the brushes as if to finish painting for the night. He didn’t know why but he wanted to keep watching, to keep talking about their world and bask in this quiet moment of intimacy and trust just between the two of them.

‘Please don’t stop on my behalf. I couldn’t sleep on account of my room being so hot so I wandered here for a glass of water. In fact, I am sorry for intruding on you like this’ The Prefect stopped their movements and looked at him, a little taken aback by his apology. They let out a snort that confused Rollo. Usually that reaction was directed at Grim or the freshmen.

‘Oh don’t worry about it, if I wanted to keep my painting private I would’ve locked the door. But it’s good to know I didn’t wake you’ They smiled again, their hand hovering over the brushes hesitantly. Rollo wondered if he could make them smile again. ‘Do you mind if I keep painting then? You don’t have to stay-’

‘I would love to’ Soon as he realized how fast he spoke, his face grew red with embarrassment while the Prefect tried, and failed, to suppress their laughter. Well, it's good to know that his embarrassment can make them smile at least, not that he hadn’t realized that by now with how thoroughly Ace and Epel liked to tease him.

‘Would you consider teaching me how to paint, Prefect?’ Rollo’s question clearly took them by surprise seeing how they almost dropped their brush and did a double take. ‘I have seen some of the paintings in your room, sceneries and people I don’t recognize, I presume they are from your world’ They nodded their head, still looking at him shocked ‘I would like to try that…to paint my home so that I may keep it with me’

The Prefect gave him a look of understanding, they both looked to the floor in thought. They both missed home, and while Rollo knew that he could go back one day, the reality was that neither knew what tomorrow would bring. Crowley may never find a way back home for the Prefect, Rollo may die before he sets foot on the City of Flowers again…

Before any dark thoughts took over their minds, the Prefect spoke again ‘I myself am not the greatest artist out there, but if that’s alright with you then I’d love to teach you what I know’

Rollo smiled genuinely at them and they returned it twice as bright.

The Prefect kept painting and making idle chat for a few more minutes until they came to a relaxing silence. It was nice, having a moment of quiet not be interrupted by talking cats, loud freshmen or paranoid housewardens. Rollo allowed himself to enjoy the moment like he had began to enjoy his stay at Night Raven, remembering how even in Noble Bell he often felt something else under the happiness or relaxation, always some underlying anger at the magic around him, some hatred for his classmates’ carefree use of magic, guilt at himself for depending on it just the littlest bit, always something to rot those memories.

Now, standing here with the Prefect, all he could feel was calm and happy. Sure he missed his home, he missed his family and he missed his classmates, but the Prefect had made such an effort to make him feel welcome here, and even their noisy friends were doing their best to include him in their shenanigans, much to his despair.

In the quiet of the night, accompanied only by the sound of the brush against the canvas and each other’s breathing, Rollo realized that they could choose to make home here. The Prefect had made a family with Grim, the ghosts and the freshmen, always making each other laugh, studying together, causing problems for each other and then trying to solve them as a team… Rollo felt like maybe, just maybe, he could also join that little family. He wanted to have a family again.

He opened his mouth to say as much when the ghosts decided now was the perfect time to annoy them ‘Ohhhh look at this~ Rollo and the Prefect are having a little night date~’ ‘Oh ho ho Rollo~ and here I thought you were a gentleman, how scandalous!’ ‘You better treat them right, Rollo. Or we will haunt you every night until you graduate hehehe’ The Prefect and Rollo looked at each other, faces flushed from their teasing, and upon realizing how close they were they jumped apart several meters.

‘Awww look at how red they are! We were just trying to tease you but maybe we’re right, hmm? Do you have something to tell us Rollo? Hee hee hee’ As the ghosts flew around them, making more teasing comments, Rollo covered his face with his hand and the Prefect grabbed his other hand to drag him back to the dorms. Once there, they let go and gave him one last look, still flushed, and wished him a good night with a peck on the cheek.

Rollo, stunned from the affection, remained there completely unmoving even as the ghosts came back to tease him some more and made joking threats of telling about this to the freshmen, who would no doubt tease him about it too.

Needless to say, he was in no way getting any sleep soon, but at least now he knew. Transferring to Night Raven College, to Ramshackle Dorm, was the best decision Headmage Tirmont could have made for him.

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stuffymcstuffsworld · 6 months

Text

Nerves

So... you were a bit huffy. NO! You weren't pouting... OK fine! You were sulking. How dare Kalego-San ignore everyone's messages! Would it kill him to at least type a single thank you?

Of course, being on an evil cycle probably distracted him from his phone. But you knew for a fact that even during an evil cycle, he would still be terrified of Opera of all demons to at least send them a reply. But so far, radio silence.

Well, you had been kind enough to wait a few days, but enough was enough. You slammed open the door to his house, seeing both him and Shichiro jump startled. You glance at the phone in Kalegos' hand and then back at him.

"Glad to see you're feeling better." You narrowed your eyes at him. Shichiro nervously spoke up. "Ah, hello! We just got a text from Opera-san... did you know why they want to go to the beach?"

"No, I wasn't. But Opera can do as they please. They are very capable." You watched as Kalego bristles at the implication. Your eyes drift to the destroyed furniture. And you let out a soft tsk.

"Now, what could have possibly upset you so much that you decide to act like an untrained house pet?" You baited him. He seemed ready to take it, too, if not for the sudden phone call.

You looked amused by the pair's scared reaction to their sempia calling. You pick it up instead. "Hello, Opera... yes, your message was received." Kalego looked at you with horrified expression while Shichiro looked amused.

"Mmm, yes, both of them are here with me, actually." You're almost certain Kalego can feel his soul escape his body. "I think it's a great idea to have beach day, Opera! Yes... yes. You're absolutely right, Kalego does need to spend time in the sun."

You cover Kalego's mouth before he can protest. "Yes, goodbye, Opera." You hung up the phone. You smiled at Kalego sweetly. You can feel the anger rising off of him.

"This is what you get for not responding to anyone's concern for you. No more silent treatment." You pinch his cheek. He opens his mouth, no doubt to argue.

"No, you are going to be spending quality time at the beach with the children, and that's final Kalego." Your voice firm and left no room for arguments.

Shichiro patted the brooding demons back. "It sounds like you'll all have fun!" You pouted at the large gargoyle. "You're not coming?" You made large wounded puppy eyes.

Instinctively, his hands instantly started petting you. Perhaps in apology. "I'm sorry, not this time." You're inner self was not pleased. How were you supposed to show off how attractive he was if he wasn't there to be your arm candy?!?

Kalego rolled his eyes behind Shichiro, seeming to know your inner thoughts. You stuck out your tongue at him before looking back at the large demon. "But you'll come next time... won't you?"

This seemed to be the perfect thing to say to snare the cuddly demons heart. He blushed and pulled you closer. "Of course," You beamed. "GREAT!"

You threw a smirk at Kalego, who raised an eyebrow in challenge. "Then it's just you, me, and Opera this time, Kalego." You purred.

His eyes widen, realizing that not only would he have to keep an eye on the brats, but he'd have to handle you and Opera alone at the same time. Without Shichiro to be a buffer... he ran a hand down his face.

He was doomed. Pure torture from two individuals as he would try to settle his thoughts after being on an evil cycle. Devi just put him out of his misery and strike him down.

#mairimashita! iruma kun #welcome to demon school iruma kun #reader #balam shichirou #kalego sensei #naberius kalego #opera #balam sensei

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vivalaluciforever · 2 years

Text

Who Does The Prefect Like? (Female Reader)

It was like any other day at Night Raven College. The birds were chirping, the gargoyles were glistening with the water they spouted from the previous night's rain, and mayhem was afoot. Today's form of trouble came in the shape of two cats. Leona was currently chasing Grim around the halls of the school, much to the surprise of the other students. It is historically more likely to find Leona lazing off somewhere trying to avoid his classes, but on this rare occasion, he was exerting enough energy to dead sprint after a certain resident of the Ramshackle dorm. This was, of course, noticed by the squad of first years that had become friends with the prefect, (Y/N). Leona almost bowled over Ace and Deuce in his haste with a fierce growl to move or they'd be fresh meat.

Turning to the others, Jack raised a single eyebrow, "I wonder what that's about?"

"I have no idea," stated Epel, his huge boyish eyes tracing the scene in shock, "What do you think (Y/N)? (Y/N)?!"

Looking around, there was no sight of the prefect who, just a moment prior, was with the group. Shaking his, Ace shrugged his shoulders and heaved a heavy sigh, "Where has she gone to?"

"She has been disappearing a lot lately. Skipping lunch plans we made, always texting someone, even disappearing over the weekends for extended periods... Do you think she has a boyfriend?" questions Deuce, gathering his scattered paperwork.

Looking up from his apple carving, Epel blanches in disgust at the thought that just entered his head, "As long as it isn't Vil, I don't care who she's seeing."

"I swear," starts Ace, "if it's Riddle I will puke up everything in my stomach and then some."

Jack seemingly nods along with the conversation but his eyes show him to be in his own thoughts, "She does attend all of the unbirthday parties; however, she is strangely close to Jade Leech isn't she? I'll admit, that's one person that makes me wonder if her taste in relationships is... safe to say the least."

"Well, I think we should ask Sebek when we see him. After all, he's always attached to Malleus's side, except for supper. I'm sure we could find him during supper in the cafeteria and ask him what he knows. Maybe even Grim knows and will tell us. After all, he does live with her," states Ace as the group of friends continue their walk down the long hallway.

Little to their knowledge, the clubroom door behind them was not locked. Normally it was school policy to lock the clubroom doors when the clubs are over, but this club never locked their door. A handy thing to know when you're in a pinch. Posters and other book-inspired illustrations adorned the literature clubroom's walls. Desks placed in a circle sat in the middle of the club room, while the pulled blinds kept the room dark and cool. An ideal location for any nerdy meetup or secret meetings.

"I think they're gone." whispers (Y/N), her voice piercing the tense silence that had filled the room.

Pulling her close, the man who abruptly and secretly yanked her into the room pulled her to him, "Yes, I suppose so. They are surprisingly unobservant."

"Vil... can you blame them?" she softly chuckles, worry and a twinge of guilt lacing her angelic voice. "I mean, Grim and Leona did almost bowl them over a couple of minutes ago."

Kissing her forehead, Vil gently smoothes (Y/N)'s hair while holding her in his arms, "Well, in the end, it helped us. I'm sure we'll be able to get out of the school what with the end of the day and clubs letting out it will be chaotic, but why don't I text Rook and have him meet up with us in the Pomefiore courtyard, hmmm?"

"While I don't put it past Rook to cause a big distraction," begins (Y/N) with a chuckle, "I'm pretty sure Leona and Grim have that handled all on their own for the majority. How about we see when we get there."

"Mmmmm... I'd believe so. Alright, my love, we'll plan as we go, and when we get there I'll order some food from my room for us to share. How does that sound to you?" whispers Vil, his mouth dangerously close to (Y/N)'s ear.

Cupping Vil's perfect face, (Y/N) lets out a dreamy sigh, "Sounds perfect my love."

With a soft smile, Vil gently detaches from (Y/N) AND carefully pokes his head out the door. Once sure the coast is clear, he motions to (Y/N) quickly. Sprinting through the halls, the pair of lovers quickly make it out of the school and to the entrance of Pomefiore. They weren't so lucky as to avoid the evening throng of students coming in after their clubs. As predicted, Vil was right and Rook was exactly who they needed at this precise moment. Hiding, behind an apple tree in the open-air courtyard, and while letting out some tired laughs, the pair quickly dial Rook.

"Ah! I had a feeling when you both disappeared you'd show up here. It seems my intuition was correct yet again." comes Rook's excited voice through the phone.

While (Y/N) got a good laugh out of Rook's normal antics, Vil quickly explained the situation to the vice-housewarden. After a couple of seconds, Rook's voice comes back through the phone's speaker, "So you want me to stir up the little students Roi de Poison? Sounds like a challenge. Give me five minutes!"

As Rook said, five minutes was all it took for the dorm to be in a tizzy over some useless matter and for Vil and (Y/N) to sneak right past the Pomefiore student body, Epel included. Quietly slipping into Vil's room, the couple flops down onto the plush bed to cuddle each other. Pulling out his phone, Vil orders the normal meal for the two of you while you scour the internet for an interesting movie.

"(Y/N) dear?" whispers Vil, gently pulling you away from the screen and down onto the bed with him. You quickly snuggle into his awaiting side while he plays with your beautiful locks of hair. "We've been dating for a while now, and I was wondering if... maybe, you would, uhm, consider going on an official date with me?"

"Vil, I thought you wanted to keep this quiet to shield me from fan hate. The whole reason we're hiding in the first place is that you wanted to." whispers (Y/N), nervously into Vil's side. "I don't know if I can handle it yet, and I don't want to make you feel like you have to go public,"

Grabbing his phone, Vil opens it to a certain site while continuing to massage down (Y/N)'s arms. "I was thinking about that. We could go public and if needed I would hire you a personal security agent. You wouldn't even know they're there, and I can get you a specially made phone. This site has enough information that I could find whoever I need. I'll look through and block all of the hate mail before you even look at it. I promise I'll protect you my darling. Regardless of the outcome, we'll handle it together side by side. As for me, I'm ready. I don't want this to make you feel like I'm keeping you tucked away like some secret. I just wanted time for the two of us before we got hounded by the fans and paparazzi."

"Alright, Vil... if that's how you feel, then I suppose I should roll with it and love you no matter the situation, after all, I love you Vil Schoenheit," whispers (Y/N), tiredly as her hunger starts to invade her body and mind.

Gently running his finger over his cheek, Vil places a soft kiss on your forehead, "And I love you more, (Y/N) (L/N)."

Suddenly the door banged open, "I don't know why you ordered in food Vil, but I don't really care, just be grateful I brought it to you warm instead of letting it get... (Y/N)?!"

"H-Hey E-E-Epel..." stutters out (Y/N) nervously, afraid of the younger student's reaction to the situation.

Swiftly, Vil is gracefully and meticulously in front of Epel, "Epel, thank you for running up the food but please remember that a gentle knock is always appreciated. I do believe this is our personal space and I'm spending some quiet time with my girlfriend, so I'd kindly appreciate it if you could give us some space now. Thank you very much."

Brighter than a red apple at harvest, Epel swiftly runs out of the room and disappears from our line of sight. Probably running to the nearest toilet available to puke up that ruby red apple he was eating earlier. With a sigh, Vil gently closes the door, and this time he turns the lock. Turning around, he walks back over and climbs back into the bed starting to take the food out of their to-go bags.

"I'm sorry my dear," he whispers out eventually, "I should have taken better precautions and remembered to lock the door."

Chuckling, (Y/N) wraps her arms around Vil's waist after resurfacing from the throng of blankets that she had dived under, "Well, I suppose the cat's out of the bag now. It's okay my love. It was bound to happen eventually be it us going public or someone catching us. I suspect Rook kept it a secret for the mere fact that he could make bursts of organized chaos on the occasion."

"Maybe so," laughs out Vil, "so how is that phone sounding now?"

"Uhm... well, maybe a little better than not," chuckles out (Y/N) nervously.

Setting her food in front of her, Vil gently holds (Y/N)'s hand, "I'll get started on it first thing in the morning then."

"Alright, thanks Vil," whispers (Y/N) before kissing Vil quickly and diving in on the food.

In another part of Pomefiore, a very different night was unfolding during Vil and (Y/N)'s date...

"What happened again?" asks Ace, his and Deuce's faces crammed onto one phone's video call.

Frustratedly, Epel slams down onto his dorm bed with his phone in his hand. After taking the food to Vil's room and subsequently puking up his supper, he rushed to dial their immediate circle of first-year friends; however, the situation quickly escalated after that. Upon seeing the odd behavior of their younger classmates and dormmates, the upperclassmen ended up joining the hectic video chat. Leona, getting thorough entertainment out of this matter, ended up calling Floyd, who subsequently dragged Azul and Jade into the mix. Floyd, then after hearing the story, called Jamil; hence Jamil and Kalim's involvement. Adding to the already growing fire, Kalim decided that they shouldn't just disclude Idia, and so both Idia and Ortho are now involved; bringing the entirety of the friend groups into this crowded and very loud video call.

"Just quiet down and listen!" exclaims Epel frustratedly, "Vil ordered take-out and I happened to be the one to grab it, so I figured I might as well just take it to his room. On my way up there I walked by Rook, who at the time laughed and gave me a wink. I thought it was odd, but then again it was Rook and he has some really weird moments. Vil normally works on his potionology experiments after school on Thursday especially and makes a point of telling us to leave him be. Despite that, he had ordered food, and I figured I better get it to him warm instead of cold and one thing led to another. I ended up in the room and (Y/N) was there and they were snuggling in bed scrolling through movie selections. He just got up and told me that he appreciated me bringing the food but to knock first and to please leave him and his girlfriend alone so that they could enjoy their personal space. Taking the opportunity, I sprinted out of the room and to the nearest toilet. Then I video called the first-year group which ended up having the entire group of everybody in here listening.

Silence came across the phone until finally, Leona decided to break the silence, "Well, the herbivore has a boyfriend so give up boys. Abort mission because the star has shot, went overhead, and is gone so save your pathetic hearts the heartbreak. I, however, am going to go take a nap. Thanks for the entertainment though, I'm sure there'll be more to come."

Oh and was Leona right, because sure enough, the video call blew up after that. Somehow at some point, someone dragged Rook into the call; which only made the call explode even more. In the end, the friends found out who (Y/N) was dating, and the happy couple woke up to many many text messages in the morning. All was good... well it's NRC so there's plenty of mischief yet to come!

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natewriteslol · 2 years

Note

Hi! Can I have a request/imagine where gender neutral MC asks the TWST boys a question: "Would you still love me if I was a worm?" as a random question; just for giggles?

Thank you!

A/N: We are doing the dorm leaders for this one :D

Riddle:

-You were in the middle of a study session in the library, completing homework for Trein’s class

-You all of the sudden looked up from your books and stared at Riddle

- “Would you still love me if I were a worm?”

-He looks up at you strangely, then starts to ponder

- “Well, if you could still be the same Y/N I know, then I would definitely still love you as a worm.”

Leona:

-You were both cuddled up on the couch

-It was completely silent, just how Leona liked it

-And then you propose the question, completely breaking the silence

-“Leona.”

-“Huh.”

- “Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

- “...I would eat you if I had the chance, now go back to sleep and don’t ask stupid ass questions like that.”

Azul:

-He was in the middle of signing contracts and doing other paperwork

-You were sitting in the plush chair, feet up on the ottoman while you read a book

-It was comfortable silence with Azul occasionally muttering to himself, or asking you for something

-And then you popped the question

- “Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

- “My love...what?”

- And then you repeated yourself, giving a “stern” look “Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

-He laughed a little to himself before saying “Well, I would need to accept you in all forms. So,” he sighed “yes, Y/N, I would love you even if you were a worm.”

Kalim:

-You and Kalim were spending some alone time near the fountain in Scarabia

-He was giggling and putting his feet in the water and that was when you popped the question

- “Kalim, would you still love me if I was a worm?”

- He gave you a slightly confused look, before laughing

- “Hahahaha! You’re so silly, Y/N! How did you think of that?!”

- “But of course I would still love you if you were a worm. I’d talk to you everyday and give you the best snacks!”

Vil:

-He was in the middle of doing his skincare routine, cushioned by a plush seat with a glamourous mirror in hand

-You were sitting on the bed on your phone, before looking at his robed back

-“Vil, would you still love me if I was a worm?”

-There was a pause, and then he began to giggle

- “What type of question is that, potato?” He said turning around with a smile, coming close to you after finishing his routine.

- He let out a sigh as if he were thinking heavily about the question, pulling you into his arms “But, I suppose that I would still love you if you were a little worm. I would give you a fabulous enclosure as well.”

Malleus:

-You asked him to walk with you since you wanted to spend some alone time with him

-As you gazed at the stars and gargoyles, you went to catch his attention

- “Malleus, can I ask you a question?”

- “Of course, you can ask me anything.”

- “Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

- “What a silly question, why of course I’d still love- wait? Have you been cursed, child of man?!”

- “No of course not! It’s just a silly question online, Malleus!”

-He’s a sweetheart, but it’s not good to have someone who isn’t exactly caught up on trends

-Elderly ass man-

Idia:

-You were both in the middle of playing Digcraft

-Your beds were right beside each other (in game of course) and as you both layed there waiting for night to fall you started thinking to yourself

-And then it hit you

-“Idia, would you still love me if I was a worm?”

- “Babe, w-what?”

- “Would. You. Still. Love. Me. If. I. Was. A. Worm.”

- He started to get nervous, wondering if you were being serious

-What if he answered wrong? Would you hate him?

- “But, I couldn’t do anything with a worm, Y/N?”

- “How could you not love me if I was a worm?!”

- “I’m sorry babe wait I change my mind I would still-”

- “It’s too late. The damage is done, Idia,” you said, feigning disappointment from his answer

-”Babe pls-”

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fungifanart · 1 year

Text

Consequences

Characters: Male reader, Yuu!reader, Grim, Leona Kingscholar, Malleus Draconia

Cw: Angst

Notes: We're nearing the end, friends! I can definitively say that the next part will be the last (for better or worse)

(PART 1) (PART 2) (PART 3) (PART 4)

--------------------------------------------------------

The week has finally come to a close and Malleus couldn't be happier...or more nervous.

Following Kingscholar and Lilia's advice was agonizing as it meant not being able to see the Prefect for a whole week following the party, but after taking that time to plan out his apology down to the letter, Malleus is confident that he'll be able to reclaim his greatest treasure flawlessly!

.......But what if he doesn't?

No. Impossible.

The idea that he'd fail now is so ludicrous that he can’t help but laugh.

Once classes let out for the day, Malleus frantically scans the crowd of students in the hallway until he spots a familiar head of hair accompanied by a mass of grey fur walking away from him.

"Y/N!" Malleus calls out as he makes his way through the hall to the other man, who turns around upon hearing his name.

The Prefect looks at Malleus in surprise before changing his expression to look at him with a cold glare, "Los--*ahem* Oh my! What could the great and powerful Malleus Draconia want with little old me?" He says in a mock-surprised tone, which hurts, but not as much as being separated from him.

"Y/N, I must ask that you accompany me." Malleus says while gently taking hold of his free hand, "There's something important I must speak to you about."

A moment of silence passes as the Prefect's eyes bore directly into Malleus's, searching for any hint of malicious intent, before Grim's voice cuts in.

"Myah! And why should he?! You've been nothing but trouble for him lately--" Grim tries to argue, but is stopped by the Prefect.

"Stand down, Grim." He says calmly, "I'll take care of this. You just go study with Ace and Deuce or something and if I don't message them by nightfall, get a search party together."

Malleus feels his heart throb with guilt, but pushes forward regardless, "Please, follow me."

The moments spent walking towards their destination seem to stretch on for an awkward eternity until they finally arrive at the woods just outside of Ramshackle dorm.

Once they stop walking, the Prefect faces Malleus and crosses his arms impatiently, "Alright, Mr. Draconia. You gonna tell me what you dragged me all the way out here for? Don't tell me you're actually kidnapping me again?"

"I...would like to formally apologize to you." Malleus says while bowing towards the other man.

"...Go on." The Prefect says with an unreadable expression.

"It was truly the height of foolishness to transport you to the Spectral Realm without so much as consulting you first. It was wrong and, while I'm sure that no amount of apologies can restore the trust in me you've lost, you must know that I am truly sorry." Malleus says while maintaining his bow, "Of course, you may rest assured that I've already given apologies to the rest of the student body."

"Is that so? So that makes me the last one to get an apology?" Malleus looks up briefly to see the other man raise his hand to his chin thoughtfully.

"Yes. The actions of yourself and others made me realize that you were FAR from the only one I'd hurt with my own…and I knew I could never face you without having first made amends with the others…" Malleus had planned to finish the apology there, but then his mouth begins spewing more words on its own, "I knew that you'd never talk with me about gargoyles again if I couldn't give a genuine apology. I-I knew you'd never call me 'Lostie' again if I couldn't show you how serious I am."

Malleus isn't supposed to say this much! What will the Prefect think!?

The only sound that can be heard in the next moments is that of the Prefect walking towards him.

Another moment passes quietly before it's broken by the Prefect sighing and beginning to speak, "Raise your head."

Once Malleus does as instructed, his eyes meet the Prefect’s just to see them full of…pity.

"I see you, Malleus. I've heard your apology and I acknowledge your sincerity." He says, causing Malleus's hopes to skyrocket despite his formal tone, "However…"

Malleus's heart practically stops upon hearing that damned word.

"As you've said, simply saying 'I'm sorry' won't magically restore the trust I've lost. What you did, it really hurt me, y'know? The kind of hurt that's gonna take me some time to get past." The man explains calmly while beginning to walk away as Malleus simply stands there in shock.

The Prefect stops at the edge of the clearing to glance back at him, "And so, while I can't forgive you right now, I still greatly appreciate you taking the time to apologize. I'll see you in class…" He faces his head forward and fully leaves the clearing as one final word escapes his lips, "...Lostie."

------------------------------------------------------------

Leona leans against the back of one of the trees surrounding the clearing the horned bastard had brought the Prefect to. Normally, he’d be more careful about getting so close to the action for fear of being caught, but he thinks he’ll be fine this time, considering the sounds of sobbing coming from the center of the clearing.

Leona can’t help but feel mildly shocked at this outcome. The Prefect’s got a bit of a reputation around NRC for being a bleeding heart and he can’t deny that the dragon's apology was VERY sincere, so for him to reject it like that, no matter how softly, feels…unnerving. Suddenly, he feels the need to tread more lightly around the herbivore from now on.

However, this hasn't changed Leona's overall feelings. If anything, he knows now more than ever that the Prefect is the one he wants by his side for the rest of his life. And he's not gonna let that horned bastard get in his way.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twst x male reader #malleus x reader #leona x reader #twst malleus #twst leona #twst grim #twst mc #twst yuu #leona kingscholar #malleus draconia #why is this mushroom writing fanfics?

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thecrystalquill · 1 year

Text

A/N: TCMOY/NA part 4!! A little shorter than the last one but the next should be longer. Don’t forget the intros! And let me know what you think :) happy reading

Masterlist Series Masterlist Series Intro Your Hogwarts First Years’ Letter

Chapter Four ~ Preparation

The party had been even bigger than she had thought. Every relative and family friend had been invited, and all with a plus-one. There was dancing and fancy drinks and a feast enough to feed the entire town; the band played countless songs, and her parents even let her have her first champagne. It was absolutely disgusting, but she drank it. She even managed to make it through her father’s speech, explaining to everyone just how proud he was, without expressively cringing. Overall, it was a good night – as all of their parties were – but come early hours of the morning, (Y/N) still found herself relieved to see their guests out. After an early start to the day, she was so tired that all she wanted to do was crash into her pillows. In fact, she was so tired that she almost slept through lunch the next day. It was a good thing that she remembered to close her curtains.

Now that the party was over, (Y/N) only had a week to get ready for her leave, and her nerves built with each passing day. Currently, Morticia and Wednesday were helping her pack her bags, Wednesday was making and checking lists as her mother made suggestions. “Don’t forget to pack your bat. The one with the barbed wire – never know when you might need it.”

“Of course, Mother,” (Y/N) answered, taking the tool from under her bed and finding a place for it in her case among her other things, a separate one from her clothes case – she had rather a lot of things. She’d packed her spare uniform robes, and plenty of her clothes, her books (there were quite a lot of them), some of her collections, and various other things that may come in handy. Jinxy sat at his place on the windowsill, watching curiously as they shuffled about the room. “Oh! Did we get a cage for Jinxy? You know how he likes to wander off,” she asked while packing some peculiar looking jars and bottles into a trunk, letting Wednesday tick them off, then slip another in.

Her mother nodded, picking out some clothes from the wardrobe and packing them up. “Yes, darling. Lurch dug up the old bat cage, it’s quite small but it will do for your travels.” At that, Jinx’s ears perked up and he paused in the middle of licking his paw, tongue still poking out.

“Why do you have to go so far for so long?” Wednesday whined, picking up ‘The Collective Works of Edgar Allan Poe’ and dropping it on the bed. “How am I supposed to put up with Pugsley on my own? Who am I going to practise my sword skills with? You know he isn’t a good opponent, he doesn’t take it seriously enough,” she complained in a low, bored voice.

“Oh don’t worry, Wednesday,” (Y/N) replied, contemplating whether or not she should pack her crossbow, “I’ll be back for the Christmas holidays, we can catch up then. And I’m sure Father will be more than willing to fill in for me with your fights.” She couldn’t wait to be back for the holidays. “Oh! Catnip!” She exclaimed, then rushed downstairs, likely going to the greenhouse.

“It’s alright, Wednesday,” said her mother as she packed away her daughter’s set of knives, not forgetting the sharpening tools, “she’ll be home before you know it.”

“It’s not like I’m gonna miss her or anything…” Wednesday muttered.

Two days left before she had to leave, and (Y/N) almost felt like crying – which she absolutely refused to do; but she could almost feel like it in private. She was sat on the wall of the graveyard, overlooking the whole area; from this angle she could see the whole of the Addams residence, along with the town, the coast, and the Abbey. It was one of her favourite spots, where she could watch over everything around her like a gargoyle atop a tower.

She had been reading her new textbooks over the last few weeks, studying everything with fascination and daydreaming about when she would get to explore these new topics fully, somehow it eased her worries a little. She had a herbology book open in front of her, letting the wind turn the pages as she focused her attention on her surroundings. She wondered what her time at Hogwarts would be like; would she enjoy her classes? Make some friends? A few enemies maybe? What house would she be put in? Wednesday had showed her some of the family history books from their library; many family members that attended Hogwarts were placed into Slytherin, of course this doesn’t mean to say that there weren’t any in the other houses – the family tree had its fair share of Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and even Hufflepuffs. In fact, Wednesday said that Alexander Addams married a Hufflepuff lady in 1601, having met her when he was visiting from Beaubatons. There were many people in the family that had gone to Beaubatons – with the Addams’ being from Spanish and French descent – and some even attended Durmstrang, it was more of a personal choice where they had gone. (Y/N) wondered if she would have liked to go to Beaubatons, but that was all the way in the Pyrenees, and she didn’t know a whole lot of French (though she did have Latin and Spanish lessons with her father). There were even quite a few people on their Mother’s side that had attended Beaubatons, and even some from Illvermorny, which she found quite fascinating. (Y/N) thought she shared quite a few qualities from all of the houses at Hogwarts, but she supposed she would have to wait; she thought it was quite a shame that her family couldn’t be there for her sorting, why couldn’t they anyway? If it was so important, why couldn’t her loved ones be there? But she supposed it was just another tradition. And it would probably make it harder for her to say goodbye if they were there the whole time, so it was probably for the best.

Looking down to the swamp marsh that circled the back end of the property, (Y/N) stared into the muddy murky waters that gurgled and moved on its own, hoping that Hogwarts would feel like a second home to her in time.

“(Y/N)!” She heard from bellow, squinting in the near-darkness she spotted her brother from half-way across the graveyard, carrying a few explosives in his arms (he’d likely being playing with them before he came out).

“What is it, Pugsley?” She yelled back, still perched on the ten-foot wall as she grabbed her copy of One-Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi and inspected the page on Devil’s Snare.

He grumbled and trudged forward a few more meters, touching every tombstone he passed – an old habit he developed as a toddler. “Grandmama says dinner’s nearly ready, we’re having eye of newt soup tonight, then she said she’ll make squid ink spaghetti tomorrow,” Pugsley explained, knowing that squid ink spaghetti was one of her favourites (she really hoped they made that at Hogwarts).

Hiding a sigh, (Y/N) took one last look across the view before tucking her book under her arm and expertly climbed down the high wall, using the gaps or odd shaped stones to hang onto before jumping down the last three feet. “Okay Pugsley, c’mon then,” she said, wrapping an arm over his shoulders and handing him her textbook to leaf through, “wouldn’t want our soup getting cold, would we?”

Pugsley shook his head as he looked at the illustrations in awe. “(Y/N), when will you teach me to climb the wall?” He asked, looking back to her spot – just being able to make out her name scratched into a stone half-way up.

She shrugged, keeping up her pace to the door. “How about next week?” She slyly suggested, to which Pugsley gladly agreed.

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fluentmoviequoter · 7 months

Text

You're Such a Xanatos!

Monster Monday, October 16, 2023

Fic-tober Masterlist

Summary: There are gargoyles everywhere, but you seem to be the only one noticing them. When you tell Dalton, he expresses concern.

Warnings: fluff, pranks, pet names, maybe a tiny bit of angst?, references/names (no spoilers) from Gargolyes (1994-1997), very brief and vague mention of the events of The Red Door (2023). 1k+ words.

A/N: I love Gargoyles but I know it's not super popular, so sorry if this doesn't make sense. The gif is Goliath if you've never seen the show. Honestly, I don't think you have to know the show to understand this but idk. (There might be an American Psycho reference too, I don't remember if I deleted it or not.) Hope you enjoy! :)

They are everywhere. You’re all for the Halloween spirit on campus, but everywhere you look, there are gargoyles. The first one you encountered was before you left for class; opening your curtains, you were met with a gargoyle on the corner of the building across from you. After leaving for class, you encountered more at every corner and several along windows. No one else seems to mind them, so maybe it’s a thing here.

When your class is dismissed, Dalton is waiting at the end of the hall to walk with you, as always.

“Hey,” he greets, smiling as he hugs you tightly.

“Hi,” you reply, relaxing in his arms.

“Your dorm or mine?”

“Yours is good. Is Chris coming over tonight?”

“She’s supposed to. Says she’s bringing, and I quote, ‘the best food you will ever try,’” Dalton answers with air quotes.

“Oh, boy.”

Dalton’s arm lays across your shoulders as he leads you through the crowd exiting the building, holding you close to his side. Looking up at him, you notice the gargoyles are inside, too, yet no one is even looking at them. Shaking your head, you try to ignore them but feel like you’re losing your mind more with each one you see.

Dalton either doesn’t see the gargoyles or doesn’t care. He talks about his art assignment as he walks, and you try to focus on his words instead of the cement monsters looking at you from every angle.

“I think I’ll draw a picture from the day we went to the beach,” Dalton says, drawing your attention as he grips your shoulder. “What do you think?”

“I would be honored; it sounds beautiful, like everything you draw. Although I may need a copy for myself.”

When you enter Dalton’s dorm building, gargoyles sit on every surface.

“What is up with the gargoyles?” you ask, throwing your hands up in exasperation.

“Gargoyles?” Dalton asks, furrowing his brows as he dips his chin to look into your eyes.

“Yes! They’re everywhere but no one seems to care, or even notice them!”

“Sweetheart,” Dalton says gently. His voice and the pet name send a shiver down your spine. “What are you talking about?”

“Are you kidding me?”

Dalton shakes his head, and you become convinced you’ve lost it. If you haven’t, Dalton is behind it, which doesn’t seem likely. Not impossible, though.

“I’m losing my mind,” you whisper, looking at one of the dog-like statues.

Reaching out to touch it, it’s solid under your finger. You look at Dalton and point, so he looks down your arm and then back to your face.

“Are you okay?” Dalton asks. “What are you pointing at?”

You drop your arms and look at the ceiling, sighing and questioning everything.

“I- uh.“ You shake your head and give up. “Got you,” you say lightly, poking Dalton.

“Very funny,” Dalton says with a laugh, smiling as he wraps his arm around your shoulders again. “I was worried about you for a second.”

Me too, you think.

Approaching Dalton’s room, you stand in the hall as he unlocks and opens the door. Chris is skipping class or got out early because she starts talking when she sees Dalton. Dalton tries to stop her; his eyes widen as he shakes his head and makes a ‘stop’ motion.

“How’d the gargoyle thing go?” she asks. “What are you doing?”

You walk into the room, your eyes focused on Dalton, and Chris apologizes silently before leaving. When the door closes, you clench your jaw and raise your eyebrows, expecting Dalton to start explaining.

“That was weird. Guess she saw them, too,” Dalton says.

“You’re such a Xanatos!” you accuse, tossing your bag on the floor.

“What?”

“Listen, Dalton,” you say, walking closer so your chests are nearly touching. Pointing at him, you continue, “If I see one more: Hudson, Brooklyn, Lexington, I don’t care if it’s Goliath himself – one more gargoyle and I will show you how much of a David Xanatos I can be. Got it?”

Dalton’s smile grows with each word you say, and he waits for you to finish before saying, “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

“Dalton,” you sigh, dropping your hand.

“Okay, okay.” Dalton grabs your hand and waits for you to look into his eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken it so far.”

“It’s fine. I’m glad you feel like pranking someone after everything you’ve been through this year, but you’re right: it was too far. No more gargoyles?” You hold your hand out to shake, offering forgiveness and a truce.

“No more gargoyles,” Dalton agrees, shaking your hand. “For now.”

You groan before asking if you should find Chris to get dinner together. Dalton nods and turns to grab his keys as you head toward the door. When you open the door, a gargoyle is sitting directly across the hall, and you stare at it until Dalton walks up behind you. You can feel him tense against your back as you block the doorway. Turning, you can see the confusion on his face. Assuming Chris did it, you decide to mess with Dalton. He looks down at you, an apology on the tip of his tongue that never makes it out.

Grabbing his collar, you pull Dalton down to your level and kiss him. He freezes, so you smile against his lips and raise onto your tiptoes to get closer. It takes a moment, but he remembers how to move and kisses you back, but you’re pulling back and straightening his collar. Dalton attempts to grab your waist and kiss you again, properly this time, but you step back and smile.

“We’re dressing up as Goliath and Demonia now,” you tell him, walking away.

Dalton watches you for several steps and then closes the door as he calls, “You said that like it’s supposed to be a punishment!”

He jogs to catch up, wrapping his arm around you again as he thinks maybe being compared to David Xanatos wasn’t such a bad thing.

#fluentmoviequoterfictober23 #dalton lambert x reader #dalton lambert fluff #dalton lambert fic #dalton lambert imagine #dalton lambert #insidious #insidious the red door #fem!reader #disney gargoyles #david xanatos

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nine-of-words · 5 months

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Something Borrowed (Part Eight)

M Gargoyle x M Reader

PREVIOUS || STORY TAG || NEXT

Wordcount: 7843

Content Warnings: Discussion of a Breakup, Minor Knife Injury, Blood, Ophidiophobia, Non-Denominational Exorcism, Near Death Experience

Another update, another part that I let get out of hand on the wordcount. A slower part this time, at least up until the end. Just a few more parts to go now, and this story will actually be finished! :’)

The next week is, dare you say it, pleasant.

You don't want to jinx anything… but you think you might even be…

Happy?

It's a strange, foreign feeling, after spending so long licking your wounds and wallowing in your misery. It's just been so long since you've had hope for the future, that you almost forgot how light it felt. How good.

Sure, you're still cursed, but it seems trivial at this point. You've been talking to Carlyle every day like normal, and you even still saw him for his Tuesday work order, with seemingly no ill effects.

You might as well be dating already, really. Maybe that defeats the purpose of not labeling it, to be thinking that way? But it's such a nice thought, you just can’t stop yourself.

You'd just… like to be able to actually call him your boyfriend soon…

You find yourself planning future dates in the back of your mind as you go through the motions of serving your line of midday Saturday customers.

As if summoned by the strength of your daydreaming, the man in question appears at the threshold of your shop with the tinny jingle of the bell, not even a full hour later.

He came to see you? You weren’t expecting him at all today, but it’s certainly a welcome surprise. You feel your skin flush slightly around your cheekbones and ears, your heartbeat picking up at the mere sight of him.

What really catches your eye is the change in his wardrobe. You’ve only ever seen him in- and technically out of- a suit so far. He's comparatively dressed down for the weekend in a pink polo and khakis, but still impeccably neat and put together.

It’s a silly thing to get flustered over, you know it, but you catch yourself feeling giddy over seeing a new side of him. It’s amusing that even on a weekend, he’s still dressed like he’s going to walk into an office and not look out of place.

“I didn’t know you were planning on coming in today.” You beam at him when his position in line finally reaches the counter.

“Ah, I wish it was only for a social call. I’d love to spend the whole weekend with you if I could.” He sighs, the way his lips curl up at the edges making it clear he’s being genuine. “But I’m actually here on business, I suppose you could say. I wanted to make sure I said hi to you first, though. Seems rude to not.”

“...Hi.” You chuckle, nodding to his chest. “Some sort of business-casual business, it looks like?”

“Yes. Am I underdressed for this fine establishment?”

“Lady’s name, no-” You almost purr, your voice dripping with affection. “You clean up so bloody well, even out of a suit. I don’t know what else I expected.”

“Hah, you really know how to make a guy feel handsome.”

You're cherishing the pleased look on Carlyle's face from the compliment, until the sound of a customer who's gotten into line behind your not-quite-boyfriend-yet discreetly clears their throat.

Time to stop flirting and get back to work.

“Anything I could get for you?”

“Mmm. The usual is always appreciated.” He nods towards the table you had your first real conversation at, months ago now. “But I can see you're busy, so take as long as you need. I'll be over there.”

You somehow manage to get back to work, though the distraction makes it difficult, with how often you sneak a glance over at him.

You’re struggling to focus on decorating a cake that’s due later today when another (not unwelcome) distraction appears.

“I’m heeeeeeere~!!!” Kirby waves at you with a wide grin, then turns their attention towards where Carlyle is seated. “Oh good- you’re here already!! Punctual.”

In an effort to get your case finally solved, Kirby has been coming into your shop on Saturdays as well, despite it technically being one of their days off.

Seeing that you’re busy with a line, and clearly having some other pressing business, they take a seat at the table with Carlyle instead of their currently occupied, normal spot at the counter.

You'd be lying if you said it didn't make you feel a bit left out.

Thankfully for you, your shop is small enough for the conversation to carry on its own. Not that you’re actively trying to eavesdrop- though, given Kirby's glaring lack of an inside voice, you can't imagine a scenario where you'd have any trouble hearing their side of the conversation regardless.

“If this curse presents so much like poltergeist activity, why not contact a witch for assistance? Assumingly they’d be able to perform an exorcism.”

“Geeeeeez, why didn’t I think of that??” The faun slaps their hand to their forehead with a completely dumbstruck look on their face. “Sorry I just finished my first training lesson yesterday, so I guess I don’t have the hang of all this magic stuff yet, haha!”

“I feel like you’re being disingenuous.” Carlyle smirks, faint enough that you wouldn’t have noticed if you haven’t pored over his face quite a bit so far.

“Of course I tried to get a witch in here! I do actually know what I’m doing, you know. There’s no Bureau-sanctioned Witch Inquisitors available for months for ‘non-essential’ cases. Supposedly exploding cakes aren’t considered, like, a meaningful enough threat??? Exploding. Cakes. SUPPOSEDLY.” Kirby pointedly rolls their eyes. “I can’t just mark this unresolved and move on! There is clearly something wrong here! And there’s just. No. Way. I’m gonna leave him out to dry like that!”

You have to admit, overhearing that puts an instant smile on your face. You consider yourself lucky to have been assigned someone so invested in solving your case, let alone one that has become such a good friend to you.

Carlyle hums in approval as well.

“But HQ is all the way up my ass about this now because of it! The max time estimate for this sort of case is a month! It's been four!"

"That's not that bad of a timeline, honestly-"

"Aaaaargh! You people are all the same!" They grasp their head in their hands in despair, smooshing their ears flat, curls trembling like quivering leaves.

"You people?" Carlyle scoffs incredulously.

"Yeah, buddy! Lawyers!! You say like, two whole sentences to a judge and then go on a three hour recess! Some magi have to do actual field work, y’know!"

“Right, right.” Carlyle chokes back a laugh behind a closed fist under the guise of clearing his throat.

“When I say I’ve looked into everything I could think of, I mean everything. Investigated his ex- nothing. Mana type doesn’t match, and I pulled his bank statements and there’s no questionable activity that could be paying off a witch to do it. Unless he managed to SECRETLY pay someone with a wheelbarrow full of gold that never touched a bank; not him. Ex clients? I went back as far as his records went and then some! Nothing there either. And the exorcism potentially being faulty theory didn’t go anywhere either, all the paperwork’s there, even if the vibe in here is so off. I’m like, fully out of leads. It’s not a normal curse. I’m starting to think it’s not even a curse at all!! And it’s not a poltergeist- or a regular spirit, even- But it’s something. So what the hell is it?”

“Well, I’m sure we’ll come up with something.” Carlyle picks up another set of clipped papers from the table and starts skimming over them. “Two heads being better than one and all.”

Kirby simply groans, setting their forehead on the table with a dull thump.

It goes on like that for a while, with Carlyle reading in relative quiet aside from the odd question, which a deflated Kirby then answers.

“Well, you’re correct about it not seeming to be a normal curse, that much is certain. It could potentially be an unconventional sort of a geas- given the wording of the note it could constitute a very loose contract; But it’s unlikely if you have looked this far in and still haven’t found the source, even if you were looking for a curse at that point. …And I suppose we can’t completely rule out a poltergeist, either, until we get a witch in here. Even if the first ritual was performed correctly, there’s always the chance something changed.”

“Mhmm.”

“I know someone that can do an exorcism. I could call them, but they’re not exactly Bureau-affiliated. They have a license, of course- I suppose you could call them self-taught…”

“At this point I don’t care if their license is written in CRAYON, as long they’re legit!!”

The line is finally non-existent and the decorating is finished, so you swing by the table; sparkling juice for Kirby, coffee for Carlyle in his mug.

"Hey… How's it coming along?"

"Heeeeey." Kirby replies in a dull, muffled facsimile of their normal bright tone, forehead still planted against the tabletop.

"Oh, As well as it can be. Thanks for asking." Carlyle smiles at you warmly over the sheaf of papers he’s holding, loafered foot bobbing restlessly where it's crossed over his knee.

The papers he’s holding don’t even begin to account for the stacks in front of them, the entire tabletop covered with stacks of documents to the point you’re not even sure where you’re going to set down the beverages you’re holding.

“So, I take it the Bureau's taking volunteers now?”

“In an unofficial capacity.” Carlyle smirks and, mercifully seeing your predicament, starts carving out a space in the cluttered hoard of paper for the mug to go.

“I called him, I hope you don’t mind!!” Kirby chirps and finally lifts their head, looking a little brighter as they take their beverage. “I thought the extra help might be just what we need and he’s got just different enough of a specialty to offer some really good insight.”

“Good idea. I can’t think of two people I’d mind less digging around in my business.” You chuckle.

You take a seat and chat a little longer while you can, before a small end-of-day rush comes through and you’re once again forced to actually do your job.

Closing time comes and passes, and Kirby leaves for the night not longer after, with only Carlyle remaining in the front still poring over documents after close, with your blessing. You’re basically finished cleaning up the back for the night when you hear a knock of stone knuckles on the wooden door frame over the music you’ve been singing along to off-key.

Carlyle’s leaning slightly against the frame with a warm smile on his face. You didn’t even hear him walk up- you have to wonder how long he’s been there watching you work.

“I’ve been waiting to do this all day.” He gently grasps the back of your neck, pressing his lips to your smile and his waist to yours against the counter.

You feel much the same, but as you kiss him there’s a little prick of anxiety at the back of your mind and the faint weight on your chest is hard to ignore. But you find yourself sinking against his body regardless.

“Aah-” You barely get the words out when he trails across your cheek. ”Should we be doing this…?”

“Nothing’s happened yet, right?” The warm breath against your jaw makes it difficult to think about anything else.

The man has a point, and you steer his lips back to yours with renewed vigor.

Your head’s spinning in his heady familiar amber cologne and you’re losing track of time when you’re rudely knocked out of your bliss by a sudden noise.

CLANK-

Carlyle lurches back, and then there’s a loud metallic clatter on the tile. Your eyes follow the movement, seeing the shiny silver blur of an overturned cooking pot on the floor.

“Blazes- Carlyle!” You push off of the counter and raise your hands, ready to help in whatever way you can. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah- I must’ve caught that hanger with my horn, or something.” Carlyle winces sheepishly, rubbing the crown of his head and looking up at the metal overhead utensil hanger.

“Do you need some ice? Or-”

“No. No real harm done.” He waves the thought off with his other hand.

“If you’re sure.” You furrow your brow, holding his hand when he lowers it.

“Mmh… It is getting late though, so I suppose that’s my cue to make myself scarce. I still have some documents to read to get up to speed with your case, anyway.”

He sighs, rubbing your palm with his thumb.

“Right…”

“Unless you want me to stay. You know all you have to do is say the word.”

“...No, as much as I’d like that, you probably shouldn’t. I have a lot of orders going out early tomorrow morning and I’ll be too distracted to sleep if you stay, I think.”

You smile as you see him out, but you can’t help but feel lonely when you go to bed by yourself that night.

You need this curse to be lifted, so you can really be together.

A few weekends into this new routine, Kirby shows up early on Saturday morning, within minutes of your switching the open sign on.

“Morning. You’re here early! Not that I mind.” You quip happily, finishing the icing job on the last cupcake from the current batch for the case.

“Yeah… Hahah… About that- Okay. Soooooo. Don’t be mad... But I have some bad news.”

“Bad news…?” You wipe your hands on your apron in more of a nervous fidget than anything. “...Cupcake level bad news?”

“Uh-huh. I didn’t want to break it to you over the phone, y’know?”

You fetch two cupcakes from the case- one of each of your preferred flavors. Sure, it’s before noon, but you think you’ll both need it, if the news is that dire.

“So, I just got out of a meeting with my boss and I’m… Sorta kinda…” They wince and twirl their lowest hanging curl around their finger, stalling. “Maybe… Officially no longer working on your case? Because it's closed?”

They then immediately shove their cupcake into their mouth, taking nearly an entire half of the baked good off in one stress-fueled bite.

“...What?” When you manage to break your stunned silence and plop down onto the stool behind you, your voice is barely more than a hoarse croak. You nearly drop your cupcake, instead deciding to set it back down on the wrapper, any appetite you had suddenly gone.

You can feel tears starting to prick at the back of your eyes, not just from sadness but the pure embarrassment of being this affected by this news. You manage to hold them back, barely, but it’s difficult.

But what are you going to do now? You’re simply doomed to stay cursed forever? Nothing you tried on your own fixed it, and now even the professionals are leaving you out to dry, too?

Just accept you’re unfixable?

Now, when you actually have something to lose again?

“Aw, don’t look so sad!! I… I kinda knew this was coming. I couldn’t convince my boss to keep it open any longer since the investigation wasn’t going anywhere- But I’m NOT giving up on you! I’m still going to work on your case on my off time! I’m not stopping until this is fixed, I promise!!”

“Are you… even allowed to do that?” You say, only a hair's breadth away from sniveling.

“Pfft, who cares?! What’re they gonna do, fire me for working MORE? For FREE??” They shake their head, laughing and shrugging. “Nope! I’m too valuable for that, trust me!”

Any signs of worry that were showing through the cracks when Kirby first came in have been immediately banished, but you’re familiar enough with them now to notice that they’re merely squashing them down to support you, rather than the doubt being completely gone on their end.

“You don’t have to do that for me…” You laugh and wipe the corner of your eye, trying to maintain some of your composure. “I wouldn’t want you to overwork yourself because of me…”

“Haha- Yeah I do! That’s how this friendship thing works, if you’re not familiar! Sorry, not sorry.”

They’ve managed to cheer you up to the point of near-normalcy, distracting you with all the details of their most recent disastrous hookup, when your first real customer of the day comes in.

Devin walks in with her typical dreamy smile and if she notices the lingering vestiges of despair in the room, she’s acting blissfully unaware.

“Good morning!” She greets you as she approaches the counter, giving Kirby a friendly wave.

“Morning, Devin! Did you have an order in? I know you normally like to put it in beforehand, and I haven’t heard the order chime go off.” You double-check the datapad to confirm, but there’s nothing there.

She looks at you like a deer in headlights for a moment.

“...Oh, duh! I knew I forgot to do something before I walked here-” She exclaims, pulling out her device out of the pocket of her flowy, oversized, open-knit sweater. “I’ve got the list right here though. I don’t mind waiting.”

“Sure. It’s no problem.”

Luckily for you, after you’ve introduced them, Kirby manages to mostly keep her distracted while you package the order, in their typical social butterfly fashion.

“So I heard you’re getting married! That must be sooo exciting!!”

She goes on to talk about the wedding preparations, at great length and wandering detail.

“Oh- Oh- While I’m thinking about it! On your RSVP, you checked the +1 box, but you didn’t write a name down. I wanted to make sure I checked in so I can send the finished list to the calligrapher! I don’t want anyone to feel left out.”

“Sorry- it must've slipped my mind.” You try not to wince as you slide her order across the counter to her. You meant to ask Carlyle, who you’re beyond sure would escort you, but you’re too worried that would be too obviously dating for whatever arcane laws dole out curse-based punishments. “I’ll message it to you after work, if that’s okay?”

“Sure, that’s fine.” She gives you a wide, radiant grin, the pink boxes of cupcakes practically vibrating in her hands from the wiggling. “Ahhh, I’m so excited! It’s not far off now.”

“Nope. Looking forward to it!”

“Me too! You know, you’ve got such great taste, I can’t wait for you to see the flowers we picked. They’re like, the absolute cutest.” Her smile’s replaced with a look of shock, before she checks the time. “Oooh! Here I am gabbing when I’m already running late to set up this party!! Sorry, but I’ve gotta run. See you next time! Nice meeting you, Kirby!”

With that, she scurries out the door, as elegantly as one can scurry holding a box of cupcakes.

“That’s her?” Kirby slaps the countertop in disbelief, tilting their horns towards the door where she just exited..

“That’s her.” You confirm, a bemused smile settling on your lips. “But she’s my friend now, I think? So be nice.”

“I’m always nice! I mean- She’s very pretty and she seems sweet and all but SPIRITS, like-! Really? Your ex has a suuuuper specific type, huh???”

You snort.

“I’m. Just. Saying!! I’d be… very concerned… about mixing up names at the worst possible moment. Y’know?”

You can’t help but let out barely contained string laughs, finally covering your mouth with your hand.

“...You don’t think I’d look better with a septum piercing?”

“Oh honey, NO. No way- Absolutely not! Nothing against them but If you wanna rebel we can get you a different piercing that suits your whole look way better! Or maybe even a tattoo-” Kirby’s giggling transforms into an excited gasp. “We could get matching tattoos!”

“Absolutely! After the wedding, haha- Right now, I’ve gotta focus on what I’m going to do about my plus one situation…”

“Oh yeah? I figured with how well things are going with your dream man that wouldn’t even be a question.”

“Yeah. I want to ask him, but… the curse…? Wouldn’t that be defining things too much? It seems like dangerous territory, doesn’t it?”

“Hhhmm. If it was me, I’d ask him anyway, curse be damned. I’ve told you that from, like, the very beginning.” Kirby props their chin on their hand in thought. “But if you insist on being cautious, I can go with you instead, if you want. I just hate the idea of you having to sit through that alone!!”

“You would?”

“Yeah, of course!! We’ll go and quietly make fun of your ex all night, drinking elven wine on his parents’ tab!” They beam mischievously.

“That sounds like it might make it all bearable. Fun, even.”

“Doesn’t it???”

“Yes. But I do doubt your ability to do anything quietly.”

“Hehehe- You’re not wrong~”

You get back to work feeling a lot less anxious about attending this wedding. If you won’t be taking a date, at least you’ll be there with a friend in your corner.

Carlyle shows up not long after, and as usual, it’s like the weight of the world evaporates momentarily when you see him. This time he’s brought an overnight bag, because you’ve directly asked him to stay over tonight.

This particular Sunday is busy, but that’s expected. You do manage to get drinks out to your volunteer investigators, but you simply don’t have the time to sit and chat today. You’re relieved you already asked Carlyle to stay, at least- you’re sorely in need of some comfort and quality time after today’s blur of activity and emotional drain.

“Need any help?”

You smile at him from your place at the dish tank scrubbing a cake pan, reaching up to wipe your brow on the sleeve.

“No, I should be able to manage on my own. What did you have in mind for tonight?” You ask the gargoyle man as he approaches, trying to mask your weariness.

“Well, the plan was to make you dinner and then we can relax together, if that’s agreeable to you.” You feel his clawed hand gently press to your upper back in support, and you can’t help but cringe internally, knowing how damp with sweat your shirt surely is. “I hope you like pasta.”

“Oooh, that’s agreeable to me, alright. You don’t have any idea how agreeable that sounds.”

“Hahah- I thought you might say that. I’m going to walk to the corner store for the ingredients. Would you like anything specific?”

“No. I should be done tidying up by the time you get back.”

You shake your head and smile, then press a soft kiss to his lips. His hand squeezes the nape of your neck slightly before letting you go.

Conveniently, he's back right as you're finishing your last tasks- or at least the things you can't put off until you're back in the shop.

“Hmmm, it’s been too long since I’ve been up here.” Carlyle remarks happily as he follows you up the stairs to the living floor of your building, holding the brown paper bag of ingredients in one arm.

“I agree- Will you be okay on your own? I’m going to take a quick shower, if you don’t mind.”

“Go ahead. I’m not a professional, but I’m sure I can navigate around a kitchen.”

You rush a bit through your grooming routine, but instead of the usual stress relief, you can’t help but fret about your situation. Is inviting him over too much? He seems so confident that the full wrath of the curse isn’t going to be raining down on you from continuing on like you have, but you get a knot in your stomach every time you think about the potential negative repercussions.

Somehow, you still manage to cleanse yourself of the day, if not your worry.

Renewed dread begins to set in when you begin to rummage through your closet- you’ve been so busy lately and putting off laundry, that all of your clothes that would be acceptable for a casual evening-in are dirty. You consider just wearing your last set of work wear, but that seems uncomfortable. It’s still a bit early to fully kit out in sleepwear…

You can already smell aromatics cooking in the kitchen, so you don’t have much time to deliberate. You swallow your pride and regrettably pull a set of your silk pajamas on.

You walk out into the kitchen to the sound of a pan sizzling and the sink running.

To your relief, Carlyle’s face breaks into an expression of genuine appreciation rather than judgment about your choice in attire when he slightly turns towards you from his place at the sink.

Strangely, he keeps his hands under the water. The scent is a tell-tale acrid compared to before, so you assume that perhaps he needs a hand with the task load. You tilt your head in confusion as you approach, then peek into the pan on the cooktop, seeing that the contents have hopelessly scorched.

“Ah, I wouldn’t-” He abandons the sentence with a bemused sigh, seeing that you’re already picking up the handle and looking into the pan’s contents as you give it a shake. “I’m not usually this incompetent at cooking.”

The knife sits discarded on the cutting board at a haphazard angle. Next to it is a cluster of some sort of foreign object, and the knife has a similar looking coating on the edge. You squint slightly, trying to make out what it is.

It almost looks like tiny shards of glass- pink glass.

Trailing from the cutting board to the sink.

It takes a moment to click in your mind, but when it does, it hits you like a truck. You’re looking at Carlyle’s blood that has solidified into small, ragged gemstones the same color as his horns upon being exposed to the air.

An alarm bell goes off in your mind. You can recognize this now. After making a fool of yourself about his horns, you’ve made a point of reading up on gargoyles since.

“Oh! Carlyle, you’re hurt?!” You immediately remove the pan from the burner completely and turn off the heat, rushing to focus all your attention on him. “What happened?”

“My hand slipped- It’s only a cut. I’ll live, I promise.”

“Here- Let me see.”

You find a clean hand towel. Once he's pulled his hand out of the stream of water, you dry his hand and inspect the damage. A short but deep cut has broken the skin between the base of his index finger and first knuckle. He winces as you put pressure on it to finish stymieing the bleeding.

“How did that knife even cut through your stoneskin? It shouldn’t be that sharp…”

“No idea. But It's not that big of a deal, really.” He says, exasperated- but given the tone of his voice, you think he might actually be enjoying all the doting. “It’s not even that deep.”

You ignore his statement, continuing to fuss over him as you put the butterfly bandage on, even after confirming yourself that it’s only a minor injury.

“So. Takeout?” Carlyle smoothly suggests, patting down his dreadlocks while you kiss the bandage you’ve meticulously placed on his hand.

“You want to stick around after my curse almost chopped off your finger? You’re a mighty brave soul.”

“It’s not your fault. Accidents happen.” He shrugs. “Realistically, we don’t even know if it’s related…”

“...Yeah…” You agree, but you don’t believe it yourself. You’d be gnawing every fingernail you had down to nubs if you were alone right now.

His non-bandaged hand comes to rest on your jaw, gently tilting your head so your sightline is on him.

“I get the feeling you don’t believe me. That’s okay. But even if it’s the curse- I’m not afraid of it.”

Despite his reassurance, you can’t help but feel responsible. How can he be so confident in his safety when there’s this black cloud hanging over everything you touch? When it’s something that’s obviously- at least to you- threatening his wellbeing?

Maybe if you were present it wouldn’t have happened?

…Though at this point, you’re starting to suspect it might’ve been worse if you were present.

You just hope if it is a side effect of your curse, and not your imagination, that nothing more serious happens.

About another week later, it’s a slow Sunday evening for your shop and it’s finally the day Carlyle’s witch contact is due to show up. It’s just after close and only you, Carlyle and Kirby are still lingering around the counter- waiting for this mystery woman who may or may not be able to provide some better insight about what’s afflicting you, even if it’s only by ruling out what it’s not.

Finally, a figure shows up on the other side of the shop window, testing the door before finding it unlocked and letting themself in. In walks a pink-skinned Elven cambion in a bell-sleeved black tea dress and heeled booties, complete with slouchy, pointed hat, and a near-bursting bag slung over her shoulder. The spade of her tail looks like a heart.

That’s a textbook witch, if you’ve ever seen one.

“Rosario.” Carlyle smirks at her playfully in greeting, confirming your suspicion.

“Carlyle."

“Nice hat.”

“Bureau typically doesn’t like it when you perform witchcraft on the public without the fitting uniform.” She frowns deeply, pointedly looking at Kirby. “So. Hat it is.”

“Well, at least someone besides Carlyle cares about regulations!” Kirby giggles, letting the potential slight glance right off them, and producing a business card that they hand to her. “Kirby. Cursebreaker. Bureau apologist.”

She takes the card and her nose scrunches up in disdain.

“You’re not going to be insufferable about this, are you?”

“Hhmmmm. That compleeeeetely depends on what you define as insufferable!” They grin brightly, and with their tone you wouldn’t be surprised if you saw them start batting their eyes next. “I’m here to support my friend. So, as long as your methods aren’t going to do harm and you don't do anything I'm like, super-duper mandated to report? Probably not. Though I've been told my voice can be very grating~!”

“Thank fuck.” She whips the witch hat off her head, leaving her crown-shaped horns and deep magenta braided-up hair uncovered, then shoving the offending black fabric into Carlyle’s hands.

“Right, I'm glad you've both decided to be adults about this and we’ve cleared that up before it could become an issue.” Carlyle nods in diplomatic approval, holding out a hand to direct Rosario's attention to you for a proper introduction, which he gives with such an unabashed tone of pride in his voice when he says your name that it makes your knees feel like they’re suddenly made of jelly. “This is your client for today.”

“Nice to meet you, Rosario.”

She hums in response, not even trying to hide the subtle pink glow in her eyes as she magically assesses you and the shop around you. Then, she gently brings her fingers to her brow in bewildered vexation.

“Well, if the horrible miasma permeating this whole place is any indication, I have a lot of work to do.”

“First, er… Would you like a cupcake?” You say, a bit more shakily than usual as you engage your typical ploy in endearing people to you upon first meeting.

“...Sure.”

She selects a blackout cupcake, which you have to admit, suits her whole aesthetic quite well.

She eats it in the most expressionless way you’ve ever seen a person eat a baked good in all the time you’ve been baking professionally. Thankfully Carlyle and Kirby are chatting in the background, otherwise the weight of the silence mixed with Rosario’s completely unmoved expression might make you actually go mad.

You briefly consider changing the name of the cupcake flavor she’s selected to ‘horrible miasma’, but ultimately decide against it.

“So, how do you and Carlyle know each other?” You crack under the pressure and attempt to make small talk.

Her eyes dart to Carlyle for a moment, but he’s caught up talking to Kirby about prepping the space for the ritual, and so she makes an executive decision on how to answer herself.

“Similar interests. Multiple.”

She does not elaborate.

“...Right. Thank you for coming, by the way, you’re really a lifesaver.” You move towards the till. “What do I owe you, by the way? Carlyle didn’t mention payment.”

“He already paid me. Don’t worry about it.”

“Ah, I was worried you’d say that.” You say sheepishly. “He’s so hard-headed. Here, I’ll pay you and you can refund him, maybe?”

“No- That’s not necessary.” She makes a noise in distaste. “Look. What he paid me with is intangible anyway. It wasn’t gold.”

You look at her quizzically. You’ve decided to let it go, but after she chews a bite of cupcake in thought, she seemingly decides to answer to dispel your curiosity.

“Furniture set.”

“Pardon?”

“He had a furniture set I wanted. A limited one that doesn’t get released anymore. The full set.”

For the first time since she’s set foot in your shop, Rosario almost seems vulnerable on this topic.

“Oh, the game he plays- You play it too?”

“...Game? Right. Yes. The game. Creature Crossroads. Do you play?”

“No, but I’m thinking about buying one of those little boxes so that Carlyle and I can play together.”

“Cute.”

As she finishes the treat up, you do see a faint smile form before it fades away just as fast. So, you’ll take that as a win.

“Thanks. Let’s get this show on the road, then. …No one’s afraid of snakes, right?”

You and your companions clear the counter, making space for Rosario to set down her bulging bag full of supplies. A pinkish-hued corn snake slithers out of her long sleeve. It doesn’t take long for it to slither up the guardrail of the stairs and out of sight.

In a few minutes, a makeshift altar has been assembled on your shop’s counter, giving you a massive feeling of dissonance, even if it’s charming in its own way. Though, you could perhaps do without the carved animal bones…

Rosario draws a large chalk circle in the middle of the shop floor, punctuating the points of the star with different herbs, crystals, bones, and the like.

Your shop becomes a stage for Rosario methodically going through the steps of a smoky ritual- resin incense burning in a wide, flat ceramic holder in one hand; a dark, shiny blade being sliced through the air in succinct movements in the other. She stops every few steps, clearly severing things you can’t see. She occasionally says something in a firmly projected voice, in a language you don’t know, but sounds sort of like Elvish- not quite though.

Carlyle and Kirby assist within their ability, which mostly involves holding things or moving things, or pointing out areas that are still problems. It’s a painstaking process, and you simply try to stay out of the way while they work.

Magic is such a foreign and slightly intimidating thing for you, being something you don’t have the capability to fully experience. You didn’t even know more magic users than the fingers on one of your hands before you left your home village. Queen’s Isle isn’t known for its plentiful abundance of the magically adept, after all.

Despite that, you find that it has quite a lot of beauty to it. It’s hard not to appreciate the process like you do baking, or any other creative method that still has its rules.

Rosario starts from the top floor and meticulously covers the perimeter of every room, until she’s back at the shop’s front door nearly a full 40 minutes later, assumingly escorting the last of the negative energy out.

“Good news and bad news.” She says in her flat tone, pushing her thick-framed glasses up the bridge of her nose as she brings her equipment back to the counter. “Which do you want first?”

“I think I could use some hope first.” You decide quickly and reply.

“Your problem does seem to be spiritual in nature. And your shop is cleansed. For now.”

“And the bad news…?”

“It’s not going to stay that way as long as you’re here.” Her familiar returns to her, slithering off one of the shelves and onto her arm, where she strokes the snake’s head. “Because it’s not just on you. Whatever it is, it’s weird, and it’s coming from you.”

“But like, how is that even possible, though? He’s a numan. It’s not like he could be a budding sorcerer!!”

“And he’s not shown any signs of possession, either…” Carlyle adds, holding his chin in thought. “I’m not an expert, but if this were a typical possession, you’d think one of us would’ve at least observed the offending spirit by now.”

“Honestly? No clue. Never seen anything quite like it on a blank. But if the source isn’t removed from his person, it’s only going to keep building back up.”

“What does that entail, exactly?” You ask weakly, already feeling a little overwhelmed.

“Personal Exorcism. I can do that too, if you want. But FYI, it’s not what I’d call a pleasant experience. Extra bad if it’s a demon. And you’ll have to be restrained, in case whatever it is tries to take over and cause issues.”

“...Will it hurt?”

“It’s not supposed to. Not corporeal pain, at least.”

Somehow, that does not make you feel better.

But you keep the thought to yourself, instead glancing at Carlyle and then Kirby, seeking reassurance.

“It’s worth a shot. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Yeah! And we’ll be here with you the whoooooole time. Nothing’s gonna hurt you with us here~!”

“Then yes, let’s. I just want this curse gone.” You say, letting out a long breath and harnessing the resolve while you have it.

Rosario nods, and begins renewed preparations by touching up the large chalk circle on the floor in fresh lines, while Carlyle and Kirby find one of the only chairs in the shop that has arm rests and bring it out to the middle of the tile floor, inside the circle.

You enter the chalk circle with Rosario and sit down in the now suddenly ominous chair, your stomach already fittingly tying itself in knots from the building nerves.

You watch intently as Rosario’s hands firmly knot the manila fiber rope around your wrist and to the armrest, one after the other. You can’t see it, obviously, but there’s something else there. You can feel a tingle pricking your skin as her magic is undoubtedly imbued into the material.

Kirby discreetly feels the newly-enchanted rope with their fingertips, and you can see their eyes glow slightly. They’re checking behind her magic, you realize, when the glow dissipates as quickly as it appeared, and they wink at you knowingly.

“Looks good!” They say to Rosario in glowing approval as they leave the circle and head to a safe spot by the counter. “You really know what you’re doing!!”

She simply scoffs in response, stepping away to gather the rest of her tools from the counter and leaving room for Carlyle to step in.

“Not exactly my personal taste…” Carlyle smiles, speaking softly enough only you can hear and clearly trying to break some of the tension by making light of the situation. He tries the rope at your wrist, making sure it’s not too tight. “But I suppose I can still appreciate it.”

It works, and you snort out a laugh, unable to muffle the unflattering noise with your hands incapacitated.

He squeezes your shoulder and leans over to press a kiss to the crown of your head. Then he moves over to join Kirby where they’re standing nearby.

Then it’s just you and Rosario in the circle; you, seated and bound; and her standing in front of you with the dagger that at this point you surmise to be her focus in one hand, and her snake familiar in the other.

Then she starts speaking again, just as firmly and in the same commanding tone as when she was cleansing the space..

It’s a small thing, at first.

Barely a small buzzing in the back of your head.

But it quickly grows into an almost unbearable roar. You screw your face up, turn your shoulders in- anything to try to protect yourself from that horrible rumbling sensation.

An impossible wind picks up in your closed shop, whipping through your hair and buffeting against your face.

But you can’t, because it’s coming from inside.

Even lacking a sense for magic, you can feel the bolts of energy crackle in the air around you.

They were right. It doesn’t hurt, exactly.

But it is a deeply unpleasant sensation.

It feels like something’s being ripped out of you, from the inside. Like velcro being slowly and forcefully parted. That familiar weight in your chest, pressing at your rib cage as it’s pulled from you like a magnet’s on the other side.

Everything’s shaking- the stools at the counter vibrating across the floor, the dishes on the shelves rattling against the secured doors. Even the light fixtures are swaying back and forth, the lights themselves beginning to flicker.

You can barely hear it at first over the sound of arcane activity all around you and Rosario’s frankly booming voice, but somewhere in the maelstrom there’s the piercing sound of metal whining. You’d be plugging your ears if you could, instead grinding your molars at the noise.

Even you can feel it now; the threads holding whatever it is in your chest are starting to fray. All that accumulated magical tension in the air nears its breaking point.

Rosario’s chanting reaches a fever pitch.

Just a little farther. It’ll be over. If you can stand just a bit more-

The rest happens so fast.

A groan of thick metal bending, then a loud-

SNAP-

Your eyes snap open and there’s a blur in the corner of your vision, something of considerable weight falling at speed off to the side, then the sound of glass shattering and metal crunching against the tile.

KKRRRSHH-

Rosario immediately falls silent, and the wind and buzz dies down immediately.

You’re stunned still, but it’s clear what has happened when your brain catches up.

One of the massive overhead industrial lights hanging from your shop's ceiling has fallen, specifically where Carlyle was standing mere moments ago.

You can see Kirby now, unhurt- they’re scrambling to their hooves where they dove out of the way.

…But not Carlyle. He’s nowhere to be seen.

A sense of panic fills you, crushing your heart in a vice grip. The only thing that matters to you is laying eyes on him.

“CARLYLE!!” You all but screech, violently and unthinkingly tugging at the rope, not even noticing the physical discomfort in your desperation to get to him. You’ll gnaw the ropes off yourself with your teeth, if you have to. “L-Let me out!”

Rosario comes to your aid, her expression grim.

“Fuck-” She gets one of your wrists free, then struggles with your bindings while you try to wriggle out of them in a panic. “Hold still, dammit! You’re going to hurt yourself- Ggh-”

Rosario finally manages to get the blade between the rope and your skin, to slice you free. You spring out of the chair and push past her (as politely as possible given the circumstances). The chair overturns and clatters against the floor behind you moments later. Glass shrapnel crunches under your shoes as you run over, but you don’t care.

You reach them just in time to see Carlyle wincing on the floor flat on his back, where he's barely cleared the path of the broken light. His clothes are crumpled, covered with ceiling dust and tiny shards of glass, and one of his horn caps swivels loosely on its base.

Kirby holds Carlyle by the elbow, helping him get to his feet.

Unharmed.

“Good, you're okay too!!” Kirby says. They have a small, superficial cut dotting a line of blood droplets on their forehead, no doubt from the flying shrapnel.

He’s okay. He’s okay. Thank the Lady.

You immediately feel yourself release the breath you’ve been holding, and throw yourself into his arms. You squeeze him so tightly you might bruise yourself against the rigid nature of his body, but you don’t mind. You barely manage to keep from sobbing into his chest, instead grasping the sides of his jaw and peppering kisses onto his face.

“What a fucking mess.” Rosario gripes, rubbing her forehead, her makeup beginning to run at the outer corners of her eyes from sweat.

“Hahah- You can say that again!” Kirby grins at her, but it just makes her grimace harder. There’s a small tremor in their voice despite their calm facade, and they’re probably not fully experiencing the feelings from the event quite yet.

“Ugh. Come here. I have bandaids and disinfectant in my kit.” She says, motioning to her forehead. Kirby then touches their own forehead quickly, smearing the minuscule amount of blood in a streak. “Ugh.”

Rosario and Kirby's conversation continues as they approach the counter and start discussing how to proceed, leaving you to look over Carlyle more closely now that you’ve released him from your vice grip.

He’s screwing his horn cap back on straight by feel, smiling like nothing even happened.

“You did well- kept it together beautifully.” Your eyes meet his. They're warm with affection, even when you can see a few new light scratches gouged into the stone material of his face. “Even if the results weren’t what we hoped.”

Your affliction almost just got him killed.

And yet, he still seems so pleased with you, all the same- Looking at you adoringly like this- Praising you, even!

Such a wonderful, kind person, potentially snuffed from the world just like that, in a freak accident that didn’t even need to happen.

And it would've been your fault.

…The thought makes you sick to your stomach.

“I can't keep doing this- This was too big to brush off-” You blurt out and shake your head wildly, your hands coming to rest on the shoulders of his button up. “I can't let you get hurt because of me!”

“But I’m not hurt. I'm fine.” He says in a soothing voice, squeezing the fingers on one of your hands in an attempt to comfort you. “It's okay.”

“It’s not okay!”

The welling tears threatening to spill over finally breach. Shaking, you force yourself to say what you're thinking before you talk yourself out of it.

You can't be the reason he gets hurt, or worse.

Your tone is deathly serious even as you struggle to choke out the words.

“Carlyle- We can't see each other anymore.”

>> ✨ MASTERLIST >> ☕ KO-FI

#exophilia #monster lover #monster romance #monster x human #monster x reader #gargoyle x reader #gargoyle #male x male #mlm #mxm #male monster #male reader #series: something borrowed #oc: carlyle #oc: declan #nine of words

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