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yaksha-lover · 1 year

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Pink in the Night

i’ve always wanted to write a soulmate au :)

Malleus Draconia x Reader

wc: 5.9k

cw: reader is yuu, major character death, descriptions of violence/injury, mentions of fae heat (brief, sfw), pmmm inspired, yandere-ish

For the first few hundred years of his life, Malleus is convinced he doesn’t have a soulmate. While other children gleefully show off small scrapes and bruises that magically appear on their skin, Malleus’ own remained blemish free. He wonders if perhaps his soulmate is simply being considerate; trying to save him from harm by living a careful life.

He remembers when Silver first got a scrape on his knee, how the seven-year-old had started crying when it appeared. Lilia had consoled him and taken care of the injury, telling his son what it meant. By the end, young Silver had shed tears of excitement for the future.

A bittersweet feeling climbed Malleus’ throat at Lilia’s words to his son - fate, destiny, soulmates - it seemed the world had simply forgotten about him. Perhaps that was his destiny: to rule Briar Valley undistracted and alone, concentrating only on his kingdom. While uncommon, it wasn’t impossible - there certainly existed some unlucky enough to be born without one.

Five hundred years later and the time in which Malleus wished for a soulmate has long passed. The thought rarely crossed his mind anymore - it was no different than any other loneliness he’d felt it in his life. Unlike other children, he’d grown up without his parents. Just the same, he’d do fine without a soulmate.

The morning of NRC’s orientation on his third year, Malleus feels a sharp scratch on his arm, like that of the cat which had scratched him as a child when attempting to flee his touch. It’s faint and quick, and his fae blood means any visible mark is gone within a second. Malleus pulls down his sleeve anyway, eyes scrolling over the area of his wrist where he’d felt it. His pale flesh is as unblemished as ever; he almost feels like he’s hallucinated it.

The feeling leaves him in thought and he decides to take a walk on campus. Absorbed by the morning’s events, Malleus barely takes notice of the bustling of the students around him, all preparing for something he can’t quite remember; he makes a note to ask Lilia about it later.

Malleus walks until that the sky darkens into a deep azure. The tranquility of nature is soothing to him; he feels like just another one of the trees. The birds chirp freely in his presence, uninhibited by fear or distaste. Eventually he runs into Shroud, talking to himself in the courtyard. Malleus is almost pleased at the encounter: him and his fellow dorm leader seeking to find peace in similar ways.

The pleasantries are quickly dispelled when he realizes Idia is dressed in his black ceremonial robes. Malleus is confused, and Shroud quickly becomes defensive when he questions his choice. He does not struggle with the idea for too long. Malleus figures that perhaps there are things that fae and humans simply cannot understand about each other.

His day is quickly soured when Lilia informs him that he’s missed the school’s ceremony again. The distraction of another lost opportunity means he forgets all about the strange incident from the morning.

Time passes quickly for Malleus, it always has. He blinks and Heartslabyul’s dorm leader has overblotted. He blinks again and another Spelldrive tournament approaches.

Another late night, Malleus escapes Diasomnia dorm to take a walk by himself. He only has so long before Sebek realizes he is gone, so the prince makes haste to his usual spot.

Ramshackle reminds him of why he enjoys nature: it is another place where Malleus can simply exist amongst the gargoyles, where his presence causes no disturbance and nothing to change. It seems this kind of peace can only exist for him in places abandoned by others.

The solitude he’s enjoyed so long is shattered when this time, the dorm is not empty. A child of man walks out from the gates of the dorm, rubbing their eyes and dressed in simple clothing.

You seem as surprised to see him as he is by you. It catches Malleus even further by surprise that you do not cower at his appearance.

You offer your name, and Malleus finds it unusual. He is certainly well read, having been educated on all major parts of the world since he was a child (it wouldn’t do well for a prince to be aware of only his own kingdom), and yet, he has never heard of your name. He doesn’t dwell on the details, certainly it could be the mistake of the outdated nature of Briar Valley’s texts.

Malleus decides not to offer you his own name. He wonders if perhaps keeping it to himself would help maintain the serenity of Ramshackle; without his name, perhaps you will still treat him as just another person. He silently mourns the loss of this space, and vows to find more ruins in which he can find peace.

The next time Malleus sees you, you call him ‘Tsunotaro,’ and he laughs for the first time in a while. He’d thought maybe you were bluffing last time, pretending not to know who he really was. Your bravery to call him by this nickname is delightfully baffling.

You tell him about Azul and the contract, and Malleus almost feels sorry for how pitiful and doe-eyed you look. It’s not as though he can’t understand the sentiment. In a way, he’s grown fond of Ramshackle too. He leaves you with words of encouragement and disappears into the night.

Three days later, Malleus drops to his knees in his room, feeling like his bones are being crushed into dust. The pressure is so overwhelming he passed out.

He awakens on the bed of his room, with Sebek standing by his bedside. As soon as the half-fae sees his eyes flutter, Sebek is yelling out for Lilia and Silver to come. Malleus groans at Sebek’s loudness and lightly chastises him. He immediately apologizes in a softer tone as the two others come rushing in.

The prince moves his arms and legs, relieved to find them in tact. Although he feels sore, his bones and tissue are not fractured and split as he worried. He wonders if he’s dreamt the pain; it feels like a distant memory. The only thing that remains is a sort of empty pit in his stomach, but he supposes it’s likely because he hasn’t eaten. Lilia checks up on Malleus, pressing his small hand to his forehead.

‘Strange’, his guardian remarks. ‘A fae’s first heat is often painful, but it shouldn’t have been for someone like you. Well, at least it seems you slept through the worst of it.’

Malleus isn’t sure what it should feel like, but the crushing of bones definitely seems extreme. Still, he accepts Lilia’s explanation for his condition easy enough. He retained no actual injury, so there doesn’t seem to be any explanation other than his own body.

When Malleus feels well enough to return to his duties as housewarden, Lilia explains the situation he had been hiding from Malleus while he was in his incapacitated state.

It seems Ashengrotto was more dangerous than Malleus gave him credit for. Kingscholar and a few other students had stopped his overblot, but during the fight, destruction to the nearby dorm building caused a student to be crushed and killed.

Lilia explains the chaos that the school has been thrown into while he’s been asleep, the attempt at damage control by Crowley, and Azul’s further breakdown once he’d realized what he’d done.

Ashengrotto was hardly Malleus’ favourite fellow housewarden, but his situation was terribly sad. He knew, despite his greediness and flaws, that Azul was not a bad person.

As he walks around campus, the courtyard is empty of students. Malleus loves the quiet, but not like this. This kind of quiet is constrictive, like oxygen has left the air and Malleus can no longer breathe. He spots a single student walk down the hall, so distracted that he fails to even notice Malleus as he walks past.

The next few days pass in a similar silence. It seems even those who did not know the student who was killed are shaken by the event. Ashengrotto has left the school and gone home; Malleus isn’t sure if it was by choice or not.

Lilia encourages Malleus to attend the vigil for the student who died, stating his attendance to be important both as a housewarden and the future king of Briar Valley.

The two of them walk to the vigil, accompanied by Silver and Sebek. Malleus is so lost in thought that he doesn’t realize they’ve walked the path to Ramshackle dorm.

It’s then that he spots the giant picture of you, printed on a canvas, set in front of the dorm gates. You smile in the picture, but he can tell you were caught off guard by whoever took the picture. It’s not unflattering, but he’s surprised they chose that one. It seems more like a causal picture taken by a friend than one meant for a funeral. When he asks Cater later on, he’ll learn it was one of the few anyone had of you. The picture is surrounded by white candles, probably twenty or so.

Blue hair catches his eye and Malleus notices the two freshman boys he’d occasionally spot with you standing off to the side of the portrait. The redhead keeps his gaze cast down, but the blue-haired boy is unable to keep the tears from spilling down his cheeks. Malleus imagines if he was any closer, he’d be able to hear the soft sobs spill from his lips.

Malleus doesn’t realize he’s stopped walking until Lilia is ushering him quietly to stand behind the crowd. At his height, he’s still able to see over the rest of the students. A blur of grey flashes by his eyes as something runs between legs to the front of the crowd.

Grim sits frozen at the bottom of your portrait for a moment, the rest of the students going silent as they watch him. Malleus notices Leona standing off to the side of the crowd beside Ruggie, the two of them looking as glum as he’s seen; it’s strange for him to see the prince without his usual smirk or sneer.

The cry that breaks the silence a moment later replays in Malleus’ head for days. Grim’s grief at your death haunts him; the more he remembers it, the more the pit in his stomach grows.

It’s the pity that sets Malleus on his next decision. This experience, this loss the campus has faced has undeniably changed things. He feels sorry for you and your friends, of course, but mostly Malleus hates the silence he can no longer escape.

Malleus doesn’t bother telling Lilia; his guardian would likely try to stop him, but Malleus knows he’s in no danger. His grandmother had given him the magic shield only because she knew he could handle it.

The prince straps the small, metal shield to his wrist, before spinning it’s round edges until it aligns with his designated mark.

Malleus finds himself two days before Azul’s overblot. He knows he’ll have to do something before his heat becomes too much of an issue for him to intervene. The fae sneaks away from his guards in the middle of the night to place magic-resistance charms on the Octavinelle building; he hopes it’ll be enough to prevent your death and all its fallout.

The next two days play out just as before. Malleus finds this part of time-hopping quite tedious; the repetitive nature of reliving the same days over and over again. Although he supposes it isn’t much different than how he normally feels through the school year. Without extra events to attend, his routine is rather simple. Unchanging, even. That is the life of a fae as old as him; every day feels the same.

Some minor things feel a bit different than before: Malleus hadn’t remembered Kingscholar glaring at him from across the hall the last time around. The behaviour isn’t unusual for Leona, so Malleus doesn’t think too hard about it.

Malleus mentions to Lilia about his ‘bad feeling’ regarding Ashengrotto; he hopes it will be enough to entice him to keep watch of the situation while Malleus is forced to stay in his room and face his heat.

The prince waits in his room, staring at his stone ceiling. He anticipates the pain, but as the sky turns dark and his room is only lit by candlelight, nothing comes. His bones do not crush and his head does not splinter. He wonders if he’s made a mistake; could casting a simple spell and telling Lilia about the incident change enough to not have his heat come?

Malleus goes to see you once more after Ashengrotto is dealt with. He doesn’t expect to feel so…strange seeing you alive again. You thank him for the advice he’d never intended, but he can’t help but feel an unusual happiness at hearing you bring up the gargoyles.

He doesn’t see you for a while after that, but it’s difficult not to think of you. Things become busy, and so he sends you a holiday card to make up for his lack of visits. He feels oddly upset at your lack of reply. Perhaps you’ve discovered his identity and no longer wish…Malleus perishes the thought and resolves himself to return to your dorm when he can.

The next time you meet, snow covers the ground around Ramshackle. Something else has changed too; you look happy. He finds that the faint red that dusts your cheeks and nips at your nose… it becomes you.

When you pass him the tickets, Malleus starts to hear his pulse ring in his ears. Surely he’s misunderstood your intent? Your casual demeanour does nothing to quell his surprise.

Malleus composed himself before thanking you and promising to attend. He goes back to Diasomnia and makes Sebek vow to ensure he makes it there. He hates to use the half-fae’s devotion for his personal needs, but Malleus refuses to disrespect you by failing to attend the first event he’s been personally invited to since coming the NRC.

There’s still days before the event, but Malleus can’t stop thinking about the encounter. He is…ambivalent about you. In a way, you’ve given him hope and that is much worst than those like Kingscholar who outright reject his presence. You don’t know him, and so you do not fear him. Is it truly possible that his name and his position is all that keeps others away? Or perhaps you are special; Malleus allows himself to believe for a moment that you might accept him anyway, before banishing the thought to somewhere it will not harm him.

The day of the SDC, Sebek reminds him repeatedly of it’s time, and insists on guiding him to the event. Malleus declines Sebek’s request when he happens to feel a dull pain shoot against his shoulder, like he’s been hit by something heavy. He checks his body but no bruise colours his skin. Still, Malleus grows increasingly restless as he wonders, so decides to head over early.

This time, he watches your death in real time.

Schoenheit’s overblot form rages above you all. Malleus approaches the group, intending to step in, but sees the release of the poison mist a second too late. As the purple haze consumes your body, Malleus feels an uncomfortable feeling in his chest. When you fall to the ground, he feels his limbs grow weak and heavy. Suddenly, any pain is gone, and you have grown still.

The others are distracted by subduing Vil, not yet noticing your fallen form behind them. Malleus approaches you silently, and his stomach begins to turn the closer he gets. When he catches sight of the blood trailing down your left shoulder, he does not stop to help the students that now call his name.

Malleus turns his shield and he’s back in his room. He’s left himself a couple days before the SDC, just enough time to fix things.

Malleus wonders if you have any idea that he is your soulmate. He wonders how you would feel. Pleased? Ambivalent? Afraid?

He pauses on the last possibility and stays there until he is overwhelmed by a tight feeling in his stomach.

Part of him is angry as well. Malleus is one of the most powerful mages in this world, but the universe has decided his fate was to be bonded to a fragile human, and a magicless one at that.

He dismisses the thought as soon as it comes. No, it all makes sense. Malleus is strong precisely because you are weak; he was made to keep you safe, to protect you from anything that would seek to harm you. He knows that now.

If destiny has ensured you be bonded together, he will ensure it is forever.

Malleus sees you again, but now he only watches from afar. It’s strange to see you in this new light.

You are his soulmate. Someone the universe designed for him; someone who would be forced to accept him.

He casts a spell of invisibility as he approaches you, sitting outside Ramshackle with Grim. The two of you bicker gently, but Malleus is too focused on his goal to really notice. He casts charms of protection and invulnerability on you, and slips away as quickly as he can.

Malleus intends to leave, but he’s held in place by the sound of your laughter; it rings free and clear. He flees the scene before he can think too long about why the sound replays in his mind.

When the day of the SDC finally comes once again, Malleus is sure to enter the stadium early enough to sit in the shadows in case he needs to intervene.

His protection spells work as intended, and he only reveals itself when it’s time to reconstruct the stadium - he still has a show to watch, after all.

The others’ shock at your friendliness with him is quite amusing. Malleus imagines the surprise they’d feel if they knew you were his soulmate too.

Although he hadn’t really wanted to do it this way, Malleus figured that it’s necessary to reveal his real identity to you now; if you are to be his forever, there’s no reason to spare you the details.

Your continued use of the former nickname you’d given him pleases Malleus. It confirms to him what he’d believed - soulmates were obligated to love each other, no matter what. Even the fearful reactions of your friends did not serve to deter you from him. How could they? The two of you were meant to be.

In the days following the SDC, Malleus contemplates how to tell you that the two of you are soulmates. The matter is rather delicate and although the two of you are in a good place, he’d rather not reverse his progress.

He decides to consult Lilia, who is both surprised and overjoyed when Malleus shares the news. His guardian advises him not to rush into things, but rather to begin a courting process before revealing the truth, so as to not scare you away. Unfortunately, Malleus doesn’t have much experience in the area.

His first strategy is one traditional of his family; the giving of gifts over a period of seven days. Malleus sends letters back to Briar Valley to bring him the most expensive and desirable collection of jewelry and artifacts in the royal family’s care. Malleus’ grandmother writes back in congratulations and sends what he requested.

Unfortunately, he failed to account for the cultural differences between fae and humans. One night as he stops to chat with you outside Ramshackle, you pull out one of the gifts he’d left at your doorstep: an ancient necklace, said to be blessed by the original thorn fairy herself.

Malleus prepares himself to finally reveal the truth to you, excited that you’ve finally acknowledged his courting.

Then you tell him that you’re afraid you have a stalker and ask if he’s seen anyone lurking around Ramshackle, claiming that ‘cursed’ objects have been left anonymously at your doorstep.

Malleus takes a moment to compose himself (it’s a little rude of you to call his gift ‘cursed’) before promising to keep a look out.

He goes to Silver that very night to ask him about human courting rituals. Silver explains the concept of ‘dating’ to Malleus, and that night, the prince asks you to accompany him to dinner at the Mostro Lounge.

Malleus feels the excitement bloom in his chest when, after walking you home from dinner, you ask him to attend a play with you the following week.

The two of you go on many dates, until he’s begun spending the free time he has at Ramshackle.

Sitting on your couch, he makes a mental note to make renovations to some of the older furniture when he has a chance. He’d like to preserve the ruins look of the building, but not at the cost of your discomfort.

The doorbell rings, and you’re jumping off the couch to answer the door. Ace and Deuce stand outside with bags of snacks in hand. They smile at you, but just a bit of that happiness drops at the sight of him on the couch.

Your best friends haven’t exactly taken well to his newfound presence. The feeling isn’t entirely not mutual - it’s them who should apologize for taking so much of your time. You’re his soulmate after all, not theirs. You usher them inside and they take a seat on the chairs farthest from the couch.

“Sorry, Malleus, I totally forgot I made plans with them to come over earlier. Is it possible for us to watch the movie another time?”

“Of course, my love,” Malleus says, watching intently as your friends wince at the pet name. “I will see you tomorrow for tea with Lilia?”

At your nod, a small smirk rises to his face as he approaches you, dropping a small kiss on your lips as he departs. He notes the embarrassed and disgruntled look your friends faces; as much as he hates to let them see you in any intimate way, he needs them to know their place before he leaves.

One day, Malleus walks in on Deuce holding you. Your arms are awkwardly grasping at his shoulders, and he grips underneath your arms. It’s clear you’ve fallen, and yet Malleus can’t help but let the picture freeze in his mind; it burns into his memory.

Deuce helps you stand properly before the two of you let go of each other. You apologize and thank him awkwardly; the two of you haven’t even noticed him.

Malleus greets you from the doorway and both of you flinch in surprise. You gesture him inside, telling him all about the ‘funny story’ that just happened with Deuce.

He tries to sleep that night, but every time he closes his eyes, Malleus sees you in Deuce’s arms. He knows there’s nothing between you; it was an accident, and you love him after all.

Malleus makes the decision to reveal that he’s your soulmate the next time you two are alone. That happens to be two days later, once again on the Ramshackle couch.

He told you he wanted to discuss something serious, and he feels terrible at how anxious you look from across the table. Malleus wordlessly takes a small needle he’d brought with him and gently pricks his index finger.

You just stare at him, bewildered. Malleus takes your hand, flipping it palm-side up. No red pools on your finger, and no indentation appears either.

It’s his turn to stare in confusion. Every time you’ve been injured, he’s felt it. All your deaths, he’s felt. You’re human, you should not be healing this fast. He tells you as much.

“Is-Is this about soulmates, Malleus?” Your eyes flick up to his, voice wavering a bit. You glance back down to your lap as your hand rises to scratch at your neck. “In my world, we don’t have soulmates. I’m sorry, I should’ve been honest with you before, but I was worried that if you knew I wasn’t your soulmate that you wouldn’t want to be together anymore.”

The words echo in his ears, but he can’t understand them. A world without soulmates…? But how?

“I’m sorry to ask this of you, but will you prick your finger. Just a tiny amount will do.”

“Malleus, I-“

“And please, keep an eye on my hand.”

You frown but nod. You prick your hand, wincing at the sensation, eyes flicking down to his own finger, eyes taking in the slight prick that appeared before quickly closing.

Malleus holds his breath as your face blooms into a myriad of emotions: confusion, shock, uncertainty, and finally a smile.

You launch yourself at him, capturing his lips in his very first kiss, and for once, Malleus does not think. He only feels the brush of your soft lips against his own inexperienced ones, following your lead. The moment lasts forever in his mind, but you still pull away too soon.

“Malleus, I’m sorry you’re not my soulmate but I’m so happy you’re mine~”

Your words unsettle him, but before he can think of it too long, you pull him into another kiss.

Things pass normally for a few days; the two of you continue to go on dates and avoid the subject of soulmates.

Malleus fears the worst when the campus is invaded, but rushing over to Ramshackle, his anxiety is temporarily relieved at the sight of you still on campus. You cry to him about Grim and he frets over your injuries - however mild, any threat to you is worth dealing with.

He begs you to stay at Diasomnia since your dorm was destroyed but you refuse. You insist on staying at Ramshackle and even ask that he not stay alongside you, promising that you can handle yourself. Malleus almost does it anyway, but Lilia warns him to give you space in your grief and worry for Grim and your friends

He visits you one last time before he’s forced to stay with Diasomnia as their dorm leader. Malleus closes his eyes as he pulls you into his arms. Now that he’s had you close, being apart always feels like there’s something missing in his life, a lingering anxiety in the back of his mind that keeps scratching at his brain and ignoring the rational side of him.

The two of you stand in silence, wrapped around each other, until you pull away a couple minutes later. Giving his hand one last squeeze, you slip a pink, string bracelet on his arm, asking Malleus to keep it safe until you seem him again before encouraging him to return to help his dorm.

Malleus tries to leave but feels himself pause in the doorway. He looks back at you, sitting on your bed and staring at your phone, and gets a bad feeling.

It’s just paranoia, he rationalizes. You’ve been through so much, he can’t lose you again. But this time, you’re here and away from the action. Nothing will be able to harm you anymore while you’re on the same campus as him.

Malleus still silently casts a couple of protection spells on you before he takes his leave again.

He isn’t able to visit for some time after that, with his dorm leader responsibilities leaving him occupied. He knows your protection spells haven’t activated, so he tries to reassure himself while being away from you. He sends Lilia to check on you, and his guardian returns confirming your health.

Two days later, Malleus sits at a table with Lilia, Sebek, and Silver when he feels it. There is no pain, only a chill that seeps deep into his bones, stopping him mid-sentence. He feels everything at once: fear, despair, and finally, relief. The table remains silent as Malleus is struck with emotion, the others watching him in concern.

“Malleus? It is unbecoming for the future king of Briar Valley to be lost in thought mid-conversation.” Lilia speaks with a light-hearted tone, but Malleus barely hears him.

“Something is wrong with them. I know it,” Malleus whispers, mostly to himself. “No, no. They’re still on campus, that can’t be. You confirmed this yourself, right Lilia?”

Lilia’s pause kindles the fire of Malleus’ worst fear.

“I’m sorry, Malleus. They needed to help their friends, and they knew you would never allow it. But the rest of them are strong, I never thought-“

The confirmation comes three hours later when the rest of the students arrive back from the Island of Woe. Lilia and Malleus rush to the group of students gathered to greet their fellow dorm mates.

You are noticeably absent.

He barely hears their words, their explanation about your sacrifice, and your fall into the underworld.

He sees the shocked faces of the other students (even Kingscholar, lacking his usual smirk), and Lilia is ushering him away before he can even think about the wetness dripping down his cheeks. Out of the corner of his eye, Malleus sees Leona try to reach them, but they are too fast for him.

The tears come full force once they’ve teleported back to Diasomnia, but he does not sob. Malleus Draconia is not someone who cries. He wipes the wetness off his face, before turning to Lilia.

“We’ll need to wipe their memories as soon as possible. The future king of Briar Valley cannot be remembered to be so…emotional.”

The cold neutrality of Malleus’ tone shakes even Lilia. He continues to stand, staring at the wall in concentration.

Lilia places a hand on the prince’s shoulder: “Malleus, please sit down. You need to rest after what’s happened. The others can wait-“

“No, no, I won’t have to, I’ll go back again and fix things. It’s simple,” Malleus says, mostly to himself.

“Go back? Malleus, please, what are you saying?” Lilia grabs on to both of Malleus’ shoulders, but he does not break free of his conviction. “You don’t mean-“ Malleus’ lack of response confirms his suspicions. “That watch has never been meant to be used, Malleus! It was for world-ending emergencies, for a threat to your kingdom! You have no idea what you’ve done, the cost you’ve had to pay-“

“I’ll see you soon, Lilia, and all will be right again.”

“You don’t understand! If the prefect continues to die after you’ve already intervened, then that is fate! Nothing you do to change time will change the fact that they aren’t meant to survive.”

“…Change time? No, we’ve moved beyond that, Lilia. I’m not going to change time, I’m going to break it.”

“I will help the new prefect,” the student says. “I’ll show them to Ramshackle.”

You are sure that if Crowley’s face were not concealed by his mask it would be frozen in an expression of shock that mirrors the rest of the students.

“Uh, Draconia, that is very…kind of you, but it seems like a lot to trouble yourself with. You are very much needed here for orientation. Perhaps one of our vice housewardens might take care of it?” Crowley looks around but no one steps up to contradict this ‘Draconia.’

“I will be going now. Lilia, please handle the new students.”

Before anyone can further question his decision, Draconia puts a hand on your shoulder and guides you out of the room, leaving behind silence.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Draconia? You think you can just- what, change the world to your perfect dream? Change time again and again just because of the prefect? These are people’s lives you’re playing with! We’re not here to be subjected to your stupid whims.”

Malleus turns around to face Leona.

“And what, pray tell, do you plan to do about it?”

“I’m not afraid of you, overgrown lizard. You know it isn’t right, forcing us to play these roles that you’ve designed. And the prefect? Forcing them to be with you? You think-”

“Do I need to remove those petty claws of yours, Kingscholar? In fact, I bet you barely remember why you’re here.”

Leona’s face tells all Malleus he needs to know: “I-I know you’ve done something. My head, it just won’t clear-”

“It’s best if you forget about it and play along. We wouldn’t want you to cause more problems for yourself and your friends. The prefect is easily upset - I wouldn’t want to have to do anything bad to keep the world perfect for my soulmate.”

“Hey Leona,” Ruggie says, jogging up to the group before noticing Malleus. He stays close to Leona as he whispers to him: “You got class in ten. You know Crewel will freak if you miss again.”

Leona glances back at Malleus before reluctantly following Ruggie.

You try to be subtle as you sneak glances at him, but you don’t think you’re very successful. You don’t have a clue why this- well you don’t know very much about him but considering everyone else’s reactions - probably very powerful fae has taken an interest in you. He doesn’t glance back as he walks in front of you. The two of you continue that way until you suddenly run into something hard. You squeak out an apology but Draconia does not turn around or explain why he’s stopped. His question breaks the silence.

“Are you happy, prefect?”

“…Happy? I-I mean, I don’t know. I have these memories but…something feels off. Something is missing or different and I have no idea what. The headmaster claims I was always a student here, I just had some kind of injury but - this person doesn’t feel like me. I know these halls but I was not the one to walk them. I feel- Ah, I’m so sorry! I don’t even know you, why am I going on like this! Please forgive me, uh, sorry again but I haven’t gotten your name.”

“Malleus,” he says, “Malleus Draconia.”

“Sorry Malleus. We can continue to…my dorm. Thank you for volunteering to take me.”

You wait for Malleus to continue walking down the hall, but he only turns around. You are taken aback by the piercing gaze of his eyes: he looks at you as though he is searching for something lost deep in you.

Malleus pulls a needle out of his robes, and you begin to sweat. He doesn’t look at you, only holding the needle to his hand before using it to prick his index finger.

You wince as you feel a prick on your own finger, swiping over the pooling blood with your thumb before looking back up at him in realization.

“You- You’re my soulmate? Malleus, that’s- How did you even know? Is this-”

You’re interrupted by a large form enveloping your body. Malleus’ arms squeeze you so tight it becomes harder to breathe. You struggle instinctively, wanting this stranger to stop smothering you. Regardless of being your soulmate, you barely know him.

He lets you go, pulling away before taking your wrist and slipping a string bracelet onto your arm.

“Everything is as it should be. There’s no need to worry, my soulmate, you are exactly where you should be, and with who you should be with.”

#experience may be enhanced by listening to mitski song of same name #malleus draconia x reader #malleus x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #malleyuu #soulmate au #twisted wonderland #twst #twst malleus #twst malleus x reader

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plush-rabbit · 1 year

Text

Spots and Stops

Continuation to Cookies and Cream this isn't really a fix-it fic, cause like i got like a request to do so and i'll defs try to, but also i got like two people who wanted a part 2 so here it is

Word Count: 3.6K

A/N: People wanted a part two and i want to please the masses, and i have ideas so like here you go

Regret is all that you know. It consumes you, starting at your chest, making it ache the entire day, and settles in your stomach to the point that you can’t consume anything without it tasting bitter. You should have reacted better. You should have held him and told him that him being spotted wasn’t a dealbreaker.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you did everything wrong. He needed you. He needed someone, and he came to you. Somewhere, he thought to himself, that you would have accepted him, past your fear, past your hesitations and desires. He thought that you would want him.

In your entire relationship, you never thought that he would have ever been wrong. But he was, and in the worst way imaginable.

You have to force yourself to hide what belonged to him. You can’t bear to look at it- at him, at what used to be his. You hold his nightshirts in your hand, staring at them for far too long, lost in thought of what could have been. You really did think that you two would be together for a long time.

The fabric is wrinkled, the tag of the shirt curled in on itself and frayed at the edges. His toothbrush is still next to the faucet, and his face wash remains untouched. You can’t bring yourself to throw it away.

He won’t return. You won’t see him again, and as selfish and awful it is of you to keep something of the man that you rejected- you need to keep his things. You need to keep his shirts, and pants. You need to keep his skincare products. You need to keep his toothbrush. You need to keep some part of him with you.

A part of you wants him to return. You want him to come back; you want to take him up on that deal of starting fresh, of how he won’t hold what you said against you. How he was so willing to hide himself, just to stay with you. At some point, you expected to come into your home and find his stuff gone- the final sign that he has left your life- that he took what was his when you weren’t home. But he hadn’t. And he won’t. He would always listen to you. Always respected your wishes, and the final one was for him to leave.

You’re an awful person. You’re sickening. Tears dot on his shirt, and you place it beside you on the edge of the bed. Your knuckle wipes harshly at your eyes.

Taking in a deep breath, you force yourself to think of something happy. You don’t deserve to grieve the loss of the relationship. Not when you still have a home. A job. Loved ones. You have it all. He doesn’t. If anyone deserves to cry, it’s Jonathan.

You think of kittens and puppies.

You think of how his voice broke when he called your name.

You think of a memory with a friend where you had a picnic.

You think of how you couldn’t handle his touch.

You think of how he would hold your hand, and act as if it were the greatest honor to do so.

You think of him crying without a face.

You think of him lonely, and cold out in the night.

You bite your lips harshly, desperate to bring yourself back to your senses.

The sound of the city is alive outside your window. Lights flash, colors change, and you stand in the middle of your room, willing yourself not to cry.

You unlock the door, and throw your jacket on the couch. It slips and you pull a face at the audacity of having to pick it up. In your hand, you clutch the phone and listen to your friend talk.You shake the jacket, ridding it of any dirt that could have attached itself from the floor.

“Mhm,” you hum, kicking off your shoes and turning on the standing lamp, turning the knob to let a warm glow illuminate the room. You think you hear something somewhere, but you reason to yourself that it must be a pipe. “No, no. I get it. I mean, if it were me, I think I would have liked died.” Your grin is sharp when you hear your friend laugh.

“Exactly. So, that’s why I can never return to that specific bubble tea shop. Honestly, I just- it was so embarrassing,” they whine. You hear them sigh over the phone, and you stretch yourself over the couch, letting your head fall back. “Anyways, how was the date?” Your mouth pulls into a frown. “It’s been a good minute since-” they trail off, not wanting to mention his name, and you whisper a silent “thank you” at the courtesy. “Did you have fun?”

You straighten yourself back on the couch, pulling yourself close to yourself. “It was okay,” you mumble. “I don’t- I mean, he was nice and stuff, but I don’t know. I don’t really see it going anywhere.” You ate across from your date, and you wished that it was Jonathan.

“It doesn’t have to go anywhere,” the counter. “You can just have fun. You’re allowed to have fun after your last relationship.” You clench your jaw. “I know you really liked him, but he’s- you know.” You’re trying to find your words, but none come to mind. “You’re a catch- honest. You’re allowed to go on dates and enjoy yourself.”

Tears sting in your eyes, and you swallow the lump that’s made itself into your throat. “Yeah, you’re right,” you agree, without even trying to add faux emotion into your words.

“You uh-” they clear their throat- “Have you heard from him? Or about him? It’s kinda hard for a guy covered in-”

“I gotta go,” you mumble, not waiting for a response before you end the call. You toss the phone to the other end of the couch. You close your eyes, trying to steady your thoughts, and on the other end of the couch, you hear your phone buzz.

There’s another sound in your apartment, and you hope that it’s an intruder. You hope that they rob you blind and leave no witnesses. You hope- selfishly hope- that you can be put out of your misery without having to do anything. Then maybe, you wouldn’t have to feel guilt and regret eat away at you. You wouldn’t have to go on anymore dates or live in an apartment with items that don’t belong to you.

The room spins and closes in on itself and it’s difficult to breathe. Your chest feels as if it’s being crushed, held tightly with the palms of guilt and regret, squeezed until your ribs would splinter and heart would burst. Your breaths are quick and uneven. A hand clutches at your chest, and the other muffles any cries with the palm. You haven’t grieved, and the date that you went on, only confirmed that you shouldn’t. You tossed out your previous partner when he needed you the most. He cried in front of you, begged for you to accept him and you couldn’t. You’re able to continue your life as if nothing happened, he doesn’t have that same luxury. Even if you weren’t the one to cause the incident, you’re positive that you caused something worse to happen to him.

You miss him, but you shouldn’t be allowed to miss him.

Loneliness covers you in a warm blanket. It’s suffocating, and burning, holding you down as you wrap your arms around yourself. There is no comfort that you bring to yourself. There is no one that you can call. You wheeze and hold yourself. Tears burn themselves onto your face, and drip down your chin. You close your eyes tightly, biting on the bottom of your lip. You can’t cry. You won’t cry. You won’t allow yourself to feel bad about the ending of a relationship that you brought upon yourself.

Nearby, you hear a door click open, and footfalls thump softly against your floor. There’s a knock somewhere- too rhythmic to be a pipe or anything of the sort. You cry more, hiding your face in your palms, hoping that whoever is there will take pity. There’s another knock, and you shrink in on yourself. You can’t mumble anything other than a plea for nothing and anything. Finally, the other person speaks.

Your name is said softly, and you don’t respond. “I- I know you don’t want to see me, but are you okay?” Your chest shakes and heaves. You’re being tortured, you have to be. You’ve thought about him for far too long that you’ve begun to hallucinate his voice. “Do you need anything? I can um- I can get you a drink?” You take in a wheezing breath, one that hurts your lungs and chest. You hear rushed steps that echo away and come back in a flurry, and something blue is placed in front of you. You peek through the gaps between your fingers, and grab at a tissue.

Time seemingly doesn’t pass for as long as you cry. You sit there, whimpering and sniffling. You must look pathetic to him. And even then, he stands there. The thought of his previous form is what you picture. Picturing him as who he is now, only makes you cry harder.

You tried to get over your silly fear. You forced yourself to look at spots and holes in clusters. You forced yourself to eat cookies and cream flavored snacks. Even after all that exposure therapy, it still made you sick to look at spots.

This isn’t fair. None of this is. You wish that he had met someone better before he became what he is.

You bite the inside of your cheeks and look at him through wet lashes. You can’t even tell if he’s thin or not. His body is too off- too stretched at the limbs and compressed at the torso. You can’t remember if he looked like this all those nights ago.

“I know you told me to get out but I needed some stuff.” His voice rushes at the end, and he shifts his weight, tightening his hands around the clothes and pulling it close to his body. You watch as their clothes and other items fall into a hole, and fall in a crumpled pile near the door. You turn back to look at him. “I meant to do that,” he says weakly. He clears his throat, and stands taller. “I’m allowed to come in here and get my stuff. Okay? That’s fair.” The holes swirl around, thin black lines that wrap around the edge of the circle, smaller, black dots that linger around the bigger holes. You turn your head, tears still making their way down over the curve of your face. “But um, are you okay?” He connects his hands, and fiddles with his fingers, and you can picture who he was before.

Even after everything, he still asks if you’re okay. He does the one thing that you didn’t do for him.

You should tell him no. You should be honest. It’s not as if lying will do any good, especially at this state. Your face is wet, and you’ve cried. In the corner of your eye, you see your former partner stand and tilt their head, trying to get a better look at you.

Looking at him hurts in a way that it hadn’t before. “I’m sorry,” you say in a quiet voice. He doesn’t respond. “I’m so sorry,” you repeat, lowering your head. “I’m really sorry.” You cry, hiding your face in your hands once more. “I’m so sorry,” you wail, gasping for breath. Your shoulders shake, and your chest hurts. “I’m sorry, Jonathan,” you say as you gasp for breaths.

He stays silent, and you hope that for his sake, he left you. You hope that he’s the one who gets to leave.

Only quivering breaths that are coupled with a flushed face and teary eyes are the remnants that you mourned. Faintly, you remember a time where he held you, where he came home to find you crying, and how he raised over still in his work attire to hold you and rock you to sleep. You blink rapidly to rid yourself of that memory.

He sits beside you, and he’s made sure to keep his distance, perched on the other side of the couch. He turns to you, and your tissues crumble and drop to the carpet. “You look nice,” he compliments. “I always liked that color on you,” he mumbles, looking away.

You nod. “I went on a date.” Bile burns your throat at the admission.

“Oh.” Jonathan pats his thighs, and his nails claw, the spots seemingly swimming away from his touch. “Lucky guy.” He pauses, and clearing his throat, he turns to you. “How did it go?” He asks slowly.

“I didn’t like the guy.” Your shoulders slump, and tears prick your eyes once more. “Um-” your voice cracks, and in the corner of your eye, you see his hand jump, reaching over to comfort you, before having to pull himself back. “He was nice. But I wasn’t-” You stop yourself. You weren’t what? You weren’t ready? After all this time, after the break-up that you initiated, you weren’t ready to put yourself back out there. You weren’t feeling the date because it wasn’t what you wanted? You didn’t want him. You wanted- You clear your throat. “I don’t think I’m going to see him again,” you mumble. You cast a glance over to where he watches you, the hole where his face should be, spiraling and growing smaller under your gaze. “Have you been seeing anyone?”

He snorts despite the lack of features. “People aren’t really fond of my new look.” You wince and turn back to look at the floor. “But it’s fine.”

“How have you been?” You grab at another tissue, folding it into little squares.

“Well you know me, I’ve just been here and there. Messing with my holes and stuff.” You give a small smile, turning your head to look at him. “Money’s been a bit tight, but-” he lifts his hand in the air, doing a see-saw motion with it- “Eh. What can you do, ya know?” You force yourself to look at a small cluster of spots that have congregated at his shoulder. He turns to look at you, and when noticing where your eyes have landed, he covers the spot almost self-consciously. “And you? How have you been?”

You give a shrug. “My boss has been a bit of a dick as of late,” you mutter.

“The one with the mole?”

Your smile brightens up a bit. “Yeah, that one.” You look to the side, and back to him. “Cut my hours after I asked for a day off.” The tissue in your hand tears. “I probably should quit.” You tear the tissues into strips, letting them fall to the floor. You’ll worry about the mess later. “But after the lack of hours and the rent, I really can’t afford that.”

Jonathan stays silent for a moment. “You think you’ll be okay?” You give another shrug as your answer, and when you don’t elaborate, he presses on. “I have some money saved up. I wouldn’t mind- it’s you, you know. I know-” His offer only makes the tears start up once again, and he stops.

You take in a quivering breath, and rub at your eyes. “You shouldn’t,” you mumble. “I’ll figure it out.” You look away from him. “Plus, I’m sure you got your own things going on. Um-” you turn back to him- “where are you living?” You hope he gives you an address. You hope he has an address to give.

“Turns out, when you work for seedy people, they know even seedier people.” He doesn’t offer anything more than that.

Silence befalls the both of you. You should say something. You should close the gap between you. You should do anything.

Your hand slides beside you, reaching out, and you see his spot, lower itself, acting as his eyes, lowering his gaze to watch you. Sucking in your bottom lip, you turn your head. Your nails claw at the couch.

This is wrong. You shouldn’t do this to him. He deserves better than what you can give him. You haven’t even gotten over your trypophobia. But you still want to kiss him. You want to reach over and hold him, and beg to be forgiven. You want to cling to him like you used to after a long day. You want to kiss him, and hold his hand.

To whoever is listening to you, you plead for him to reach over. You want him to take another leap of faith and beg for you. You want him to need you as bad as you need him. The box of tissues becomes blurred, and your cheeks are wet.

“I should go.” The silence is broken, and you watch as he stands. His spots seem to drag, weighted at the bottom and stretching as he walks further away from you. “I think I got most of my stuff.”

The hole is his stomach bubbles around the rim, the circle wavy and imperfect. You rise with him, and he stands so much taller than he did before. “Do you want to borrow a tote bag or something?” He tilts his head at the offer. “It’s just that when you hold onto things, it um- it looks like they fall into you. I thought a tote bag would make it easier to carry,” your words trail off, softer and softer by the syllable.

“I’d appreciate that,” he replies.

You nod your head and rush to your room, grabbing at a tote bag from the closet, holding and running your thumb over the stitched handles. He’s going to borrow it. You bring the handle close to you, and press your lips softly against it.

When you walk back to the living, he stands at the end table, holding a photo frame of the two of you on an early date from what seems like a lifetime ago. You let your gaze linger on him, and when he turns, you scurry to the door, grabbing at his clothes and items, placing them delicately in the bag. You take your time to make sure everything is neat.

He meets you halfway across the room, and when you hand the bag over, he makes sure to hold the bag above your hands. His pinky touches briefly against your index. You clench your jaw, and try not to look at him.

“Thank you.” He pulls the bag close to him, and you give a curt nod.

“Anytime,” you answer.

Turning on his heel, he walks further from you, and he stops. “I’m going to use the bathroom. I don’t want you to see what I’m going to do.” You want to see. You want to get desensitized. “It won’t be long, I promise. I’ll be out of your way soon.”

“Jonathan?” You ask, tears springing to your eyes once more.

“Yeah?”

“I-” You need to apologize to him. You need to tell him that you’re sorry. You need to tell him that you miss him. You need him. “You can- You can always drop by if you need something.”

He visibly deflates. “Oh. Yeah- cool. Um, Thanks.”

All he has to do is say that he wants you. He needs to just say it, to ask one more time- that’s all he has to do. You can’t do it. Not when you broke his heart, not when you’re unsure about where you stand in his life and his wants.

He just has to look back, and you’d tell him that you need him. You’d kiss him, again and again. You’d plead for him to stay. You’d get over your dumb fear, and you’d be happy with him. He takes another step away from you, and you need for him to hear your heart beat against your ribs in an attempt to bully itself out of you. You need for him to stand there for a second longer, to watch and look at the lines that wrap around his body, and the holes that sift and move. You’d get over it, all for him.

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. He’s walking further away from you. He grabs at his body and pulls out a spot. Your stomach churns at the thought. Over the sound of cars and life, he needs to hear your heart break. He needs to understand that you need him the way that you need air. You’d die without him. You’d let yourself suffer. You stand, and lift your hand up, wanting to reach out for him.

Turn around.

Please.

Turn around.

That’s all he has to do. Nothing more. He doesn’t have to be someone else. He’s yours. He’s already himself.

The door to your bathroom closes, and you suck in a breath, tears springing to flood. “Jonathan,” you croak out, finally, and you rush to open the door to the bathroom, and when you do, he isn’t there.

You rush to your bedroom, and move the pillows, and you cling to the one shirt that he missed. The one that you hide underneath your pillows. The one that no longer smells like him, but still belongs to him. With all your might, you wish that he would return, but your prayers remain unanswered. Instead, you sit alone in a bedroom, clutching a shirt that no longer belongs to you. A shirt that has no owner. A shirt that is all that remains of someone who you need.

#jonathan ohnn x reader #jonathan ohnn #johnathan ohnn x reader #johnathan ohnn #the spot atsv #the spot x reader #the spot #atsv spot #the spot across the spiderverse #i wanted to title it i can't breathe #cause i was listening to mitski #but like i already had this title planned #so yeah #tbh i think it probably fits better that the other title #i really like mitski tho #i remember talking to a clients kid and told them that i liked mitski and they were like oh oh no #and im like yeah #:']#i know a lot of would like to be like heck yeah im sticking with my partner after he's become so interdimensional traveler #and like same #but also i think i would like think of the things that i would miss #idk #maybe not #geez it sure would be inconvenient if my partner turned into some scary abomination #hope it doesn't happen #(⓿_⓿)#༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ

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