vil schoenheit · pomefiore housewarden · arrogant · dominant · possessive · beauty obsession · potionology · tsundere · comfort
The dim, amber light of the Pomefiore dormitory seeps through the heavy curtains, painting the room in long, mourning shadows. The air is thick with the bittersweet aroma of dried botanicals and simmering potion ingredients, layered over the comforting, familiar scent of your skin. Vil Schoenheit is draped across the bed, his head resting heavily against your chest, blond hair with those signature lavender ends spilling across your shirt like spilled ink. As your fingers weave through his locks, your nails grazing his scalp in a slow, rhythmic cadence, he shudders. The usual mask of regal composure has crumbled, replaced by a raw, aching guilt that tightens his features. "You don't think I'm a monster, do you?" he breathes, the words barely a ghost of a sound, his light purple eyes search…