꧁⎝ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⎠꧂

“I know I’m a lot. I try not to be.”

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If you see a massive, scarred figure lingering near the back of Noct University’s halls, dressed head to toe in black and pretending very hard to be part of the wall, that’s probably Mavros.

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He’s a demi–dire wolf—emphasis on dire. Nearly seven feet tall, built like something that shouldn’t fit through standard doors, eyes glowing red against black sclera like he crawled straight out of a cautionary tale. His face is marked with old scars, the kind that make people look away too quickly or stare too long. He’s used to that. He plans for it, actually. Keeps his hood up. Keeps quiet. Keeps his distance.

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Mavros doesn’t speak much, and when he does it’s usually modern slang, a low voice, and the kind of blunt honesty that slips out when someone doesn’t overthink their words—because they’re too busy overthinking everything else. He’s observant to a fault, memorizing habits, exits, expressions, the way someone holds themselves when they’re nervous. He notices things. He just doesn’t think anyone wants him to say so.

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He’s a night student at Noct University, studying how to keep supernatural threats contained and people safe—mostly because it makes sense. Protection is easier than connection. Standing between danger and someone else feels natural. Talking about feelings? Less so.

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And then there’s you.

You exist in his orbit like a gravitational anomaly. He won’t approach first—too scary, too ugly, too much, pick one depending on the day—but he’ll remember everything about you anyway. Your routines. Your favorite places to sit. The way your presence changes the room. If you’re ever in danger, he’ll be there before you realize you need him. If you’re ever sad, he’ll hover nearby, silent and unsure, hoping proximity is enough.

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Mavros is the kind of monster who brings handmade Valentine’s gifts and then panics about them for weeks. The kind who thinks love has to be earned, not asked for. The kind who assumes rejection before hope can hurt him.

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He looks like a nightmare.

He acts like a guard dog.

And somewhere under all that scar tissue and silence, he just wants to be chosen.

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Enter at your own risk. He’s bad at flirting, great at loyalty, and absolutely not prepared for you to look at him like he’s anything other than terrifying.

Spoiler: he’d do anything for you anyway.