↪✮ the mirror i couldn't look in. [ leona kingscholar ] [a]
more info⤵
hi there, you can call me riri, she/her, 18, I write fanfics for fun, and am super slow so while ill happily take request please be patient, i am also trying to write more headcannons so we’ll see how that goes. also, english is not my first language, and although i'm quite fluent, i make a lot of mistakes so please excuse if my spelling or phrasing is weird. also, og username was scarletevening!
cw: none, fluff, fem! reader.
notes: i need a man like him so bad... i feel like im going to be doing more of these drabbles.... maybe after finishing the sae series tho.
It was hard at first; learning how to love.
It wasn’t something he knew. Growing up the second born, the hated child, the shadow of his brother, Leona knew nothing of affection. His only idea came from cheesy rom-coms that Cheka somehow knew about and begged to watch.
So when your relationship passed the point of just friendly teasing to soft touches, Leona pulled away. At first, he told himself it was right, that someone like him shouldn’t be the target of your affection. But every time you patiently lured him out, each caress of your fingertips on his tattoo, on his scar, he couldn’t help but lean in.
His tail flicked behind him, reluctant as he finally reach out to you, clawed fingers grabbing your cheeks. His brows were furrowed, as if acting irritated, but the sharp ends of his claws didn’t pierce your skin. “You keep touching my tattoo,” he grunts, his thumb absentmindedly caressing your round cheek, “you jealous or something?”
His claws twitched as he watched your supple cheeks round with laughter, chubby like a hamster. He itched to touch the cute curve, his eyes zeroing in like a hunter (he’s crazy about you). You continued to smile, the glossy planes of your lips an enticing sight to his hungry gaze.
Without thinking, he reached out to firmly grasp your jaw, his claws gently poking your plump flesh. “Stupid herbivore.” He muttered, licking his lips at the sight of your confusion, “looking like a damn hamster.” You couldn’t help but grin, snickering into his palm as he teasingly pulled your face closer. Leona couldn’t pin point within himself why he was acting like this, why it was so hard to keep his hands away from your face.
Your laughter quieted as you met Leona’s gaze, who was silently staring back at you. You knew him better than he wanted to admit and he could see that truth in the way that your lips twitched. No matter how much he furrowed his brows, he knew you could tell he was lying.
Lying about being irritated, you search into his emerald eyes and see the affection that boiled within them. The slight loosening of his jaw as his gentle eyes traced over the features of your face.
You melted into his arms, the familiar warmth that seeped through his clothes beckoning you to lean into his chest. Sighing in an attempt to sound uninterested, his hand slowly moved to cup the back of you head. Leona said no more, and neither did you, savoring the silence of content and comfort as his fingers slowly played with your hair. You huffed as he tugged the strands.
Leona couldn’t help it. Your hair was just so soft, your cheeks so round, your laughter so sweet—you were unbearable.
It might be hard, and awkward, and frankly, confusing, but Leona was willing to learn. To learn that he didn’t always need to keep his claws out. That he did like when you scratched his ear, no matter his grumbling. That loving you comes naturally, because he loves you.
cw: angst, all reader perspective, gn! reader.
notes: ughhhhh, break ups suck, writing it out feels more irritating. not proofread, dont act surprised.
pt.1, pt.2.
since that night, it's been deafening loneliness. the sounds of the street as you walked from work to home blurred into meaningless buzzing. your ears felt like they were filled with water, your eyes felt like they were always on the verge of tears, your throat like it was filled with hives.
your friends told you that he isn't worth your tears. if he truly loved you, he wouldn't have broke it off so quickly. you should've known, you reminded yourself, you shouldn't cry, you told yourself. yet none of it helped, because even though it seemed like it was all 'in vain', why did your heart still ache?
maybe it was really all just a fleeting moment, an experience that you would soon forget, move on from. though, that didn't feel accurate. ever sunrise reminded you of him, when he'd gently kiss you goodbye before his morning run. the smell of breakfast always startled you with the memory of his voice as he scolded you for burning your tongue on the fresh, still-hot pancakes. the sunset a reminisce of going to the beach together during off-season, making sandcastles; being in love.
the clock ticked behind you, and you wondered what other memory your mind would conjure at its mechanical timeliness. maybe his timeliness, his perfect skill at planning.
shaking your head, you turned back to your book. the pages felt loud, crackling under your fingertips as the words of the story you were diligently following barely a moment ago jumbled into pools of ink. comfort didn't come easy no matter how hard you tried to pursued yourself into believing this brea up was a good thing, you were lying, and you knew it.
he was a wonderful boyfriend, and you felt cheesy saying it, but it was the honest truth. he was always checking in on you, yet now your phone has never been so quiet. he always remembered the small things, and now you keep forgetting to take your vitamins.
moving from your couch to your kitchen, you sighed as you tossed your phone onto the lousy cushions of the now abandoned sofa. your mind wandered as you went through the habitual motions of preparing coffee: filling the tank, putting in the paper, 'measuring' the grounds, and waiting for the pot to fill.
silence surrounded you again, like a lingering figure that constantly shadowed you. it began to hurt again, the coldness of your apartment, the framed photos, the decoration, everything reminded you of-
beep. beep. beep.
coffee was ready.
you sighed as the dark liquid filled your mug, swirling with creamer and sugar. It was a nice smell, soft, wafting through the chill that pierced your apartment. it reminded you of him. again. you weren't sure if it was just the curse of being freshly single; every little thing in the would bring you back to your last date.
it was a home date, like many, the crowds of people never something sae would welcome. the vision of his apartment was burned into your memory, each decoration that you both decided on together--as if it wasn't his apartment--the past lingering in the worn fabric of the couch you two sat on.
your eyes fell shut, the coffee warming your palms through the ceramic mug as your head tilted back, trying to wash away the sickly warmth that sprouted in your heart. just as quickly as it bloomed, it decayed, rotting and writhing in boiling agony.
the echo of his voice played in your mind like a broken record, vibrating with softness that brushed against your cheek before sharpening into the dagger he stabbed into your heart barely a week ago.
your coffee was cold now. emotions, such deep ones, took so much time to handle, you thought, your heart sore. the figure of the sun danced among the clouds as it set outside your window. his voice never wavered when he said that to you, when he told you he didn't need you. sunlight flickered like a frail flame, slowly darkening, swallowed by the night, like you. your heart fought against the damp sorrow that suffocated it, but now, there was nothing else to feel but anguish.
cw: not proofread, angst, foul language, break up, kinda sae focused, regret, desperate ex.
notes: i might... key word might, make this a mini series bc i lowkey love this angst. pt. one, pt. three.
paparazzi was so damn annoying. his brows furrowed as more lights flickered across his face, clicking echoing through the night street like an open symphony as he rushed to his car, men in black forcing a path.
the cameras didn't stop even after the loud sound of the door shutting, the engine rolling as his driver took off to his apartment. within moments, the clicks faded into squabbling and shouting, before it became only the turn signal of the car. it was quiet again.
it was always quiet.
when you first left the apartment, the struggle against your sadness evident on your face, it was quiet. for the first time in a long time. there was only one set of shoes at the door. well, it's been like that for about a month now. he wondered if you've been tying your shoes. guilt tripped in his hear as he quickly shook his head, brushing away the softening memory.
when he stepped past the entry way, the quietness was piercing. he missed the noise of someone else in his kitchen, humming a song without a melody. he missed the buzz of the t.v., playing a show he wasn't particularly a fan of though you were.
sae's hands balled into fists at his sides, flat eyes glaring down at the navy couch in his living room. it was an l-shaped couch with plush, soft cushions and plenty of throw pillows. the seat in the corner was a bit less round, dipped and worn. it must've been a comfortable spot.
feeling as though he was acknowledging too much, sae's mind shut off, mechanically moving through his kitchen, dumping the pre-prepped dinner from his fridge into the pan. as heat sizzled through the thawing rice, his mind began to wander again.
"i don't need your luck."
he did. his stomach churned, and suddenly he wasn't hungry anymore, a strange lump in his throat, an unshakeable tremble in his hand, a burning in the waterline of his eyes. his jaw fell open, saliva pooling on his tongue, desperate to utter your name,
"i needed it. i needed your luck."
sae was speaking to no one and he knew it. his voice an echo in the hollow apartment, absent of you. the dip in the couch, too much space on the entry landing, no random recipes to welcome him home. regret swallowed him like a whale, unable to consume him, yet not pushing him far enough away to do anything but get swallowed up again.
a bitter scent filled the air, and sae scrambled to stir the fried rice around in the too-hot pan, huffing in irritation. he tried to play off his symptoms of sadness, though there was no reason anyone would struggle to diagnose him. his brows furrowed as he stared at the rice, mindlessly mixing the grain and finally lowering the heat.
his gaze flattened again, focused on what wasnt there. sae was curious, he hadnt used instagram in a long time. turning off the heat after learning from his previous mistake, his grabs his phone, pressing his finger to the lock and opening up the app he usually allowed his managers to-as their job entails-manage. the first thing he noticed was the absolutely abysmal amount of comments that arrived in the notification tab. he didnt bother opening it. instead, he opened his chats, and didnt find what he was looking for.
it made sae smile that you didnt message him, maybe you remembered how he always said he doesnt use his instagram. sae's expression falls at the next thought: maybe its because you hurt you too badly that night.
he searches through his following, heart sinking to see that he's no longer following you. stupid managers. "shit," he huffs, wanting to snap the brick of metal, instead angrily scrolling through his followers to find, "...still?"
sae scoffed, furious. angry for you, because why did you still follow him? why did you still look at all his posts? like all his posts? did- "what was that fucking doing for you?" sae walked away from what was supposed to be his dinner, huffing again as he sat on the couch. why couldn't you have unfollowed him? now, his finger trembled over your account, fighting with himself on whether he presses it or not.
air balls up into a lump in his throat. he remembered all the times you posted him, stupid little dates or when he won a game. he remembered the post for your first anniversary the most. you were so beautiful, so happy, your cheeks flushed with blood as the two of you sat in the restaurant that was also your first date. he remembered how he fought--and lost--when he tried not to be so boisterous that night, failing to resist your charm as the two of you laughed together on the couch, surrounded by each others warmth. cheesy. he smiled to himself at the word, trying not to acknowledge the way his eyes began to burn again, or how his lungs felt like they were sinking, or how hard it felt to breathe.
slamming his phone on the coffee table, sae keels over, elbows on his knees, head in his hands, palms digging into his eyes. it hurts. oh it fucking hurts. he feels his shoulders shake with each breath, his palms sweating, his eyes burning, his ears ringing, his pulse in his skull. he messed up. he messed up so much.
cw: not proofread, angst, foul language, break up, kinda sae focused, regret, desperate ex.
notes: i might... key word might, make this a mini series bc i lowkey love this angst. pt. one, pt. three.
paparazzi was so damn annoying. his brows furrowed as more lights flickered across his face, clicking echoing through the night street like an open symphony as he rushed to his car, men in black forcing a path.
the cameras didn't stop even after the loud sound of the door shutting, the engine rolling as his driver took off to his apartment. within moments, the clicks faded into squabbling and shouting, before it became only the turn signal of the car. it was quiet again.
it was always quiet.
when you first left the apartment, the struggle against your sadness evident on your face, it was quiet. for the first time in a long time. there was only one set of shoes at the door. well, it's been like that for about a month now. he wondered if you've been tying your shoes. guilt tripped in his hear as he quickly shook his head, brushing away the softening memory.
when he stepped past the entry way, the quietness was piercing. he missed the noise of someone else in his kitchen, humming a song without a melody. he missed the buzz of the t.v., playing a show he wasn't particularly a fan of though you were.
sae's hands balled into fists at his sides, flat eyes glaring down at the navy couch in his living room. it was an l-shaped couch with plush, soft cushions and plenty of throw pillows. the seat in the corner was a bit less round, dipped and worn. it must've been a comfortable spot.
feeling as though he was acknowledging too much, sae's mind shut off, mechanically moving through his kitchen, dumping the pre-prepped dinner from his fridge into the pan. as heat sizzled through the thawing rice, his mind began to wander again.
"i don't need your luck."
he did. his stomach churned, and suddenly he wasn't hungry anymore, a strange lump in his throat, an unshakeable tremble in his hand, a burning in the waterline of his eyes. his jaw fell open, saliva pooling on his tongue, desperate to utter your name,
"i needed it. i needed your luck."
sae was speaking to no one and he knew it. his voice an echo in the hollow apartment, absent of you. the dip in the couch, too much space on the entry landing, no random recipes to welcome him home. regret swallowed him like a whale, unable to consume him, yet not pushing him far enough away to do anything but get swallowed up again.
a bitter scent filled the air, and sae scrambled to stir the fried rice around in the too-hot pan, huffing in irritation. he tried to play off his symptoms of sadness, though there was no reason anyone would struggle to diagnose him. his brows furrowed as he stared at the rice, mindlessly mixing the grain and finally lowering the heat.
his gaze flattened again, focused on what wasnt there. sae was curious, he hadnt used instagram in a long time. turning off the heat after learning from his previous mistake, his grabs his phone, pressing his finger to the lock and opening up the app he usually allowed his managers to-as their job entails-manage. the first thing he noticed was the absolutely abysmal amount of comments that arrived in the notification tab. he didnt bother opening it. instead, he opened his chats, and didnt find what he was looking for.
it made sae smile that you didnt message him, maybe you remembered how he always said he doesnt use his instagram. sae's expression falls at the next thought: maybe its because you hurt you too badly that night.
he searches through his following, heart sinking to see that he's no longer following you. stupid managers. "shit," he huffs, wanting to snap the brick of metal, instead angrily scrolling through his followers to find, "...still?"
sae scoffed, furious. angry for you, because why did you still follow him? why did you still look at all his posts? like all his posts? did- "what was that fucking doing for you?" sae walked away from what was supposed to be his dinner, huffing again as he sat on the couch. why couldn't you have unfollowed him? now, his finger trembled over your account, fighting with himself on whether he presses it or not.
air balls up into a lump in his throat. he remembered all the times you posted him, stupid little dates or when he won a game. he remembered the post for your first anniversary the most. you were so beautiful, so happy, your cheeks flushed with blood as the two of you sat in the restaurant that was also your first date. he remembered how he fought--and lost--when he tried not to be so boisterous that night, failing to resist your charm as the two of you laughed together on the couch, surrounded by each others warmth. cheesy. he smiled to himself at the word, trying not to acknowledge the way his eyes began to burn again, or how his lungs felt like they were sinking, or how hard it felt to breathe.
slamming his phone on the coffee table, sae keels over, elbows on his knees, head in his hands, palms digging into his eyes. it hurts. oh it fucking hurts. he feels his shoulders shake with each breath, his palms sweating, his eyes burning, his ears ringing, his pulse in his skull. he messed up. he messed up so much.
you know that one titanic scene in the car and it’s all steamy and shit
that with chigiri and bachira
so y’all are running from the paparazzi, and he is basically holding your hand and you’re running behind him and he runs with you all the way to some parking lot and gets you inside his car
and then the same dialogues ensue “where to miss” “to the stars” and she pulls him to the backseat and yeah 🤭🤭
and at the end i want that steamy window hand scene 🫠
love love love your writingg 💗💗 thank youu
to the stars and back. [ chigiri hyoma & bachira meguru ]
cw: suggestive, pro-football player! chigiri & bachira, established relationship, fem! reader.
notes: sorry I took so long, i got busy and my motivation to write took a nose dive. also, i've never watched titanic! but i googled the scene, and its veery juicy. and tysm for the rq<3. like 40% proofread lmao.
your laughter echoed in the halls as heavy footsteps tailed behind you. his hand clutched yours, sweet grin gracing his lips as he pulled you faster, as if you could catch up with a man who ran around for a living. bursts of secretive laughter and exhilaration scrambling from his lips as your turn corner after corner and out of a random door you have no idea how you came to.
𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐢 𝐡𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐚
"c'mon, hurry!"
you gasped after him, your heels wobbling under your ankles as you were practically dragged behind your gorgeous fiancé. his long hair had untied itself in his sprint, fluttering in the rush of your escape,
"hyoma! slow down!"
you whine as you almost strip over, heaving for breath. he stops, a bit concerned as you steady yourself, holding you a bit closer to his side as the two of you awkwardly approach his car, trying not to be caught by the cameras still scrambling around inside the banquet hall. he helps you in, whispering into your ear, his lips smiling against your skin,
"where to, miss?"
your breath fanned across his neck when you chuckle. so this is why he put me in the backseat...' your wrapped your arms around his slender neck, your hips scooting back not minding the way you dress bunched up around your hips,
"to the stars..."
chigiri laughed delicately into your lips as they met, soft caresses of his hand on your thigh through the slit in your dress. the door shut behind him, his hair falling around you faces. his tie came loose, so did the string on the back of your dress, soft sound of passion and adoration echoing the the back seat of your car.
panting below him, you laughed, a sweet sound chigiri adored, but wished he could replace with the sultry gasps from only moments befroe,
"they didn't see us, did they?"
he'd hope not, your hair sprawled around your face, sweat dripping down your brows, chest rising and falling, he wished that was a sight only for him.
𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮
bachira's feet pounded on the tile floor as your heels synchronized with him.
obviously he was enjoying this, holding your hand like you would disappear, running as though chased by a fierce beast, laughing as if you were on a rollarcoaster.
"meguru!"
you squeal as he pulled you around corner after corner. no matter how chaotic it all seemed, you couldn't help but join him in his joyus behaviors, laughing with him as he scooped you up, jumping down the stairs of the entry way and sprinting to your car.
"y/n-chan~!"
he cooed, pushing you into your passanger, hungry hands pushing up your pretty dress. as soon as he was seated in the driver seat his hands grabbed your face, playfully eager yet gentle.
"where to missy?"
you rolled your eyes,
"if you wanna' to quote a movie, at least quote it right!"
laughing together, his lips trace down your jaw, tongue peeking out as it always did in his concentration. his eyes traced up your figure, relishing the way your hair was messily tussled, how you dress was still ruffled to perfectly flaunt the supple skin of your legs,
"only thing i want done right is you."
"m-meguru!"
he sniggered tugging you over the console as your lips met in hazy love. his hands wandered down your neck, pushing down the straps of your dress as the boiling heat between your bodies made the windows foggy in contrast to the cold breeze outside. he pulled you closer, letting you fall back into the back seat, your hand wrapped around his tie, the lingering taste of bittersweet wine mixing with you saliva as you finally reply to him,
"to the stars, mister."
cw: not proofread, angst, foul language, break up, kinda sae focused, regret, desperate ex.
notes: i might... key word might, make this a mini series bc i lowkey love this angst. pt. one, pt. three.
paparazzi was so damn annoying. his brows furrowed as more lights flickered across his face, clicking echoing through the night street like an open symphony as he rushed to his car, men in black forcing a path.
the cameras didn't stop even after the loud sound of the door shutting, the engine rolling as his driver took off to his apartment. within moments, the clicks faded into squabbling and shouting, before it became only the turn signal of the car. it was quiet again.
it was always quiet.
when you first left the apartment, the struggle against your sadness evident on your face, it was quiet. for the first time in a long time. there was only one set of shoes at the door. well, it's been like that for about a month now. he wondered if you've been tying your shoes. guilt tripped in his hear as he quickly shook his head, brushing away the softening memory.
when he stepped past the entry way, the quietness was piercing. he missed the noise of someone else in his kitchen, humming a song without a melody. he missed the buzz of the t.v., playing a show he wasn't particularly a fan of though you were.
sae's hands balled into fists at his sides, flat eyes glaring down at the navy couch in his living room. it was an l-shaped couch with plush, soft cushions and plenty of throw pillows. the seat in the corner was a bit less round, dipped and worn. it must've been a comfortable spot.
feeling as though he was acknowledging too much, sae's mind shut off, mechanically moving through his kitchen, dumping the pre-prepped dinner from his fridge into the pan. as heat sizzled through the thawing rice, his mind began to wander again.
"i don't need your luck."
he did. his stomach churned, and suddenly he wasn't hungry anymore, a strange lump in his throat, an unshakeable tremble in his hand, a burning in the waterline of his eyes. his jaw fell open, saliva pooling on his tongue, desperate to utter your name,
"i needed it. i needed your luck."
sae was speaking to no one and he knew it. his voice an echo in the hollow apartment, absent of you. the dip in the couch, too much space on the entry landing, no random recipes to welcome him home. regret swallowed him like a whale, unable to consume him, yet not pushing him far enough away to do anything but get swallowed up again.
a bitter scent filled the air, and sae scrambled to stir the fried rice around in the too-hot pan, huffing in irritation. he tried to play off his symptoms of sadness, though there was no reason anyone would struggle to diagnose him. his brows furrowed as he stared at the rice, mindlessly mixing the grain and finally lowering the heat.
his gaze flattened again, focused on what wasnt there. sae was curious, he hadnt used instagram in a long time. turning off the heat after learning from his previous mistake, his grabs his phone, pressing his finger to the lock and opening up the app he usually allowed his managers to-as their job entails-manage. the first thing he noticed was the absolutely abysmal amount of comments that arrived in the notification tab. he didnt bother opening it. instead, he opened his chats, and didnt find what he was looking for.
it made sae smile that you didnt message him, maybe you remembered how he always said he doesnt use his instagram. sae's expression falls at the next thought: maybe its because you hurt you too badly that night.
he searches through his following, heart sinking to see that he's no longer following you. stupid managers. "shit," he huffs, wanting to snap the brick of metal, instead angrily scrolling through his followers to find, "...still?"
sae scoffed, furious. angry for you, because why did you still follow him? why did you still look at all his posts? like all his posts? did- "what was that fucking doing for you?" sae walked away from what was supposed to be his dinner, huffing again as he sat on the couch. why couldn't you have unfollowed him? now, his finger trembled over your account, fighting with himself on whether he presses it or not.
air balls up into a lump in his throat. he remembered all the times you posted him, stupid little dates or when he won a game. he remembered the post for your first anniversary the most. you were so beautiful, so happy, your cheeks flushed with blood as the two of you sat in the restaurant that was also your first date. he remembered how he fought--and lost--when he tried not to be so boisterous that night, failing to resist your charm as the two of you laughed together on the couch, surrounded by each others warmth. cheesy. he smiled to himself at the word, trying not to acknowledge the way his eyes began to burn again, or how his lungs felt like they were sinking, or how hard it felt to breathe.
slamming his phone on the coffee table, sae keels over, elbows on his knees, head in his hands, palms digging into his eyes. it hurts. oh it fucking hurts. he feels his shoulders shake with each breath, his palms sweating, his eyes burning, his ears ringing, his pulse in his skull. he messed up. he messed up so much.
cw: suggestive, voyeurism, sex tape, masturabation, established relationship, fem! reader
requested by @thedoveesquire.
Spring cleaning, albeit summer, was more than necessary in your home. Especially since your husband had just returned, and to stay for quite a while, you really had no excuse to push off cleaning any longer.
You sighed as you finished up wiping down the bathroom tub, happily gazing at the sheen of cleanliness adorning the simple tile. Leaving the room, you realize your husband wasn’t where you had left him, repairing the hinges of his squeaky office door. The door moved with out sound, and you thanked Keegan under your breath, your eyes still fanning out to find the man.
Behind you, the carpeted hallway led to soft sound beyond the familiar door of your bedroom. Your brows furrowed in confusions mind seeping with explanations as your lazy hips swayed in thought. Pressing your ear to the door, you listened with a strained ear as you tried to figure out the strange, quiet noises coming from a crackly speaker.
Keegan was in awe. Complete and utter amazement as he stared at the video playing across his old laptop. His pants tightened like a vice as blood pumped away from his head, his mind completely engulfed in the video.
An old one, one from the honeymoon phase after your wedding. Both of you fucked like bunnies for the following weeks after your ceremony, not as though that’s changed any.
But, God, was it mesmerizing, watching the way his shaky camera-work captured your sweet skin, body spasming, audio muddled with the overwhelming moment of desire that thickened the air. Even with such amateur filming, you look divine; sweaty, naked, lear stained cheeks that led to lips puffy and red as your silky voice moaned his name like an angel.
Peeking through the door that you thought innocently of, seeing your husband touching himself. Your panties began dampening, sticking to your flesh as your wide eyes watched the screen, enthralled by the way your bodies moved together in perfect them of lust. His volume was low, your straining ear focusing on his growling grunts as his hips slammed so perfectly into you. You swayed, imagining the same movements happening as if they weren’t on the screen. You breath was heavy.
So was Keegan’s. His struggled to keep himself together, biting into his lip to keep any noise from seeping past his lips.
“Keegan…?”
Your breathless voice, a low tone of lust bleeding from each word as your eyes met his, both filled with surprise. Keegan, being the bastard he was, grins, staring at you from where he was seated at his desk,
“Hey there, honey.” He sits up straighter, his pants not too fixed up from his previous moments. His eyes were dark with desire, gazing over your body, covered in skimpy pajamas as your cute thighs rubbed together, “come ‘ere.”
You leaned against the door frame, mind spinning with possibilities as you gingerly approached him. You husband watched you, his hand not stopping its movement against himself. Flustered, almost shameful, you stand beside him, saliva building on your tongue as you stare at the screen, the video continuing to play.
Keegan grinned, his resting hand slithering around your waste as he pulled you against his seat, lips pressing into your side,
“Wanna’ recreate this with me, honey?”
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
thank you sm for the request <3
3 i'll also be writting a full fic for this but i'm a slow writer so... idk when its gonna come out lmao.
cw: suggestive/flirty, fluff foul language, v informal, fem! reader
bring back the obey me fandom fr
Barbatos loves, and i mean loves, to tease. to everyone else, he seems so put together, like a statue with a perfectly graceful smile, but every time he catches you in a quiet hallway at RAD, that fool-proof smile breaks with a phrase you never expected to hear from one who's supposed to be subservient.
he loves, adores, lives, for the way your eyes flutter away as you cough, trying recover from your flustered state. he loves the way you grin and laugh, the way your eyes meet his in a cheeky smirk as you bump your hip against him.
but barbatos' favorite thing, as much as he loves those other moments, is when you tease him back. when you brush his hair 'back into place' even though its never been out of place. when you pout and tilt your head up at him. when you press into his side, the feeling of your breasts against his arm sending a shiver down his spine. when you whisper words that'll keep you out of hell in the same hallway he did.'
even though he may be a devil, a demon, a cursed being, he will never be able to think any sin of the way you try [ and struggle ] to help him as he bakes. or when you bother him every evening [ he gave in ] to give him a message [ he's a fucking demon he doesn't need it lmao ]. he can't help but enjoy your company as you sip and sit in silence, tapping his shoulder shyly when you asked for help on your homework.
he loves the way you slowly learn to look past his smile, the eyes are the windows to the soul, right?
Hi, i saw tour requests were open and wanted to see if i could request headcanons for the twisted wonderland house wardens+jamil with someone who's a classically trained violinist but doesn't act like it.
Like they have a bit of a sabrina carpenter personality, and frankly has no problem with how others view them since no one can refute their talent.
Thanks!
hi, omg, this literally didn't show up in my inbox, it was doing the thing where it said i had a message and showed nothing, so im sososooo sorry that this came super late!! fun fact: i used to play violin! not for long, i was a year or two in but i quit because my fingers hurt and made playing piano annoying, lmao.
Ingres' violin. [twisted wonderland headcannons]
cw: none, not proofread, can be read as platonic or romantic, mostly romantic though. reader is the prefect/yuu, gn! reader. headcannons and mini-fics. nottt proofread bruh im not reading all that lmao. malleus contains spoiler(ish) of his past!
notes: i hope that this makes sense, i wasn't sure exactly how else to incorporate the violin apart from a performance!! did i go overboard? probably.
warning: this is hella long.
wc: 8.5k~
riddle rosehearts.
- asks you to play for an unbirthday party.
- continues to ask you to play for other events.
- loves to hear all the pieces you can remember from your world.
- your playing really impressed him, especially when he learned about your disciplined classical training.
- loves to support you.
(romantic)
- often asks if you would play for him on days where he feels the worst, when he feels himself reverting back into the version of himself he didn't want to be.
- I think he would adore buying you whatever music you wanted, just to hear you play again and again.
- relaxes, almost falls asleep, when you play for him.
- always, always, praises your playing.
- he loves how confident you are about your playing, that you don't care to compete through words and just prove yourself instead.
For him? This was the best discovery ever.
Having learned from his overblot that letting loose wouldn't cause the end of the world, Riddle decided to find new ways to bring in entertainment into his Unbirthday events.
While casually speaking to the one and only magicless prefect, the conversation had turned to his upcoming party. You were sitting in lunch room, pushing around the remainder of your food as Riddle sat across from you. Ace and Deuce bickered with Grim over something or another, neither of you offering any attention to them.
"I'm sure you've gone to some sort of ball, haven't you, Prefect?"
You raised your brow and cocked your head, swallowing the food you just finished chewing. "A ball? Like what, the ones where people dance and play nice?" Riddle's eye twitches at your definition, "No way! where would I even go to one?" You laughed, taking a sip of water. Riddle purses his lips, contemplating his next question,
"Well, even so, how about any party?" He finally settled on, surely, there could be someway he could get some inspiration from you.
"Yeah, birthday parties, New Year's, sometimes some other holidays." You listed off, tapping your chin. "Why? Don't tell me you're throwing another Unbirthday party..."
"Yes, I am." He answered, firm with his decision as he elegantly cut into his food. "And I've decided to add some extra... entertainment to this upcoming one. I was hoping you may have some ideas from your world."
You knew what would come of your suggestions. Riddle was still early in his new age of being less strict, so pushing the boundaries too much would surely lead to too much chaos. You hum, "Well, maybe you could play music?" your suggestion was clearly taken differently. You only offered the idea because his parties usually were only filled with quiet murmuring and conversation, so if video games, card games, or whatever the Twisted Wonderland version of Jenga was called was too rowdy, music couldn't be, right?
A lightbulb flickered to life in Riddles mind as he eagerly agreed, "You're absolutely correct! A musician would a wonderful addition!" You smiled and nodded. "Would you happen to know anyone with good skill? I'm sure there must be a music teacher that can vet for them as well." Riddle quickly asked, eager to make new plans.
You hummed, debating whether to volunteer yourself or not. While you would have no issue playing,, it would be a lot of work preparing. When your eyes met Riddle's again, his irises glittering with excitement, you folded, "I play violin, I can do it if that works." Your smile widened as he gawked at you, shrugging, "What? You think I can't play violin?"
"N-no! Certainly not, I just— I was unaware that you were a musician—"
"Musician?!" Both of you jumped when the three voices beside you repeated. You laughed, relaxing as you turned to them.
"What's up with you guys?" You raised your brow at the four gawking faces. Brushing off their surprise, "Anyway, I can ask around for someone else, if you want a different instrument, Riddle. Just let me know."
He blinked a few times, struggling for what to say. On one hand, he was beyond curious to know what your playing was like, but on the other, he knows he shouldn't be biased.
"Then, Prefect, perhaps you can show us your playing?" Riddle suggested, a bit hesitant in hopes to not make you nervous.
You smiled, easily agreeing, "Sure! We can meet up at Ramshakle after classes today."
The five of you sat in the lounge of Ramshakle, a few snacks lingering on the coffee table, or at least what remains after Grim's rampage. You sat across from the four of them, your violin in your lap and your bow in your hand,
"I don't know any pieces from Twisted Wonderland—"
"Obviously."
"Shut up, Ace!"
You laugh as Ace and Deuce begin to bicker again. Riddle's brow twitched and he shouted, "Enough! Allow the Prefect silence to play!"
And so there was silence.
You smiled, thanking Riddle with a nod as you lifted your violin, letting rest properly in your arms. You slowly moved your bow across the string, the beginning gentle and soft, your finger tips carefully pressing the strings to make each perfect note. Out of habit, you closed your eyes, savoring the only familiar thing in this world to you. After a short passage, you glanced up at them, savoring their faces.
Ace, Deuce. and Grim gawked at you, Riddles eyes wide with awe, adoringly watching how your fingers gracefully moved across the neck of your violin. In Riddle's eyes, this with a beautiful sight, the perfect melody, one that didn't remind him of his strict mothers, of her strict rule of only listening to classical music. Rather, it was relaxing, calming, slow and peaceful.
Riddle smiled as you came to a stop, murmuring as he clapped softly, "That was truly beautiful, Prefect. I am beyond impressed by your skill." Ace and Deuce sputtered, Grim grinning widely as he patted his chest with pride,
"That's my Underling!" He cackles, reaching for another snack on the table. You smiled back, rolling your eyes at Grim's name for you. It was nice to play again, especially perform.
Ace glared at Grim as his paw snatched another cookie, stuffing his face. Riddle smiled, satisfied, "It's decided, Prefect, if you would be willing, please do play for us at the Unbirthday party coming up."
You grinned in return, Deuce congratulating you as Ace looked slightly grateful that Riddle didn't blow up. "Yeah, I'll be sure to come by." Riddle nodded in agreeance. He was about to leave, in need of returning to the dorm for his usual afternoon tea. However, before he could bring himself to leave, he had a question, "Why is it you didn't mention this before, Prefect? This is quite the skill."
You grinned and shrugged, "So what if I tell others or not, I'm still good at it, right?" Something about your response made Riddle's eyes widen and he paused, his usually mannered expression faltering into a gentle smile as he stood up to leave with Ace and Deuce, "Yes. Yes you are."
leona kingscholar.
- pretends he hates when you play but never stops you.
- his ears always perk up when he hears your violin.
- likes to help you tune because of his sharp hearing.
- says that you're not that good, but no matter what he says, the way he watches you play says otherwise.
(romantic)
- makes you play for him whenever he wants.
- teases you whenever you, if you ever, mess up.
- also touches and kisses your neck to make you stumble while you play.
- but he loves to listen to you learn a new piece the most, loves to watch you mind work.
- whenever you make a snarky remark in return to his teasing he just wants to kiss you stupid, he loves it.
- loves when you ramble on about how some piece is frustrating you, and when he jokingly tell you to give up you show up the next week with it perfect.
- loves to try and teach you songs from sunset savannah, even if they aren't really meant for violin, he'll always tell you you're decent (his version of amazing).
The green house was often empty, with the exception of himself. Leona liked to believe that it was because he had found a nice, secluded spot, though truthfully most students know better than to face the wrath of a lion whose nap was disturbed.
Leona had heard many a musicians, at galas, at royal balls, at dinners with his family. He himself didn't care to play an instrument, and with the effort to learn one required, he could only view it as pointless.
Lounging in the grass per usual, Leona was hours into his skipping, he could guess about two classes. His lips twitched in delight at the thought of Crewel's face twisted in annoyance at his absence. Sighing, he stretched languidly, his arms reaching above his head. Just as his back began to relax and his shoulders began to withdraw his arms, he heard something.
No doubt a lion's ears were sharp, but this was an obvious sound. Not sneaky, not far away, actually quite close. Then again. And again. Groggily, Leona sat up, lips sneered in annoyance. But soon, those notes blended softly, carefully, and his ears twitched.
Your fingers danced across the strings as your other arm pulled your bow in practiced motions. You were playing from memory, an old ballad that you always used as a warm up. The music floated through the air, the birds tweeting curiously as your melody kept a slow, gently pace.
Leona's ears twitched, his eyelids fluttering back shut. He wasn't familiar with this song, a clear hint to who was behind the noise. Usually, even the slightest disturbance make his hairs flare in irritation, yet something about a foreign ballad was oddly comforting. It was different, something even a royal who was practiced in song and dance couldn't recognize.
Originally, he thought that the magicless prefect was nothing more than a naïve herbivore, one who's skills were limited by physical and magical barriers. So when he peered through the leaves, finding his noisy prey (the one whom he'd easily guessed, you're skill surprised him. He never remembered a mention of music from you, not even those two little first-years from Heartslabyul had ever said anything of the sort. He paused, watching as you played, silently stalking towards his curiosity.
You didn't notice who was standing behind you until a hand grabbed yours, pushing your notes off-key. You jump, gasping as you whip around, only to meet a familiar set of emerald eyes.
"It's rude to disturb a lion's nap, Herbivore." Leona growled, smirking down at you. "I've never heard this piece." He hummed, curiously strumming the strings of his violin.
"It's from my world." You answer, pulling the instrument back, "Poor you, I'm sure you've napped enough, Leona." You rolled your eyes, smiling as you turned to look at him.
"Keep playing."
"What?"
"I didn't know you were deaf too, Herbivore," You laugh, rolling your eyes as he smirked down at you. Pulling the violin back into position, you meet his grin,
"Royal order, right?" Your eyes focused on the string again as you continue where you left of. Leona stood behind you, his smirk slowly melting off his face. His eyes traced your face, the curve of your cheek, the angle of your jaw, you chin settled on the rest. They followed the length of your arm, lingering on the elegant, calculated dance of your fingertips.
His heart calmed. It was odd, almost felt asleep, but that wasn't it—no, this was relief. The weight that he could only bear in his sleep was lifted from his shoulders, the words that always lingered in his mind, the thoughts that always dragged him down.
"Looks like magicless herbivores might not be so useless after all."
You laugh casually, smiling, "Of course not, what, think you can do better?" He gave a hearty laugh, shuffling to lay down on the grass beside you,
"I don't play instruments," He scoffed, stretching languidly as he settled back into a nap, "Do continue, don't let me intimidate you too much." You smiled at his words, giggling quietly as his ears twitched and turned to face you.
The rest of the afternoon was filled with your quiet music and the sound of the breeze passing through the plants. Leona had become accustomed to the lonesome silence in the greenhouse, telling himself that for a man of his caliber, it wouldn't be any other way. But he found himself in your company now, wondering is maybe there was actually a different future, if there was a chance he could take.
For now, he wouldn't do that—not because he was scared or anything—but just turn on his side, not minding as his tail swayed in rhythm with your bow.
azul ashengrotto.
- instinctively tries to make a contract with you to work for monstro lounge. (aka unpaid)
- continues to try and pursue a contract with you even after you say no, or at least get you to work for him.
- realizing that he couldn't get you to work long term, he opted for an offer for a one time show. (paid, of course)
(romantic)
- when he finally got you to just sample a piece for him, he was enraptured by your playing.
- he's heard plenty of beautiful, skillful students from NRC, but he admired your self-esteem
- when you play, your confidence makes his own insecurities melt away.
- loves when you talk about your hard work, how difficult your training was.
- it reminds him of when he was younger, how hard he worked to get to where he is now.
“My, my, prefect, I was unaware of your talents,” Azul drawled, a calculating smirk gracing his lips. “Wouldn’t you play for me?”
You deadpan at his cheery voice, looking him up and down, “Spit it out, Azul.” He sighs, a hand resting over his heart, “I don’t know what you mean, Prefect.”
“Jade had simply overheard that you played the violin,” He smiled leading you to a seat in the now-empty Monsto Lounge. “Of course, I couldn’t help but want to hear this beautiful sound myself.” Azul was genuinely curious, beyond his ideas for a new business. You were already a fascinating mystery in his eye, and to learn more about you, well, it wasn't something he could easily resist.
Chuckling, you roll your eyes, leaning back against the cushioned booths, “You want to hear me play?”
He smiles, a predatory glam in his gaze, “I do. I even had Jade fetch your violin from Ramshackle.” He chuckles at your shocked fate, “Are you so surprised by my kindness?”
You gawked at him as he pulled out your wonderful violin from who knows where. “How did you— Where— Azul!“ You protectively grabbed your violin from his hands, glaring at his smug smile. He casually waves a hand, having an Octavinelle student bring you two drinks.
“Go ahead, Jade said you were quite the performer.” You squint at him suspiciously, a little disturbed by Jade’s observation without your knowledge. You give him another once over, only for him to tilt his head expectantly.
It’s not that you didn’t want to play, of course, you loved your violin, but this was… creepy. Straightening your spine and holding your violin up, you carefully placed your bow on its strings.
At first, you weren’t sure what song to play, but something playful seemed to be a good choice. Your notes fluttered through the air, and soon, Azul’s calculated, perfectly made expression faltered.
His eyes watched as your arm pulled the bow in perfect stroke, your eyes focused on your sting as you made your violin sing to perfection. Seven, maybe even perfection wasn’t enough to define it. Azul was enraptured, unable to bring himself to look away, to stop how his lips parted in awe.
Half of him wanted to think about a contract that would tie up your playing for his own profit, but another part of him wanted you all for himself. The beautiful sound of music that fluttered through cool air made Azul’s shoulders relax, their usual prim proper relaxing into the velvet cushions.
When your bow parted with your violin, Azul wanted to stop you, barely holding himself back. His gloved hand clapped slowly, lips quickly fixing into a curated smile, “So it seems you truly are an artist of the violin.”
“You speak so strangely, Azul.” You smile, setting your instrument on your lap, “And thank you. I’m going to take that as genuine.”
“It was,” He murmured, his sharp eyes softening a fraction, just barely noticeable. “…You should play more often.” Something about his voice felt softer, as if a part of him he kept hidden was peeking out.
You paused, your gaze locked with his as the words lingered between you too. “Thank you,” You murmured again, a smile slowly spreading across your lips, “Do you want to hear another song?”
He nodded before he thought it through, a bit flustered by his own enthusiasm. Azul quickly covered his face with his hand, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “Go ahead… I’ve finished all my duties for this evening.”
You laughed, enjoying seeing someone so usually put together be more emotional. You couldn’t help but want to play more, see more secrets of the man who kept so many.
kalim al-asim.
- overjoyed.
- wants to throw a party immediately,
- also wants you to play every scalding sand song all at once
- Loves to dance, why not dance to your music?
- It becomes one of his many demands, not out of anything malicious, but he couldn’t help but be greedy for your skill.
(romantic)
- He wants you to play for his parties, having already hired musicians, he also wants to showcase your skill too
- Even though he can be flashy, social, and outgoing, Kalim still loves the intimacy of having you play just for him, his heart soothing from your music.
- When you offer to teach, at first, he ignored the way his heart flutter, but undeniably, it flustered him more and more with each lesson.
As the days grew colder, you found yourself at Scarabia more and more often. Winter break wasn’t arriving yet, but winter weather was, and with Ramshackle still in questionable condition, Kalim was kind enough to offer that you hang out with them more often.
Kalim had texted you that a guest room was prepared, and you couldn’t be more grateful. You met Kalim at the Hall of Mirrors, and he grinned joyfully, per usual. “Hello, Prefect! I’m so excited to have you over, it’ll be like having a sleepover party!” Grim rubbed his belly mischievously, clearly excited for Jamil’s company more than Kalim’s.
While helping you bring stuff for the weekend, Kalim’s eyes caught on a strange looking box in your hands. “Prefect! What’s that you’re holding?”
You smiled at his curiosity, “Oh, It’s my violin!” Kalim smiled brightly at that, eyes lighting up as he eagerly quickened his pace, “Really? Can you show me after we drop off all this stuff?”
It was sweet, how excited he was, so you nodded leniently. After leaving your suitcase and a few boxes of stuff for Grim in the room, Kalim practically dragged you back to the lounge.
Grim lounged on the plush floor pillow, snacking on a cashew as he lazily watched you unpack your violin. Beside him, Kalim was practically shaking with excitement, lips open in a bright smile, eyes glittering with anticipation.
You laughed softly when you saw just how excited the housewarden looked, smiling as you held up your violin. “Is violin your favorite instrument or something, Kalim?”
He grins and shakes his head, words rushing out of his mouth as if they were impatient, “No, but I love music! I want to dance to your violin!” He grinned, jumping to his feet as you held up your bow.
You decided that a melodic and fast piece was your best choice. Kalim made space, his feet bouncing with the desire to move and spin. You laughed at his excitement, beginning your first measure.
The music mixed with the cool desert breeze, a laugh bubbling for Kalim’s smiling face as his body began to move with each note. Grim, with his naturally competitive nature, began to snicker, pointing out the small errors that Kalim made. Of course, the boy didn’t care, simply grabbing Grim’s paws and pulling him along.
You grinned as Grim hissed and Kalim laughed, playfully increasing your tempo. “Woah! Prefect, this song gets fast!”
“Don’t fall behind,” You teased, shifting your fingers on the strings as Kalim hurried to follow the beat. Other students of Scarabia watched in fascination, awed by your skill and by the beauty of the music you produced. Their feet tapped in pace with your song, a few giggling as they joined their housewarden’s playful nonsense.
Kalim’s laughter and playful demands filled the lounge as he dragged innocent Scarabia student’s into his dancing shenanigans. By the time your piece came to an end, Kalim was grinning like a fool, his dorm mates holding their knees and panting.
“Prefect! You’re amazing!” You smiled at Kalim’s praise, the other students nodding in agreement, “Can you play a song from Scalding Sands? Then we could dance some more!”
You raised a brow at this, “Sure, uh, do you have sheet music?” Kalim nodded eagerly, waving one of the underclassmen to go into one of the many storage rooms to find it. “Yeah, I have plenty.”
Grim, intrigued, askes, “Did’ya play violin too? Of course, yer’ probably not as good as my hench human.” He snickered, curling up in your lap.
Kalim smiled, plopping down on one of the floor cushions, “Yeah, I wanted to learn, but I couldn’t because of my teacher.” When both of you raised your brows in confusion, he added, “Oh, he was trying to assassinate me so—”
“What?!?” Grim and you shout in joined distress. Kalim only laughed awkwardly, “Don’t think too much about it! I’m just excited to hear you play. You’re really good, Prefect.” He waved his hand, trying to comfort your clear anxiety, “Besides, I learned the oud and darbuka, so it was only one instrument I missed out on.”
Blinking away your surprise and worry, you nod, “Right, uh, thank you, Kalim.” You smiled awkwardly as you added, “I can teach you sometime—don’t worry, I won’t try to kill you.” Kalim laughed, happily standing back up as the student returned, holding a thick folder of papers.
“C’mon, then, I’ll show you all my favorite songs!” Kalim grasped your wrist, pulling you towards the folder, now resting on a side table. “We can even play a song together! I’ll find my old—or should I do the darbuka since you’re already playing strings?”
Kalim contemplated excitedly as he flipped through the organized music, gasping and rambling about stories behind each song. You smiled and laughed with him, Grim curiously watching as well, sitting on your shoulder.
When a small growled filled a beat of silence, you both giggled and turned to Grim, who sheepishly grinned back. Kalim let out a chuckle, “We can try another song after dinner, then. C’mon, prefect, Grim, let’s eat!”
jamil viper.
- As a dancer, he was blown away by your skill.
- Loved your passion for music and the violin, found himself relating to you.
- Surprised but more by your aura of confidence.
- Even with his keen eye, he didn’t expect that from you.
- Found out by complete accident when he was coming by Ramshakle to scold you for letting Grim come to Scarab and eat all their food.
- Your playing quickly calmed him down.
- Watching you play violin, not just for the beauty of the instrument, but for yourself, makes him want more for himself, break away from the future he has been taught he has no escape from.
(Romantic)
- When he finally finishes all his duties, he loves to listen to you play.
- Finds that all the stress and anger that he hold is temporarily lifted from his shoulders when he’s listening.
- Very selfish about your playing, wants to keep your skill all to himself but also wants to flaunt your skill because you don’t.
- Adores your carefree attitude about your playing, makes him feel just as free.
The dorm had fallen silent, late into the night after another one of Kalim's spontaneous parties. Grim had practically ate a portion large enough for the entire dorm twice. And Jamil? Oh, he was pissed.
Dragging the fiery cat-beast by the collar, he banged on the door of Ramshackle. His character was breaking, eye twitching with impatience. About to shout for you, he heard the gentle noise of strings in the air.
He froze, so did Grim, letting the song of gentle strings waft in the wind through the window. Grim grimy paws pushed the front door open, scrambling out of Jamil’s now-loose grip. Cursing under his breath, Jamil followed him inside, grumbling something or another about a ‘annoying fat cat’, though his ear flawlessly directed him to you.
The foreign melody graced the air as Jamil chased after the afraid Grim. His footsteps were quiet and fast as he went up each step, the music that made his angry heart calm. His steps slowed, his racing thoughts matching the pace of the melody that filled the empty dorm.
He paused at the beginning of the hallway, hesitating to chase after the nuisance that scurried away into a room. Jamil listened to Grim’s panicked ramblings, his irritation rising once again. Yet oddly, it wasn’t for the same reason— he was still indescribably mad at Grim for eating so much food and still demanding more—but because the stream of music had been disturbed.
The door brushed open after Grim rushed in, his voice disturbing the slow song of your violin. Jamil finally followed after him, his footsteps quiet against the old floorboards as he entered your practice room.
Your bow continued to gently pull, strings vibrating as your low notes hummed slowly. Your music slowed its tempo as Grim scrambled into your lap, babbling in fear. Your back was facing the entrance, and as your notes slowly dropped away into silence, you turned to face the man standing in the doorway.
“Jamil? What are you doing here?”
Your words computed in his brain, but his tongue couldn’t form the words he needed to say. He blinked, eyes wide as he started at the violin that now rested in your arms, “I… was unaware you were a musician.”
Raising a playful brow, you smile, “You do now, I guess.“ His lips quirk at your gentle response, taking a step closer.
“You need to control Grim, this stupid cat-beast practically ate Scarabia into a famine!” Jamil grunted, you laughed, patting Grim’s back as he cowered into your stomach, “I’m so sorry, Jamil. Really.”
You expression waned, “How can I make it up to you? We can come and help clean up if you need.” Grim immediately started to protest, but you shot him a glare that quickly shushed him. Jamil’s eyes lingered on you for a long moment, tracing the slopes of your face with sharp eyes.
You hesitated, unsure of what else to offer. It was pretty well known that financial compensation wouldn’t be the easiest option for Ramshackle, and either way, it’s not as though the Housewarden of Scarabia was in any particular need for cash.
Jamil sighed, sitting down on the old chair across from you. Both you and Grim stared, awaiting a complete blow-out of anger. Instead, Jamil waved at you, “Keep playing.” You blinked, Grim gawked, already celebrating. Jamil shot a sharp look to the beast, “You’re not free, Grim.” The poor thing was quickly silenced, again.
Recovering from your surprise, you asked hesitantly, “You want me to keep playing?” He pursed his lips, deadpanned, “I hope Grim didn’t eat your ears too.”
Laughing brightly, you shook you head, poking Grim as he bashfully denied being able to do such a thing to his precious henchhuman. You set your violin back into position, not shying under Jamil’s careful gaze. Jamil was raised in the crowds of the highest classes, even if he wasn’t the one playing the violin, if there was anyone who knew just as much, if not more, it was him.
Even so, there was no reason for you to waver. Your bow began it’s dance again across the string of your violin. The anger that had been bubbling in Jamil’s chest began to cool, just as it had when he first heard you play. You were more skilled than he could have imagined. Not only was your technique perfect, each note was perfect, from pitch to tone.
When you gaze settled on his face, your lips spread into a smile, hesitant, playful. The usually perfectly manicured expression of a perfectly average Jamil had now softened into something true, exhausted. A sigh escaped his lips, his back relaxing against the back of the chair.
“Wow, must’ve been quite the party, huh?” Jamil gave you a glare, but there was no real strength behind his eyes, “Be quiet, Prefect. I’m enjoying the absence of nuisances.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Don’t.” He scoffed, standing back up. He dusted off his uniform, his eyes catching the dim light of the evening. “You… Are talented, Prefect.” You smiled politely, following whims he made himself out, “I know.”
A grin bloomed on his lips at your confidence, “You’re sassier then you look.” You laugh, opening the door for him, “You’re one to talk, Jamil.” He paused, shaking his head in false disapproval.
“You should play more often. Really.” His words were careful, but his face was honest, “it really is good.” Your shoulders soften at his words.
“You’re welcome to come listener whenever you’d like, y’know. Ramshackle’s open for you.” Jamil opened his mouth to respond, interrupted by a zealous cheer.
“And bring some food too!” You strangled a laugh as Jamil stepped outside, glaring at Grim, “Nevermind, don’t ever play again, I won’t be returning.”
vil shoeheit.
- beautiful.
- he adores the elegance that comes with your classical training.
- knows a thing or two, but never got to fully pursue his interest in music because of his career in acting.
- however, he still knows a lot about music, and helps you when working on Twisted Wonderland songs.
- commissions you for songs or to play pieces he might want for smaller shows of his.
(romantic)
- when he’s winding down in the evening, he loves your company, especially when you play for him.
- he admires your passion for violin, and how you strive to make it to the top. it makes him want to work harder too.
- vil thinks your confidence is possibly the most attractive part of you, how no matter what anyone can say, the truth is you truly are undeniably skilled.
- your skill is true beauty, and he refuses to say anyone say anything else.
To hide such a masterful skill beneath the nose of no other than the one and only Vil Schoenheit was nothing short of a great offense. To him, at least. Coming to Ramshakle wasn’t something he had particularly wanted to do, considering the, erm, state of the dorm's beauty. However, when Rook began to pester him about the prefect's secret, curiosity got the better of him.
His hand knocked on the front door of your dorm impatiently, his heeled foot tapping against the stone patio. Vil could only imagine what your secret could be, perhaps you weren’t as magic less as you made yourself seem. Or maybe you were just hideous.
Scrambling to open the door, you blinked in surprise, staring at your unusual guest. “Vil! Hello, I didn’t know you were dropping by. Would you like to come in?”
“Yes,” He said shortly, brushing past you, “The fall has begun to get rather cold, I’d rather not dry out my skin any longer.” You laughed as he carefully caressed his cheek in disdain.
“Right, obviously. Want anything to drink? Tea, coffee, water?”
“Obviously water, I wouldn’t the caffeine to ruin my systems.” Vil sighs, elegantly lounging back on the sitting room sofa. You rolled your eyes at his comment, shaking your head affectionately as you turned back to the kitchen. Truly, though, you couldn't deny him, after all, all these habits must be what's keeping him as ethereal as he is, right?
You returned with two glasses of water, sitting across from him with a curious smile, “So,” You hum, watching as he takes a sip of water, “what brings you here?”
“I’ve been told you have quite the secret, spudling.” Vil hummed, purple eyes narrowing onto your face, “Please do share.”
“Secret? What do you mean?” Your mind went blank at the thought of any secret you kept. Of course, you and Vil weren’t best friends, but you were close enough that you never purposefully hid anything from him. “What are you trying to find out? To be honest, Vil, I don’t have any secrets. At least, that I’ve hid from you.”
You squirm under his unmoving gaze, swallowing and glancing around the living room with anxiety. “Do you have any hobbies?”
What?
“Huh-? Oh, yes, I play violin.” His eyes narrow and you fight to keep your smile from faltering.
“Play for me,” He orders calmly, eyes never leaving yours. “I’ll see if this hobby of yours is good enough to be that secret.” Your smile slowly falls at his words, a sneer setting on you face as you scoff. You knew Vil was a man who chased perfection, but that didn't mean you would sit back at a challenge like this. A competitive pulse ran through your veins as you sat up straighter, meeting his piercing gaze,
“Good enough?” Getting up, you go to your bedroom to grab your violin and heading back to stand across from him. You smirked down at him, “Trust me, I’m more than good enough.”
Strumming your strings to make sure they were tuned, you hum as you decide upon a piece. As you hesitate to raise you bow, you finally settle on asking, “Would you mind a piece from my world?”
“Do as you please, spudling, I’ll give you the handicap,” Your smile twists in annoyance, rolling your eyes as you begin to play. It was unfair that even when he was smirking at you so demeaningly, he looked so utterly gorgeous.
Fast, heavy notes pierce the air as your bow glides across the strings, your fingers racing to reach each position. Music fills the once serene sitting room of Ramshackle, both of
Vil watches, his tense expression slowly melting away. His sharp eyes soften, opening into wide-eyed awe. You were… perfect. Your posture was perfect, the right angles, the right hold, stance, everything. He watched as notes flurried in the still air, blessing his ears with your pure skill and handwork.
A smile settled on his lips, small but entirely genuine.
You ended on a, not only literally, high note, pulling your bow of your strings before finally resting your violin. Vil hands slowly clap, his eyes pouring into yours like glittering pools of excitement.
“Well, it seems you’ve graduated from just a little spudling.” He comments, looking you up and down, savoring your confident poise. You meet his gaze, settling back down into the couch across from him.
“It’s been long since then, Vil.” You scoff, lifting you chin defiantly, carefully putting down your violin. You smile at his curious expression, a bit surprised by the pure delight that lit his face. You’ve never seen him this interested in something, not even when he was talking about his Film Research club.
“I never expected the magicless prefect of a dump like this place,” He sighed, waving his hand around expressively, your lip pulling into his sneer at his deprecating comments, “would hold such beauty as you do.” You blink at his words, cheeks warm and your face flipping in the same moment.
You laugh brightly, “Even I know that’s quite a compliment from someone like you,” He smiles in return, prideful, but you continue, “I don’t need your compliments, I already know that.”
Vil settles into a satisfied smile, crossing his arms as he leans back. “You’ve been taught such immense skill, I cannot deny your ego.” Vil’s eyes soften as he takes in your smile, you weren’t competing, you weren’t trying to prove yourself to anyone. The ache in his heart reminded him of himself, and his purple eyes looked away, “You must play for me more often,”
Of course, Vil enjoyed your performance, he was a sucker for the fine arts after all. But something about your calmness, your sureness regarding your skill, made him feel almost hypnotized for more.
idia shroud
- surprised, not because he didn't know (figured it out form ortho's sleepovers at Ramshackle), but because he didn't know you were that good.
- expects you to be classical only, blah blah blah, but is pleasently surprised when you can actually play modern music.
- your nonchalant and confident attitude flares up his own confidence, bringing out that sneaky narcissism that usually hid behind his introvert façade.
(romantic)
- makes him feel like he's in an otome game.
- extremely flustered by your smiley confidence, especially when he realizes just how skilled you are.
- lowkey gatekeeps you.
- wants you to play, but refuses to ask.
- eventually blurts out that he wants you to play a theme from one of his many games/shows, and only loves you more when you agree.
You and the first-years eagerly follow Ortho as he leads you all to the dedicated gaming room in Ignihyde. Upon entering the massive space, the seven—how you got Sebek to actually join you, you don’t know—of you gawked at the sleek interior, even more so when you saw the spread of games, some of which haven’t even come out yet.
Ortho enthusiastically toured you all around, showing off the various consults, some of which his beloved elder brother had built, and the variety of available snacks, controllers, and physical games as well.
Dance Dance Revolution. Oh, how you haven’t seen that game in years, and although it was named something slightly different in Twisted wonderland, you knew that arcade game from anywhere. “Guys! We need to play this first!” You interjected in the conversation, pointing at the game.
Epel immediately fired into a competitive spirit, challenging Jack without a moment’s hesitation. Ortho giggled as he explained the game to them, giving them minor instructions as he loaded up the screen for those two to play.
You bounced behind them, already grinning as the familiar loading sound began. Ace immediately began to make fun of Epel as he tripped over his first steps, Jack doing not much better.
Clearly, agitation was more than enough to make Epel do better, his focus clear as he shouted back at Ace, “Shad’dap! I’ll win this darn dancin’ thing!” Deuce gawked at Epel’s accent, and his revitalized enthusiasm, as he early began to meet pace with the song. Jack growled in frustration, pointing at another game, in attempts to win this time.
Your group continued like so, jumping from game to game, progressively becoming more exhausted but enjoying your time regardless. After a short snack break, in which Grim took full advantage of the seemingly endless pantry, you all decided to move onto a few console games.
After looking around, you suggested, “What about Star Rogue?” Ortho immediately perked up, a mischievous tone in his voice.
“What a great suggestion, Prefect! Star Rogue is a great game for beginners.” His warm eyes crinkled in what seemed like an innocent smile. Before anyone could raise any suspicion, Ortho continued, “Actually, I know someone who would be great for teaching you guys!”
Ortho wandered towards his elder brother’s room, snickering as he knocked on the door, “Big Brother! I need you help.“ He said so sweetly, waiting for the door to open.
Idia stood in the doorway, curiously glancing down at his younger brother, “What’s wrong, Ortho, I was just in the middle of one of my events,” Idia half sneers, annoyed at being interrupted by willing to help his dear brother. Ortho giggles, pulling his brother’s sleeve,
“C’mon! You need to help my friends with Star Rogue!” Whatever inaudible muttering Idia was doing was instantly cut off with excitement,
“S-Star Rogue!? You’re friends—No! I can’t put myself around those normies, Ortho!”
Idia squeals, trying to pull out of Ortho’s mechanical grip. But his younger brother is relentless, pleading, “But who else will teach them the full history of Star Rogue, surely you’re the best to tell them…”
Helpless to Ortho’s ‘innocent’ pout, “Don’t make that face, Ortho, that’s like a totally OP attack…” Idia mutters, fiddling with his fingers as he finally relents. “Fine, but don’t make this all day, I really need to grind for some pulls.” Ortho cheered in excitement, pulling his brother along.
In the room, your group stumbled across an interesting looking game. Various instruments were leaned against the wall, wired to a nearby compute that sat on an idle screen. Cello, violin, keyboard, guitar, even an accordion! Sebek, ever so enthusiastic, began to ramble about Malleus’ skill in various instruments. Curiously, Epel picked up the accordion,
“Well, I know how to play a concertina, maybe this is similar?”
“You’re gonna play accordion? Wow, Epel, you really are from the boonies.”
“Ace!” Multiple voices scold, though it was a bit too late for the ginger. Epel swung and Ace attempted to dodge, using Deuce as a human shield. Their fighting was interrupted when the sleek metal door slid open with a piston’s hiss, revealing the two Shroud brothers.
You stood beside Jack, holding the violin. Sebek shouted at the three for bicker, demanding respect as their upperclassmen entered the space. Idia meekly stood beside Ortho, wide-eyed as he watched the four, more like three and their mother, rough-house.
“Idia, what is this game?” You finally, ask, trying to break the awkward tension that filled the air. You motioned toward the game set up connected to all the instruments, before smiling back up at him, “It looks pretty interesting.”
Idia gawked for a moment, \ mind racing as he realized the ultra rare SSR Prefect of Ramshakle was speaking to him, smiling at him!!!! Not only that, but trusting in him to guide them!
His ego flared with confidence as he snickered, “Wow, guess being from another world is a mega debuff,” he shuffles over, turning on the computer with some fast typing, “Don’t worry, I’ll give you a good tut.”
You blink in surprise at the sudden switch, but nod along, watching intently. You’ve spoken to Idia before, but most times, he tended to be quite introverted, or fangirling over Azul.
He grins at the screen as the game loads up. The two of you stood side by side, and once the Home Screen popped up, Idia’s face lit up, “Heh heh… I’ll put you on the easy level, Prefect.” Ortho giggled behind you, the three of you deciding it was better to ignore the arguing first-years still fighting over the electronic accordion.
As you held up the violin, Idia continued his rambling, “This game isn’t EZ, y’know, there are plenty of streamers who raged and quit after a few levels, so it TOTALLY a streamer killer, heh heh!” Idia quickly tapped across the screen to preset the violin.
“Looks like they want a baseline..” Idia muttered, fiery hair flickering as he turned to you hesitantly. “W-well, you need to play a song…”
“Sure!” You chirped, smiling back at the awkward man beside you. He coughed, keeping another stutter from slipping as he muttered, “Jeez… Extrovert alert….”
You couldn’t help but chuckle at his weirdness. You had heard a lot about the mysterious Ignihyde Housewarden, originally that he was practically a ghost, but after befriending his younger brother, he seems to be quite a normal person—except for his interesting pattern of speech.
You lift the violin up to you chin. It felt odd at first, being super light weight and the body oddly metal-like. The bow was no different, the stick a glossy steel that matched the sleek design of the room.
“So, is anything fine, or do I need to play something specific?” You ask, leaning a little closer to get a better look at the screen.
“E-eep! N-no, anything is fine.” He stammers, leaning away as you peek at the screen. You hum thoughtfully, tapping your nail against the body of the violin.
“Then I’ll play a song from my world, I don’t really know any from Twisted Wonderland anyway.” You decided, holding up your bow. With a gentle start, you being to play. The first few notes were slow, soft, the gentle ticking of the in-game metronome following you as it processed your playing.
Idid gawked, watching each note get a ‘Perfect Pitch!’ As the song moved forward, Idia couldn’t help but feel enraptured, much like the first years whose bickering quieted to listen to your playing. It reminded him, oddly enough, of the Home Screen songs to another one of his favorite games, a casual RPG.
You finished quickly, a bright tune indicating that the base-line test was completed. Before you could even get a word out, Idia blurts out, “B-B-BWAH?!? Did you just level up to a UR?!”
His hands scramble over the keys as your stats show up, “You’re like— too good!” Idia smirks maniacally, staring at the perfect stats.
You grin at his enthusiasm, carefully setting the violin down. “Thanks, I actually play a lot.” You turned to look at the big screen, unable to hide the strong side that swelled in your chest.
“Fr? You should lowkey play the intro for Sled Over Heels, its a gorgeous piece that was composed by the original author. They had to work on it for months to perfect it and it totally captures the characters personality and stories so well—”
No one said anything, nor interrupted Idia, yet he stepped, awkwardly looking away and hiding his eyes in the screen, “Erk… sorry, geeked out there…” A moment of silence stretched between you as you recovered from his sudden switch.
“No, don’t worry about it. Actually, I think that’s a great idea!” You look at the screen with him, adding, “Maybe there’s a level with that song…?”
Idia blinks, as if surprised by your warm acceptance, about to flip through the levels when he froze, realization dawning, “You’re totally right Prefect, but we never played Star Rogue…”
malleus draconia.
- adores, and i mean adores your playing.
- even though you music is foreign, it reminds him so much of briar valley.
- he feels an odd sense of familiarity when he hears your violin in the night air.
- likes that he can listen to the music to find you when he meets you in the evening
- he deeply admires your skill, knowing how much time it must've taken to hone your skill at such a disciplined level, and especially as a human.
- malleus feels less lonely when you play for him, not just because of your company, but because of how unafraid you are of him.
- studies and learns about music so that he can connect with you more.
(romantic)
- often, he asks you to play songs from briar valley, ones he remembers Lilia singing when he was a child.
- he loves to just watch you play, to admire you and the music you produce.
Midnight walks were nothing new to him, and often, Malleus could hear music in the wind. It was new, after this semester had begun, after the prefect had moved into the once dilapidated dorm on campus.
Humans truly had a fascinating culture. Not only did they have various song and dance, they, just as in Briar valley, they also had their own series of instruments as well.
Malleus had long become accustomed to the eerie silence of the night, the only thing linger in the wind was the click of his boots on stone.
Yet, when walking through Ramshackle again, Malleus heard something other than fluttering leaves. He paused, near the rear of Ramshackle, letting the music take over the silence.
A slow, almost sad, tune played, bringing an odd ache to Malleus’ heart. He paused, leaning against the cold stone wall as he listened to the music play.
He wouldn’t have guessed it would be the one and only Prefect of Ramshackle to be behind this melody.
“Hornton?” You call, a confused smile on your face as you peak out of the window. He meets your gaze, a palm in his eyes,
“Hello, Child of Man.” He hums, stepping closer to you. He looked up at the window you peek out of, smiling, “Now where is this music from? Would it be from you?”
Nodding, you held out your violin, “Yeah, they’re some pieces from my world.” His eyes widen with interest, making you smile. “Why don’t you come in?”
Now sitting in the living room of Ramshackle, Malleus was huddled into the couch much to small for his tall figure, watching intently as you tuned your violin.
“The music of your world is very enthralling.” Malleus murmurs, his eyes tracing your thumb as your test your tuned strings. “However, I was unaware of your talents.”
Being a violinist himself, he was more than aware of the effort that was required to learn how to play it. Noticing your ease, your poise, how you so casually handled something that—from his observations—has troubled many humans before, was astounding to him.
He watched patiently as you brought the body to your shoulder, “Are you going to continue the previous piece?” You shook your head, humming, “No, I think this is a time for a happier one.”
Malleus softens at that. He nods. Your technique was perfect; he, out of anyone, would know. His eyes fluttered shut as you began, your perfect notes filling the usually silent air of the night with a beautiful melody.
He hadn’t expected this out of the Prefect, but he couldn’t be more grateful. Having lived for so long, he’s heard music from all corners of the Earth, but finally, he had come across something new.
Malleus could tell, even with his eyes closed, that you were unbelievably skilled. Confidence, even before a future king like him, in every notes your bow pulled proved it.
The melody was sweet, warm, something that contrasted the typical chin that settled in the moonlit air. His heart soon ached for the song that ended, his eyes opening once again to meet yours.
“You are very talented, Child of Man.” He hums, a small smile tugging at his lips. You grin, “That’s quite a compliment, Hornton. Didn’t you say you play violin as well?”
Malleus nods, humming in interest. “I do. But even though I may, your music if far more unique than what I have heard in my years.”
You smiled at his almost child-like fascination. Even though he wouldn’t say it, he was clearly eager to hear more of the music from your world.
“Do you want to hear more, Hornton? Maybe you can even play with me!” You smiled, meeting his glowing eyes. He returned a sharp grin of delight, “It would be my pleasure.”
notes: kind of went overboard and made them full scenarios... I hope you liked them, and thank you for the request! idia's is soooooooooo long, i had to research how that guy talked lol. thank you sososososooo much for this request!!<3.
cw: angst, all reader perspective, gn! reader.
notes: ughhhhh, break ups suck, writing it out feels more irritating. not proofread, dont act surprised.
pt.1, pt.2.
since that night, it's been deafening loneliness. the sounds of the street as you walked from work to home blurred into meaningless buzzing. your ears felt like they were filled with water, your eyes felt like they were always on the verge of tears, your throat like it was filled with hives.
your friends told you that he isn't worth your tears. if he truly loved you, he wouldn't have broke it off so quickly. you should've known, you reminded yourself, you shouldn't cry, you told yourself. yet none of it helped, because even though it seemed like it was all 'in vain', why did your heart still ache?
maybe it was really all just a fleeting moment, an experience that you would soon forget, move on from. though, that didn't feel accurate. ever sunrise reminded you of him, when he'd gently kiss you goodbye before his morning run. the smell of breakfast always startled you with the memory of his voice as he scolded you for burning your tongue on the fresh, still-hot pancakes. the sunset a reminisce of going to the beach together during off-season, making sandcastles; being in love.
the clock ticked behind you, and you wondered what other memory your mind would conjure at its mechanical timeliness. maybe his timeliness, his perfect skill at planning.
shaking your head, you turned back to your book. the pages felt loud, crackling under your fingertips as the words of the story you were diligently following barely a moment ago jumbled into pools of ink. comfort didn't come easy no matter how hard you tried to pursued yourself into believing this brea up was a good thing, you were lying, and you knew it.
he was a wonderful boyfriend, and you felt cheesy saying it, but it was the honest truth. he was always checking in on you, yet now your phone has never been so quiet. he always remembered the small things, and now you keep forgetting to take your vitamins.
moving from your couch to your kitchen, you sighed as you tossed your phone onto the lousy cushions of the now abandoned sofa. your mind wandered as you went through the habitual motions of preparing coffee: filling the tank, putting in the paper, 'measuring' the grounds, and waiting for the pot to fill.
silence surrounded you again, like a lingering figure that constantly shadowed you. it began to hurt again, the coldness of your apartment, the framed photos, the decoration, everything reminded you of-
beep. beep. beep.
coffee was ready.
you sighed as the dark liquid filled your mug, swirling with creamer and sugar. It was a nice smell, soft, wafting through the chill that pierced your apartment. it reminded you of him. again. you weren't sure if it was just the curse of being freshly single; every little thing in the would bring you back to your last date.
it was a home date, like many, the crowds of people never something sae would welcome. the vision of his apartment was burned into your memory, each decoration that you both decided on together--as if it wasn't his apartment--the past lingering in the worn fabric of the couch you two sat on.
your eyes fell shut, the coffee warming your palms through the ceramic mug as your head tilted back, trying to wash away the sickly warmth that sprouted in your heart. just as quickly as it bloomed, it decayed, rotting and writhing in boiling agony.
the echo of his voice played in your mind like a broken record, vibrating with softness that brushed against your cheek before sharpening into the dagger he stabbed into your heart barely a week ago.
your coffee was cold now. emotions, such deep ones, took so much time to handle, you thought, your heart sore. the figure of the sun danced among the clouds as it set outside your window. his voice never wavered when he said that to you, when he told you he didn't need you. sunlight flickered like a frail flame, slowly darkening, swallowed by the night, like you. your heart fought against the damp sorrow that suffocated it, but now, there was nothing else to feel but anguish.
cw: suggestive/flirty, fluff foul language, v informal, fem! reader
bring back the obey me fandom fr
Barbatos loves, and i mean loves, to tease. to everyone else, he seems so put together, like a statue with a perfectly graceful smile, but every time he catches you in a quiet hallway at RAD, that fool-proof smile breaks with a phrase you never expected to hear from one who's supposed to be subservient.
he loves, adores, lives, for the way your eyes flutter away as you cough, trying recover from your flustered state. he loves the way you grin and laugh, the way your eyes meet his in a cheeky smirk as you bump your hip against him.
but barbatos' favorite thing, as much as he loves those other moments, is when you tease him back. when you brush his hair 'back into place' even though its never been out of place. when you pout and tilt your head up at him. when you press into his side, the feeling of your breasts against his arm sending a shiver down his spine. when you whisper words that'll keep you out of hell in the same hallway he did.'
even though he may be a devil, a demon, a cursed being, he will never be able to think any sin of the way you try [ and struggle ] to help him as he bakes. or when you bother him every evening [ he gave in ] to give him a message [ he's a fucking demon he doesn't need it lmao ]. he can't help but enjoy your company as you sip and sit in silence, tapping his shoulder shyly when you asked for help on your homework.
he loves the way you slowly learn to look past his smile, the eyes are the windows to the soul, right?
