#Idia Shroud X Reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dior-luxury · 2 days ago

Note

Love your stories♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️ Could I request the female reader falling asleep on their boyfriends lap with the dorm leaders and vice dorm leaders + Floyd? Thank you.

In the Comfort of You

( ✧ ) ────── boyfriend stories . fluff - she/her .

- [𝐜𝐡.] dorm leaders . vice dorm leaders + floyd

- [𝐩:𝐬] none

Note: Aww, this prompt is actually so cute are you kidding! I came back from my dance comp early so I celebrated by writing again! (*¯︶¯*)

Riddle Rosehearts

It was a quiet afternoon in Heartslabyul, the garden unusually still after a morning of chaos. The usual string of rules, order, and unexpected mushroom inspections had tired out even the strictest members. The sun filtered through the rose bushes, scattering golden flecks across the picnic blanket laid out under the gazebo. The breeze rustled the leaves above, and the faint smell of strawberry tarts lingered in the air.

Riddle sat upright, posture perfect, a book open in his lap. He was mid-sentence when he felt a shift beside him.

You, his girlfriend, had been curled up at his side for a while, your head resting lightly on his shoulder. But now, slowly, without a word, you repositioned yourself and laid your head fully in his lap.

He stiffened.

Rules. There were rules about propriety. About maintaining posture. About not being flustered in public—even if it was just you two in the garden. His brain fired through a checklist of what he should do. He should tell you to sit up. He should maintain boundaries.

But then he looked down.

Your face was peaceful, softened by sleep. A slight smile played on your lips, your chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. One hand loosely held the hem of his jacket, as if even in sleep, you wanted to be close to him. You trusted him enough to rest like this. On him.

His heart stuttered.

Slowly, he placed the book aside and stared down at you, watching the way your lashes fluttered when the breeze tickled your cheeks. His hand hovered in the air for a long time—unsure—before he finally brushed your hair away from your forehead, his fingers trembling slightly.

He had always been taught discipline, order, and responsibility. But with you? He felt human. Vulnerable. Safe.

His fingers lingered in your hair, stroking it gently.

“…I suppose... one nap isn’t against the rules,” he murmured to himself.

He leaned back slightly, his other hand resting lightly across your back to make sure you didn’t roll off his lap. He felt warmth in his chest, unfamiliar and wonderful, like a sun blooming behind clouds. For once, Riddle Rosehearts didn't care about rules or appearances. Not when you looked so peaceful. Not when your presence filled his every thought.

And when you murmured his name softly in your sleep, like a prayer wrapped in trust?

He knew he'd never let anyone disturb this moment.

Not even the Queen of Hearts herself.

Trey Clover

The sun was setting over the Heartslabyul courtyard, painting the sky in sherbet hues. After a long day of baking sweets for the next unbirthday party, the scent of sugar and vanilla still clung to the air.

Trey had insisted on taking a break—dragging you out into the garden with a blanket and leftover tarts. You’d tried to protest, insisting you had homework, but he just smiled with that warm, steady patience of his and said, “You’ve earned a rest.”

You sat beside him, legs stretched out, chewing lazily on a berry tart as he leaned against a tree trunk. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, and his glasses had slipped slightly down the bridge of his nose as he read aloud from a half-open cookbook. You didn’t understand why he found recipe books so relaxing, but his voice was calm, familiar, grounding.

Eventually, the warmth of the setting sun and the soft cadence of his words started to lull you into a haze. Without thinking, you scooted closer and laid your head in his lap.

Trey’s voice trailed off.

He looked down at you, blinking once, then again. The way you curled into him, unguarded, so effortlessly vulnerable—it made his chest ache in the sweetest way. He smiled, one hand coming up to adjust his glasses, the other instinctively brushing along your arm.

“You okay down there?” he asked softly.

No response.

Your breathing was slow and even, lips slightly parted as you drifted deeper into sleep. Your hand rested on his thigh, fingers barely curled like you were holding onto the moment.

He chuckled under his breath. “Guess that’s a yes.”

With infinite gentleness, Trey shifted the tart plate out of the way and used his free hand to tuck your hair behind your ear. He watched the way the sunlight danced on your skin, how your eyelashes cast little shadows across your cheeks.

He didn’t move for a long while. Didn’t read. Didn’t speak. He just sat there, a steady presence while you slept on his lap. His thumb brushed lazy, affectionate circles on your shoulder.

“I hope you know,” he said eventually, voice soft and low like a whisper in a dream, “I could sit like this forever.”

His heart beat slow and full. This wasn’t the chaos of the kitchen, or the madness of Heartslabyul. This was something simpler. Sweeter. Like a quiet lull after the storm.

He leaned down slightly, pressing a feather-light kiss to your temple.

“Sweet dreams, sugar.”

Leona Kingscholar

It was one of those scorching afternoons in the Savannaclaw lounge. The heat had chased most students into the shadows, and the usual clamor had died down to a low hum. Leona had claimed his favorite sun-drenched couch—stretched out with one arm behind his head, the other lazily flipping through a textbook he had no real intention of reading.

You were sitting next to him, legs curled under you, chatting idly for a bit before trailing off. He barely registered the silence at first—figured you were just zoning out. But then something shifted.

You moved closer.

His ears twitched.

Without a word, you leaned over and placed your head directly on his lap. Just—boop. Laid down. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Leona froze.

He looked down slowly, like he couldn’t believe what just happened. There you were, his girl, sleeping soundly across his lap. Lips parted slightly, cheek pressed against his thigh, hands tucked under your chin. Peaceful. Completely knocked out.

For a moment, Leona just stared.

And then—

“…Tch.” He clicked his tongue, but it lacked any real bite. “You’ve got some nerve.”

His hand hovered over you for a beat. He wanted to push you off, maybe grumble something about how he was supposed to be the lazy one, not you. But instead…

His fingers dipped into your hair.

It was light. Barely a touch. Just a lazy comb through your strands, again and again.

“Brat,” he murmured, but his voice was soft, like the desert wind at night. “You really just gonna sleep here without asking? On my lap?”

And yet he didn’t move.

Didn’t complain.

Didn’t breathe too loudly for fear of waking you.

His tail swished lazily across the floor, betraying the contentment he pretended he didn’t feel. The warmth of your body against him made his eyelids droop, but he stayed awake, keeping a silent vigil.

He wouldn’t admit it, not in a thousand years—but having you there, choosing him as your safe place to rest?

That meant more than all the crowns in the world.

He smirked, resting his head back.

“…Guess I’ll let you off this time.”

Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie wasn’t used to having time off. Between errands for Leona, club stuff, side hustles, and dodging various school responsibilities, “relaxation” wasn’t exactly on his schedule. But today? For some miraculous reason? He had an open hour. So he dragged you out behind the Savannaclaw dorm where the sun was warm, the grass was soft, and there were no chores to do.

He was halfway through telling you about some weird thing he saw in the cafeteria (“Swear on my granny’s life, the mashed potatoes moved!”) when he realized you weren’t laughing anymore.

He turned his head to look—and there you were.

Head in his lap. Curled up like a cat in a sunbeam. Eyes closed. Asleep.

Ruggie blinked.

Once. Twice.

“…Huh?”

He looked around like this was some kind of prank. “Oi. Y/N?”

No response.

A soft snore.

Ruggie stared down at you, your face squished slightly against his thigh, your fingers loosely gripping his hoodie. He didn’t know what to do with his hands at first. He held them up in the air like you were fragile and he might break you by accident.

He whispered, “…You serious right now?”

His face was bright red. Full-on red as a beet. But his heart? Beating like crazy. Fast and full and warm in a way that made his chest ache.

He glanced down again.

And slowly, hesitantly, the corner of his mouth tugged into a grin.

“Heh… cute.”

Very carefully, he pulled his hoodie sleeve down and tucked it under your head like a makeshift pillow. Then he leaned back on his hands and looked up at the sky, his tail flicking lazily behind him.

“You better not start drooling on me,” he muttered—but there was no venom in it. Just affection.

He sat there quietly, keeping still even when his legs started to fall asleep. When you shifted a little and sighed in your sleep, he actually stopped breathing for a second.

Because no one ever really… relaxed around him like that. Not like this. Not since he was a kid in the slums of the Sunset Savanna. This—being someone’s safe place—was something new. Something precious.

And he’d fight anyone who tried to ruin it.

Even if he’d totally deny that later.

Azul Ashengrotto

The Lounge had closed for the night. The clink of glassware had faded, the last customer long gone, and the velvet curtains drawn tight. Everything was bathed in that dim oceanic glow Octavinelle was known for—deep blues and the shimmer of water against stone.

Azul had finally finished sorting through contracts, sighing in satisfaction as he slid the last document into its folder. You were already sitting on the plush couch in the VIP room, legs tucked to the side, watching him with a soft smile on your lips.

“Hard at work, as always,” you teased lightly.

Azul chuckled, brushing his bangs back. “You know how it is. A businessman’s time is never his own.”

“You’ve got time for me now though, right?”

He hesitated only for a moment. “Always.”

You patted the space next to you. He sat, slightly stiff as always—ever the perfect posture. But he relaxed once you leaned against his shoulder. You chatted for a bit, your voice slowly trailing off as the atmosphere quieted. Your head slipped downward, resting lightly against his arm at first… then lower… until suddenly, Azul felt a shift.

He looked down to find your head in his lap.

Asleep.

Breathing gently.

Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Azul froze. Completely. His hands hovered mid-air, his back went ramrod straight, and panic flickered in his mind like a school of darting fish.

What do I do? Is this allowed? Is she okay? What if she drools? What if Jade sees—oh seven seas—

He dared to look down at your face. Your eyelashes fluttered faintly. Your lips were parted slightly, your expression peaceful. Unburdened. Completely unafraid.

The kind of peace Azul never had in his own head.

He felt his throat tighten.

You trusted him—him, a calculating, manipulative, secret-wielding businessman enough to fall asleep on his lap.

“…You really are bold,” he whispered, voice breaking into a whisper. “But… I suppose I can’t blame you.”

Cautiously, as if worried he’d shatter the moment, Azul rested a hand against your shoulder and the other—so slowly—began to stroke your hair. The strands slipped through his fingers like sea silk. He watched you for what felt like hours, every so often brushing a strand out of your face or tracing the curve of your cheek with his thumb.

And for once… the silence wasn’t unnerving.

It was comforting.

“Maybe just a little longer,” he murmured.

When Jade poked his head in later to report something, his eyes landed on the scene. He raised a brow—but said nothing.

Azul simply met his gaze, a faint smile playing on his lips. For once, he didn’t care about appearances.

Not when you were in his arms.

Jade Leech

The rainforest in the botanical garden was dim, warm, and filled with the sounds of dripping water and the flutter of hidden wings. Jade loved bringing you here after long days—the two of you wandering between the glowing mushrooms and thick vines, talking about strange creatures and even stranger students.

That evening, you had been unusually quiet.

Tired.

He’d noticed. Of course he had. Jade noticed everything.

So, he suggested you rest.

You both sat on a stone bench nestled under an arch of glowing moss. The lights cast a soft green hue over the clearing. Jade had started telling you a story—some obscure tale about a deep-sea creature with a song that lured people into dreams.

And maybe it was his voice—smooth as silk, low and lulling—or maybe it was the way he ran his fingers lazily through the fern beside you, but soon…

Your head slipped gently into his lap.

And you didn’t move again.

Jade blinked once, tilting his head ever so slightly.

“…Oh my.”

Your face was tilted toward him, cheek resting on the fabric of his uniform pants. Your breathing was deep, peaceful. Your body, curled like a cat, radiated warmth into his legs. You made not even the faintest sound.

And Jade?

Jade was frozen—but not out of panic.

He was fascinated.

You trusted him enough to sleep here. On him. Fully vulnerable. Open. And you didn’t even seem to hesitate.

The corners of his lips curled upward into a smile—genuine and serene.

“Well,” he murmured, reaching out to gently brush your hair behind your ear, “you are more interesting than any mushroom I’ve ever encountered.”

He chuckled quietly, the sound blending into the soft symphony of the garden.

Jade’s hand lingered in your hair, slow and thoughtful. He studied the way you clutched the fabric of his jacket with one hand, like you were anchoring yourself to him. And slowly, his usually composed heart began to thrum, unfamiliar and full.

No one ever rested near him this way.

No one dared.

But you did.

“You’ve caught me off guard,” he whispered, almost reverently.

Not a trace of mischief in his tone—only awe.

He leaned down slightly, brushing a kiss to your temple with an elegant tenderness only someone like him could manage.

“I wonder what you’re dreaming of,” he said softly, his voice a promise. “Whatever it is… I hope I’m there.”

And he stayed perfectly still, watching over you like a sentinel in the jungle. Not because he had to—but because he wanted to.

Because you, in that moment, were the most precious thing in his world.

Floyd Leech

The tide was low in his mood today.

Everything felt boring. Club meetings dragged, the Lounge was quiet, and even scaring first-years didn’t give him the usual rush. He was sprawled out on one of the long couches in the Octavinelle dorm lounge, legs dangling off the side, one arm draped over his eyes.

You were with him, of course—his “Shrimpy.” His favorite toy. His favorite person.

Today, though, he wasn’t teasing you or playfully squeezing you until you squirmed. He was unusually quiet, lying still in a rare moment of calm. You sat beside him, chatting softly at first, your fingers absently tracing patterns into his arm.

But then… your voice faded.

Your hand stilled.

He peeked out from under his arm just in time to feel it—your weight shifting as you gently curled up beside him, resting your head right on his stomach. A warm, sleepy sigh left your lips.

And then nothing.

You were asleep.

At first, Floyd just blinked, his mismatched eyes wide with surprise. “Huh?”

He tilted his head forward, peering at you like a curious sea creature watching a pearl roll into its den.

“You really knocked out, huh?”

No answer. Just the sound of your soft breathing, face nestled into his hoodie, arms curled in like you were hugging a plush toy.

Floyd didn’t move.

Didn’t make a sound.

Instead… his grin slowly, slowly spread across his face.

“Eheh~ Shrimpy... you really are something else.”

He gently lifted his hand and let it fall over your back, his fingers splaying like seaweed, curling into the fabric of your shirt. He didn’t squeeze this time. No chaotic thrashing, no threats of “squeeeezin’ ya ‘til ya pop.” Just the weight of his hand, steady and warm, like he was grounding himself in you.

His tailing mood melted like drift ice under sun.

You chose him.

To rest on. To trust. To fall asleep on, even knowing how temperamental he could be.

That tugged at something deep. Something primal and tender. He could feel his heartbeat slow to match yours, lulled by the rhythm of your breath.

“You’re lucky I like you so much,” he murmured, voice unusually low and gentle. “If it were anybody else, I’d have chomped ‘em by now for touchin’ me like this.”

But he didn’t move. Not an inch.

He just laid there, arm wrapped around you, letting you use his body like a pillow made of seafoam and muscle.

And when you murmured his name in your sleep—barely audible, just a breath?

Floyd melted entirely.

His grin softened, his head tilted back.

“…Guess I’ll nap too, then. But if I drool on ya, it’s your fault~”

Kalim Al-asim

The palace-like halls of Scarabia were quiet in the golden haze of late afternoon. The sun poured through the arching windows, lighting the silken pillows in warm amber. It had been a long day—flying carpets, music practice, and Kalim pulling you into at least three spontaneous dance circles.

Now, you were both on the balcony, surrounded by flower pots and colorful lanterns swaying in the breeze. Kalim had been talking excitedly about a festival his family hosted once—a night where they lit a thousand paper lanterns and let them float into the sky.

You were curled beside him, resting against his side, nodding along as his hands animated every story.

But eventually… your replies stopped.

He glanced down mid-sentence to find you still. Eyes closed. Breathing soft.

Your head had somehow found its way into his lap, resting there like it belonged. Your hands tucked under your cheek, your face tilted up toward him like you were dreaming of the stars he’d just described.

Kalim’s eyes widened.

“Oh!”

He clapped a hand over his mouth immediately, realizing how loud he was about to be.

“She fell asleep,” he whispered to himself, awed.

He looked down at you like you were made of starlight and gold.

You trusted him. You felt safe with him. So safe, in fact, that you’d fallen asleep in his lap under the open sky.

His heart soared.

“Wow…” he breathed.

He reached out, ever so gently, brushing a lock of hair from your forehead, his fingers trembling just slightly. Not from nerves—Kalim was never shy—but from the sheer overwhelming joy of the moment.

He wanted to laugh, to cheer, to kiss your forehead a hundred times.

But he didn’t.

He sat still, barely breathing, his smile wide and wonder-filled.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he whispered, his voice full of love. “Like a dream.”

He looked up at the sky, watching the clouds drift by, and then down again at you. His fingers found yours, lacing them together gently.

Kalim’s world was fast, bright, full of noise and song. But this?

This was a quiet kind of joy.

One that filled his chest like sweet air and didn’t need to be shouted.

He leaned down, kissed the crown of your head, and rested his cheek gently against your hair.

“If I had a thousand stars,” he whispered, “I’d give them all to you.”

And there, under the setting sun, with the breeze carrying hints of jasmine and warmth, Kalim stayed absolutely still—just a boy in love, holding his world in his lap.

Jamil Viper

It was late—well past the quiet hours in Scarabia. The sun had long since dipped behind the dunes, and the dorm was bathed in a soft, warm glow from hanging lanterns. The courtyard had emptied after a long day of activities, and only the hush of wind through palm trees and the distant trickle of water from the fountain remained.

Jamil sat beneath the archway overlooking the open courtyard, dressed down in his lounge clothes—simple, dark, loose-fitting, no frills. His shoulders were slouched, rare for someone always so tightly wound. You were beside him, curled up with your legs tucked under you, slowly leaning more and more his way.

The conversation had started casually—stories about Kalim’s antics, about classes, about the endless list of responsibilities Jamil was juggling. But as you listened, your replies grew quieter, slower…

And before he could even finish a sentence, he felt it.

Your head, gentle and warm, settled right into his lap.

Jamil went completely still.

He looked down, blinking, utterly silent.

“…You fell asleep?”

He could hardly believe it. There you were—his girlfriend—just… sleeping on him like it was natural. No hesitation. No fear. Just soft breath against his stomach and one hand lightly curled in his hoodie.

And him?

He didn’t move a muscle.

Jamil wasn’t used to this kind of closeness without strings. He wasn’t used to someone resting on him, not needing anything, not demanding he do something, fix something, prove something.

You were just there.

Sleeping.

Trusting him.

He swallowed hard, his heartbeat loud in his ears. One of his hands hovered above your shoulder, hesitant, as if afraid touching you would wake you—or worse, make the moment disappear.

But then, with a quiet exhale, he let his hand fall gently into your hair.

Fingers threaded through the strands slowly. Carefully. Like you were made of delicate silk.

“Y/N…” he whispered, barely audible.

There was a softness in his eyes no one else ever got to see. He didn’t know if you could hear him in your sleep—but it didn’t matter.

“You really don’t know what you do to me.”

He leaned back against the pillar, staring up at the night sky, the stars peeking through the edges of the courtyard ceiling. For once, he allowed himself a moment of stillness. No planning. No scheming. No worrying about Kalim or school or a hundred responsibilities.

Just you.

Warm and trusting in his arms.

And Jamil—quiet, calm—stayed perfectly still, the ghost of a smile on his lips as he brushed his thumb over your temple.

“If this is a dream,” he whispered, “I don’t want to wake up.”

Vil Schoenheit

The dressing room was quiet.

For once.

The glow of vanity lights lined the mirror, casting golden halos over the room. Bottles, brushes, powders, everything meticulously organized in Vil’s space. You had been keeping him company after his rehearsal—watching him take off his stage makeup with gentle, practiced motions, each movement like part of a performance in itself.

You sat beside him on the plush velvet chaise, your posture proper at first, engaged in conversation. He was mid-rant about a classmate’s awful skincare routine (heaven help them), and you had smiled, eyes soft, head tilted just slightly.

And then…

You slumped sideways.

Right into his lap.

Vil’s breath hitched, and he looked down, mouth parted slightly in surprise.

You… fell asleep?

On him?

“Darling?” he said quietly, brushing his fingers against your shoulder. No response.

Your face was tilted toward him, cheek gently pressed against his thigh, lashes brushing the top of your cheek, lips parted just slightly. You looked so peaceful. So still.

So unaware of how tightly you’d gripped his heart in that moment.

Vil slowly exhaled, lowering his hand to rest on your back. His other hand—still elegant, still carrying the last remnants of lotion—hovered over your hair. And then, with featherlight grace, he began to smooth it back, careful not to disturb your rest.

“Sleeping on a chaise,” he murmured. “That’s hardly ideal posture.”

But his voice had no edge. No scolding. Just… gentle amusement.

Vil Schoenheit was used to control—his appearance, his schedule, his image. And yet, here you were, disrupting all of that with a single act of vulnerability. Trusting him with your body in its most unguarded state.

And it didn’t irritate him.

It moved him.

“This is… dangerous,” he whispered. “You lower my guard far too easily.”

He gazed at you for a long while, memorizing the curve of your face in the soft light. The way your hand rested atop his knee like it belonged there. The softness of your lips, the warmth of your breath.

Vil had been photographed a thousand times, posed beside the most beautiful people in the world.

But this?

This was the most beautiful moment he had ever been part of.

He gently tugged a silk throw blanket from the back of the chaise and draped it over your shoulders, careful not to shift your head. Then, leaning down, he pressed a kiss to your temple—soft, reverent, full of unspoken feeling.

“You’ll be the ruin of me, schatz,” he whispered. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Rook Hunt

The sun had long since begun its descent, draping the vast grounds of NRC in a golden veil. The lush gardens behind Pomefiore dorm basked in that soft honey light, petals curling gently like sleepy sighs, and even the breeze seemed to hush itself to a lullaby. Rook Hunt sat on a stone bench nestled beneath an arch of ivy and lavender, legs crossed with poetic elegance, one arm draped along the bench’s edge, the other cradling a small leather-bound book of Baudelaire’s poetry.

But he had not turned a page in fifteen minutes.

His gaze, normally so sharp and brimming with curiosity, had softened completely—locked onto you, his beloved, curled up in the safest of sanctuaries: his lap.

You hadn’t meant to fall asleep, of course. It had started with just leaning against him, the sun warming your back and his hand absentmindedly carding through your hair, twirling strands like golden thread between his fingers. His voice had been low, reciting French verses with a soft lilt, letting the words flutter into the air like butterflies. Somewhere between the cadence of his voice, the scent of lilacs, and the rise and fall of his breathing, sleep had stolen you away.

And Rook… was absolutely enchanted.

“Oh, mon ange…” he whispered, barely audible, his breath brushing against the crown of your head.

He didn’t dare move. His usually ever-restless energy was still for once—his stillness more reverent than any silence in the cathedral. Your cheek was resting just over his thigh, your arms folded like a child’s under your head. A soft sigh escaped your lips every now and then, the kind that melted straight into his chest.

It was an intimacy far beyond a stolen kiss or dramatic serenade. This was something quiet. Sacred.

Rook’s gloved fingers ghosted along your shoulder, his thumb brushing ever so lightly against the skin where your shirt had slipped a bit. He chuckled—quietly, tenderly.

“To inspire such trust… Such vulnerability…” He murmured in awe, gazing down at you like one might look at a painting in a gallery, overwhelmed by its beauty but unable to explain why. “Tu es ma muse éternelle.”

The soft flush on your cheeks, the way your lashes kissed your skin, the rhythm of your breath—all of it wove a spell around his heart. A predator by nature, he was always seeking, always hunting the next beautiful moment. But this? This stillness, this peace—this was the rarest prey of all.

Rook leaned back, head tilted toward the twilight sky.

He would sit here forever if it meant you could rest undisturbed. The hunt could wait.

Idia Shroud

The atmosphere in Idia’s room buzzed with low ambient synth music, neon lights tracing cyber-punk lines across the walls, bouncing off rows of figurines and glowing monitors. Ortho had exited the room a while ago, leaving behind a half-empty can of soda and a quiet “I’ll give you two some space, nii-san~” in a sing-song voice that had Idia practically overheating.

You were on the floor, curled in a sea of fuzzy blankets and oversized gaming pillows. Idia had set up your “chill zone,” as he nervously called it—stocked with snacks, manga, and an absurdly cute cat-shaped pillow that he had definitely not bought because it reminded him of the way you smiled.

You had climbed up into his gaming chair at some point, practically draping yourself across his lap, completely fearless. Idia had gone full system error—stiff as a board, hands twitching at his sides, a thousand inner alarms going off.

“Wha—Y-You can’t just—th-th-there’s a process! A sequence! L-like, at least two awkward movie nights before you just go full-on lap-mode!!”

But you hadn’t answered. Your breathing had slowed. Your body had gone warm and heavy.

You’d fallen asleep.

Idia’s heart skipped several beats. He actually had to check that he wasn’t hallucinating. A tiny puff of air escaped your lips, your cheek squished against his hoodie-clad thigh, and your hand, like it had a mind of its own, had curled around the hem of his sleeve.

He froze. Again.

Then slowly, as if afraid to wake a very fluffy, very delicate sleeping beast, he let himself breathe. Just a little.

His hand trembled as it hovered near your head. His fingers twitched like they were afraid to mess it up—you—the whole fragile image of this moment.

And then, very carefully, he let his hand settle into your hair.

“…This is… r-real, right?” he whispered, voice cracking mid-sentence. He bit down on a whimper, overwhelmed.

“She’s literally asleep. On me. Like, I’m not even an NPC in this cutscene. I’m the main questline now.”

A faint giggle threatened to bubble up, but he slapped a hand over his mouth.

Then the other part of his brain chimed in.

What if she wakes up and realizes it’s weird? What if she was just tired and it wasn’t a conscious choice? What if she thinks you’re a total loser for sitting there like a statue?

He shut his eyes tight.

No. No, for once, he wouldn’t self-destruct this moment. Not when it felt like he’d stepped into a rare hidden level that only unlocked when your affection for an NPC was maxed out.

He looked down at you again, marveling at the tiny breath of warmth rising and falling against him.

“You’re like… my safe point,” he mumbled into the dark, letting his fingers finally settle gently in your hair.

A small ping from his PC reminded him a new update had installed.

“Whatever, I already got the best patch.”

Malleus Draconia

It was a rare, quiet evening at Diasomnia. No thunder echoed from the mountains, no duties called for the crown prince, and no students dared interrupt the rare moment of peace Malleus found with you.

The courtyard behind the dormitory was bathed in moonlight, silver threads weaving between tall hedges and ancient statues. You’d been chatting beside him on a stone bench, your legs curled beneath you, fingers grazing his as you recounted a ridiculous tale Ace had told you during lunch. Malleus listened—his eyes never straying from your face, utterly enchanted by your every word. You were warm and brilliant, like the sun he’d always been curious about, and it was moments like this that made him feel closer to understanding it.

But the day had been long. Long classes, longer conversations, and the gentle lull of Malleus’s deep voice had slowly pulled you into the edges of slumber. One moment you were chuckling, your cheek in your palm, and the next… your head tilted gently against his thigh.

Malleus stiffened slightly—not in discomfort, but surprise.

He blinked down at you, your lashes fluttering, your lips parting slightly as your breathing evened out. His first instinct was stillness. Dragons, after all, are patient creatures. He gazed at your peaceful form, processing the trust it took for you to doze off like this—on him. Vulnerable. Soft.

“My treasure…” he whispered, voice low with reverence.

He gently adjusted his posture, making sure your head had a comfortable angle. One clawed hand hovered hesitantly in the air before slowly descending to stroke your hair, tender and cautious, like touching spun gold.

“Even in sleep, you are unafraid of me.” The words were not sad, but filled with quiet awe.

The warmth of your body against him, the subtle scent of your perfume, and the delicate rise and fall of your breath began to unravel something inside Malleus. A rare emotion—one that wrapped around his ancient heart like ivy. He had seen kingdoms rise and fall, yet here you were, the most precious thing he’d ever held, choosing to rest in his lap like he was your sanctuary.

As your hand twitched in your sleep, seeking his, Malleus smiled.

He laced your fingers together, holding you close.

“You will never know harm while I breathe,” he murmured, more promise than poetry.

He remained there, unmoving, for as long as you needed. Watching over you with all the devotion of a dragon guarding his hoard, his heart heavy with love and light.

Lilia Vanrouge

The music from the Lounge had died down hours ago, and yet the two of you lingered in the quiet common room of Diasomnia, curled up on an emerald velvet settee, bathed in candlelight.

You had been scrolling through photos on your phone, laughing at memories, while Lilia lounged beside you, arms spread over the back of the couch, looking for all the world like a retired general watching over his beloved court jester.

His teasing quips had slowed as the hour crept past midnight. You were curled sideways now, legs draped over his, head tucked against his shoulder.

And then… your body shifted slightly.

You sighed—a soft, exhausted exhale—and gently, instinctively, nestled your head into his lap. Your phone slid from your hand to the cushion with a muffled thud.

Lilia paused mid-sentence, blinking. Then he looked down.

“Well, well…” His voice was a whisper, touched with warmth and amusement. “You’ve gone and melted into my lap, little bat.”

There was no complaint in his tone. Only gentle adoration.

He shifted minutely, reaching for a throw blanket folded neatly over the back of the couch. With practiced ease, he draped it over your form, tucking it around your shoulders with a tenderness only centuries of experience could perfect.

As your cheek pressed against his thigh, he could feel the subtle hum of your breath through his clothes. He gently brushed your hair away from your face, taking a moment to admire your features—so soft, so trusting, so utterly you.

Lilia had lived longer than most stars, but never had he found a moment quite like this.

“A sight sweeter than sakura in spring,” he murmured, one gloved hand resting lightly atop your head.

He leaned back, gazing at the ceiling, his other hand lazily tracing invisible patterns against your arm beneath the blanket.

He thought of the countless battles he’d fought, the wars he’d survived, the heartbreaks endured. And yet this moment—this quiet, sleeping you—was what he found himself wanting to protect most of all.

“Don’t worry,” he said quietly, “I’ll keep watch tonight, just as I always have. Even nightmares wouldn’t dare bother you while I’m here.”

A mischievous glint twinkled in his eyes, even as his voice remained soft.

“And if you drool on me, well… I suppose I’ll consider it a badge of honor.”

He chuckled lightly to himself, and resumed playing with your hair, humming a lullaby so old the stars had likely forgotten it. It was a melody sung once in ancient fae courts, now resurrected just for you.

Lilia, the eternal guardian, kept his silent vigil, heart full and content.

1K notes · View notes

luxthestrange · 20 days ago

Text

TWST!Memes #100

Idia stans be like-

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #twst x yuu #twst fluff #twst ignihyde #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #idia shroud x yuu #im not saying im not a stan #but im a platonic stan-i relate to him alot #the shroud brothers have a special place in my heart-#twst meme #twst memes #twisted wonderland memes

2K notes · View notes

strawberry-bubblef · 1 day ago

Note

Could I please request house wardens catching they're s/o threwing up overblot ink and they're just like 'It's fine' but the ink is slowly taking over and tearing apart their insides? Like, they're not overbloting cuz they're magicless but when they fought off the house wardens, the blot got into their system, and it's not pretty.

Housewarden catching their s/o throwing up blot ink

Riddle Rosehearts

It happened after the fight. After the dust settled, the roses stopped bleeding, and Riddle returned to himself,confused, breathless, horrified.

You were the first to run to him, ignoring the warnings, the lingering sparks of magic still fizzing in the air. You had touched his face, still streaked with blot, and smiled shakily.

“It’s over,” you whispered. “You’re okay now.”

But he hadn’t noticed your hands trembling. He hadn’t seen the ink beneath your fingernails.

The first time you coughed up ink, it was just a droplet. Small. Easy to hide. You wiped it with your sleeve, heart hammering. You told yourself it was a fluke.

Then came the second time. The third.

You started avoiding mirrors because you didn’t want to see the veins blackening faintly beneath your skin.

The corruption wasn’t magical,it couldn’t be. You were magicless. That was the rule. You couldn’t overblot. You shouldn’t be able to.

But maybe… maybe the rules didn’t apply to whatever the blot had become inside you.

And then, one day, Riddle walked into your shared study and found you hunched over the wastebasket, coughing violently.

“Y/N—?” His voice pitched up in panic. He was at your side in seconds, kneeling, grabbing your shoulders,only to freeze as he saw what you’d expelled.

Thick, black ink. Unmistakable.

It clung to your lips. Coated your hand. Pooled at your knees like tar.

You looked up at him with a pale smile. “It’s… fine.”

His heart stopped. “No. No, it isn’t.” His voice was shaking. “You’re not a mage, you—this shouldn't even be possible !”

You tried to stand, but your legs gave out, a fresh stream of ink spilling from your lips. It hissed faintly as it hit the floor, like it was alive.

Riddle caught you before you collapsed, his gloves smearing against the substance as he cradled you. His hands were trembling.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispered, his voice cracking. “How long?”

“Since the fight,” you mumbled, barely conscious. “I thought it would pass. I'm not like you… I didn’t think it could overtake me…”

“You’re not overblotting,” he said in disbelief, eyes wide as he looked at your body. “But it’s inside you. It’s killing you.”

You gave a weak laugh. “Guess I'm breaking a few rules, huh?”

He didn’t laugh.

“Don’t joke,” he whispered, forehead pressed to yours. “You didn’t break rules. I did. And you’re paying the price.”

Tears welled in his eyes.

“I won’t let this stand. I won’t lose you. Even if I have to rewrite the rules of magic itself.”

And for the first time in a long while, Riddle Rosehearts broke a rule,he left your side only to begin researching forbidden magics, his pristine record forgotten.

Because if the system allowed this… then it didn’t deserve his obedience.

Leona Kingscholar

He finds you behind the botanical garden, hunched over, your hand pressed against your mouth as thick, viscous ink drips through your fingers.

You don’t hear him at first.

You’re too busy trying not to throw up again, trying to breathe, trying to pretend this isn’t as bad as it feels.

But Leona sees. And he freezes.

“…What the hell.”

His voice is low, almost too quiet. Not angry. Not yet. Just… stunned.

You turn your head slightly, weakly, forcing a smile that looks more like a grimace. “Hey…”

His eyes narrow at the blot staining your lips and chin.

“What is that?”

You try to wipe it away. “It’s just… a little leftover blot. From the fights. I guess it got in me somehow—”

“You guess?” He cuts you off, but there’s no venom in it. Just a sharp edge of disbelief. “You’re throwing it up.”

You glance away, embarrassed. “I didn’t think it’d get this bad.”

Leona steps forward, slowly. His expression isn’t scowling or pissed—it’s something worse.

Worried.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want you to worry. You’ve already got enough going on.”

A long silence stretches between you.

Then, softly,so softly it almost doesn’t sound like him,he mutters, “Don’t do that.”

You blink up at him. “Do what?”

“Decide for me.” He looks at you now, and there’s a tightness in his voice that pulls something deep in your chest. “If you’re hurting—especially because of me—I want to know. You don’t get to protect me by putting yourself through hell.”

You try to make a joke, to lighten the moment. “Wow. That sounded dangerously close to sentiment.”

But he doesn’t smile. He just exhales and crouches in front of you, eye-level now.

“You look like your insides are fucking breaking apart.”

“…They might be.”

He tenses, jaw clenching, but he doesn’t lash out. He just reaches out and rests his hand behind your back, steadying you as you tremble.

“You’re magicless. You shouldn't even be able to survive it.” His voice is low, rough. His grip on you tightens slightly,anger, panic, frustration, all twisted into his jaw. “Do you have any idea what this’ll do to you?”

You manage a laugh. “Think I’m finding out.”

His ears flatten. His tail lashes behind him. But his hands don’t leave you.

“I’m taking you to someone who can help,” he says, his voice firm but careful. “You don’t argue. You don’t pretend. You let me take care of it this time.”

You’re too tired to fight. You lean into him, and he lifts you without complaint, one arm around your shoulders, the other under your knees.

His brow stays furrowed the entire time.

He doesn’t say much else. But the way he holds you,secure, protective, just a little too tight,says enough.

And just before you slip into unconsciousness, you hear him murmur something into your hair.

“You saved my damn life. So don’t think I’m letting you throw yours away.”

Azul Ashengrotto

He thought it was a joke at first.

You were always trying to hide things from him, especially when it came to your injuries. You were proud, and he admired that,even if it made him worry. But when he caught you stumbling out of the Mostro Lounge’s back hallway, one hand gripping the wall, the other pressed against your lips, he didn’t smile.

Then you collapsed to your knees.

And the ink came spilling out.

Thick, black, vile. It hit the floor in splatters, sticky and alive, like it didn’t want to leave your body. Your back arched with the force of it, and you coughed so hard it sounded like something inside you cracked.

Azul dropped the clipboard he’d been holding.

His shoes echoed across the polished floor as he rushed to you, faster than he’d ever let himself move in public. “Y/N—!”

You waved a shaky hand, still hunched over. “It’s okay, it’s just—just a little blot..”

“That,”kneeled beside you, “is not a little blot!”

You were tired. Your eyes were glassy. And the ink,gods, the ink was boiling. Like it was trying to crawl its way back down your throat.

He tried to reach for you, but paused, hesitating. What if touching you made it worse? What if his magic triggered something else?

You noticed. Even through the haze, you gave him a soft, crooked smile. “Don’t look so scared… I’m magicless, remember? I can’t overblot.”

“You don’t need magic to be consumed by it,” he snapped, voice cracking. “You were exposed. Weren’t you? During the fights—against me—”

“…Yeah.”

He closed his eyes for just a moment. His chest hurt.

“How long?”

You hesitated.

“How long, Y/N?”

“…Two weeks.”

Azul’s hands trembled, just slightly. He never trembled.

“I could’ve helped you,” he whispered.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

A bitter, strangled sound left his throat,something between a scoff and a gasp.

“You think I’d care about appearances when you’re dying in front of me?”

You leaned into him, your strength fading fast. He caught you this time, arms curling around your form as the ink soaked into his sleeves. He didn’t flinch.

“Stay with me,” he said softly, his voice lower than it had ever been. “I don’t care what it takes. I’ll find a way. I don’t need a contract. I don’t need payment. I just—"

He cut himself off.

Held you tighter.

Pressed his forehead to yours, eyes wide and shining.

“…Please,” he breathed. “Don’t leave me alone again.”

You managed to whisper his name before everything went dark.

And Azul stayed there, holding you, ink pooling around him like a curse he couldn’t bargain his way out of.

Kalim Al Asim

You didn’t want him to see it.

You’d been hiding it for days, shivers, the way you sometimes gripped your stomach like something was tearing through you. You kept smiling, waving off his concern, calling it a cold, stress, anything to keep his eyes off the truth.

But Kalim was nothing if not persistent.

He followed you when you left the party early, weaving through the celebration in Scarabia with apologies and excuses. You’d said you needed air. But he found you behind the dorm, bent over and gasping, your hand trembling as it caught the wall to steady yourself.

“Y/N?” His voice was light at first. Confused.

You turned to him too late.

The ink was already pouring from your mouth.

Thick, black, and writhing,like it was fighting to stay inside. It hit the sand like tar, steaming in the desert air. Kalim froze. His breath caught in his throat.

“Y/N?!”

You coughed again, nearly collapsing, but he caught you just before you hit the ground. His hands were on your shoulders, then your back, his jewelry clinking as he tried to support you.

“I—I’m fine—” you gasped, barely able to lift your head.

“No, no you’re not! That’s blot! That’s overblot ink, what—what’s happening?!”

You looked up at him with eyes too tired to lie. “It got in me. During the fight..with Jamil..”

Kalim blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Then he shook his head, violently. “No. No, no, no—that’s impossible, you’re not even a mage, you can’t—”

“I know. I can’t overblot.” You gave a hollow laugh that turned into a rasping cough. “But it’s inside me. It’s still killing me, just… slower.”

You expected panic. You expected fear.

What you didn’t expect was Kalim to wrap his arms around you and hold on like he’d drown without you.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered into your shoulder, voice shaking. “I didn’t know. I should’ve known. I—”

“It’s not your fault—”

“It is,” he said, louder now. “It is, because I would’ve never let you near him if I knew this could happen! I would’ve protected you-I would’ve done something—!”

You coughed again, ink dribbling past your lips. Kalim wiped it away with a shaking thumb.

“…Why didn’t you tell me?”

You couldn’t answer. Not with the way the pain twisted inside you.

But your silence said enough.

Kalim pressed his forehead against yours, holding you close even as the ink stained his white and gold sleeves.

“I’m going to fix this,” he whispered. “I don’t care how long it takes, or what I have to give up. You’re my light, Y/N. And I won’t let you go out.”

He pulled you closer still.

Kalim Al-Asim felt helpless in the face of something he couldn’t fix with love alone.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil had always prided himself on control.

Poise. Discipline. Perfection. His life was a routine of polished movements, carefully chosen words, and flawless performances. Emotions were something to be harnessed, not shown. Mess was something to be cleaned up not lived through.

And yet.

He found you doubled over in the pristine bathroom of Pomefiore, retching up a substance that didn’t belong in any world where things made sense.

It was black. Viscous. Blot.

It clung to your mouth like tar, trailing in thin strings from your lips as you spat the rest into the sink. Your hands were shaking, gripping the edges of the porcelain like you might fall apart if you let go.

Vil stopped in the doorway. Time seemed to catch its breath.

“…Y/N?”

Your eyes flicked to him through the mirror.Hollow.

“…Hey,” you said hoarsely. “You’re not supposed to be back yet.”

He didn’t respond. He walked forward, slowly, carefully,as if any sudden move would break you entirely. His reflection stood beside yours, immaculate as always, but you,you looked like death.

“I told you I was fine,” you whispered, voice cracking.

Vil reached for your chin, tilting your face toward his with the gentlest touch he’d ever given anyone. His hand didn’t shake but his breath did.

“That,” he said coolly, “is not fine.”

You tried to smile, but it slipped before it even formed. “It’s… from the SDC. I didn’t notice at first. But the ink,it’s been in me since then.”

His eyes flickered, sharp and calculating, but you could see the fracture behind them.

“You knew,” he said, voice dangerously low. “And you kept it from me.”

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

Vil laughed,humorless, bitter. “You didn’t want to worry me? Y/N, you are coughing up blot. That’s not a worry, it’s a nightmare.”

You tried to sit up straighter, but the movement sent a violent spasm through your chest, and more ink spilled out of you. Vil caught you as you crumpled, holding you upright against him, not caring that the blot was staining his gloves, his robe,him.

“I didn’t think it’d get this bad,” you admitted, voice trembling. “I thought it would go away.”

“Things like this don’t just go away,” he snapped, but his arms were steady around you. “It festers. It spreads. And now—” He cut himself off. His breath hitched.

And then softer, almost pleading: “Why didn’t you let me help you?”

You looked up at him, tears burning at the corners of your eyes. “Because I knew you'd look at me like this. Like I’m broken. Like I ruined something.”

His expression shattered.

“I don’t care if it’s broken,” he said, voice thick. “We fix broken things. We heal them. But I can’t do that if you keep hiding it.”

You tried to protest, but he pulled you closer.

“From this moment on,” he murmured, voice fierce and low, “you are not hiding another thing from me. Not your pain. Not your fear. Nothing.”

“…Okay,” you whispered.

He brushed the hair from your face, cradling you like something fragile, precious. For once, he didn’t care about his appearance, or who might see him kneeling on the bathroom floor, covered in ink. All he cared about was keeping you here.

Alive. Safe.

His.

“You are not dying from this,” Vil said, not a hope but a command. “I won’t allow it.”

Idia Shroud

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

You’d promised. You told him it was just a scratch,that when the fight was over, you’d be fine. He’d seen you tired, bruised but still standing. Still smiling.

So why were you now curled up on the floor of his room in Ignihyde, your back pressed to the side of his bed, trembling as you violently coughed up black blot like your lungs were trying to reject your own insides?

“Wh-What the hell?!” Idia dropped the tablet in his hands. The clatter echoed too loud in the silence.

You wiped at your mouth, slowly turning your head to look at him with dull, glassy eyes. “It’s fine,” you muttered. “It’s just… leftover. From the overblot. I must’ve absorbed some of it.”

“‘Just’—??” Idia’s voice cracked, his hair flaring in jagged bursts. “That’s blot, Y/N. Not a nosebleed. Not a cold. That’s corrupted magic and pure suffering in liquid form!”

You tried to stand, but your legs gave out, and Idia was at your side before you hit the ground.

His hands hovered, twitching nervously. “Okay. Okayokayokay. This is—this is fine. Not fine fine, obviously, this is nightmare fuel tier, but like—okay, okay, I can fix this. Maybe.”

You leaned against him, breathing shallow. “Idia…”

“No. Don’t ‘Idia’ me right now,” he said, breath quick. “Why didn’t you say something?! I have monitoring programs—scans—serums—okay, mostly for Ortho, but still. I could’ve done something..!”

You rested your head on his shoulder. “Didn’t want to bother you.”

He froze.

“…Bother me?” he repeated in a whisper. “You really think you’d ever be a bother?”

Your silence said it all.

His voice cracked. “You’re the only person who makes this dumb room feel like something more than a digital grave. You show up, and suddenly it’s like I’m not just a spooky background character anymore. You make me feel like I matter. And you thought this wasn’t important enough to tell me?”

You didn’t mean to cry. You hadn’t even noticed it until the ink mixed with tears on your cheeks.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

He pulled you into his chest not with elegance, not with a dramatic speech, but with desperation. “I see you,” he whispered. “Not the ink. Not the breaking down part. Just… you.”

His fingers curled into your shirt as his voice went quiet.

“…I’m scared.”

“Me too,” you admitted.

He nodded, shakily. “Then we’re scared together.”

He adjusted your weight against him, wrapping his arms around you tighter,awkward, too warm, a little sweaty, but real.

“You’re not allowed to die,” he muttered. “I didn’t install a save point. Don’t make me invent necromancy.”

You gave a tiny, painful laugh.

And for once, it didn’t sound like a game anymore.

Malleus Draconia

The storm was still raging when you stumbled through the doors of Diasomnia.

Lightning cracked above the towers, thunder rolling across the moors, but the sound of it couldn’t drown out your gasps or the slick, wet sound of black ink splattering onto the cold floor beneath your feet.

You barely made it three steps before you collapsed to your knees, one hand bracing yourself while the other gripped your stomach. It felt like fire. Like something inside you was trying to rot its way out.

And then—

“Y/N.”

Malleus’ voice.

He appeared beside you in the blink of an eye, his presence nearly making the air vibrate with how quickly his magic reacted to your pain.

You looked up, vision swimming, lips trembling. “I—I’m fine.”

You weren’t.

You were coughing up tar-black blot like your lungs were lined with it, like your very soul had been stained by it. No magical signature, no spell. Just residue,something left behind after fighting too many overblots made of sorrow and rage.

Malleus knelt in front of you, his hands hovering at first, not daring to touch until you looked at him and gave the smallest nod.

The moment you did, he reached out and pulled you close, cradling you as if your body were made of glass.

“You’re not fine,” he said, voice lower than usual. There was a storm brewing inside him now, too. You could feel it.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” you whispered, breath hitching. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

Malleus’ grip tightened slightly, his forehead resting against yours.

“I am always worried,” he murmured. “But I would rather be frightened by your truth than soothed by your silence.”

You flinched as another wave of pain struck, your spine arching as you coughed up more of the ink. It burned your throat. It felt like it was eating you alive.

And still—still—you clutched at his sleeve, as if asking him not to leave.

“I’m here,” he whispered immediately. “I will not leave. Not now. Not ever.”

You barely noticed the flickering green glow wrapping around you until you felt it seep into your bones. Gentle, ancient magic,dragged from deep within Malleus himself. Not offensive, not protective. Restorative.

But it didn’t work.

Not completely.

Because the blot wasn’t a spell. It wasn’t something that could be undone by fae power or reversed by time-honored rites. It was corruption,infectious,cruel and it was already far too deep inside.

Still, he tried.

He kept one hand against your chest, the other against your cheek, murmuring in an old tongue that only the fae still remembered. His words weren’t spells,they were promises.

The ink didn’t vanish, but it slowed. Your shaking eased. The agony remained, but Malleus' magic acted like a shield,like a steady breath amid the smoke.

“I failed you,” you whispered weakly. “I should’ve been stronger.”

He shook his head, his voice tight. “No. You were braver than I ever deserved. You fought battles we could not see. You bore a weight alone that should have crushed you and still, you stood.”

A long pause. Then:

“You were never meant to burn alone.”

He pressed his forehead to yours again, his next words barely audible:

“If this ink dares to take you from me… then I shall walk into the dark and bring you back myself.”

You shuddered, tears slipping free at last.

You didn’t want to die.

And under Malleus’ trembling hands, you felt the same truth written in his every touch:

He would not let you.

English is not my first language !

483 notes · View notes

plasmazkiss · 7 days ago

Text

“Save me!”

── .✦ in which you ask the dormheads to save you from a spider

── .✦ CW: Gn! Reader, a little swearing, might be ooc, might have some mistakes (sorry 💔), some might be shorter than the rest

── .✦ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: im on book 7 and im abt to cry I have TOO MUCH PATIENCE TO RANK UP…💔💔 (new edit: Ok so I’m rlly sorry for using fanart I couldn’t find the artist since I just found it on Pinterest so I just changed it all together IM SO SORRY I also promise to credit any work I use if it’s fanart)

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴅɪꜱᴛʀɪʙᴜᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ©ᴘʟᴀꜱᴍᴀᴢᴋɪꜱꜱ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʀᴇꜰʀᴀɪɴ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴄᴏᴘʏɪɴɢ, ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛɪɴɢ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ, ᴇᴛᴄ.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

#plasmazkiss #twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #x gn reader #gn! reader #smau #fluff #crack #social media au #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #kalim al asim x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia x reader

623 notes · View notes

twistedpink · 3 days ago

Note

hey i had a thought. not a request just a thought

you ever think about whats sorts of obscure/unorthodox fetishes some of the twst boys have?

actually doesn't even need to be a fetish, do you think they have highly specific things they like in people? like, the shape of someone's ankles/cankles, the way someone sticks their pinky out when they hold something, but this only happens with one of their hands, or like...big earlobes or something. VERY WEIRDLY SPECIFIC INNOCUOUS TRAITS THATS MY POINT

i think jade would like big earlobes on someone actually...for biting and nibbling. stretched lobes and gauges are probably really attractive to him too, by that logic.

trey of course has his teeth thing.

ooh! i had the thought i think ace would like someone with some crooked teeth. especially like a little snaggle-tooth. like maybe it's not all their teeth that are crooked but this one specific one that's either shaped different or like sticks out or covers another. i think he'd think it was funny but oh so cute and would work really hard to make his crush/partner smile and laugh with their teeth showing so he can admire it more.

those are some of my thoughts

OOHHHH just some things the guys like!! I need more people to send things in like this lols

Cater really really REALLY likes getting handmade gifts. ESP for his birthday because with all the kids in his house, it’s not prioritized at home and he cries HARD when you put effort into celebrating him. Also likes imagining getting your skincare/lipgloss alll over him post kiss

Leona’s guilty pleasure is pet names. But only in the “into my friend - I’d rather die than admit it” stage,, Call him pookie/babe/boyfie in a joking tone and he’s folding despite being stonefaced. Giggles and kicks his feet for hours when he’s alone.. Unironically likes anklets a normal amount

UGGGHHHH FLOYD LOVESSSS YOUR STINK. In a fun and silly way Ofc,, He’s sooo weird actually. He wants to keep you in a jar. Totally the type of bf to sniff you hard enough that your looser skin gets suctioned up into his nose/mouth and he just. Won’t stop. (FREAK 🤯)

I do fear that Kalim’s obsessedddd if you have big ears/they aren’t flush against your skull. Gets the fattest kick out of blowing on them or kissing your temples a little too enthusiastically to watch you squirm at the noise,, + Buys all your jewellery and likes to plot your stacks for the day

Epel likes play fighting in public an irrational amount.. Asks you to slap his ass so he can yell at you. Organizes fights in ikea. Vil is PRAYING on your downfall and he’s never been happier. Thinks the whole winter ensemble of hat + scarf + five jackets is soooo cutesy and squishable

IDIA IS INTO THOSE LESBIAN JORTS. He thinks seeing your knees is like a gift from god and dreams of stealing them. But if he’s wearing them then you aren’t, and his knees are significantly less sexy so he’s holding back. For now. (This is a threat)

Silver starts shaking and sweating and throwing up (affectionately) when he sees u you have eczema/KP(?)/scars/freckles. It’s so so soooo human of you and he loves you for it- other than scales, fae skin texture doesn’t vary and is always baby smooth. He was FASCINATED when he got acne for the first time and loves getting to relate to you on some level

#disney twst #twst #twst yuu #disney twisted wonderland #yuu twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twst x reader #cater diamond x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #floyd leech x reader #kalim al asim x reader #epel felmier x reader #idia shroud x reader #silver vanrouge x reader

213 notes · View notes

starmaidengarden · 2 days ago

Note

I would like to make a request! To tell you the truth, this is my first request, so I'm a little worried about it, because the explanation will be a little long. I have a headcanon that twst has an unusual way of declaring love, namely giving a pomegranate or half a pomegranate! I've read that in the underworld, pomegranates are the fruit of the dead in Greek mythology, and perhaps you know about the myth where Persephone ate a few pomegranate seeds, concluding a kind of marriage contract. But what if, in the twst world, this fruit is the fruit of lovers and it is very often given to declare love and our MC shares the twst character with him? It can be any character you want! If you don't like it, then it's okay, and I hope you won't feel burdened by my request! I hope the text came out clear, because I still use a translator.

Oh, I absolutely love your headcanon! I had a fun time writing this too!! I add more than one character, I couldn't decide on just one!! I hope I did a good job!

Context:

In Twst Wonderland, the pomegranate is an ancient fruit with magical significance, often referred to as the fruit of lovers. Offering half of a pomegranate is a sacred way to declare one's love. Each seed consumed represents a vow accepted, creating a magical connection that is not binding but resonant. This magic only awakens if the feelings are mutual.

Malleus

As you approach him beneath the vast, shimmering expanse of the night sky, the pomegranate cradled delicately in your hands, something shifts within him. The soft glow of the moonlight illuminates your offering, and he catches the unmistakable meaning behind it. His eyes widen in astonishment, and for a brief moment, he falls silent, the world around him fading into a distant hum. In that instant, he bears an uncanny resemblance to a cat—wide-eyed and still, attuned to a sense of wonder and curiosity.

“you wish to bind our hearts?” he asks, his voice tinged with hope and disbelief as if he is trying to grasp whether this is reality or a dream conjured by his longings.

You can see he is moved—more than you have likely ever witnessed in him before. His fingers hover above the ruby-red seeds, treating the fruit like a sacred relic.

As he plucks the first seed and tastes it, an ancient fae magic begins to stir in the air around you, a palpable warmth enveloping the space between your bodies. It is not a bond forged from chains or shackles, but rather golden threads of luminescence, soft and vibrant, gently wrapping around your hands as if sealing an unspoken pact.

He does not consume all the seeds; instead, he thoughtfully sets some aside. “So that I may continue to vow myself to you,” he declares, his voice steady yet filled with emotion, “again and again.” The commitment in his words hangs in the air, as resonant and timeless as the magic that swirls around you both, binding you in a moment beyond the ordinary.

Rook

He has always been captivated by the rich symbolism of the pomegranate, a fruit imbued with meaning and mystery. Each one celebrates its beauty and significance. In moments of quiet reflection, he often finds himself daydreaming of an ideal scenario in which someone presents him with this fruit.

When that moment finally arrives, and you offer him the pomegranate, he becomes utterly motionless—strikingly still for someone so accustomed to expressing himself through poetry and movement. The surprise washes over him, and he gasps softly, the weight of the moment settling in. "Mon ange…," he whispers, his voice barely above a breath, "you bring me this fruit not as prey, but as a partner. A soulmate! Quelle beauté..."

As he takes the pomegranate into his hands, he is not in a rush. He insists on savoring each of the seeds one by one, pausing thoughtfully between each bite. "Each seed tastes like a different verse of your love," he describes, his eyes sparkling with wonder. His words linger in the air, turning the shared experience into a performance—an intimate routine that feels profoundly sacred.

In this delicate moment, he gazes into your eyes and tenderly calls you “mon cœur partagé,” which translates to “my shared heart.” It’s a phrase that encapsulates the deep connection he feels for you, as if the very act of sharing this fruit unites your souls.

Vil

Vil’s awareness of the symbolism surrounding the pomegranate is profound. He has seamlessly woven its significance into countless photoshoots and advertising campaigns, fully understanding its layered meaning. So when you handed it to him—without any dramatic flair, without any grand declarations—just a moment of quiet sincerity—it felt like time stood still.

He freezes, his gaze fixated on the fruit, a blend of astonishment and understanding flickering in his eyes. “You... do you even understand what this means?” he inquires, his tone steady yet tinged with an undercurrent of vulnerability. He doesn’t reach for it immediately, instead choosing to absorb the weight of the moment, his eyes darting from the pomegranate to your face.

a soft smile gradually spreads across his features, melting away the tension. “Then I accept,” he murmurs, his voice softer than it has ever been, as if he’s sharing a cherished secret. With reverent care, he delicately selects a single seed, lifting it as though it were a rare gem, and brings it to his lips. He closes his eyes, savoring the taste as if it holds the essence of something sacred. “Thank you… for this,” he breathes, the sincerity of his gratitude resonating deep within you.

Idia

You hand him the half-pomegranate, its vibrant red seeds glistening in the soft light, just as he’s half-lost in the glow of his screen, animatedly muttering about the latest dungeon drops in his game. The world around him fades momentarily as he focuses on leveling up, but at the gentle press of the fruit against his palm, he looks up, blinking in surprise. A flush spreads across his cheeks, turning a deeper shade of crimson.

“W-Wait—wait, wait, wait!” he stammers, his wide eyes darting between the pomegranate and your earnest expression. “Is this… that?” A warm smile tugs at your lips, and it takes every ounce of self-control not to break into laughter at his bewilderment.

"You want to bind your heart to mine? Me? The guy who only steps outside when his brother practically drags him into the light?" The doubt in his voice hangs in the air like the sound of a distant bell, echoing the disbelief swirling in his mind.

You remain silent, offering the fruit with a gentle nudge, encouraging him to take it. He swallows hard; his throat bobbing as he processes the moment, and then, hesitantly, he picks out one single, perfect seed. His fingers tremble as he holds it up, staring at it as if it might burst into flames at any moment.

With eyes closed, he pops the seed into his mouth, savoring it like a climactic moment in a long-awaited cutscene, and you catch a glimpse of his soul laid bare in that simple action. The silence stretches, filled with the promise of something new and beautiful.

#twst #twst wonderland #twst x reader #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #malleus x reader #rook hunt #rook hunt x reader #rook x reader #vil schoenheit #vil shoenheit x reader #vil x reader #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #idia x reader

290 notes · View notes

cheapshrimpysheep · 8 hours ago

Text

Dating in a Dream - Idia Shroud

SUMMARY: What would his dream be like, exactly the same as in the original story, but with the small detail that he is dreaming that that you two are dating?

CHARACTERS: Idia Shroud x Reader 💀🦐

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; In a Relationship (kinda)

WARNING: Spoilers from Book 7 and Idia’s dream (Eng Server)

WORD COUNT: 4.930 words

COMMENTS: This was written as a companion piece to the original dream story, so the parts that are the same as the game are just summarized.

I hope you enjoy 💀

Dating in a Dream: (Idia) / Epel / Rook / Vil / ...

Idia had just finished playing with Muscle Red when the sound of a request from Ortho to make a video call started playing. Even though he finds it strange that he is calling him through Gloomurai's account, he answers anyway. However, he is surprised to see that it is not Royal Sword Academy Ortho, but a humanoid that looks like him.

“Bwha?! *sputter* What's going on, Ortho?! This is the first I've heard from you having an interest in cosplay!”

Ortho wants to try to wake Idia up in a gentle way and to do so he mixes the reality of being a humanoid created by Idia with the act of being any entity or something trying to convince him that he is ‘the chosen one’ to save the world. But Idia keeps finding excuses for it, like it being some kind of prank or something, and he laugh it off. But eventually, continuing with that act, Ortho gets the reaction he predicted from Idia.

“A handsome young humanoid is asking me for help from inside my computer?! I've read literally 500 million light novels with this exact premise! Is it finally time for me to be the chosen one?!”

Ortho almost starts to laugh, but holds himself back.

“That's right, Idia. The time has come. Awaken... from this dream!”

“Dream? ...Hrk?!”

The dream begins to distort and Idia's head starts to hurt. He begins to remember that Ortho didn't grow up and enter Royal Sword Academy, he was a humanoid who attended Night Raven College with him. But it’s at that moment that his phone starts ringing with an incoming call from Ortho.

“Idy! (Nii-chan!) Don't let him fool you! That robo-Ortho is nothing but an impostor!”

“An impostor?” However, Idia continues to have visions of memories of reality. “Gah... What are... all these strange memories?!”

"That impostor's trying to brainwash you!” The dream Ortho insists. “Don't believe him!"

“I should've expected he'd have something in place for this.” The real Ortho says. “So when they're in danger of waking from their dream, the NPCs try to keep them inside. What a sophisticated autonomous spell. Guess Malleus isn't one of the top five mages in the world for nothing!”

“Stay right there.” The fake Ortho says. “I already called for help! But I'm still coming to save you, Idy (Nii-chan)!” And he hangs up.

“Hmm? Called for help?” The real Ortho questions. “Wait! If the darkness uses the people the dreamer likes to trap them here, then does that mean...?”

The door to Idia's room suddenly opens.

“Idia-senpai!” You enter the room, or rather, a version of yourself that Idia's dream created. And you were wearing Ignihyde's uniform. “Ortho called me... AH! What is that? Is this the impostor?”

“(Y-Y/N)!” Ortho stutters your name. “Wait! Why are you wearing Ignihyde's uniform?”

“Because Grim and I transferred here. Duh~”

“Hm?! And when was that?” Now Ortho was more curious to know more about that than to actually wake up his brother.

“When Idia and I started dating.”

“Wehehehe. And it even came with a bonus kitten.” Idia brags about it. “Best deal, ever. The best thing about being a Housewarden is being able to let them move into my dorm without anyone questioning it.”

“So you'd like them to transfer to Ignihyde? Is it so you don't have to go out to visit them?”

“DING DING DING!” Idia smiles enthusiastically talking about you. “Oh, c'mon, who wouldn't abuse their power to bring their little flower closer to them?”

“Little... Flower?” Ortho says almost astonished. He had never heard Idia speak like that about someone... real, at least.

Idia approaches you, or rather, the dream you, with an extremely confident smile and caresses your face. “My little flower~.” He holds your chin to turn your face towards his. “My little bird~.” he affectionately squeezes both of your cheeks with that hand. “My little nutmeg~”

“Cute aggwession.” Your-darknes-self warns between the lips compressed by the cheeks. Which didn't stop Idia from giving them a quick but strongly affectionate kiss.

‘I knew that Idia had a crush on (Y/N), but I wasn't expecting to see him so happy...’ Ortho thinks. ‘But I have to wake him up regardless!’

“Idia, that is not (Y/N). They are in Ramshackle dorm with Grim. And you never confessed your feelings to them. You barely have the courage to talk to them!”

“What? That's not... Okay, fine, but who doesn't get nervous just thinking about the possibility of being caught looking at their crush, let alone talking to them... Especially after practically kidnapping... Grim... URG!” His head starts to hurt again and the world starts to distort.

“He didn't need to confess to me.” Your-darkness-self said. “I confessed my feelings first.” They hold Idia's face to force him to look at them. “Don't listen to him, senpai~” The room gets darker and black goop starts to flood the room. “You don't need to leave your comfort zone to have me. I can do aaall the work for you... I'll jump into a whirlpool of souls if you need me to...”

Another figure forms from the black goop, a grown Ortho wearing the Royal Sword Academy uniform.

“And here I am too, Idy (Nii-chan). It'll all be okay now.”

“(Y/N)...? Ortho...?”

“Wait a second...” Ortho says. “Idia, does that black goop look like Ortho to you? No! Get away from there! Don't let the goop get you!”

“You don't need to think, Idy (Nii-chan). You're just tired from too much gaming. Get a little sleep.”

Idia begins to close his eyes, giving in.

“I don't think he hears me. Idia, no! IDIA (NII-SAN)!”

But Idia ends up being swallowed by the darkness.

When Idia opens his eyes again it was night and he was in the courtyard, dressed in his ceremonial robe. Malleus appears, also wearing his ceremonial robe, and tells Idia that it is almost time for orientation. Idia finds it strange, but he is almost ready to believe it and follow Malleus, until a ball of light appears in the sky and seems to be heading towards them. Idia panics because he thinks it's a meteorite that's going to destroy them, while Malleus simply wonders what that could be.

It was Ortho in his Cerberus Gear. Idia recognizes the Styx emblem and asks if that is a new powered suit his mom built, but Ortho can't explain anything at that moment because Malleus wants to put an end to that inconvenience and send Idia back into a deep sleep.

Malleus, in his Overblot form, and Ortho fight until the dream begins to shatter around them. Malleus withdraws, as his presence in that situation would no longer be necessary to destroy the little Shroud. In his panic, Idia begins to be swallowed by darkness again. Ortho tries to save him, but their mother's voice can be heard through the radio communicator in Ortho's gear, ordering him to get out of there. Realizing that the person in that suit was Ortho makes Idia's head hurt more and the darkness pulls him in harder. Until he is completely swallowed by that black goop.

After his fight in the underworld, and finally realizing that it was all a dream, everything goes dark again.

Lying down with his eyes still closed, he feels a kiss on his forehead. He begins to open his eyes slowly, as if he had just woken up and sees your face.

“Wakey-wakey~” Your-darkness-self says it in the cutest way you could possibly say it. But quickly, that changes. “Ugh, no, too cutsy. Don't make me do that again.”

“Hmm? What are you doing here?” Idia asks.

“Hum?! You make me be transferred to your dorm as soon as we start dating and you still ask what I'm doing here? What a boyfriend.” Your-darkness-self mocks. “Come on, Mister Housewarden, breakfast is ready.”

“Hum?! You make me breakfast?”

“Did you think I would trust you with that role, Chef Instant Noodles? Of course I am the one making you breakfast, for your sake and mine.”

“Aaaah... yeees, a hot significant other taking care of me... Every otako's dream... Heh... Hee hee... Ehehehehehee!”

“Even though I kind of like your psychopathic laugh, it still worries me. What’s the matter?”

“All those rare drops in my MMO...” Idia explains. “Pulling the triple SSR of my fave... Muscle Red never retiring from gaming, me attending orientation in persons... It was all a dream! Everything from start to finish was what I wished for! Classic otaku fantasy!”

“Huh? Wha? What are you...” Your-darkness-self tries to say, but Idia continued, talking over them.

“And In what world would my little brother EVER attend Royal Sword Academy? He wouldn't go to some bright, wholesome school full of guys so extroverted they make my stomach tie in knots.”

Idia's cell phone starts to vibrate.

“Hee hee... looks like someone got their cue to appear in the shot.” he answers the call with a sinister smile. “Ah... what perfect timing. Vil would be proud of you.”

“Hey... Hum? Vil?”

“Yeah, Vil Schoenheit. You know, the super beauty queen in charge of the Film Research Club. The club Ortho goes to.”

“Hm? What are you talking about? I'm not even in Night Raven College to attend that club. I-”

“No, you're right. You don't. I was talking about the humanoid Ortho, enrolled with me in Night Raven College, the school chock-full of SSR Epic Troublemakers. And then there's Phantom Ortho, down in the dark, gloomy Underworld. These are the only two brothers I have! And you are none of them!”

“What?! Wait, Id-”

“Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to do something I would normally avoid at all costs.” Idia finally looks directly at your-darkness-self again. “Resolve a matter in person.” And then, furious at his cell phone. “And I'll be submitting some very in-depth feedback to your customer support! GOODBYE, SIR.” he smiles in a frighteningly sinister way at your lookalike. “Now... about you...”

“Me? Idy-senpai, please listen to me.”

“Ah-ah-ah, sorry. I'm not into getting called cutesy pet names by anyone who's not a video game or anime character. With one single and unique exception.”

Your-darkness-self smiles seductively.

“Oh, no, no, no, no. Trust me, you have no reason to smile. Quite the opposite.”

“It's that stupid robotic copy of Ortho that's putting these things in your head, isn't it? Don't listen to-!”

Idia takes out his magic pen and makes ropes of black smoke form around Your-darkness-self to tie and gag them. By also trapping their legs, they lost their balance and fell to the ground with muffled complains.

“Hehe, cool trick huh? I've been practicing. This smoke is very useful for bringing things to me when I don't feel like getting up. Let's see if it can do the same with a person.” He make the black smoke take your look-alike to sit on his bed.

“Now I'm sure you're not the real (Y/N). They would never treat Ortho like that.” His sinister smile turns sweet for a moment. “In fact, I'm p. sure they're nicer to Ortho than to any other student.” The smile becomes disturbing again. “And looking at this face, knowing it's an impostor just irritates me more.”

He places his index finger on the impostor's chin to tilt their face slightly and seductively upward. “Using someone's crush as a puppet to manipulate them and get what you want from them. I'm not gonna lie, it's a really good strategy. And the best way to PISS ME OFF!” He aggressively grabs your look-alike's face by the cheeks while his hair turns red as he says this and his expression shows the deepest anger.

But soon after he becomes calmer again, or at least appears to be so, and lets go of your-darkness-self's face.

“Aaahh~ Yeah... It was really good to have (Y/N) with me... they are a quite cute otako fellow... and hot too when they get serious... But because they are such popular fave they deserve to have high standards. And not settle for a guy who barely has the courage to speak to them. They would never agree to do all this awesome things for me out of the blue and just because.”

He was smiling slightly talking about you, but then he gets annoyed again.

“I don't know what kind of otaku you had me for, but don't insult me by thinking that I'm one of those sick losers who wants a partner desperately in love with them simply because they exist. That's not only lame, but creepy as hell. A person who reduces their entire personality to be your significant other? What a turn off. Do you think I only like (Y/N) because they are pretty? Please, it takes a lot more than appearance to make me even remember a person.”

“I don’t know who's showing me this messed-up dream, if it is illusion magic or some evil syndicate's brainwashing headset. But let me tell you, your whole narrative sucks. If I can't have a happy ending, you just hit reset? ‘Yes, please meddle more!’ said literally no one, ever. Regardless of what the outcome is... Whether it counts as a happy ending is for ME to decide!”

He pauses for a moment to look at the terrified face of your look-alike.

“You know, the fact that this is a dream only makes things worse for you.” He says smiling. “‘Cause, you know, I'm a p. reasonable guy. If you were a real person I'd still try to resolve things more peacefully. But since I know you're not...” He violently grabs the thick smoke as if grabbing them by the collar and says with red flame hair “I CAN BURN YOU TO A CRISP! But not with that face...”

He grabs your-darkness-self’s face in a way that covers it with just one hand and starts burning it between muffled screams of pain that began to distort as the figure turned into black goop as well. When that was no longer your face, Idia squeezed it in anger and increased the flames until the figure melted into goop and disappeared into the ground.

Idia takes a moment to take a deep breath.

“You're there right, Ortho?”

“Welcome back, Idia.” Ortho reappears on Idia’s screen.

Idia apologizes for the hurtful things he said to Ortho and talks about how incredible he was in his mission. After a heartwarmingly little chat between brothers, Idia asks what in the world was actually going on?

“I understand everything now.” Idia says after Ortho's explanation. “Or at least, I wish I did. But learning Mom's seen everything on my PC was too of a shock to my system. All I've managed to process other than that is Malleus is some kind of ginormous cheater...?”

“Look, um, it was an emergency. Don't let it get to you, okay?”

“Easy for you to say! She's totally seen THAT now. And THAT... She's seen it all... *shock* She... SHE SAW (Y/N)'S FOLDER! SHE KNOWS ABOUT MY CRUSH!”

While Idia was lamenting about that, Ortho remembered that during one of the conversations with their mother...

“Hmm... Orthy... I really don't want to intrude on Idy's privacy, but... Hmm... does he have any friend at school that he or you never told me about?”

“A friend? I try to help him make friends, but I don't think he's ever considered any Night Raven College student as one. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, I just... that... that student without magic, (Y/N), I have almost no information about them, but... what do you think of them?”

“(Y/N)? I consider them a good person, especially compared to most Night Raven College students. They are also quite diligence and can be very caring. But why do you... ... Idia has a folder on them, doesn't he?”

“So, you know about Idy's crush?”

“Well, he never admitted it, but... I can read his vital signs when he talks about or is around (Y/N). I also know that he has already made some drawings and sketches of them.”

“Oh, I saw! They are so beaut- Huh, I mean...”

“I like (Y/N).” Ortho said smiling. “Idia once went to play some video-games in their dormitory lounge with some other students. And I can see that he feels very comfortable around them. (Y/N) respects Idia's space and time, but also likes to help me try to get him out of the room. They are very fun and attentive.”

Ortho didn't need to see his mother's face to know she had a huge smile behind her helmet.

“So why must I have my PC's contents laid bare for my mother to see?! It makes no sense...” Idia kept lamenting. “I just took 50 billion points of psychic damage, at least...” He loses strength in his legs and falls to the ground.

“It really was just an unfortunate accident. One nobody could have predicted...” Ortho says. “Don't worry though, Idia. Mom didn't make any comments about anything there...” Just that one small exception that Idia didn't need to know about.

“GAAAH!” he gets up. “Not low-key discretion! That's the LAST thing a young guy wants! If I didn't naturally incinerate blot, I'd absolutely be overblotting right about now!”

Blaming Malleus for this, Idia vowed to take revenge on him.

You, Grim, Silver and Sebek had just arrived at Ignihyde, or rather, Idia's dream, after Ortho had guided you there after leaving Lilia's dream.

Idia appeared and tried to explain a little of what was going on, until he remembered that he had not yet introduced himself to those two students from Diasomnia with whom he barely interacted with.

“I'm Idia Shroud, housewarden of Ignihyde.”

“Oh, of course! No wonder you looked familiar.” Sebek says. “You had a more... tabular form at orientation. This might be the first time I've had a proper look at you in person.”

“Oh, uh... Yeah. In the real world I attended remotely it seems...”

“I am Sebek Zigvolt of Diasomnia Dorm － freshman, class D, seat 33!” He said quite loudly. “And this is Silver. Same dorm, sophomore year! He always has that blank look on his face.”

“Eep! Talk about loud... Thought my eardrums were gonna rupture there. How do Malleus and his dormmates endure this decibel level at close range every day without ear damage...?” Idia says a little lower, while also thinking: ‘I hope (Y/N) didn't go deaf after spending so much time with him.’

“Sorry, Idia.” Silver apologizes. “I'll tell him to be more careful about that. Though I doubt you'd have to worry about ruptured eardrums in reality, considering we're in a dream － ah! Everyone, stay vigilant!” he suddenly shouts. “Idia, Grim, (Y/N)! Get behind me and Sebek!”

When he suddenly pulls you behind him, you lose your balance and end up bumping your back into Idia’s chest. As soon as this happens, the tips of his hair turned slightly pink. But even if he wanted to move away he wouldn't be able to because Sebek quickly joined Silver to cover you all and ended up making you crumpled against each other. Which made Idia get even more flustered.

“Mrah? What's the matter, Silver?” Grim asks trapped between you and him.

“If Idia's woken up from his dream, we should expect darkness to attack and try to pull him into an event deeper sleep.”

As Silver, Grimm, and Sebek talk about the possibility of Malleus appearing there at any moment, the physical pressure between you and Idia begins to increase and making it harder to breathe.

“Hrrrk... Pressure's... too much... can't breathe...!” Idia still tries to use his strength to create more space between you so that you can breathe too. The pink in his hair ends up disappearing as he is suffocating.

“Not to rain on your parade, but...” A familiar voice said. “We won't actually have to worry about Malleus Draconia or that black goop for a while.”

Ortho reveals himself and explains how they are safe in that dream. He also explains that he disappeared after guiding you there because he cannot appear in his normal form in Idia's dream because it triggers a critical error.

“So, I'll be sticking to a monitor display. Also... Idia's turning pale from oxygen deprivation. Could you please give him some room to breathe?”

Silver and Sebek walked away apologizing and Idia took a deep breath as if he had finally emerged from underwater.

“Whew, I almost set out on a journey to the Underworld... Thanks for the save, Ortho...”

Finally, it was time for Ortho to explain everything that had happened up until that moment. He and Idia tell you about his dream, but obviously hiding the part about your look-alike.

“So, uh... While you guys were chatting it up in Lilia's dream...” Idia says after Ortho said that they would need your help. “I was doing some brainstorming of my own. I've come up with a plan to escape this dream world － or rather, to do something about Malleus.”

“Operation Make Malleus Ugly Cry and Beg for Forgiveness?” You ask.

“Y-yeah, there you go.. Hee. Heehee.”

It may be a small detail that those who don't know Idia might not notice, but being able to understand him and his humor is a huge green flag. And Ortho knows this.

“Anyway, I threw together a video to go over the plan. Would you mind watching it?”

After they showed you the video and explained the plan, Sebek was ready to move on to the next dream. Until Idia warned that it would be a good idea for you to change your clothes so that when you enter your next dreams, the shock of wearing unfamiliar clothes would not be so great for the dreamer as to activate the defenses of Malleus’s spell. But since none of you can do it by yourselves, he installs an outfit-changing spell in your magestones.

“Here, lemme see your magical pens. Oh wait, you don't have one, do you, (Y/N)? Okay, I'll insert a chip with a technomantic program in your phone...”

While he was installing the ship he accidentally pressed one of the side buttons and your locked screen image appeared. It was the exact same image that Idia had on his tablet.

“HUH?! W-why do you have my voice call image as your background?!” Idia asks, surprised.

“Oh! Did I never tell you?” Ortho says. “Give me a second.” A sort of scanning sound is heard, as if he was looking for something in his memory files. “One result found.” he said in his robotic voice before speaking normally again. “The first time I was going to tell you, you were busy playing, so I ended up not doing it. I was talking to (Y/N) once and they said they thought your tablet’s image was cool. I asked them if they wanted a copy of the image for their phone and they said yes. That was a long time ago, though. It's good to know you still have it, (Y/N).”

“Y-you think it is cool?... I-In that case, I can customize an image for you.” Idia started talking excitedly. “I can make a version with a different color, it can even be pink if you want.” The more excited he got about it, the more confident he became and the faster he spoke. “And I can change the eyes too, I can turn them around and make them look like they’re smiling, or I can just rotate them a little bit like they're half-closed, like in an cool annoyed way.”

“Focus on the task!” Grim complained. “Don't you want us to change our clothes?”

“Uh-uh... Y-yeah... S-sorry, I’m on it.” He gets a little shy again.

If you tell him that you accept the offer and that you can talk about it later when that whole dream thing is sorted out, he'll give you that sweet little smile of his.

“There, installation complete.”

“Here you go, everyone!” Ortho says. “You can have your magical pens and smartphone back.”

“Hm? You said you installed something in my magical pen, but it seems no different to me.” Sebek comments.

“Each of you, face your implement of choice...” Idia explains. “And say: 'DREAMY MAGICAL MAKEOVER!'”

“WHAT?! What is this bizarre spell?!”

“You gotta say a cool catchphrase when you change outfits.” Idia smiles amusedly. “That's a staple of transformation scenes in children's anime. That was a joke, for the record. Or at least, half a joke... Thing is, spells should ideally specific phrases to avoid setting them off by accident. And I did make this for the benefit of a bunch of sprouts who can't even do basic outfit changes on their own. I'm busy enough with dev work as it is. So get on with it!”

Regardless of how you say it, Idia will secretly find it very cute, but if you say it shyly he will find it even cuter.

“You want me to save the video of this to share with you later, don't you?” Ortho discreetly asks his brother who confirms.

A screen appears in front of each of you with clothing options: School Uniform, PE Uniform, Labwear, Ceremonial Robes and Dorm Uniform. Ortho tells you to try tapping the outfit you'd like to wear.

You start by trying on the ceremonial robes or the labwear, but you wonder what would happen if you tapped the Dorm Uniform option, because Ramshackle doesn't have a Dorm Uniform.

“Maybe it was a default error.” Idia assumes. “Either nothing happens or there might be some weird glitch... or...”

“AAAH! WAIT!” Ortho and Idia say worriedly in unison after thinking of another possible outcome.

But it was too late and you had already pressed the button to find out. The clothes you had on... transform into the Pomefiore dorm uniform.

“It's random...” The brothers sighed in relief.

“What's wrong?” Silver asks. “Could something dangerous have happened?”

“N-no, just... d-don't worry about it... p-programming stuff.” Idia responds, trying to hide the embarrassment with a smile.

You tap it again and the uniform changes to the Heartslabyul one. Meanwhile, the others also tried their own menus to change clothes and Grim insisted that he also wanted to do that.

“Not like you really need it, Grim...” Idia says. “But I guess I could set it up for you as well.”

“Really?! Gimme, gimme!”

If you thank Idia for doing that for Grim, he will say it's no big deal with a mix of smugness and flusteredness.

While Grim is also having fun changing clothes, you tap the Dorm Uniform option once again and your Heartslabyul’s Dorm Uniform changes to... Ignihyde's. This surprises Idia who immediately sets his sights on you.

“(Y/N). look! All I gotta do is push a button, and I can change into all sortsa outfits!” Grim was changing outfits too quickly.

“Don't forget, Grim, these tools are strictly to assist the user.” Ortho warns him. “The magic for those outfit changes is still drawn from the one casting the spell. And (Y/N), you probably shouldn't go overboard with the smartphone tool either. But before you change your outfit again, can I ask you for something?”

You nod.

“Will you let me take a picture of you with Idia in your Ignihyde uniforms?” He asks in the most cutely convincing way.

Idia even takes a little jump in place, surpriced by that request as well. And he only gets even more flustered when you accept. He would be against that if it weren't for you.

“You two can be such normie sometimes.” Idia says with a shy smile.

You get closer to him and the tips of his hair turn a little pink again. And as soon as Ortho said he was going to take the picture, Grim says he wants to be in it too and jumps into your arms.

“It's funny.” You point. “Grim matches the uniforms.” You lift him up a little. “And your hair.”

Ortho laughs with you and Idia smiles amusedly too, while looking at you foundly.

“Aw, you should be in the picture too, Ortho.” You say.

“Don't worry, I can put myself in the picture through editing.”

“In that case, let's pose as if you were here too. This will make it look more natural when editing.”

Ortho is very happy with your idea and tells you that he will stand on the other side of his brother. He takes a picture of you next to Idia and holding Grim between the two of you.

“If at any point (Y/N) presses the button again and Diasomnia's uniform appears I can take another picture of (Y/N) with you two, Silver and Sebek Zigvolt, if you want.” Ortho suggests, to divert any suspicion from him and Idia.

“I think Lilia and Malleus would also like to see that too.” Silver says in a chuckle,and smiled slightly.

“I recommend setting your default to the Night Raven College uniform.” Idia returns to the main topic. “That one can cover most situations you'll be in.”

You all change into that uniform and were ready to move on to the next dream. After you leave with Ortho, part of his consciousness returns to Idia’s side to ask him something.

“If (Y/N) asks me for a copy of the photo... do you want me to edit your hair to remove the pink ends? Heh heh heh.”

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

#Twisted Wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst fluff #Twisted Wonderland Fluff #Idia Shroud #Idia Shroud x Reader #Ortho Shroud

183 notes · View notes

qsoap · 5 months ago

Text

townie and idia play dress to impress on weekends👍

#quitting school to focus on drawing brainrot #gawa ni soap #twst #twisted wonderland #idia shroud #twst idia #twst oc #yuusona #twst yuu #yumeship #yume #sona art #twst ramshackle #twst sona #twst grim #twst x reader #twst x yuu #idia shroud x reader

4K notes · View notes

alastor-simp · 4 days ago

Text

“𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊?” - 𝒟𝑜𝓇𝓂 𝐿𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶𝓃 𝒶𝓂𝒶𝓏𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝒻/𝒷𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓇 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇👩🏻‍🍳 𝒫𝒶𝓇𝓉 2/2

✮⋆˙ Summary: Despite being a magicless student in NRC, you are extremely talented in the kitchen. Hanging out with your boyfriend, you hear his stomach grumble, allowing the first thought to come to your mind, “Want me to make something for you?”

✮⋆˙ Pairings: Kalim Al-Asim x Reader, Vil Schoenheit x Reader, Idia Shroud x Reader, Malleus Draconia x Reader

✮⋆˙ Genre: Fluff + Romance

✮⋆˙ Tags: Chef Reader, Cooking, Love Language, Cooking for Others, Acts of Service, Love Language: Acts of Service, Dorm Leaders x Reader, Female Chef Reader, Twisted Wonderland, Headcannons, Female Reader, Dorm Leaders, Housewardens

✮⋆˙ Credit:Divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

✮⋆˙ Part 1 is Here -> X

Kalim Al-Asim☀️

☀️Inside the Scarabia dorm, both you and Kalim were playing a new board game that was a gift from Ortho. It was a gift to you for your birthday, so you decided to bring it to Kalim, wanting to a fun time with him. Waiting for Kalim to finish his turn, there was a loud stomach grumble, stunning the both of you. Kalim, being the sunshine boy he was just laughed, continuing the game like nothing happened, grabbing some crackers next to him to nibble on.

☀️ You knew that wasn't gonna hold him, so you asked him, "Kalim, are you hungry? I can make you something." Kalim's eyes were the size of saucers when you said that, his smile stretched out super wide, "EHHH? YOU CAN COOK Y/N?" His enthusiasm always made you smile, and you responded with a nod. Getting up, you stretched a bit, before saying you would be right back. Kalim watched you with a bright smile, but then he remembered something, making him frown. "Wait." Turning around, your eyes looked back to see his sad expression, making you tilt your head. "Its just......this reminds me of the relationship me and Jamil had before, the whole master and servant thing. I don't this to be the case with me and you."

☀️Recalling Jamil's overblot, you remembered how much hatred Jamil had for Kalim, yet Kalim wanted to be friends with him, and not just master and servant. Kalim probably thought you cooking for him was going toi nsinuate that, making him panic. Going back to Kalim, you rubbed his white locks, making him stare at you with a soft expression. "Kalim, It's fine. I'm cooking for you because I want to and we're dating." Kalim relaxed at that, smile returning to his face as he leaned into your hand, loving the feeling of you patting him.

☀️You left Kalim, and headed to the kitchen, spotting Jamil in there. "Hey Jamil." Jamil turned towards you, giving you smile, "Hello Prefect, are you and Kalim enjoying the game you're playing?' Smiling, you nodded, "Yes, but Kalim got hungry so I'm gonna make him something to eat." Jamil was put-back by that, since he is usually the one that cooks for Kalim. "Would you like me to assist you?" Jamil asked, grabbing an apron that was hanging and handing it to you. Shaking your head, you told Jamil no, but he could stay and watch you if he wanted. Jamil smiled, and nodded his head, choosing to stay and observe you, not because he didn't trust you, he just wanted to see your skills.

☀️Washing your hands, you pondered what you could make for him. He loved coconut flavored things, but the first thing that came to your mind was coconut curry, but Kalim detested curry due to a traumatic experience with Jamil. Maybe a dessert? Narrowing it down, you decided to make a coconut cream pie. Getting the ingredients, you prepared the dough for the crust, and then got the shaved coconut, heavy cream, vanilla, powdered sugar and eggs. You cooked the coconut on a pan, making them toasty, and then you added the milk, coconut milk and sugar, bringing them to a soft boil. After adding vanilla and half of the toasted coconut, you poured the mixture in the crust, and left it in the fridge, letting it cool so the cream could solidify.

☀️It was gonna be a while for the pie to finish, so you decided to make the whipped cream for the topping. Once you were done with that, you grabbed the pie and topped it with the whipped cream and the remaining coconut flakes. Jamil looked at your pie, and gave you a thumbs up, approving how nice it looked. "Want to try?" You asked Jamil, ready to slice a piece for him, but he shook his head, not hungry at the moment, but appreciating the offer. You were gonna finish cleaning the dishes and counter, but Jamil offered to do it, telling you to bring the pie to Kalim, before he dies of hunger. Thanking him, you carried your dessert, heading to where Kalim was.

☀️Kalims eyes shined like rubies when he saw you approaching, excited to try what you made for him, jumping up and down for joy where he was sitting. "Here you go." Setting the dish down, you used the utensils that you brought with you, and cut a piece of the pie, setting it on a plate and handing it to him. "Arigatō gozaimasu!" Kalim said with enthusiasm, grabbing a fork and placing a piece into his mouth. He stayed in that position, frozen, yet the fork remained where it was. "Um Kalim? Are you o-," You stopped when you saw Kalim eating the pie slice with haste, leaving no crumb behind. Once he was done, he placed the plate down, throwing his hands up to reach you, pulling you into a bear hug.

☀️THAT WAS INCREDIBLE!! AND IT HAD COCONUT TOO!! MY FAVORITE!! THANK YOU Y/N!!" He continued to hug you, rocking you side to side, as you laughed, returning the hug. "Your welcome, Kalim." He moved his head back, staring at you with loving eyes as he leaned closer, pressing kisses all over your face, making you giggle.

☀️What You Made For Kalim + Recipe☀️

Recipe- Coconut Cream Pie

Vil Schoenheit💄

💄Inside Pomefiore, you and Vil were lounging in his room, where Vil was in front of his mirror applying make up, while you sat on his bed, going through your phone. Hearing a low grumble, you glanced at Vil, who remained reserved as he continued putting on his lipstick. "Vil? Are you hungry? I can make you something." Vil motioned his eyes up to look at you through the mirror, before going back to his beauty routine. "I'm alright, Sweet potato." He said that, but you know you heard his stomach growl again.

💄Shaking your head, you removed yourself from his bed, heading towards the door. "Where are you heading off to?" Vil turned his head to look at you. "I'm heading to the kitchen here in this dorm to make you something and that's final. I know you are rehearsing for your next movie project in the ballroom later. I will bring it to you there" You didn't hear what Vil had to say, as you walked through the door, closing it behind you.

💄Arriving in the kitchen, you spotted the violet apron and chef hat, motioning to grab it, as you wrapped it around you. You knew your boyfriend was stubborn, but he was THE Vil Schoenheit, the most beautiful model and actor in the entire world, so you knew about his strict beauty regimens and diet, but he deserved to break it every now and again. Washing your hands, you thought what would be the best thing to make for him, deciding to make a simple eton mess dessert for him would be best. Looking inside the fridge, you found a bowl of raspberries, Perfect, you could use these in your food creation.

💄Looking at the ingredients you had, gooseberry curd, raspberries, icing sugar, store bought meringue and cream. Adding the sugar and raspberries to pan, you cooked them for a bit to make a lovely raspberry sauce. You went on to making the whipped, whisking the icing sugar and cream until you got peaks. Once the sauce was cooled down and the whipped cream was made, you got a parfait cup, and began to layer it with the crushed meringue, gooseberry curd, raspberry sauce and whipped cream. "Perfect." Admiring your creation, you placed it in the fridge to let it chill as you cleaned up, washing the dishes and pans.

💄With the cup in your hand, you headed to the ballroom. Poking your head out through the door, you spotted Vil in all his glamour. He was still beautiful even when he was sweating. Walking inside, you walked up to Vil slowly, his back towards you, "Vil, your food is here." He jumped a bit, turning around seeing you with a smile on your face. His stern eyes were soft as he gazed at you and the beautifully decorated parfait cup in your hand. "I appreciate the gesture Sweet potato, but I'm on a strict diet, I can't consume high sugary dishes." Shaking your head, you grabbed him by the hand, motioning him to sit on one of the chairs in the ballroom. "You're here practicing your butt off for the role you took. You deserve to take a break and have a treat for the hard work you do."

💄Listening to you, Vil gave a sigh, knowing he couldn't win against you. Grabbing the spoon, he lifted a bit of the creamy fruity mixture and placed it in his mouth. His eyes widen, the flavors of the raspberry and whipped cream danced on his tongue. There was a mysterious taste that Vil couldn't place, eyeing the cup to determine what it was. "Oh its gooseberry curd. It pairs very well with the raspberry sauce," You noticed his expression and told him what it was, making him hum in delight. "It is utterly delectable." Vil said, as he continued to eat the dish, leaving nothing behind.

💄Noticing some cream on him, you grab a small napkin and help wipe it off, making Vil look at, eyes wide "There was some cream on you." Your kind eyes and smile made his heart melt, feeling truly blessed to have met someone like you in his life. Grabbing your hand, he pulled you, having you sit on his lap, making you flush. His forehead had placed itself against yours, his beautiful face right in front of yours. "I'm sorry if I had angered you before." Vil utter a soft apology, nuzzling his head against yours. "I wasn't that upset Vil. I was a bit annoyed because I wanted to make something for my amazing boyfriend and you turned me down."

💄Nuzzling back, you spoke again, "Cooking is a way for me to express my love towards you, just like how you express your love for me by complimenting me all the time and making the effort to spend time with me, even when you're very busy His eyes open at what you said, immense guilt filling his stomach as he never wanted to make it seem like he was denying affection from you. "I'm deeply sorry, sweet potato. Make me anything you desire and I will accept it with open arms."

💄Smiling, you grasped one of his hands, placing a soft kiss against it, earning a small yelp from him, which wasn't common to hear. "I will make recipes that won't break your diet plan. I'll come to you everyday with a new fruit smoothie as well, I know how much you love them." Vil chuckled at your words, finding you undeniable precious, as he squeezed his hand that you held. Bending down, his plum colored lips inched closer to yours, giving you a tender kiss that would had made you faint if you weren't sitting on his lap right now.

💄What You Made For Vil + Recipe💄

Recipe- Gooseberry Raspberry Eton Mess

Idia Shroud🎮

🎮 Idia didn't hear what you said as he had his headphones in, playing an MMORPG game. You tried again with no success, jeez he really had great noise canceling headphones. Moving closer to him on his bed, you tapped his shoulder, causing him to jump, controller nearly falling to the ground. His eyes were wide for a second until they returned to normal, as he realized it was you, the intense game making him forget you were in the room with him

🎮"W-what?! Is something wrong?" Idia removed his headphones to look at you. Saying sorry for startling him, you mentioned that you heard his stomach growl, "Do you want me to make you something to eat?" He blue-screened when you said that, his brain trying to compute it. He shook his head erratically, going back to his game, "N-N-No. I have enough HP at the moment." Ortho, who was charging in the corner of the room, had awoken, flying over to his brother, and scanning his body.

🎮"Initiating body scan........scan complete. Nee-san, it seems your stomach volume is at zero, indicating that you are hungry. Idia's fire blue locks had flashed pink, covering them up with his hood, refusing to look at both you and Ortho. Grabbing Ortho's hand, you whispered in his ear, "Ortho, take me to the dorm kitchen. I will make something for your brother." Enthusiastic, Ortho nodded his head, lifting you up, as he flew you to the dorm kitchen, leaving Idia alone in his room.

🎮 Arriving to the kitchen, Ortho put you down, as he flew over and back, handing you a chef hat and apron. Thanking him, you put it on, moving over to the sink to wash your hands. "Ortho, what does Idia prefer? Something sweet or something savory?" You asked Ortho, wondering what would be the best dish to make for your boyfriend. "Nee-chan has a bit of a sweet tooth. He mostly eats candy and energy drinks, yet I wish he would eat something else since those lack common nutrients."

🎮Grasping your chin, your brain filled with many different recipes, the one standing out from the rest, Cake pops! "I got it, lets make cake pops, with a bit of a game theme to them." Flying up with excitement, Ortho nodded his head, ready to help you. "I'll make the cake portion, can you head to Sam's shop and get some candy melts and some form of lollipop sticks for me please?" Despite the metal part covering his mouth, you could tell Ortho was smiling, giving you a salute, and flying away from the kitchen, heading to Sams.

🎮 You had enough ingredients to make a simple white cake, which didn't take long to make, which was perfect since Ortho came back with what you needed. "Thank you." You said, giving him a head pat, earning a chuckle from him. Both him and you help to crumble the cake you made, rolling them into balls, and placing them in the fridge. Melting the different candy melts, you dipped the sticks in them and then stuck them on the cake balls. Having some fun, both you and Ortho experimented with different colors, red, black, purple and blue. After the coating had harden, you and Ortho added little decorations with icing, finishing it up. Once it was done, both you and Ortho stood back and marveled at what you both made, high-fiving each other.

🎮Heading back to Idia's room, both and Ortho walked in, Idia having remained in the same spot, hunched over in his hoodie with a controller in his hands. Ortho went and poked his shoulder, spurring the same reaction when you had tapped him before, game controller dropping to the floor again. "Nee-chan, me and Y/N made cake pops for you!" Ortho said with enthusiasm, jumping up and down in excitement, causing you to chuckle at his adorableness.

🎮 Removing his headphones, Idia gazed at the the cake pops, eyes sparkling a bit, "W-WHAT?!? DID YOU MAKE THESE? THEY ARE SO POG!!" He had his gamer grin on, all of his sharp teeth exposed, as he stared at the cake pops, admiring them. "The theme for them is a from a very popular game in my world. Hope you like them." Grabbing one of them, you handed it to Idia, as you grabbed another one and handed it to Ortho, earning a thank you from him. Idia continued to stare at the little sweet, until he popped it in his mouth, as he mumbled a soft mmmm. Grabbing two more, he began to shovel them in his mouth, munching on them in glee.

🎮 Happy that he loved them, you sat on the bed, admiring how cute he was when eating. Idia noticing your staring, blue turning pink, as he grabbed a cake pop and handed it to you. "T-try one." Grabbing the stick, you took a nibble of the dessert, flavors from the icing and melted candy filling your mouth. Awkwardly, he placed one his hands on top of yours that was lying on the bed, grasping it softly, yet hid his expression with his hoodie again. "T-t-thanks for making those for me. D-don't know why you went through all that effort for a neet like me." He jumped when he felt your hand squeeze his back, yet his face remained hidden. "I did this because you're my Player 1, Idia."

🎮 Idia felt like his heart was overloading, the beating growing erratic. He glanced at your softly, seeing the tenderness in your expression, a soft smile appearing on his face. "And you're my Player 2." Tugging your hand, he pulled you against him, wrapping his arms around you, head placed against his shoulder. He was always so warm, arms wrapping around him, enjoying each other's comfort. Spotting Ortho watching the both of you, you smiled and motioned your head, telling him to join in. Ortho made his way over, as both you and Idia pulled him closer, making it a trio hug.

🎮 What You Made For Idia + Recipe 🎮

Recipe - Pokemon Pokeball Pops

Malleus Draconia 🐲

🐲It was club time at NRC, and you were inside the room where the Gargoyle Studies club was commencing. Malleus was crafting a gargoyle by hand, picking away at the stone, with you admiring him from across the room. You never got over how cute he was for his love of gargoyles, his eyes always sparkling like a child. A loud growl resonated in the room, making you jump in fright, wondering where that sound came from. Malleus noticed your reaction, and gave a tilt to his head, "Beastie? Are you alright?" His green eyes gazed at you with concern. "Sorry, Hornton. I just heard a loud sound from somewhere. Did the gargoyle come to life, by chance?"

🐲Malleus was taken aback, until he let out a loud chuckle, his fangs popping out through his smile. "No need to be frightened. It was only my stomach growling. My magic sadly can't make stone come to life as I would adore seeing this gargoyle awaken." His hand traced the gargoyle he was crafting, his lips still drew into a smile. Oh, that was his stomach, makes sense that it would be very loud since he was a dragon fae. "Want me to make you something to eat? You said, as you stood up from the chair, making your way over to him.

🐲His eyes gazed at you in surprise, "You possess culinary skills?" Giggling, you nodded your head, "I do, yes. I can make anything, with and without a recipe." Malleus looked at you in awe, moving closer and grabbing your shoulders, softly. "Anything? Even frozen treats?" The minute you nodded at his question, his magic had teleported the both of you, arriving inside the kitchen of Diasomnia, having left the Gargoyle Studies club room. "Wh- How did?" Still distracted at where you had arrived, you didn't notice that Malleus used his magic to make an apron and chef hat to manifest on you.

🐲"Go on Beastie." Malleus was so excited, having sat at one of the kitchen chairs, his emerald eyes filled with curiosity and delight. You only have seen him this excited whenever he talked about gargoyles, making your hear race at his enthusiasm. Giggling, you made sure the apron and hat were set, as you went to the sink and washed your hands. Popsicles seemed liked the best thing to make, and you had the perfect recipe for them. Grabbing the ingredients; milk, heavy cream, sugar, eggs and some sea salt, you sat them down on the counter, as a happy dragon continued to watch you.

🐲 Heating up the milk in a pan, you cracked the eggs, making sure to separate the yolks and the whites, beating the whites until fluffy and beating the yolks with sugar as well. After the milk was heated enough, you slowly poured it into the egg yolk bowl, mixing it, and then setting it back into the sauce pan to cook it again. Once it had become a custard, you poured it with the fluffy egg whites, mixing it, while also adding a bit of the sea salt. "What is the nature of the sea salt? Ice creams are generally more sweet than salty?" Malleus asked, a bit befuddled as he never had seen salty ice cream before. Chuckling, you told him that it will make sense once the frozen treat is done, as you set the bowl in the fridge to let it cool for a couple minutes.

🐲Once it was chilled enough, you mixed in the heavy cream, vanilla, and blue and green food coloring. Finding a popsicle mold, you poured the mixture inside, adding in a stick as well. Placing the mold in the freezer, you went back over to the counter, cleaning up the mess and setting the dishes in the sink. Ready to start washing them, you were shocked when you saw the bowls levitating by themselves, as they were being washed by an invisible force. Turning to look at Malleus, he was gazing at you with a soft smile, having used his magic to clean the dishes. Saying thanks, you walked over to where he was, sitting down on the chair across from them. "It will take a while for them to freeze."

🐲Malleus assured you that it was alright, not minding it at all that he had to wait, motioning his hand to grab yours, rubbing it softly, making you blush. After chatting for a bit, you figured they were done, heading over to the freezer to pull them out, "They're ready!" Heading over to Malleus, you placed the mold on the table, slowing pulling one out, marveling at how well it came out. Extending one out towards him, he grasped the ice cream gently, admiring the color and the sweet smell radiating off of it. Inching the popsicle closer to his mouth, he gave the frozen treat a little nibble, the sweetness of the vanilla dancing on his tongue, followed by the sea salt, enhancing the flavor.

🐲The ice cream was no more as Malleus chowed down on it, not even taking a breather, hand reaching to grab another one. "Hornton! Not so fast, you will get a brain freeze!" You said, pulling the ice cream away for a bit. He took a slight pause, and motioned his hand back, giving you an apologetic smile. "Forgive me....but they are so spectacular, I just couldn't resist. The sea salt as well makes them all the more irresistible." Chuckling, you told him that the sea salt would make sense.

🐲He grabbed another one, yet motioned it towards you, yet you held your hand up. "These are all for you." His eyes widen in shock, replaced with a sad expression, "Beastie, you went through great lengths to make them for me. You deserve to try one." A small idea popped in your head after he said that, lips drawing into a small smirk, "Okay." Getting up from your seat, you walked over to Malleus, as he looked at you with a puzzled expression. Grasping his cheek softly, you bent down, lips locking against his in a gentle kiss.

🐲He sat there stunned, as you continued to kiss him softly, leaning back to gaze at him, your tongue swiping across you lip, having enjoyed the sea-salted kiss, "Not bad." The two of you continued to stare at each other, until you felt his hands pull you closer, his forehead leaning against yours. "Beastie.....I must warn you it's not wise to tempt a dragon." Fire burned in his chartreuse eyes, his low voice making you shiver. You giggled, moving closer to kiss the top of his nose. "True...but you're my adorable dragon." He let out a deep chuckle, placing a soft kiss on your cheek, and returned to nuzzle against your forehead, "and you are my most beloved treasure."

🐲What You Made For Malleus + Recipe🐲

Recipe- Kingdom Hearts Popsicles

🍱🥘🍜END🍜🥘🍱

200 notes · View notes

nymphetamineroach · 2 days ago

Text

Been paralyzed by choice because I have 30 million ideas I want to write.

1. Riddle x MommyDomme!Yuu

2. Ace x Yuu x Deuce; threesome

3. Ruggie x Yuu; romantic dinner date

4. Jack x Yuu; first time having sex

5. Azul x Yuu; body worship

6. Idia x Yuu; public sex/exhibitionism

7. Malleus x Yuu; breeding

TOO MANY CHOICES, what should I do first

👉🏻👈🏻

86 notes · View notes

mochinomnoms · 8 days ago

Text

April Fools Part Two, Electric Boogaloo: telling them you're pregnant (but it's not a joke this time)

It's April Fools again! Last year you pulled a (in your opinion) harmless prank and made your boyfriend think you were pregnant by using a fake pregnancy test, which didn't go exactly as you planned.

But this time, you were actually pregnant. It just so happens that you discover this news the day of April Fool's, and with the prank you tried to pull last year, you doubt he will believe you so easily this time. Luckily, you have a brain in your head, and irrefutable evidence to prove you right. But....you know....you still have those fake tests lying around...why not have some fun?

"Hey sweetheart, I have some important news." Withholding a grin from your lips, you announced, "I'm pregnant."

multi x gn!reader

[tw/cw} - sexual humor, crack, dumbassery afoot, some softer vibes, takes place post-graduation

[note] - idk i had a lot of fun with the first part so I thought I'd write a quick sequel to it! the same seven as the last post as well! also silver ended up being longer but like i had to include mal and lilia soooooo

Deuce

Your sweetest boyfriend (fiancé now actually) was staring at you with suspicion, eyeing the test in your hands as he folded the laundry, separating it into piles.

"Riiiight...and that's not the same exact 'test' you used last year." Deuce scoffed as he turned his back to you, picking up his and your clothes to put away.

"I'm not falling for that one again! Especially not on April's Fools, I'm not that dumb!"

You let out a laugh, coming up behind Deuce as you reached into your back pocket to pull out the other three (real) tests.

"Aw baby, I know you're not that dumb." Wrapping your arms around his middle and kissing his neck, you smiled as you felt Deuce hum and melt into your touch.

"So, you don't believe me?" You whined into the back of his neck, making your fiance shiver. "So mean."

"Hmph, n-no, I don't!" Deuce gave you a shaky reply as he turned in your hold, his cheeks and ears red. "You won't get me this time, I'll need more than just a test as proof!"

"Oh? Well it's a good thing then,"

A grin grew on your face as you triumphantly pulled up your hands between you two, holding up the three tests like a stack of cards right up to his face.

"That I have these!"

Watching as Deuce's bright blue eyes widened, you continued to explain.

"I knew you wouldn't believe me at first, so I went and got three different brands! I hope you know that it took me drinking a lot of water so I could get these results."

You replied deadpan, though your smile returned as you saw how Deuce's eyes sparkled and brightly smile at you.

"Wait, for real!? We're having a baby?"

"Yes! We're gonna be parents!" The two of you laughed as Deuce wrapped his arms around you and lifted you into a spinning hug.

"Oh gods, this is so exciting! I can't believe—" Deuce gasped, setting you back down on your feet as he asked, "I can tell Mom, right?"

You snorted, nodding your head and pressing your lips together in a sweet kiss.

"Yes, you can tell Dylla! Let's call her right now!"

Ruggie

You know that Ruggie wouldn't believe you or the test lying on the kitchen counter, his skeptical face as he inspected it right this moment said so well enough.

You also knew that he probably wouldn't believe the second on you left on the coffee table, though he was starting to look confused.

By the time he found the third one on the bed, he was started to understand. By the time he got to the fourth one in the bathroom, Ruggie knew that this wasn't just a joke anymore.

Poor guy almost slipped and fell on his ass as he slid into the living room, where you'd been lounging and reading a book.

"Ya ain't pulling my tail this time right?" Ruggie was eyeing you, though his tail was wagging and his lips were wobbly. "Cause if you're tryin' to pull one on me it won't work, I saved baby money this time."

You snorted at that, looking at him over your shoulder with a smirk.

"Ooooh, look at Mister Prepared over here." You teased, making Ruggie rush over and pinch your nose as he grinned back, poking at your ticklish spots. "Eeeek! Stop that! Stopstopstopstopstop! It tickles! Hahaha—AH!"

You fell backwards on your small futon, cackling as Ruggie continued poking at your sides, crawling over you to dig his fingers in to tickle.

"You sure? You better be sure! Say it out loud! Come on~" He finally relented as you smacked his hands off you with snorts and giggles, opting instead to gently smack his forehead against yours, nuzzling his nose into your hair.

"Saaaay it~"

"Okay, okay! No more tickling though!" You held up a finger and jammed it into his cheek, though you still were smiling. "Deal?"

"Mmm, just for today.

"Fine. Ruggie?"

"Yes?"

"We having a baby."

The two of you exploded into more laughter as Ruggie buried you in his arms, squeezing you tight as you squeezed right back.

Jade

You knew that Jade knew that this test was a fake one. Mostly because you deliberately grabbed the one of the ones that he used against you last year.

So while he studied the test in his hands with a smile after your announcement, you knew that your now darling husband was doubting you.

Which is why you also went through the effort of getting a blood test done with the doctor, and had the results in an envelope mixed with the rest of your mail for him to check.

"Oh? What a surprise, and on April 1st too." Jade let out a chuckle, reaching down to press a kiss at the top of your head as you continued working on your laptop. "I must say, I expected better from you. Pulling the same prank?"

You remained silent, sticking your tongue out at him as Jade simply smiled and winked at you, opting to let you be as he went to sort through the mail. Perfect.

It took him a few minutes, but he noticed the letter from the doctor quickly, letting out a concerned hum.

"My pearl, you have a letter from your physician, is everything alright?"

"Oh yeah, I went a bit ago and they had me draw some blood. Should just be a regular panel. Check it for me hun?"

You couldn't help the smile from growing as you waiting in anticipation, listening to Jade tear into paper and unfold your results.

Jade took in a sharp breath, going quiet as you finally closed your laptop. Taking a deep breath and doing your best to put on concerned face, you turned over on the couch to look at Jade, who'd been staring down at the paper with wide eyes.

"What's it say Jade?" You feign ignorance as he snapped his head to look at you, batting your eyelashes. "Everything normal?"

Before you even had the chance to react, Jade had practically lunged himself across the room to grab you, holding you tight as kissed you as if it would be the last one you'd ever share.

"Mmph!" You smiled into the kiss wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he lifted you up into his arms. Finally, after swatting him in the back to beg for a chance to breathe, Jade pulled away with a grin.

"So much for pulling the same prank, huh Jade?"

"You sly little human, what fantastic news!" You two shared another kiss. And another. And one more as he cooed to you, "You're going to look beautiful as you grow our little ones."

"Ones? Just the one Jade. Twins aren't that common for humans."

"One can hope." He gave you a sly grin. "Though, nothing prevents us from stopping at the one."

Jamil

In the spirit of your previous fuck up, you decided to order another round of fake pregnancy tests through your shared shopping account. But you bought some real ones from the store too, so there was no way for Jamil to know now what you were actually doing.

He seemed to roll his eyes at your announcement, clicking in tongue at you as he started undressing from his work clothes.

"Uh-huh, habibi did you forget what happened last time? Didn't you learn your lesson?"

Jamil pinched your cheek as he passed you to get his lounge clothes, only to pause and sigh has he noticed the second test you placed in the drawer.

"Aaaah, how funny...but seriously? You got baby fever?" Jamil questioned you, equally curious and concerned. "I feel like you're trying to tell me something."

You hummed, grinning as he went to the bathroom, loosening his braids.

"Well~ I am trying to tell you something honey..." Hearing him drop his brush over as he noticed the third on the counter made you snort and giggle.

"(Name), seriously, are you messing with me or are you actually—"

As he rushed back into the bedroom to you, Jamil froze and gaped at the two new tests you were holding in glee.

"Ha! Tricked you, I actually am pregnant Jamil! April Fool's!"

You were so thrilled to actually have pulled a successful prank on Jamil, that you didn't see the way he started tearing up. And you definitely didn't expect him to throw himself at you, arms wrapping around you tightly as he shakenly breathed into your neck.

"Habibi! You're awful for playing around with me like that!" Jamil looked up, giving you a halfhearted glare as he squeezed your cheeks with his hand and chastised you.

"Don't joke around about things like this," He cursed under his breath before relenting into a soft smile. "You're a brat."

You grinned back at him, throwing your arms around him as you laughed.

"Yeah, I'm your brat, and we're gonna get another brat in a couple of months!"

Vil

As you held out the test to Vil, like holding a platter of ambrosia to a god, he simply glanced at it, and gave you a smile.

"I know."

You blanked, frozen in your spot as Vil kissed your cheek, walking past you into the bedroom as he started removing his jewelry.

"Eh?"

A soft chuckle left your fiancé's mouth as you heard him shuffle around the room. It must have been at least a few minutes, as he returned back into his lounge clothes and wrapped an arm around your waist.

"I said, I know." Looking down at the test in your still frozen hands, Vil plucked it and studied it with a critical gaze.

"This isn't real though, I recognize it from last year. Were you trying to pull another ridiculous joke?"

Vil sighed, rolling his eyes as he tossed the test onto the dresser and instead brought you tighter against him. You relaxed into his touch, though you squirmed a bit to look him in the face.

"Wait! How did you even know? I made sure to not toss anything in the trash this time for the housekeeper, I even told her the news ahead of time so that she wouldn't accidently find all the actual tests around the place and tell you and your father again!"

Turning in Vil's arms, he actually looked impressed, though amused, at your efforts.

"Oh, you actually put thought into it this time? How cute."

"Quit making fun! Tell me how you knew!"

"Tell me first how many tests you hid."

"Like 6! She helped me hide some too!" You grabbed Vil by the shoulders and theatrically, though humorously, shook him as you demanded answers. "Now tell meeeeee!"

"Oh calm down now, there's only room for one dramatic in this relationship." Vil cupped your cheek and gave you a chaste kiss, making your calm down.

"I noticed you were rather late this month and that you've been nauseous when waking up. I put it together and figured that you were having early morning sickness."

You let out a sound of realization, though you furrowed your brows.

"Well, why didn't you say anything?"

"I wanted the pleasure of seeing what you'd do to surprise your queen." Vil scoffed and pinched your cheek. "Though, if I'd known you were going to try to pull another prank, I would've just taken you to the doctor instead."

"Let me have my fun!"

"No."

Idia

You didn't miss the way Idia squinted his eyes at you in suspicion, darting back and forth between you and the test. He even held up his tablet like a shield.

"Suuuure. Yeah, and why would I believe you?"

Gasping, you held a hand to your heart in mock offense.

"You calling me a liar, Idia Shroud? Me? Your partner?"

"Hey, you're the one who—"

"Your one and only?"

"I'm not saying that—"

"The love of your life?"

"It's just that last time you—"

"The only person who can ever tolerate your bad tastes in anime?"

"HEY!"

You tossed your head back in mock devastation, 'collapsing' into the couch behind you as you pretended to sob into your hands.

"My own boyfriend, doubting me! I can't believe it..."

Peaking through your fingers, you watched as Idia walked over, still holding up his tablet, though also glaring at you from the top of it.

"I'd be a total noob if I believed you again. Even got Ortho in it too...if you think you can trick me again..."

"Even if I show this to you?!"

Like a trump card, you reached into your jacket and pulled out an ultrasound jumping up to shove it into his face with a giant smile.

"Haaaah...what?"

Idia's eyes grew big and as he almost dropped his tablet, a shaky hand reaching for the piece of paper and bringing it close.

"You—this—we—when—"

"If you're going to faint again, faint into the couch please."

"Okay."

Thump.

Silver

You weren't a fool this time. This time, you knew exactly what to expect and how to make this prank successful this time.

"Oh...uh. Darling?" Silver held the test in his hands as you kissed his cheek walking past him into the kitchen to make you two a cup of tea.

"Yes?"

"I don't mean to doubt you, but isn't this the same test as last year? From your prank?"

Shrugging, you busied yourself with the kettle and stove, grabbing your favorite mugs (and a third one), and humming as you looked through the teas.

"Maybe. Do you want ginger tea?"

"Ginger is fine. But dear, you do remember that last year I told you—"

"Honey?"

"Yes?"

"No, do you want honey? And lemon."

"Oh, yes that would be nice, but can you answer me—"

A knock at the door interrupted Silver, though you perked up as if you expected the sudden visitor. Silver, startled, blinked at the door and furrowed his eyebrows, as if offended.

Walking over as you continued making the tea, Silver checked the window next to the door and relaxed, opening it to the guest.

"Oh, hello Malleus. I didn't know you would be coming over."

You bit your lip to keep yourself from giggling, taking a deep breath as you peeked through the doorway and waved happily.

"Hi Hornton! I invited him over for some tea! Sorry, I forgot to tell you."

Malleus had a soft smile, nodding his head at you, then at Silver, patting the top of his head. Silver blinked again, still confused, as he followed Malleus into the kitchen.

"That's alright, but can we talk about—"

You already had set the table with the cups and a few pastries alongside them, giggling as Malleus leaned in to ruffle your hair.

"Hello my Child of Man, how are you faring? You smell rather sweet, you are with child? Shouldn't you be resting?"

Silver froze, eyes wide and a breathless gasp leaving him as you nodded, making eye contact with him as you answered.

"Oh, I'll be alright! I have the father right here to help me every step of the way, right Silver—eep!"

You yelped as Silver hugged you tight, breathlessly laughing as he picked you up and twirled, making you laugh.

"I can't believe it! This is wonderful!" Finally putting you back down on your feet, Silver pressed your foreheads together and nuzzled you. "You had me confused for a moment there."

Giggling, you gestured your head to your friend sitting at the table, who smiled happily back.

"That's what Hornton was for, wanted to make that everyone in the family would be here to hear the news!"

"Everyone? But isn't Father still—"

The sudden drop of a small fae's face between you too as he floated down to grin at Silver make your partner stumble back in surprise.

"Boo!"

900 notes · View notes

dior-luxury · 11 days ago

Note

hello!! could I request how the dormleaders would react to you being a descent of the different disney princesses? (or in some cases alice and hercules), hopefully my point came across because this was kinda hard to explain! ✧

How'd They React To You Being A Descent Of The Disney Princesses

( ✧ ) ────── boyfriend stories . drama/fluff - she/her .

- [𝐜𝐡.] dorm leaders

- [𝐩:𝐬] dramatic writing

Note: I literally fell in LOVE with this prompt! ♡ This was so fun to do and thank you so much for requesting!

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle had always prided himself on knowing everything about the Queen of Hearts' rules, the history of Wonderland, and the traditions upheld in Heartslabyul. But nothing—absolutely nothing—could have prepared him for the revelation that you were a direct descendant of Alice herself.

The first time you told him, he nearly dropped his teacup.

“What?” he blurted out, his usually pristine composure cracking as he stared at you in disbelief.

“I’m a descendant of Alice,” you repeated, shifting slightly under his intense gaze. “You know, the Alice. The one from all those Wonderland stories.”

The teacup in Riddle’s hand trembled slightly before he carefully set it down on its saucer. His mind raced, piecing together every bit of history he had learned from childhood about the infamous girl who had once thrown Wonderland into chaos—the girl who had openly defied the Queen of Hearts’ rules and questioned the very nature of Wonderland itself.

And now, you, his beloved girlfriend, carried her blood in your veins.

For a long moment, Riddle was silent, processing. His stormy grey eyes flickered with an unreadable expression before he finally spoke.

“… Are you sure?”

You chuckled. “Positive. My family has always told me stories about her. At first, I thought they were just tales, but then… well, certain things started making sense.”

Riddle exhaled slowly, his hands folding neatly in his lap to disguise his lingering shock. He had imagined many things about you—admired your kindness, your wit, your ability to handle his strictness—but this? This was unprecedented.

It wasn’t until later that day, after the initial shock had settled, that you noticed something was off about him.

At lunch, he stared at you a little longer than usual, his spoon hovering over his soup as if he had completely forgotten about it. During your usual evening walks through Heartslabyul’s rose gardens, he kept glancing at you from the corner of his eye, as if trying to see something—some trace of Alice herself in your features.

Finally, you stopped walking and faced him. “Okay, Riddle, you’ve been looking at me like I’m going to grow rabbit ears and hop away any second. What’s going on?”

His ears tinged pink. “I—ahem—I was merely… contemplating.”

“Contemplating what?” you pressed, crossing your arms.

Riddle hesitated before admitting, “I wonder if you… share any of her tendencies.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Tendencies?”

He looked at you seriously. “Alice was known to be reckless. She broke rules, disregarded orders, and caused immense chaos in Wonderland.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as if the very thought of such disorder was giving him a headache. “And if you truly are her descendant, I cannot help but wonder if… if you, too, might have inherited such traits.”

You couldn’t help but grin. “Riddle. Are you afraid I’m going to start shouting, ‘Off with his head!’ and overthrow Heartslabyul?”

His face flushed instantly. “N-No! That is not what I meant! Don’t be absurd!”

You laughed, stepping closer to take his hands in yours. “Riddle, I may be Alice’s descendant, but I’m still me. Sure, maybe I have a rebellious streak, but I would never cause trouble for you. And besides,” you added, tilting your head, “Alice was just curious. She asked questions and wanted to understand things. Kind of like you, actually.”

Riddle stiffened at that, caught off guard. “… Like me?”

You nodded. “Yeah. You always ask why things are the way they are. You want to understand rules, not just enforce them. Isn’t that kind of like Alice?”

He stared at you, visibly deep in thought. The idea had never occurred to him before. He had always viewed Alice as a symbol of chaos, while he stood for order. And yet, when you said it like that…

Perhaps curiosity wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

After a long pause, Riddle let out a soft sigh, squeezing your hands gently. “I suppose… I may have misjudged her. And you.” His expression softened. “If you are truly Alice’s descendant, then… I am glad. Because despite everything I have been told about her, I cannot deny that she left a great impact on Wonderland. And you… you have certainly left an impact on me.”

Your heart fluttered at the sincerity in his voice. Smiling, you rose on your toes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “Does that mean I have your approval, Housewarden Rosehearts?”

He huffed, though his face was undeniably red. “Just don’t go falling down any rabbit holes, please.”

You laughed, lacing your fingers with his. “No promises.”

And even though Riddle still insisted on keeping you far away from any wild, Wonderland-esque adventures, he couldn’t deny the excitement that bloomed in his chest whenever he looked at you—the girl who carried the legacy of the one who changed everything.

Leona Kingscholar

You weren’t sure how to bring it up at first.

Leona wasn’t the easiest person to talk to when it came to things like lineage, legacy, or royalty—especially not his royal family. You knew how he felt about being second in line, about being constantly compared to his older brother, and most of all, about the name Mufasa.

But it wasn’t something you could keep from him forever.

One evening, the two of you were lounging in the botanical gardens, where he often went to escape the suffocating responsibilities of being the Housewarden of Savanaclaw. The golden hues of the setting sun cast long shadows over the grass, and Leona, as usual, had his head resting on your lap, eyes closed, tail flicking lazily.

That was when you decided to say it.

“… I think I’m related to Mufasa.”

His tail stopped moving.

Leona’s emerald eyes opened just a fraction, peering up at you through his long lashes. “You think?” His voice was low, but you could hear the tension beneath the lazy drawl.

You swallowed. “Well… my family’s history traces back to an old royal bloodline. And after putting the pieces together, it looks like I might be descended from him.”

Silence.

For the first time since you met him, Leona was utterly, completely still. His usual smirk, his dry sarcasm, the ever-present air of indifference—it was gone.

“… So, what?” he finally said, sitting up from your lap. “You telling me you’re some kinda lost royal?” His voice was even, but there was an edge to it, sharp enough to cut.

You hesitated. “I’m not saying that.”

“But you are saying that his blood runs in your veins.”

You winced at the way he said his—like the very name burned his tongue.

“I knew you’d react like this,” you muttered, looking away.

Leona let out a sharp breath, raking a hand through his thick mane. He was quiet for a long time, long enough that doubt crept into your mind. Was this a mistake? Did he see you differently now?

Then, he laughed.

It wasn’t a warm laugh, nor was it amused—it was bitter, mirthless.

“Figures,” he muttered, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Even my own girlfriend’s got Mufasa’s blood. Guess I can’t escape that shadow no matter where I go, huh?”

Your heart clenched.

“Leona…” You reached for his hand, but he pulled away, standing up and shoving both hands into his pockets.

“I get it now,” he continued, looking up at the darkening sky. “The way you walk, the way you talk… the way people naturally listen to you. Should’ve known it wasn’t just you being you—it’s in your blood, ain’t it? The great Mufasa’s legacy, living on through you.”

That stung.

You stood up, crossing your arms. “That’s not fair, Leona. I don’t want to be compared to him any more than you do.”

His ears flicked, but he didn’t turn to face you.

“I know you hate hearing his name,” you continued, stepping closer. “But I’m not him. I’m still me. I don’t care about some ancient legacy. And I sure as hell don’t think I’m better than you just because of who my ancestors were.”

Leona’s shoulders tensed.

You reached out again, this time catching his wrist before he could pull away. “You’re the one I chose, Leona. Not my bloodline. Not my history. You.”

For a moment, you thought he might push you away.

Instead, he exhaled heavily and finally turned to look at you. His expression was unreadable—his sharp green eyes held something deeper, something raw, something vulnerable.

“… You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?”

You smiled. “Yeah. But you love me anyway.”

Leona clicked his tongue, but the smallest, faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Tch. Whatever,” he muttered. Then, with a gentleness most people never got to see, he pulled you into his arms. His chin rested on top of your head, and his tail lazily curled around your leg.

“… I don’t care about legacies,” he murmured. “And I don’t care that you’re descended from him. But if anyone ever tries to use that against me, I’ll make sure they regret it.”

You chuckled against his chest. “That’s my Leona.”

He scoffed but held you just a little tighter.

And though he would never admit it, a part of him—one buried beneath years of resentment and bitterness—felt oddly at peace knowing that if Mufasa’s bloodline had to live on… at least it was in someone like you.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul Ashengrotto had always prided himself on knowing everything about the sea. Every tale, every legend, every tragedy—it was his business, after all. Knowledge was power, and power was something he had worked tirelessly to obtain.

But this?

This was something he had never seen coming.

“You’re what?” Azul’s normally composed voice cracked slightly, and he immediately cleared his throat, trying to maintain his usual calm.

You shifted awkwardly in your seat across from him in the VIP room of the Mostro Lounge. “I’m related to Ariel,” you repeated.

Azul let out a breath, his gloved fingers tightening slightly around the delicate handle of his teacup. “As in… the Ariel? The mermaid princess who abandoned the sea for a human prince?”

“The very same.”

A tense silence settled between you. Azul didn’t say anything at first, and you could practically see the gears turning in his mind. His eyes, deep as the ocean itself, studied you carefully—searching for any trace of a joke, a trick, something that would make this revelation less… monumental.

It never came.

Azul placed his teacup down with deliberate care before folding his hands in front of him, his expression unreadable. “… And how, exactly, did you come upon this information?”

“I looked into my family history,” you explained. “I’d always heard stories passed down through generations, but I never thought much of it until I actually started tracing my lineage. And, well… everything led back to her.”

Azul exhaled slowly, reclining slightly in his chair. “I see.”

You frowned. “Azul, say something. Anything.”

His lips twitched, but it wasn’t quite a smile. More like something torn between amusement and disbelief. “Forgive me, dear, but I’m still processing the fact that my girlfriend is descended from one of the most reckless mermaids in all of history.”

Your brow furrowed. “You don’t like her, do you?”

Azul let out a soft, mirthless chuckle. “It’s not about liking or disliking her, my dear. It’s about what she represents.” He leaned forward, resting his chin on his laced fingers. “Ariel was many things—bold, stubborn, impulsive—but above all, she was a dreamer.” His voice dipped, almost as if the word itself was an insult.

You tilted your head. “And you don’t like dreamers?”

Azul’s gaze flickered to the contract-lined walls of his lounge, then back to you. “Dreaming is fine,” he admitted, “but blind idealism? That is dangerous. She gave up her home, her family, her voice for a world she barely understood. That is not a risk—” He stopped himself, inhaling sharply before finishing in a calmer tone, “—that is a gamble. And the house always wins.”

You could hear the bitterness in his voice. Azul, more than anyone, knew what it was like to make a deal from a place of desperation. To hope for something more, only to learn the hard way that the world did not hand out kindness freely.

You reached for his hand, your fingers lightly brushing against his glove. “She wasn’t perfect, Azul,” you said gently. “But she didn’t just give up everything for a gamble. She fought for what she wanted. She saw a world that she loved and refused to let anything keep her from it. Even when she lost her voice, she still found a way to be heard.”

Azul’s fingers twitched beneath yours.

You smiled softly. “And doesn’t that remind you of someone?”

His lips parted slightly, as if to argue—but then he stopped.

Because he knew exactly what you were implying.

Ariel’s story wasn’t so different from his own, was it?

A young, ambitious soul, born into the ocean but yearning for something more. Someone who wanted power in their own right. Someone who wouldn’t accept being overlooked or underestimated.

Azul clenched his jaw, tearing his gaze away. “That’s different,” he murmured.

“Is it?” you challenged. “You built yourself up from nothing. You changed your fate with your own hands. You defied expectations. You and Ariel aren’t as different as you think, Azul.”

He was silent.

You squeezed his hand gently. “And for what it’s worth… she got her happy ending.”

A dry chuckle escaped him, though there was no malice in it. “Yes, well, fairy tales always end conveniently, don’t they?”

You gave him a teasing smile. “So does that mean you’re my prince now?”

Azul’s face reddened instantly, and he quickly pulled his hand away, clearing his throat. “Ahem. I— I hardly think such a title is fitting for me.”

You giggled. “Would you prefer ‘Sea King’?”

Azul groaned, rubbing his temples. “You are impossible.”

But there was a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at his lips.

After a long moment, Azul finally exhaled, his posture relaxing. “It doesn’t change anything,” he admitted. “Whether you’re Ariel’s descendant or not, you’re still you.”

Your heart swelled at his words. “And you’re still you—my Azul.”

His ears turned a bit pink, and he quickly turned his gaze to the side. “… Well, if nothing else, I suppose this just proves that my ability to attract unique individuals is unparalleled.”

You laughed, reaching across the table to steal a sip of his tea. “You love it.”

Azul smirked. “I tolerate it.”

And as the two of you sat there, basking in the warmth of each other’s presence, Azul couldn’t help but think that—perhaps—Ariel’s bloodline wasn’t so foolish after all.

Kalim Al-asim

Kalim was not the type to keep secrets.

In fact, he was almost comically terrible at it. He was the kind of person who would accidentally blurt out a surprise party plan within five minutes of deciding it, who would beam with excitement over something he wasn’t supposed to know, and who would definitely be unable to keep a straight face if he ever tried to deceive someone.

But you? You had been keeping something from him. Not out of malice, of course. You just… weren’t sure how to bring it up.

It wasn’t every day that you told your boyfriend that you were a direct descendant of the legendary Aladdin.

You had been meaning to tell him, but the right moment never came. Kalim was always surrounded by people—whether it was his entourage, his friends, or the ever-watchful Jamil—and dropping that kind of information in the middle of an afternoon feast seemed a bit too dramatic.

So, you waited.

Until one evening, when the two of you were sitting on the grand balcony of Scarabia’s dorm, overlooking the golden dunes of the desert under a sky full of stars. The warm wind carried the scent of exotic spices from the marketplace below, and for once, it was just the two of you—no attendants, no interruptions.

“Kalim,” you started, voice soft.

He turned to you with his usual bright, open smile. “Yeah?”

You hesitated. “… There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

His eyes widened a little, curiosity instantly piqued. “Oh? What is it?”

You took a deep breath. “I recently found out that my family is related to Aladdin.”

Kalim blinked.

Once. Twice.

Then, his entire face lit up like a festival firework.

“NO WAY! THAT’S AMAZING!!”

Before you could react, he had grabbed both of your hands in his own, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Wait, wait, wait—you mean Aladdin—as in the Aladdin?! The diamond in the rough? The guy who found the magic lamp and won the heart of a princess?! The legend himself?!”

You laughed nervously. “Y-yeah, that Aladdin.”

Kalim’s excitement was instantaneous and overwhelming. “THAT’S SO COOL!” he exclaimed, practically bouncing in his seat. “Do you know what this means?! You’re like—desert royalty! A hero’s descendant! A real-life legend!!”

You smiled at his enthusiasm, but you weren’t sure how he’d feel about the whole story. “You really think it’s that amazing?”

“Of course! Aladdin was one of the greatest adventurers ever! He was clever, kind, and he never let anyone tell him he wasn’t good enough! And he never needed riches to prove his worth—he was already great all on his own!”

You bit your lip, fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve. “Yeah, but… you do know he started off as a street rat, right?”

Kalim tilted his head, confused. “So?”

“So… my family didn’t come from wealth,” you admitted. “We were commoners, just like Aladdin. We had to fight for everything we had. I didn’t grow up in a palace or anything like that.”

Kalim’s expression softened, and before you could blink, he was pulling you into the warmest, tightest hug you’d ever felt.

“That doesn’t change anything!” he said earnestly, his voice muffled against your shoulder. “Who cares where you came from? You’re you! And you’re amazing just as you are!”

You felt yourself relax in his embrace. “You really don’t mind?”

“Mind? Are you kidding?!” Kalim pulled back, his ruby-red eyes shimmering with excitement. “This just makes me love you even more! We have to celebrate! OH—WAIT—Jamil! JAMIL!!”

He immediately turned toward the dormitory, calling for his ever-suffering vice housewarden.

You quickly grabbed his arm before he could get Jamil involved. “Kalim, wait! I don’t think we need to—”

“But this is a once-in-a-lifetime thing!! We have to have a feast! Fireworks! Maybe even a whole festival!!”

You sighed, already imagining the extra work Jamil was about to be saddled with. “Kalim… maybe let’s keep it between us for now?”

Kalim pouted dramatically but nodded. “Okay, okay! But at least let me do something special for you!”

You smiled. “You already did.”

He blinked in surprise. “Huh?”

You laced your fingers with his, squeezing gently. “You didn’t care where I came from. You were just happy that I was me. That means more to me than any festival ever could.”

For a moment, Kalim just stared at you, his mouth slightly open as if processing your words. Then, his face broke into the softest, most genuine smile you had ever seen.

“You’re the best,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around you again, pulling you close.

And as the warm desert breeze swept around you, carrying the scent of spices and jasmine, you realized that you didn’t need riches or a magic lamp to feel like the luckiest person in the world—because you already had Kalim.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil Schoenheit was a man who prided himself on control.

Control over his appearance. Control over his reputation. Control over every detail of his life, from his carefully curated skincare routine to the way he carried himself in front of the world.

So, when you first told him—softly, cautiously—that you were a descendant of Snow White, you expected a reaction.

A scoff. A dismissive wave of his hand. Maybe even an unimpressed "Of course you are."

But what you weren’t expecting was the eerie, suffocating silence that followed your confession.

Vil simply stared at you, his amethyst eyes unreadable, as if you had just uttered some kind of dark curse.

“… Say that again,” he finally said, his voice carefully neutral.

You swallowed. “I— I found out recently. My family lineage traces back to Snow White. You know, the Snow White.”

Another pause.

Then, slowly—almost imperceptibly—Vil’s lips curled into a small, icy smile.

“How poetic,” he murmured.

His tone was unreadable, and you weren’t sure whether that was a good thing or a very bad thing.

You fidgeted in place, your hands clenching slightly at the fabric of your clothes. “Vil…? Are you okay?”

He let out a small, humorless chuckle. “Oh, darling, you must forgive me. I simply find it ironic.”

You blinked. “Ironic?”

Vil turned, gracefully walking to his vanity mirror, his reflection shimmering beneath the soft glow of golden candlelight. He lifted a hand to touch his cheek, his long, manicured fingers ghosting over his porcelain skin.

“You do realize, don’t you?” he said quietly, his gaze locked on his reflection. “The very story that shaped my life—the tale that cast my role before I ever had a say in it—is the same one that runs through your veins.”

Your heart clenched.

Vil had always carried the weight of that old fairytale on his shoulders. No matter how hard he worked, no matter how dazzling his performances were, there would always be those who whispered in the shadows:

"Ah, the Evil Queen reborn."

He had spent his whole life fighting against it—proving that he was more than a villain in someone else's story.

And now, you—the person he had let into his heart, the one he adored—were descended from the very girl that fairytale had deemed the fairest of them all.

“… Vil.” You took a hesitant step forward. “I didn’t want to hide it from you. I just… I didn’t know how you’d feel about it.”

He exhaled slowly, his fingers trailing down the edge of the vanity before he finally turned to face you again.

And then, something shifted.

Gone was the cool mask of detachment. In its place was a look that was unmistakably Vil—proud, regal, and fiercely unapologetic.

“Well,” he said smoothly, walking toward you with an effortless grace, “I suppose this only proves what I’ve always known.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”

Vil’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. “That even Snow White’s own bloodline cannot resist me.”

You let out a startled laugh as he lifted your chin with a gloved hand, his eyes gleaming with something both possessive and deeply amused.

“You are mine,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against your lower lip. “Snow White or not. And if anyone dares suggest otherwise—” His voice dropped to something silkier, more dangerous. “—they will learn why I refuse to be cast as a mere villain in this tale.”

Your breath hitched, heat crawling up your neck. “Vil…”

His smirk softened just a fraction, and he tilted his head, studying you with something warmer—something genuine beneath the layers of carefully controlled elegance.

“… Does it bother you?” he finally asked. “That our story was written long before we ever met?”

You shook your head. “No.”

And you meant it.

Because you knew Vil was more than that old fairytale. More than a poisoned apple or a wicked queen. He was himself—dazzling, sharp, ambitious, and breathtakingly human.

“You’re not a villain,” you murmured, reaching up to tuck a strand of his golden hair behind his ear. “And I’m not some helpless princess waiting to be saved. We make our own story, Vil.”

For a moment, he just looked at you.

Then, he let out a soft chuckle, his eyes glinting with something dangerous and beautiful all at once.

“Well then, my darling,” he purred, “let’s make sure it’s a story they’ll never forget.”

And when Vil kissed you that night, it wasn’t the kiss of a villain, nor the gentle affection of a fairytale prince.

It was his kiss—fierce, intoxicating, and entirely his own.

Idia Shroud

To say that Idia did not take the news well would be a massive understatement.

He froze. Absolutely, completely froze.

One second, he had been lounging in his dimly lit room, gaming console in hand, complaining about an impossible boss fight. The next? He had gone full blue-screen-of-death mode, his flaming hair flickering wildly in sheer panic.

“W-w-wait, WAIT—hold up!!” He almost yeeted his controller across the room, scrambling to sit up. “Y-you’re saying—y-you’re telling me—that you’re related to HERCULES?! Like, the Hercules?! Buff golden boy, slayer of titans, Mr. I-Can-Go-the-Distance HERCULES?!”

You blinked. “Uh… yeah?”

Idia made a strangled sound, looking one bad shock away from an actual shutdown.

“Error. Error. System malfunction.” His voice wavered as he pressed his hands to his temples. “This… This has gotta be a joke. A prank. You’re messing with me, right?”

“Nope,” you said casually. “It’s true. Turns out my family has a direct lineage to him. I only found out recently when—”

But Idia wasn’t even listening at that point. He had already spiraled deep into an existential crisis, muttering a very concerning monologue to himself.

“Ohhh, great, great, this is just like one of those cursed romance routes where the MC turns out to be some kind of secret OP chosen one and the weak nerdy love interest is completely outclassed—OH WAIT, THAT’S ME!!”

“Idia—”

“Like, you’re literally the descendant of the most brokenly overpowered himbo in Greek mythology! D-does that mean you also have god-tier strength?! Are you secretly bench-pressing me every time we hug?! WAIT—h-have I ever said anything bad about Hercules before?! OH NO, DID I ACCIDENTALLY TRASH TALK YOUR ANCESTOR IN A GAME?!”

You sighed, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Idia.”

He flinched. “D-don’t hit me, please! I don’t wanna get punted into orbit!!”

You deadpanned. “I’m not that strong.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what you say—but next thing I know, you’re single-handedly throwing a Cerberus across a battlefield like some kind of action movie protag!”

At this point, Idia had curled up in a dramatic ball, shaking like a frazzled NPC who had just aggro’d the final boss by accident. His hair flared up in stressed-out little sparks, and his eyes darted between you and the exit like he was debating whether or not to make a full-speed getaway.

“… Idia,” you sighed, kneeling in front of him. “I don’t care that you’re not some super strong warrior. You know that, right?”

He hesitated, his golden eyes flickering with doubt. “Y-you don’t?”

You gave him a fond smile. “Of course not. I mean, sure, my ancestor was pretty strong, but that doesn’t mean I care about all that legendary hero stuff. You’re the one I like.”

His expression wavered, caught somewhere between disbelief and hope.

“… Me?” he mumbled.

“Yes, you,” you said, tapping a finger against his forehead. “The guy who can hack into anything, the guy who builds the most insane tech, the guy who somehow beat that boss fight with 1 HP left and refused to let me quit until he avenged me.”

Idia’s hair flared a little pink at the memory. “T-that was just—! I mean—!! UGH.” He groaned, covering his face with his hands.

You chuckled, leaning in. “And, might I add, the guy who looks really cute when he panics.”

A strangled squeak left his mouth, and suddenly, his entire head of fire was a brilliant neon pink.

“O-overheat detected! System compromised!! Aaaaahhhh!!”

You burst into laughter as he absolutely imploded, his entire body curling inward like a dying star. It was honestly kind of adorable how flustered he got—especially when you reminded him that, hero’s bloodline or not, he was still your favorite person in the world.

Maybe you weren’t the legendary hero that people wrote myths about. Maybe you weren’t destined for some grand, godly fate.

But one thing was certain:

Even if you were a descendant of the mighty Hercules—Idia Shroud was the only person you’d ever want as your player two.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus was not one to be surprised often.

For centuries, he had existed as a being of immense power, feared by many and revered by few. The world rarely held any mysteries for him—he had seen the rise and fall of kingdoms, walked among mortals and fae alike, and held conversations with spirits older than time itself.

And yet…

When you, his beloved, softly confessed to him beneath the glow of a full moon that you were a descendant of Princess Aurora, the fabled Sleeping Beauty—

He stilled.

For a moment, the usual ever-present hum of his magic, the quiet whisper of the wind, and even the distant chirping of the nocturnal creatures all ceased.

You felt a strange shiver crawl up your spine as Malleus gazed at you, his emerald eyes darkening, an unreadable emotion swimming beneath their depths. His lips parted slightly, as if about to speak, yet no words left them.

“… Malleus?” you whispered, almost hesitantly.

His claws twitched at his sides. Slowly, deliberately, he stepped closer, his tall, regal figure casting an elongated shadow over the grass as he loomed before you.

Then—his voice, deep and almost dangerously soft:

“My beloved… are you certain of this?”

You swallowed, nodding. “Yes. My family recently traced our lineage, and it turns out Aurora was our ancestor.” You gave a small, nervous chuckle. “Crazy, right?”

Malleus did not return your laughter. Instead, his expression remained unreadable, his piercing gaze locked onto you in a way that made your heart stutter.

Then, he exhaled, long and slow, his eyes fluttering shut for the briefest moment. When he opened them again, his magic thrummed faintly around him, causing the air to shimmer slightly with an unseen force.

“… Fate is a cruel, ironic thing,” he murmured.

Your brows furrowed. “Malleus?”

He reached for you, his clawed fingers gentle as they cradled your face, his thumbs tracing slow, almost reverent circles along your skin.

“You do not understand what this means to me,” he said softly, his voice carrying the weight of centuries in its depth. “Aurora, the Sleeping Beauty… she was the princess cursed by Maleficent—the very fae whose blood runs through my veins.”

Your breath hitched.

It was true. Maleficent, the dark fairy who had cursed Aurora to a century of slumber, was his ancestor.

The ancient magic of their bloodlines had once clashed, one bringing forth the curse, the other carrying the blessing of awakening.

And now—they had converged once more… within you and him.

“… Does that bother you?” you asked hesitantly, searching his expression. “That we’re… connected this way?”

Malleus let out a deep, quiet chuckle. “Bother me? No… Not in the way you fear.”

His thumb brushed along your lower lip, his eyes gleaming with something old and possessive.

“If anything… it only solidifies the idea that you and I were always meant to meet.”

You felt your heartbeat quicken.

He leaned in, so close that his cool breath ghosted across your skin, his long lashes casting delicate shadows over his high cheekbones.

“Do you realize,” he murmured, “what your existence means to someone like me?”

You blinked up at him, utterly entranced by the way his voice wrapped around you like an enchantment. “What… do you mean?”

Malleus let out a low hum, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile.

“All my life, I have been cast as the villain,” he said simply. “A creature of darkness… a being to be feared. Even now, many tremble at the mere mention of my name.” His hand traced down your arm, his claws lightly grazing your skin in an almost reverent touch.

“But you… You, my beloved, are a descendant of the very princess I was once meant to stand against. And yet—here you are, standing beside me. Loving me. Choosing me.”

His voice dropped to a whisper.

“… Tell me, does that not feel like destiny?”

Your breath caught.

There was something dangerous and intoxicating in the way he spoke—as if you had been ensnared in the most beautiful, inescapable spell.

And yet, you felt no fear.

Because deep down, you knew Malleus was not a villain.

He was yours.

You reached up, cupping his cheek in your hands, tracing the sharp angles of his features with your fingertips. His skin was cool, like moonlight, yet it burned under your touch.

“If this is fate,” you whispered, “then I have no regrets.”

Malleus let out a deep, satisfied hum. His other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer into his embrace.

“Then allow me to make you a promise,” he murmured, his lips ghosting against your forehead.

“No curse, no fate, and no force in this world will ever separate you from me.”

His voice was low, dark, and absolute—not a mere vow, but a declaration.

Because Malleus Draconia had waited centuries to find a love like this.

And now that he had you, his beloved descendant of Sleeping Beauty—

Nothing in this world or the next would take you away from him.

1K notes · View notes

luxthestrange · 7 hours ago

Text

TWST Incorrect quotes#733 Beach day!

The third year, and you with grim went to have a beach day by the docks...which ended in horror so some...

Vil: Hey guys, what do you think about making that beach trip an annual thing?

Yuu, Malleus, and Idia: No!

Trey: Alright, that’s it, you guys. What happened out there?

Yuu: What? We took a walk. Nothing happened. I came back with nothing all over me!?!

Cater: What does that mean?

Rook: Come on, what happened? Trickster?

Mal: Alright-

Idia: No. Malleus, we swore we’d never tell!

Yuu: They’ll never understand!

Mal: But we have to say something. We have to get it out. It’s eating me alive...

Idia: Yuu got stung by a jellyfish!

Yuu: Alright! I got stung. Stung bad... I couldn’t stand... I-I couldn’t walk-

Idia: We were two miles from the house. We were scared and alone. We didn’t think we could make it-

Yuu: I was in too much pain.

Mal: And I was tired from digging a huge hole with grim-

Mal: And then Idia remembered something...

Idia: I’d seen this thing on the Discovery Channel-

Leona: Wait a minute, I saw that- On the Discovery Channel. Yeah, about jellyfish and how if you— EW! You peed on yourself?

Third years: EW!!

Yuu: You can’t say that! You don’t know! I thought I was gonna pass out from the pain. Anyway, I tried, but I couldn’t... bend that way. So... *looks at Malleus*

Third years*Look at Malleus* Ew!

Mal: That’s right. I stepped up. They’re my best friends and they needed help. If I had to, I’d pee on any one of you

Lilia*Under his breath, his facepalms*...Malleus-dammit kid...dont

Mal: Only, uh, I couldn’t. I got stage fright. I wanted to help, but there was too much pressure. So, I, um, I turned to Idia...

As the group looks at Idia now in shock, Idia is in the corner of the room, holding your couch pillow to his face as he screams in horror...

Idia*Lifting his head up with puffy red eyes, and runny nose* Malleus kept screaming at me, “Do it now. Do it. Do it now.” Sometimes, late at night, I can still hear the screaming!?!-

Mal: That’s because sometimes I just do it through your wall to freak you out~

Grim*Tuckered out in the recliner in, napping from a whole day of fun...while the chaos around him happens*

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ok but the image of idia screaming to my dorm pillow in horror makes me laugh-

101 notes · View notes

diceramblesaboutocs · 1 day ago

Text

As much as I like to see Idia paired with OCs that are all as quirky and nerdy as him, but I also love the idea of him being paired with OCs that are as or even more socially anxious, shy and soft spoken than him. Someone who hyperfixate deep but softly, someone who could probably pass as a "normie" but if you pay attention you see and hear their quiet quirkiness. :)

#twisted wonderland x reader #twist oc #disney twisted wonderland #oc #twisted wonderland #twisted oc #idia shroud x reader #twst idia #twisted wonderland idia #idia shroud #idia x reader #idia x oc

29 notes · View notes

solxamber · 3 months ago

Text

You Try to Sleep on the Couch after an Argument with: Housewardens

Other Parts: Vice-Housewardens; First Years ; Cater, Floyd, Silver, Rollo

Riddle Rosehearts

The house was quiet, save for the occasional creak of wood and the rustle of fabric as you flopped onto the couch with all the grace of a cat forcibly denied its favorite sunny spot.

The argument still hung in the air, an unspoken tension that neither you nor Riddle were willing to breach—at least not yet. He wasn’t wrong, not entirely, but he wasn’t right either. The impasse was as thick as the silence between you.

Determined to make a statement, you yanked the blanket off the couch arm and cocooned yourself in it, defiantly turning your back to the door. No way were you crawling back to bed tonight. Your pride wouldn’t let you. Let him stew in his perfectly fluffed, oversized bed.

Meanwhile, in his room, Riddle’s impeccable composure was fraying at the edges. He lay stiff as a board under his duvet, staring at the ceiling like it held the answers to all his mistakes. His pillows seemed unusually hard, the blankets too suffocating, and no matter how he adjusted, something felt... wrong.

It didn’t take him long to figure out the culprit: you weren’t there.

He groaned softly into the darkness. Guilt clawed at his insides, sharp and relentless, each tick of the clock making it harder to bear. He’d handled things poorly—he could admit that, now that the heat of the argument had ebbed. And worse, he couldn’t bear the thought of you being upset, out there on the couch, all because of his stubbornness.

With a heavy sigh and an even heavier heart, he threw off his blanket and shuffled into the living room. His breath caught when he saw you.

There you were, fast asleep, your cheek smushed against the arm of the couch, one arm dangling off the side. The sight was far too adorable for the emotional train wreck he’d become. His guilt doubled.

Riddle knelt by the couch quietly, determined not to wake you. But as he crouched there, the exhaustion hit him—of the argument, the guilt, the restless tossing and turning. Maybe just sitting here would suffice. He wouldn’t disturb you.

A few minutes turned into an hour. Before he knew it, he’d slumped sideways against the couch, head lolling onto his arms, fast asleep in what had to be the most uncomfortable position imaginable.

When you stirred awake, the morning light was peeking through the curtains. Groggily, you rubbed your eyes, the previous night’s anger feeling like a distant shadow. That was when you noticed him—his normally pristine figure curled up on the floor, head resting uncomfortably close to your dangling hand.

Your chest ached at the sight. The idiot. The sweet, guilty idiot.

You reached out, brushing your fingers lightly against his hair. “Riddle,” you whispered. “Hey… wake up.”

He stirred, blinking up at you with sleep-clouded eyes, disoriented but instantly softening when he saw your face. Without a word, he shifted closer, arms wrapping around your middle as he buried his face against your stomach.

“Don’t go,” he mumbles, voice thick and quiet.

You freeze but quickly recover, leaning into his embrace. “I wasn’t going anywhere.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, voice muffled by your blanket. “I didn’t mean for it to get so out of hand.”

Your throat tightened, and you found yourself carding your fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry too,” you whispered. “Let’s not fight like that again.”

For a moment, the two of you just stayed like that, wrapped up in quiet forgiveness. When he finally looked up at you, there was a hesitant, hopeful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Will you come back to bed now?” he asked softly.

“Only if you promise to use it too. No more couch-floor accommodations,” you teased, pinching his cheek lightly.

“Deal,” he murmured, and together, you made your way back—closer than before, warmth filling the space where anger once was.

Leona Kingscholar

The argument had been sharp, biting, and the kind of fight where you both refused to back down. Storming out of the bedroom felt dramatic enough to match the vibe, so you grabbed a blanket, stomped to the living room, and threw yourself onto the couch with the weight of your indignation. “Fine,” you muttered into the cushions. “Let him have the stupid bed. I don’t care.”

And at the time, you didn't. You were replaying his snarky remarks and cursing his stubborn attitude. But the couch was lumpy, the blanket too short, and sleep came grudgingly after what felt like hours of stewing.

When you finally woke, disoriented and achy, something felt...off. For starters, you weren’t on the couch anymore. You were in the bed, wrapped snugly in the comforter that still carried Leona’s scent.

Blinking against the sunlight, you sat up, confusion clouding your thoughts. At the foot of the bed was the blanket you’d dragged out last night, now neatly folded like some taunting symbol of Leona’s existence.

And Leona himself? Missing.

You slid out of bed and wandered to the living room, where the answer to your mystery lay sprawled across the couch. The sight of him, however, made your irritation waver.

Leona was far too large for the couch. His long legs hung over the edge at weird angles, and one arm was slung over his face to block the light filtering through the curtains. He looked wildly uncomfortable, but his usual arrogance softened in sleep, his face peaceful and unguarded.

It didn’t take a genius to piece it together. He must have carried you to bed sometime in the night, only to exile himself to the lumpy couch. The guy could be maddeningly stubborn, but this... this unexpected gesture had you torn between wanting to yell at him or simply kissing him awake.

Ultimately, you decided to settle for the middle ground.

Crouching next to the couch, you reached out and brushed the stray strands of hair from his face. Before you could withdraw, one eye cracked open, and a lazy grin spread across his lips.

“Caught ya,” he drawled, voice rough from sleep.

You raised an eyebrow. “You moved me to the bed, didn’t you?”

He huffed, clearly uninterested in owning up to the sentimentality of it. “Couldn’t leave you out there whining in your sleep.”

“I wasn’t whining!” you protested, even though your cheeks were burning.

“Sure you weren’t,” he replied smoothly, grabbing your wrist before you could retreat. With a sharp tug, he pulled you down, practically pinning you against him. “Don’t see the big deal. You’re mine, aren’t ya? ‘Course I’m gonna take care of you.”

The casual way he said it didn’t make it any less sincere.

You sighed, melting into his warmth despite yourself. “I hate how sweet you can be when I’m trying to stay mad at you.”

His smirk widened, and he tucked you closer, burying his face in your hair. “Didn’t mean to piss you off,” he murmured against your temple. “But you’re not leaving this couch till we make up. Deal?”

You rolled your eyes, but your voice softened. “Deal.”

As the tension melted away and his arms tightened around you, the couch didn’t seem quite so lumpy anymore. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad place to be.

Azul Ashengrotto

The argument had been tense, the kind where you both said things you probably shouldn’t have. Frustrated and too stubborn to stay in the same space as Azul, you grabbed a pillow and marched out to the couch. He’d barely tried to stop you, his pride seemingly keeping him rooted in the bedroom.

But pride was a fickle thing, and now you were left trying to fall asleep on the stiff cushions. Every creak of the floorboards made you feel a little guilty, knowing exactly who it was.

You didn’t even need to look; you could feel Azul’s presence lingering in the doorway, his usual composure clearly absent. The sound of shuffling footsteps returned to the bedroom, and you thought maybe he’d finally leave you alone—only to hear those same footsteps inch closer again a minute later.

"Azul, I know you're there," you muttered, cracking an eye open and turning toward the doorway. Sure enough, there he was, peeking out. His glasses caught the faint glow of the hallway light, and he immediately froze like he’d been caught stealing treasure.

“I-I wasn’t...” he started, before trailing off, clearly scrambling for an excuse.

You sighed and sat up, your frustration ebbing in the face of how uncharacteristically sheepish he looked. This was Azul Ashengrotto, the calculating businessman who could sell ice to Yetis—and yet he couldn’t even apologize without peering at you like a child who’d been scolded.

“If you’re just going to lurk there all night, we’re both going to lose sleep,” you said, finally beckoning him over with a wave.

Azul hesitated for a fraction of a second before his composure cracked, and he shuffled toward the couch. “I didn’t mean for things to escalate...” he started, sitting next to you, his head ducked low, voice soft.

You smirked despite yourself. “You’re cute when you’re embarrassed, you know that?”

He bristled, his dignity rallying as he cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. “I am not—”

“You’re very cute,” you interrupted, and the smallest flicker of a pout crossed his lips.

Azul looked away, a hint of color dusting his pale cheeks. “You’re the worst.”

“And you still love me,” you countered, pulling him down beside you. “Truce?”

He glanced at you, the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips. “Truce.”

Apologies came in murmured exchanges after that, both of you acknowledging where you’d gone wrong. You knew you’d both let pride get in the way—typical for two people as headstrong as yourselves.

Eventually, Azul’s head rested on your shoulder, his warm weight grounding you. You leaned back against the couch, and despite its discomfort, it felt perfect with him there.

“You know,” you whispered, running a hand gently through his hair, “for a guy who’s made half of Twisted Wonderland sign contracts, you really can’t stand your ground for the life of you.”

Azul huffed, turning his face into your shoulder to hide. “Do you want me to apologize again?”

You chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Nope. I think I’ll just enjoy this.”

And with that, the two of you finally let the tension of the argument melt away, falling asleep together on the couch in an imperfect, perfectly “you and Azul” sort of peace.

Kalim Al-Asim

The argument had been uncharacteristically heated—rare for someone as sunny and easygoing as Kalim—but even he had limits, and so did you. When your stubborn streak flared, it ended with you grabbing a blanket and storming off to the couch.

“No, Kalim, I’m fine. You sleep in the bed, I’ll sleep here,” you snapped, cutting off his attempts to follow you. His face fell, but for once, he didn’t argue, retreating to the bedroom with a defeated slump of his shoulders.

You burrowed into the couch cushions, determined to stay mad, but as sleep started to claim you, the anger dulled into annoyance. It didn’t matter. He started it, you thought stubbornly, clutching the blanket tighter.

A soft rustle of fabric woke you, tugging you from the edges of sleep. Blinking groggily, you turned your head to see Kalim crouched beside the couch, carefully tucking another blanket over you. He had his tongue poking out slightly in concentration, his touch so gentle that it was clear he didn’t want to wake you.

“What are you doing?” you mumbled, voice hoarse with sleep.

Kalim flinched, looking at you like a startled puppy caught raiding the kitchen. “Oh, I—uh—I just thought you might be cold, so I…”

He trailed off, clearly expecting you to brush him off again. Instead, you sighed, your irritation melting as you realized just how ridiculous he looked, trying to coddle you even while you were angry at him.

“Come here,” you said, sitting up and pulling the blanket back a bit.

“What? No, I don’t want to—”

“Kalim.”

His protest crumbled immediately, and he slid onto the couch beside you, tucking his legs up awkwardly. You wrapped the blanket over both of you, and after a moment of stunned hesitation, Kalim relaxed into the embrace, resting his head against your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice small and earnest. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

You sighed, tilting your head to rest on his. “I’m sorry too. I overreacted.”

He perked up slightly at that, his usual cheer trying to peek through. “So… does this mean you won’t sleep out here alone again?”

“You’re lucky I’m even letting you under this blanket, Asim,” you teased, though your smile softened the words.

Kalim beamed, his arms wrapping snugly around your middle. “I knew you couldn’t stay mad at me forever!”

You rolled your eyes fondly, leaning back into the cushions. The couch wasn’t exactly built for two people, but the warmth of his presence made it easy to ignore. Slowly, you both drifted to sleep, Kalim murmuring sweet nothings even as his breaths evened out.

Maybe next time, you thought sleepily, you’d just let him win.

“You can have your perfectly fluffed pillows and skincare routine in peace,” you muttered, tucking yourself in with a spiteful sense of triumph.

Vil Schoenheit

The argument left both of you simmering in silence, which for Vil was a rarity. Instead of his usual icy composure, he seemed genuinely rattled. You, however, weren’t in the mood to care. Grabbing a blanket with theatrical flair, you stomped to the couch.

Once comfortably cocooned, you scrolled on your phone, trying to drown out the lingering annoyance. That’s when you heard it—sharp, purposeful footsteps marching toward you.

Before you could react, Vil appeared like a vengeful storm god, looking every bit as flawless as a deity would while furious. With a huff that could make kingdoms tremble, he reached for your arm and began dragging you back to the bedroom.

“Vil, what are you—let me go! I’m fine out here!” you protested, but his grip was firm, his annoyance palpable.

Once you were unceremoniously deposited by the bed, he turned to you, pointing at your neatly made side. “You are sleeping there,” he declared.

You folded your arms. “I’m sleeping on the couch. Deal with it.”

He tilted his head, his expression a dangerous blend of frustration and disbelief. “Absolutely not. You’ve ruined my entire evening, and now you expect me to suffer further by sleeping alone?”

“Ruined? Seriously?” you shot back.

“Yes! I require my beauty sleep, and I can’t possibly get it knowing you’re out there, sulking on a couch. It’s impossible to relax without you next to me—so you, are going to have to take responsibility!”

The sheer audacity of his statement left you blinking. It was so dramatic and entirely Vil that you couldn’t help it—you laughed. Not a little chuckle, but a full-bodied, slightly wheezing laugh that made you clutch your sides.

Vil crossed his arms, arching an offended brow. “I fail to see what’s funny.”

“You,” you said between giggles. “This whole ‘it’s your fault I can’t sleep because I love you’ nonsense. You’re ridiculous.”

He didn’t deny it. Instead, he sighed, and once your laughter subsided, he gestured to the bed again, this time more softly. “Please. Don’t make me sleep without you.”

You relented, sliding under the blankets. As you settled in, Vil switched off the lights, the room going still.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly after a moment. His tone was sincere, lacking the sharp edges from earlier.

You shifted closer to him, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him gently against you. “I’m sorry too.”

Vil let out a contented hum, nestling into your hold. With your body heat mingling and the earlier tension dissipating, it didn’t take long for both of you to fall asleep—together, as it should be.

Sleep came in patches, your mind replaying the fight in a loop. At some point, the dull ache in your bladder forced you to stumble toward the bathroom. On your way back, you froze, hearing quiet, panicked murmurs drifting from Idia’s room.

Idia Shroud

The argument had been rough—sharp words, bitter edges, the kind of fight that left your chest heavy. It didn’t matter how much Idia stammered his way through an apology or tried to explain his side; you weren’t ready to hear it yet. So, in an act of frustrated finality, you grabbed a blanket and retreated to the couch, refusing to spare him another glance.

“Ortho, what do I do? I think I really messed up this time,” his voice wavered, thick with worry. “They probably hate me now. Like, actual hate—no respawn, no restart. I mean, who else would put up with me? I’ve completely blown it.”

You sighed, anger ebbing as guilt trickled in. You hadn’t meant to push him that far, and his usual self-deprecating spiral sounded more frayed than usual.

Pushing the door open, you caught the tail end of Ortho’s voice. “Big Brother, you should—oh!” His robotic eyes darted to you, scanning the scene. A moment later, he gave a tiny thumbs-up and practically zoomed out of the room, leaving you and Idia alone.

Idia froze when he noticed you. His shoulders hunched as if he could shrink his already wiry frame. “I-I didn’t mean for you to hear that. Sorry for being pathetic. Again.”

Rolling your eyes fondly, you stepped forward and opened your arms. “Come here, you dramatic dork.”

His eyes widened, hesitation etched into every inch of his posture. When you didn’t move or drop your arms, he finally shuffled over, nervously slipping into your embrace. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him securely, and his entire body seemed to deflate as tension drained out of him.

“I thought you weren’t coming back,” he admitted, voice muffled against your shoulder.

You huffed softly, rubbing his back. “Idia, I wasn’t leaving. Just... needed space to cool off. And honestly, hearing you lose your mind over it made it hard to stay mad.”

“Cool. Cool, cool, cool,” he mumbled, the words tumbling in an embarrassed rush. “Um, does this mean...?”

“It means I still love you,” you interrupted gently.

His grip on you tightened for a moment before he pulled back, pink dusting his cheeks and his hair glowing pink at the ends. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice so soft you almost missed it.

“I’m sorry too,” you replied, kissing his cheek and earning a startled squeak.

Together, you made your way back to bed. As you settled under the blankets, his fingers tangled hesitantly with yours. The argument seemed miles away now, replaced by the steady warmth of simply being with him.

“I’ll try to be better,” he murmured into the quiet.

“You’re already enough, Idia,” you replied, squeezing his hand.

And as you drifted off to sleep, you felt his thumb rubbing gentle circles against your knuckles, grounding both of you in the quiet comfort of reconciliation.

Malleus stood frozen for a moment, processing your declaration, and you could feel his pout even with your back turned. "You do not need to sleep on the couch," he finally said.

Malleus Draconia

The argument left both of you tense, and you were too mad to deal with Malleus' brooding silence. Grabbing a blanket, you stormed off toward the couch, refusing to even glance at him. "I'm sleeping on the couch," you announced. "Goodnight."

"I'm not changing my mind," you shot back, tossing the blanket onto the couch for emphasis.

There was a brief, sulking pause. Then, he went quiet—suspiciously quiet. You peeked over your shoulder just in time to catch him crossing his arms with a look of smug triumph spreading across his face.

“Malleus—”

Before you could finish the thought, a flash of green lightning struck the couch, reducing it to a pile of ash with alarming precision. You stood there, jaw dropping as the faint smell of charred upholstery wafted in the air.

"Well," Malleus said, ever so matter-of-factly, "it seems the couch is… out of commission. A most unfortunate turn of events."

You turned to him, dumbfounded. "Did you seriously just smite your own couch?"

He looked at you expectantly, his lips pressed into an overly calm smile. "The bed is still available," he offered, gesturing toward the bedroom as though that solved everything.

Your anger reignited—if that was even possible after witnessing such sheer audacity. Without a word, you dropped your blanket onto the floor, flopping down dramatically as if making it your personal mission to out-stubborn a dragon fae.

He stared at you in bewilderment, clearly expecting a different outcome. For a long moment, he didn’t move, as though trying to process your act of defiance. Then, with an audible sigh, he finally caved.

“Alright,” he said softly, crouching to your level. His eyes held a rare vulnerability. “I… overreacted. I apologize for upsetting you.”

You bit back a smirk, pretending to be unimpressed even as you felt your resolve softening. "I wasn’t thrilled about it, yeah."

Malleus tilted his head, something of a pout returning to his expression. “Will you come back to bed, then? The floor hardly befits someone so precious to me.”

“Only if you promise not to zap anything else," you teased, finally relenting as you reached out to take his offered hand.

He helped you up gently, his grip firm but careful, as though he feared breaking you. “I cannot promise to never act rashly in defense of my love,” he murmured, leading you back to the room.

Settling into the bed together, you couldn’t resist poking at him one last time. “You really destroyed your own couch just to keep me near you, huh? You know they make couple’s therapy for this, right?”

He chuckled softly, pulling you close. “I would smite an entire castle if it meant you stayed by my side.”

“Noted,” you said, rolling your eyes, though you couldn’t hide the warmth in your chest. As you both drifted off, tangled in the sheets, you couldn’t help but think how absurdly lucky you were to be loved by someone so dramatic—and so utterly devoted.

Masterlist

8K notes · View notes