Lilia Vanrouge X Reader - Blog Posts

An Easter Chocolate Disaster!

Fufufu, posting this a little late in the day (at least where I am) but happy Easter! I hope you had a fun day, packed full of fun activities like egg hunting! Or, if you’re anything like me and didn’t do anything, then, I hope you had a nice day!

Additionally, happy birthday to Vil! Always and forevermore the prettiest one of them all! Hope you enjoy! No spoilers or warnings for now but this might change in future installments :)

"Grim, can you even eat chocolate?" You ask skeptically. 

"Yes, henchman. I'm not a cat dazo." Grim rolls his eyes, reaching for another egg. You swat his paw away. "Okay, I'm just making sure." You frown. It's a total lie. You just wanted the chocolate eggs to yourself. 

"Ding dong!" 

"Henchman, the doorbell's ringing dazo! Go shut it up, go!" Grim shouts, eagerly inching closer to the chocolate eggs. "Fine! Just don't- I see that!" You glare at him as you put down the bowl.

Wait, we don't have a doorbell. The thought only crosses your mind as you walk toward the door. You cautiously open it. There's a box in front of you. For some reason, you're relieved it's not a letter. Though, attached to the box is a little card. 

Hey, little demon! We got a new shipment of lovely chocolate eggs just in time for Easter. My friends on the other side suggested sending over a package to you, for your continued patronage at Mr. S's Mystery Shop! Remember, we've got almost everything IN STOCK! 

Happy Easter!

You blink. You reach down for the box and bring it inside. Unsurprisingly, Grim is caught in the middle of shoving another chocolate egg down his throat. He gulps. 

"Don't blame me if you start vomiting and peeing all over the place." You huff, tucking the box under your arms. "Fygaa! I told you, I'm no cat dazo!" Grim insists. "Sure, sure. Since you had all of those, then this box is all mine!" You smirk and watch as his jaw drops, drool almost forming at his mouth.

"Wha-! I want them too dazo!" He gets up immediately, rushing over to your legs and standing. "Nope, they're all for me. Too bad, too sad." You grin wickedly, you open the box and pop a chocolate egg into your mouth. 

It happens too fast. 

Poof!

A cloud of smoke later, everything overwhelms you. "F-Fygaaa!? Henchman!?" Grim's voice is extremely loud and it's…great sevens. You look up, a gigantic Grim towers over you, looking just as shocked. 

What you're even more surprised at is the face that looks back at you in the reflection of Grim's wide blue eyes. A terrified, fluffy bunny. A loud scream erupts from your throat.

I might post this on Ao3? Not sure. I’ll be releasing individual dorm parts (and then maybe individual short headcanons for the boys) as we go!  If you see it posted anywhere or by anyone else, it's not me.

[Club Activities - part 2]

Summary: Crowley keeps knocking at your door, quite literally, wanting to hear your club choice. You might as well get this over with.

Notes: gn!reader, humor, it's kinda long, reader is oblivious, mentions of minor injuries but in a funny way dw, it's the looong overdue pt2

Part: 1.0 / 2 (you're here!) / 2.5 (soon!)

"So, have you decided?"

Crowley stands by the doorway. He looks completely normal, a pleasant smile plastered on his lips. You blink, sluggish, resisting the urge to slam the door on his face.

"It's five a.m. on a sunday."

"Yes, that's correct, good to see you're keeping up with the passage of time."

You feel there's a jab aimed at you for taking your time on choosing a club. Or on answering the door. In your defense, Grim was sleeping on top of you and you didn't want to disturb his sleep. Nor yours. You were hoping the Headmaster would just give up and leave you alone, but instead he only knocked louder. 

"Well?"

"Uh..." You take a bit to remember the first thing he said. "No, I still have some meetings to go to."

"Were the sports clubs not to your liking? I'm sure you'd do well in one, should you put your efforts on it."

"Nah, I'll pass."

"I see. Then, you'll tell me your decision by the end of the week, yes?"

"Since when did we agree on this." It was a question, but with your drowsy state it just fell flat.

"Since now, of course! I was very kind to let you take so much time to chose a club, but you must understand I'm under some pressure as well to make sure you'll have the best possible education here. We can't afford to lose too much time!"

You blink again, your brain still sleepy. "Oh. Alright."

Crowley claps his hands in an excited manner. "Wonderful! I'll be eagerly waiting for your decision, then!"

Only as you watch his retreating back getting farther away that it finally registers just what you agreed on. You groan, closing the door and leaning against it.

Well, nothing to do about it now. You should really get onto it, anyway. Still, your break will be missed.

Film Research Club (Vil, Ortho platonically)

You had finally left the sports clubs behind, time to try something new, like arts!

Since you've worked with Vil at the SDC, you were already used to his strict personality and thought you'd be able to handle yourself pretty well. You might not have that much experience with acting but you did know how to pretend everything was ok and your life wasn't falling apart, so you think you might have potential.

It was quite surprising to see Ortho there, but the sight of your friend's welcoming eyes and cheer made you feel relieved, relaxing amidst the Pomefiore students. They were intimidating, though in a different way the guys from the Spelldrive club were. The latter looked like they could easily beat you to a pulp, while the former looked like they'd give you a disgusted stare and call you a peasant in such a condescending tone you'd implode on spot. They were all very pretty as well, but you wouldn't let that make you self conscious since you knew no one could beat Vil anyway.

Speaking of, Vil himself comes to speak with you and explain about the club with a professional conduct as he says that Crowley had warned him of your special situation and that he'd let you help out, since they always needed extra hands on deck. You got hopeful at that, perhaps it was time for you to shine and discover a hiden talent of yours! These daydreams are soon crushed as Vil puts you on backstage duty and turns around, having something or other to talk about with the other members.

Well. That was... not what you were expecting. Ortho explains that in order to enter the club as an actor, you must audition beforehand and prove yourself worthy. That makes sense, you guess, so you accept it with grace. Backstage work might not be as exciting as being on the actual stage, but you had Ortho by your side to make sure things won't be too dull. And a side of you wants to make Vil proud of your work, so you suck it up and ask Ortho to lead the way.

Ortho shows you around the set you'll be working on for the day. It's one of Pomefiore's dorm ballrooms, and it's huge. You look in awe at everything, even though it's a bit plain in terms of furniture, it's quite detailed. In moments like this you remember Pomefiore's dorm is a castle, as you feel the royalty emanating from the ceiling, with it's luxurious chandeliers, to the walls, with it's intricate golden patterns, even at the floor, by it's quality.

He teaches you how to operate the lights and sound for a bit while the actors decide on what they'll film that day. You feel just the tiniest bit of jealousy at them, especially because Vil seems to be very focused on everything they say. Ortho must notice this (of course he would), and tries to cheer you up. After all, you're his friend! He doesn't want you to feel bored at the club when there are so many insteresting things to do!

You move from the more technical parts and go to the storage room, where they keep most of the props and extra accessories. You explore it, looking at everything but not touching, not wanting to get in trouble if you break anything on accident. As you're looking at an old mirror, Ortho picks up one of the pink cowboy hats and puts it on your head. It looks goofy, not matching with your uniform at all, and it makes you laugh.

You retaliate by putting a pirate hat full of colorful feathers that's way too big on him. It slides down and covers his eyes, making him look like a little kid trying on their sibling's clothes. Not to mention the feathers, that also clash with his body's design. You both laugh and go to different directions, trying to find more things to put on.

Ortho ends up with a vivid red sash wrapped around his waist and a wooden rod in hands, while you've got a pink feather scarf around your neck and a hollow steel rod in hands. You stare down at each other from your sides of the room, pretending you're on one of those western cowboy movies, even acting like it too. You drawl out something about the town not being big enough for the two of you. Ortho goes along, putting up the worst pirate accent with his robotic voice and telling you to prepared to be boarded.

Between giggles, the two of you meet at the middle, your rods clashing as if they were swords. You make exaggerated moviments that would be impratical in any fight while dropping the most cliche lines you can think of. Ortho dodges your attacks in slow motion and retributes with his own, making it seem more like some funny dance than a sword fight.

You were having so much fun you kind of forgot you were there to do a job. You're quickly reminded as the door suddenly opens and you, startled, let the steel rod slip from your hands mid attack and hit the wall with a loud clang. There stands Vil, hands on his hips as he stares at the two of you with one arched eyebrow, an unimpressed look on his face even after almost being hit right on it. You're not looking the most dignified, with your whole attire. Nor is Ortho, which helps you to not feel alone on the receiving end of Vil's judgment.

The three of you leave the props behind and return to the main area. More precisely, to the actors' dressing room part. It's not an actual separate room, but rather a space of the ballroom reserved for this. Most have put on their costumes and are adjusting the finer details, Vil instructs you to help them while he sets up the stage.

You try your best, but every actor sends you a glare as you approach them, making you turn on your heels and try another one. And another. And another. You're not feeling very helpful. How you wish you could just ignore it like Ortho does. The only thing you actually do is helping zip up some clothes when they can't reach their backs and do it themselves. You don't dare to touch their hair or you feel they'd explode you with their minds. There is one instance when you have to lace a guy into a corset, but you get a bit confused with all the laces. Maybe it's like tying a shoe? You pull on it with too much force at first, leading him to complain at you the entire time. In your defense, you've never done this before! You tie it up with a cute lace at the end to make up for it and scurry away before he could release more of his wrath upon you. You settle on following Ortho around like a lost puppy.

Finally, everyone finishes up and you move to the middle of the room, where the scene will be taking place. From what you gather, the movie they are making is about a royal family that's having their heir assume the throne, but there's a plot against him going behind the scenes. The main character seems to be corset guy, who still glares at you whenever you pass by his camp of vision, much to your (un)luck.

Ortho leads you to the first place he showed, since they'd start recording soon. You watch him work with the lights, turning them on dramatically as they start the scene and making it follow the main lead as he monologues about his woes of assuming such a big responsability and how he feels between the sea of people present. The actor does a good job, good enogh to appease Vil, who watches attentively near the camera. The thing is, he's trying to replicate a foreign accent and that, combined with his melodramatic lines, makes you have to stifle a laugh.

You try your best to stay quiet and pay attention to the story, but some of the lines and the way they dramatically deliver them sound so silly you can't help but giggle in your palm. Ortho looks at you inquisitively, tilting his head and trying to understand what you found so funny. You whisper an explanation to him, making him see the words in a different manner. As you laugh, he laughs along discretely, both of you having fun again.

Vil motions for you to keep your volume down, as to not disturb the actors and break their concentration, and you send him a thumbs up. Still, you keep on reacting, even mouthing their words with exaggerated facial expressions. Ortho seems much more interested in what you have to show than the lights, since he misses some of his cues and gets it later or sooner than intended. Which is also funny, since the confused looks on the background actors' faces are very entertaining. 

It comes to a point in which you're holding in your laughter so much you're a bit out of air, and you end up bumping into one of the controls, making the background music change suddenly, from a calm waltz to an action scenesque one. Your startled eyes meet Ortho's, and in true friendship fashion you both burst out laughing. Vil cuts the filming and strides up on you two, reprimanding you once again, and you feel like a guilty puppy being scolded by their owner. You must look like that too, since he sighs like an overworked mother and takes pity on you, deciding on something else for you to do and leave Ortho to do his job without distractions.

Vil gives you the role of an extra to play, just for you to have an idle conversation with the protagonist that won't last even five minutes. He shows you exactly how the scene should go, taking hold of your hand to conduct a dance and dropping casual chatter with you, looking you in the eyes, with a conduct that's so charming you're sure you feel your heart skip a beat (too bad it's just acting though). You feel like you can do that as well, so you hurry to change into one of the formal outfits and repeat the line Vil told you over and over again in your head, heart beating way too fast.

There is just one thing you didn't count on: you apparently have a bad case of stage fright. Or perhaps it's happening especifically because you know Vil will be watching you like a hawk. As you position yourself amidst the other extras, you feel your heartbeat accelerating and your hands start to sweat. You try to relax your tense shoulders and clear your throat, looking at the floor to steady yourself.

As your cue approaches, you move closer to the corset guy, whose attention snaps at you as soon as you enter his vision field. Even if his face looks polite, like a prince, you can feel the glare he's still sending your way, just on a more subdued level this time. You can also feel the stares of the others on your back and your tongue seems to have been tied. Your head comes up with a blank when you try to remember what Vil told you to say. Oh, this is not good. Why did this have to be so nerve wracking?

Time passes slowly, seconds feels like hours as the protagonist waits expectantly for your words. Trying to not disappoint, you blurt out a joke improvisation line, like the ones you see on movies sometimes. Unfortunately, your sense of humor is vastly different from Pomefiore's students', and the joke falls so flat everyone has to take a moment to recover. You wish for the ground to swallow you as Vil yells a "Cut!" and the other actors look judgmentally in your way. Maybe if you close your eyes it will go away? You can still hear the other's whispering, and although you don't understand what exactly they're saying, you can only guess they're mocking you. Welp, guess it's time to become a hermit at ramshackle and never show your face at school ever again!

It takes only a minute, but as soon as Vil has recomposed himself he commands everyone to be quiet. You open your eyes again, gathering all your courage to see the disappointed look on his face, but you're surprised that's not what greets you. Instead, Vil's got a nasty glare that's sharp enough to cut a man, and it's not directed at you at all! Vil procceds to reprimand the rest of the cast for being so inelegant as to make fun of a begginer and even mocks their need to feel superior. You've never felt more grateful for him in your life, maybe you can still go to classes after that, since no one will dare to mess with you and risk his wrath.

As the others look ashamed for being yelled at by their leader, Vil pulls you aside and tells you that maybe it's better to try something else if your stage fright is going to affect your performance so much. He sounds strict as always, but he has an almost soft look in his eyes as he congratulates you for trying to overcome that fear and that you did well enough for someone with no experience. You feel a lot better after that and thank him sincerely, promising to give it your all at whatever other job you can do to help! He smiles at your enthusiasm and it's as if the clouds have parted ways for the sun to shine. (The other club members look amazed, as they've never seen such a soft smile on Vil's face before.)

He then asks you if you know how to work with a camera. If taking pics with Cater to post on Magicam counts then yes, you do have some experience with it. Vil says he's got the perfect job for you: being part of the camera crew and helping to film everything. You accept, after all, how hard can it be, really?

Apparently, a lot. Vil had just left out a little detail from this job: you'd be filming the aerial angle of this scene. Which meant using Kalim's magic carpet. As you recall, you're not the most adept at riding it, flashbacks from winter vacation entering in your mind. Still, you had promised Vil you'd help on this, and you weren't sure if he'd find you another thing to do or get your complaining the wrong way, so you decide to give it a try anyway.

You wobble on it, camera propped up on your shoulder and secured by a sling strap just in case you losen your hold on it. (Which is very likely). Surprisingly, you manage to get the carpet off the ground without many complications, so things are looking up (quite literally)! And then comes the part where you have to guide it and you're almost thrown out of a window with the force it makes a turn. Your grip on it tightens and you try to wrestle it into submission, with little success.

Things procced like this, you trying to learn how to drive the carpet while making turns on the air and holding on for your life. (And making sure the camera is safe. You don't want a repeat of the chandelier accident from the start of the year, so you're not taking any chances). Anything you might have tried to film is probably so shaky and blurry it isn't even usable, but you have more important matters to worry about.

That goes on until you make a particularly sharp turn, causing the carpet to lose control and go spiraling straight to the floor. Luckly, you manage to land on a convenientely placed couch (has that been there before?) and doesn't get much hurt. You're clutching the camera to your chest in a protective manner, so it isn't damaged either. At least, not much, but it isn't anything the Ignihyde guys can't fix.

Vil and Ortho are by your side in an instant, asking if you're alright. Vil extends his hand and pulls you up like a gentleman, fixing your hair softly. He's really close to your face and you can feel your heart beating faster, though you're not sure if it's due to that or the adrenaline of the fall. Ortho reassures you that not even him got the hang of piloting the carpet, as it seems to only actually obey Kalim, and that you did your best!

You really did try, so you can safely say you won't discover any hidden acting talent any time soon. Time to check out other clubs. 

(Ortho tells you to drop by another time at practice and watch the recording with him, since he had a lot of fun! Vil tells you that should you wish and work hard for it, you may have potential and he'd be willing to help you reach it. You agree, since it was very nice to visit and, most of all, to get to see Vil on his element like this. There's an added bonus of you not having ended up at the infirmary as well, which is enough to put the club on a positive light in your books. It's a bit sad that's the standard, but oh well, nothing to do about it.)

Science Club (Trey, Rook)

Alright, art may not be for you, but maybe science is! Or... whatever it is that they do in this club.

It's a bit intimidating since there are way too many people there, more than you've seen in any other club. What could they possibly be doing to attract this many people?

Rook, as observant as ever, notices you before you've even set foot inside the lab, coming close to greet you and ask if you were going to join them for the day. You relutanctly agree, staying close to his side as he leads you deeper into the room, opening the path. You make sure to not bump into anyone and cause an accident.

Trey is at one of the work tables at the back, sharing it with Rook. He sends a calming smile your way and explains that it's a club with a vast variety of activities, as long as they're not of the physical sort. You sigh in relief, listening to him reciting things such as plant cultivation and chemistry experiments. You already have to do those things on your regular classes, so you're confident in your ability of succeding for once. Rook adds that this flexibility in activity has attracted many people, creating a beauté diversity of members. (Trey explains that there's a lot of odd people as he side eyes Rook).

You sit with them, since you don't know anyone else. Rook goes on about the experiment he'll be doing this time, something that will leave a beautiful impact and stay on the mind of anyone looking. It sounds a lot like what happens when you partner up with Ace and Deuce at alchemy class, that is, stuff is about to be blown up. You scoot closer to Trey.

Taking pity on you, Trey reminds Rook that there's an ingredient missing, since they had used all from the lab's storage on their last class, and offers to get it at the botanical garden for him, inviting you to come along. You jump at the opportunity, agreeing and getting up to follow him. Rook thanks his generosity and explains that there's no way a gentleman like him would leave all the hard work onto the two of you, so he follows along. Trey looks a bit annoyed, but you only wanted to get out of being roped into a crazy experiment so you don't mind much, as long as you keep Rook away from any potential explosive plants.

The fresh air from the gardens is much better than the stuffy feeling from the crowded lab, and you take a deep breath to appreciate it. Trey takes you to the temperate zone, the path filled with beautiful flowers of all colors and scents. The sound of the little river below you only adds to the pleasant atmosphere, the sun rays warming up your skin and soul. It's wonderful. You'd like it if your club classes were to take place there. It might be enough to convince you to join, the nature so full of life energizing your mood, a smile blooming on your face.

You pass by an area that has thicker vegetation and stands out from the whole, attracting your curiosity, so you ask Trey what could be there. He warns you to not wander to that side of the garden, as there were carnivorous plants being cultivated by the third years. You wave him off, saying you had those back in your world and they were pretty harmless. Trey looks at you in doubt, but decides to not question it, aceptting your answer and going back to his search for the missing ingredient. 

Since you have no idea what you should be looking for, you leave the boys to it, deciding to observe the flowers instead. Distracted, you end up getting farther away from them, the flora enticing you and putting you under a spell, demanding your attention. It's not until you bump into a tall... something, that you realize how far you had gone. You lift up your head, wondering if you had bumped into a tree, only to find two open hinged lobes dripping with sap closing on your face.

A scream gets caught in your throat as you take in the gigantic carnivorous plant in front of you, that's only coming closer. You didn't know that when Trey had mentioned them, he didn't explain that they aren't like the one from your world at all. Not only were they huge, but also seemed ready to eat a human at any given chance.

You're pulled by someone behind you, falling into a secure chest and feeling strong arms embracing your waist as the plant's jaw's close into the air where you were just a second ago. The sigh you let out shakes your whole body and you let your weight be supported by your saviour. You find out his identity soon enough, as a familiar voice by your ear calls you chéri and asks if you were fine.

After thanking Rook, he guides you to the main area of the garden with a protective hand behind your back, making sure you wouldn't stumble into any more potential dangerous plants, as he goes on about how they were "the hunters of the natural world" and how "such danger has it's own alluring charm, non?" You don't catch the glint in his eyes as he asks the question, too busy trying to get your heart beat back into a normal rhythm. 

Trey scolds you lightly for ignoring his advice, but he seems busier trying to equilibrate the plants he harvested in his arms and glaring at Rook, probably for leaving him alone to do all the work. Rook stays unbothered, putting his hands on your shoulders and staying close as he directs you to the exit, his usual smile stamped on his face.

As you put the fresh ingredients near the others that Rook had selected earlier, you notice some strawberries in the mix. You shot a questioning stare at Trey, making him laugh and explain he took the chance to harvest some of his hand grown special strawberries. He takes some from your hands, brushing your fingers together before lifting them up to inspect closely. The strawberries are a beautiful shade of red, making you salivate only by looking at them. Trey has a contemplative expression as he murmurs he should use them as soon as possible in order to make the best use of their ripeness.

You suggest him to make a strawberry tart with them and offers your help, on the light price of getting to eat it as well. He smiles and agrees to your proposal, telling you to follow him to the kitchens. You do, happily so as you carry some of the strawberries in your arms, leaving Rook to take care of the potions experiment. Really, you feel like you've killed two birds with one stone, so you pat yourself on the back for doing a good job.

Back at the first month of classes, you remember cooking with Trey, Ace, Deuce and Grim, and how much fun you had, despite the circumstances. With the group reduced to two, it might be more toilsome, but you were confident it would be worth it.

Trey finds an extra apron for you, tying it himself to make sure it would stay in place. He gently explains the steps to prepare the ingredients, helping you whenever you didn't understand something. It was quite nice, seeing Trey look so in his element, an unconscious soft expression on his face, as if he was enjoying himself. It's domestic, even, how you dance around each other in the kitchen, passing bowls and cutlery back and forth. He is good humored as he recalls stories from the club, making you laugh whenever he bemoans Rook's experiments.

The stories he tells are very captivating, so much so that you don't look at the recipe book, doing the steps on automatic. Once or twice you almost spill what you were mixing or use too much force to cut something, but it's salvageable every time, so you don't comment on it. You leave the crust on the oven for a bit too much, but it's only slightly charred, so you're pretty sure it's still edible. One of the flour bags slips from your hands and falls on the sink, covering your face in flour powder. Trey helps you clean up, but he's laughing at you and your now white hair. It comes to the point in which you're mixing the crème pâtissière and you get too close to the stove, making the ends of your sleeves to catch on fire. Trey quickly puts it out and runs your arm under cold water. The crème ends up a bit too lumpy, since neither of you were stirring it for a while, but it's not too bad.

Alright, maybe you're not the best at cooking. Still, arranging the strawberries in a circle on top of the tart was pretty fun. The last thing left to do is to let it cool. You lick your lips thinking about eating it once it's ready. You're about to help Trey clean the mess you've made in the kitchen when Rook bursts through the door, looking excited. He tells you there's no time to explain and takes you by the hand, dragging you back to the laboratory. You send Trey your best regards and wish him luck in cleaning everything alone. He sends you a pitying look back.

You should wish yourself some luck as well, since the motive for Rook to have brought you to the lab was for you to help him with the new formula he thought for his experiment. He explains that the one he was trying didn't have it's desired effects, as you could clearly see from the scorch marks on the table you were sitting before. He says that for the new formula, he'll need help to get the ingredients prepared and handed over, since he couldn't stop stirring it until everything was added in. You don't know how he came up with this solution, and honestly? You don't want to know.

Having no other choice, you agree to help him. He reminds you to put your gloves and safety googles on before starting, making a comment on how your cute apron would do as your lab coat. After getting into place, you follow all of Rook's instructions, preparing and handing over the ingredients he asks for. You have no idea what it is that he's going for, as your potions classes are still on a basic and more theorical level, but you decide to trust that he, as your upperclassman, knows what he's doing.

Dread pools on your gut as you watch the ingredients going into the cauldron. There's a hissing sound and bubbles emerge from the deep purple concotion. You have no time to react as Rook thows his arm in front of you just in time for the explosion to take place. You grip onto the table tightly and manage to stay upright, thanking the Sevens for your safety googles. If it were not for them, your entire face would be covered in a sparkling purple powder, some getting into your hair as well. Rook laughs and tells you that you shine bright like the sun. You look on unamused. Trey appears, having heard the explosion, and sighs, clearly being too used to this happening. He tells you and Rook to clean up as he starts to clean your mess, bless him.

Rook takes you to the nearest bathroom available, both of you trying to wash the explosion's results off. It has stuck like glue, and you have to splash your face with the cold water over and over for it to go away. You think there's still some of it on your hair, but can't bring yourself to care much. The apron wasn't enough to cover your body, so your clothes weren't spared either. Rook doesn't comment on it, but you can see him looking at you funny by the corner of your eye.

As you enter the lab, you see that the students that stayed after the first explosion had left. Rook wonders out loud on why they didn't like the innovation of his experiment, sighing as he goes on about the beauty of curiosity. You and Trey exchange glances as you clean everything together. You feel like you stayed way past the club's scheduled time and your arms hurt from moping the floor. At least you get to share your wonky strawberry tart. It doesn't taste as good as Trey's usual ones do, but you like it. You can't decide if it was worth all the trouble though.

Grim laughs at you once you get back to Ramshackle, your face is itching for the rest of the day, there's some sparkles in your hair for the rest of the week, your slightly burnt arm won't stop aching, you sent your clothes' laundry bill for Rook to pay. As much as you respect scientific advances, you feel that being involved in the research isn't for you (nor the cooking). Time to check out other clubs.

(Rook keeps approaching you at the halls to update you on how he's thought of possible changes to make the potion work. Trey comments he liked having company in the kitchen and help for cleaning up for once. They aren't very subtle. You don't even have to agree to visit the club again another time, as Rook has already volunteered you as his lab assistant and Trey has gifted you a recipe book with markings on which recipes you'll try to bake next. Guess you have no other choice but to go back now.)

Pop Music Club (Cater, Kalim, Lilia)

And back to the arts you go. But this time, instead of performing, how about playing some music? Joining the school band might be fun!

You're surprised to only find three people in the club. All the others had a bunch of people, but in this one, once you enter the classroom you're met with three of your friends hanging out in a couch. Why was there a couch in this classroom in the first place!?

It's not just three random people, either. It's the chillest and most extroverted people of the school, the ones that got along with everyone and were very popular. They whip their head so fast to the direction of the door once you enter you get a little worried for their necks. They seem elated to have a visitor, so you suppose this won't be so bad, even if you don't feel confident enough to play an instrument in front of other people.

Kalim jumps at you and envelops you in a big hug, a smile shining on his face as usual. Lilia pats you on the back, pushing you closer to the center of the room and welcoming you. Cater takes out his phone and takes a selfie with everyone, declaring it would go viral to have the cutest people of the school all together in one place and gushing over how many likes he'd get. They sure are a lively bunch.

Lilia plops you down on the couch, telling you to feel at home and winking. There's a center table with food containers in front of you, Kalim offers you a bite, explaining they made the snacks to bring to their club meetings, and Cater proposes to make it a culinary competition, in which you'd judge which one was the best. You were pretty sure you had left the cooking behind at the science club, what did it even had to do with music? Well, you weren't going to complain about getting free food!

Cater insists you try his first, a round tupperware with fried corn tortilla chips and guacamole in a dipping bowl at the center. It looks amazing, making your mouth water a bit. You take one of the chips, lightly lower it on the dip and take a bite. It's overall very good, the consistency and the crispness are wonderful, there's just one little problem: it's very spicy. Very spicy. Not the "oh no there's a tiny bit of spice in my otherwise bland food" type but the "my eyes are burning my thorat is burning my stomach is burning I'm going to burn from the inside out" type. And that's how you feel as you fan your face and drink the water Kalim brings you, though it only makes the burning worse, spreading it throughout your mouth and making your eyes water. Lilia appears upside down, hanging from the ceiling and scaring you, and offers you a glass of milk instead. You gratefully take it and chug it down as quick as you can.

Once you've calmed down, Lilia explains how he keeps milk around for Cater's food, that's way too spicy for his liking. Cater looks at you with puppy eyes, asking if you liked the chilli peppers he added to the recipe. You didn't, not really. It would be one thing to add some, sure, but it's like there's more pepper than anything else. You weakly smile at him and explain apologetically that it might not suit your tastes so much. Cater seems a bit down, but he only shrugs and jokingly says that not everyone can have good taste.

Kalim bounces up to you next, shoving his container in front of your face and telling you to try it. He proudly says he made it all without Jamil's help and that he hopes you'll like it. You look at the fried dumplings, remembering it's a sweet called awameh. It looks good as well, although a bit burnt, nothing that would stop you from eating it. You take one, getting surprised by how crunchy they ended up being, the sweetness exploding in your tongue. It would be very good, but you have the impression Kalim must have used the wrong measure of the ingredients. Yes, it was sweet, but it was way too sweet. Not only that, the sugar mixed with the cinnamon on the syrup also left you thirsty, as you downed another cup of water. It was like cinnamon was impregnated on your mouth, there was definetly too much.

While you accept your tongue will never be the same after the combo of strong flavours, Kalim reveals he tried to follow one of Jamil's mom's recipes for it, declaring it to be the best he's ever proved. He just got a bit confused when taking the measures for some ingredients, but he was proud of his work! You make a mental note to try to eat one of Jamil's awameh later, sure that it would taste delicious, and compliments Kalim on his efforts, suggesting gently to ask for help next time he has trouble with it.

The last one is Lilia, and you start dreading what might be hidden on his container. He seems preppy that someone will get to try his food, telling you that he's the one that cooks dinner at Diasomnia and how Silver and Sebek love his food. Cater and Kalim look at you with pity, shaking their heads. You've heard of Lilia's infamous cooking skills before, so you have to mentally prepare yourself before looking at what he prepared. It's... uh... something alright. Though it's unrecognizable, a dark glob that just looks sticky and burnt after the point. Your desperate look does nothing for Cater and Kalim to try to save you, as they look away furtively.

Aceppting your fate, you take one of the spoons Lilia brought and take the smallest bite possible while he stares at you attentively. It tastes foul, as expected, as if something had died in your mouth. You resist the urge to gag, trying to go for a smile and ending up with a grimace instead. It's horrible, there's no other way to describe it. All the rumors don't do it justice, it's way worse than what they say. You suspect you will get food poisoning later, as you down another glass of water. At least you're keeping yourself hydrated. Lilia seems to either not notice or pretend he didn't, as he keeps his cheery attitude and asks if you liked it. You nod weakly, hoping it would be enough for him to not force you to take another bite. He mercifully looks satisfied with the answer and you sigh with relief.

In the end you tell them you don't know which one was the best (you side eye Lilia's, thinking on how you knew which one was the worst at least). They don't look disappointed, content in having you prove their food as each munchs on their own snacks happily. You wonder how they manage to do it. Suddenly you miss Trey's baking and the wonky strawberry tart you've made.

As everyone sits together, Cater puts on some electropop song on the background that reminds you of the famous vocaloids from your world. You have an epiphany that Cater would listen to Hatsune Miku. You're not sure what to do with that information, staying quiet in shock as the other three talk between themselves. You remember him mentioning something like it when you went to do the SDC auditions, but you had other things to worry about and it must have slipped your mind. Once you've recomposed yourself, you ask what the food had to do with music, since the question had been burning in your mind for some time (not as much as your tongue burned tho).

They explain that the pop music club doen't really do much music, as the name suggests, they mostly just hang around to chat and chill. It has gotten them in a bit of trouble with the Headmaster, as they don't do anything that could actually be considered a club activity, causing him to have threatened to disband the club. Not to mention there's no new members for a while, no matter how much they try to attract more students. You consider joining this one just to spite Crowley. They clarify that they do play their instruments every once in a while to cover some song, but with their different music tastes they never reach an agreement on what to play most of the time.

You're curious on how they might sound as a band, sure it would be a chaotic but entertaining sight. You would ask to see this, if it was not for Cater excitedly declaring it's "gossiping time". They put on elevator music to play at the background and huddle close together, leaving a spot open for you to join their little circle, as if you were about to be in into the school's secrets. And that's exactly what happens, as the three of them seem to know about everyone and everything that goes on Night Raven College. There's so much drama you've never heard about, and you feel you know way too much about the lives of people you've never even met, but it's nice to create conspiracy theories about what would happen next in the soap opera that was other people's lives.

The topic changes to Magicam, since you were lowkey stalking the boy that had caused a ruckus in the cafeteria the past days. Cater likes his account's aesthetic, saying it passes the bad boy vibes he has, and whines about their club's magicam page. You weren't aware they even had one, so you ask to see it. It's... not what you were expecting. They might as well not have an account, since there are no photos other than their icon, which was the symbol of the club. Cater complains that they couldn't come to an agreement on how the page should look and were too lazy to try to work something out, so it has stayed like that for months.

Since you know how much he cares about this stuff, you offer your help! After all, it could be a lot of fun, and it'd feel as if you're the manager of the club. Cater lightens up with joy, throwing his arms around you and bringing you close to affectionately rub his cheeck on the top of your head, thanking you for being such a prestative underclassman. You enter your business mode, thinking on how you could go about this. It makes sense to promote the club doing something other than hanging out, so you tell them to pick up their instruments and pose.

You go around them and try many different angles. Kalim and Lilia have fun doing weird poses that makes very clear they aren't playing at all, but there's a charming genuine smile on their faces. Cater poses with his guitar like a professional, making captivating facial expressions that make even you swoon, only encouraging him to make different ones. He could be a model, you think, with how he knows all the right ways to smile at the camera and tilts his head just so to make him look cute and alluring at the same time, fingers skillfully positioned at the eletric guitar's chords, eyes lidded, hair messy deliberately, body facing forwards with confidence. He has everything to ace the rockstar persona, at least in looks.

You try taking some of them together as an unit, but none pleases you enough. There's something missing, but you can't quite put your finger on what. You give his cellphone back as you ponder about it. Cater looks through the photos, commenting how one looks "super cool~" and in the other he's "slaying". He decides it'd be a great moment to take advantage of his cuteness streak to take a photo with everyone together, yourself included. Cater drapes his arm around your shoulders and keeps you close to him, cheek coming to rest at your forehead. Kalim and Lilia make poses behind you two, laughing at how silly they look with all the filters Cater tries on. 

He ends up telling you to decide which photo looked better, as he couldn't chose just one, something like: "any photo with you would look cute, of course I can't chose!" You look through all of them, but only one gets your eyes, the only without a filter. Everyone looks genuinely happy, making your heart warm. Cater's is not looking at the camera itself, but slightly to the side, where you are, with such a soft expression you can't help but be endeared by it. It's him, not a forced smile and exaggerated pose, just Cater, happy. That's what the other pictures were missing. 

You show it to him, insisting it's the best and should be the first photo on the club's Magicam page. He pouts about the lack of filter, saying how the other ones look much cuter, but you explain that you like the real him much more than any filter, since nothing could ever come close to the real deal, no filter in the world could make him justice. You're very genuine with it too, since it's the truth. Cater stares at you, caught by surprise, and turns his face away from you, ears tinted pink, taking a minute to recompose himself, leaving you confused. Lilia looks on knowingly, smirking at him. You weren't alone in your confusion, as Kalim seemed to be just as clueless as you.

Your argument manages to convince him, though, as he soon comes up with an eye catching description and posts it, grumbling that you should be happy now. You are, actually, so you simply smile at him, giggling at his playful eye roll. Only after the picture was already posted and you entered on your own account that you notice your eyes were closed. You yelp and try to convince Cater to change it to another one, but he refuses, telling that you were the one that chose it so you should stick with it, sticking his tongue out at you in a childsh manner. You whine some more before giving up. Cater seemed really content with the choice, if the soft smile on his face as he glanced at it meant anything, so you let it be, resigning to your fate. You weren't even a member, so you hoped you wouldn't attract that much attention. (You really hoped Ace wouldn't find it, otherwise you'd never hear the end of it.)

He suddenly gets an idea to decorate the classroom to make it look more "magicamable", dragging Lilia with him to get the decorations. Lilia whispers something to him that makes him glance back at you with a red face, quickly scurrying away and leaving you and Kalim to look on in confusion. How weird, what had gotten into him? 

At that moment, the playlist shuffles, coming up with a song that has a very upkeep beat. Kalim jumps in excitement, saying that was his favorite song and he couldn't not dance to it. You can't help jumping your leg and moving your head to the beat, swaying to the contagious rhthym. Kalim notices and extends his hands in your direction, inviting you to dance with him. You know you're nowhere near his skill level and you'd look clumsy compared to his fluid moviments, but his earnestness convinces you to give it a try. You were sure he wouldn't make fun of you, so why not have a good time too?

Hand in hand, the two of you move together, not completly in sync, but in a rhythm that feels right, that's only yours. It's nice, seeing his content expression up close, foreheads almost touching, feet following the other's steps, hips swaying together. You spin once, laughing, he spins once, grinning wildly. You're lost in the trance of the hypnotizing beat of Kalim's heart.

The song gradually comes to a stop, making both of you calm down too. Kalim has one hand on your waist, the other still holding yours. You hold onto his shoulder, your noses touch, breaths coming in puffs, his eyes crinkle and it's warm, he's warm. Your chest follows his in it's rise and fall, your stomach does pirouettes, to the point you're dizzy, your cheeks feel hot. You start worrying you might have really gotten food poisoning from Lilia's cooking.

Before either of you say anything else, the sound of Cater's giggle burst your bubble, bringing you back to the real world. You whip your head to the door, watching as Lilia and Cater giggle deviously, Cater's fingers working fast on his cellphone's keyboard. You separate from Kalim's burning touch, your hands suddenly feeling cold, and stride up to them, demanding to look at what they found so funny. Lilia shows you, on his own phone, a videoclip of you and Kalim dancing together, nearing the end of the song. Your focus is initially on Kalim, as he glows, movements showing years of expertise, it's... beautiful. Then your gaze averts to yourself, and how, like you suspected, you were looking goofy near him, not matching the tempo at all.

You whine up at Cater again, asking him to delete the stories he posted, but he refuses, saying it was way too precious to miss. You lightly hit his chest and look up your lashes at him, pouting. His teasing expression falters, as if you were on the brink of convincing him. Lilia pulls you away and explains it was only on close friends anyway, so you needn't worry about the whole school seeing it. Kalim agrees that the video is very nice, beaming as he watches you two having fun. You sigh and give up, not having the heart to be a killjoy.

Lilia and Cater's hands are empty of any decorations, so you question them about it. Cater frowns exaggeratedly, drowning on dramatically on how they couldn't find any and how it was such a pity. Lilia covers his hand to hide a giggle, only making the action more obvious. Cater glares at him subtly. Kalim notices how the club's reserved time is almost coming to an end, deciding that to make a grand finale you should play an instrument, after all they should at least pretend they did something club related for you to report back to the Headmaster. And it'd be a lot of fun for you to play with them!

Lilia claps his hands together, agreeing it would be a most gleeful experience. He insists on teaching you how to play the bass, not wanting to hear whether you already knew how to or not. He gives you the instrument and shows how to hold it in the right way, trying to teach a few chords. It's a bit difficult to understand the confusing terms he uses, so he sighs and comes behind you, taking your hands in his and doing the movements, pressing his chest against your back, his deep voice right by your ear as he explains. You can't pay attention to it all, for some reason. You kind of feel dizzy again. Perhaps it's the food poisoning for real this time?

His fingers guide yours along the strings, gently pressing on the right spots, strumming the chords at the bridge. He murmurs the instructions, voice ressonating like the low pitch of the instrument, hot breath tickling your skin. You let him do as he pleases, dazed. The simple notes ring in your ears, lulling you into calmness, eyes closing as you let your sensations take the wheel, the frequency making your heart vibrate in your chest, as if dancing along, your head floating in the clouds.

It's all good and well until Lilia starts singing along. Or whatever it is that he calls "singing". In reality, he starts screaming some punk-rock lyrics right by your ear. Your heart jumps so quickly you swear you almost had an arrhythmia, your soul leaving your body for a second. Your eyes snap open so fast the lights from the classroom blind you and make black spots appear in your vision. You elbow Lilia in your surprise, thankfully making him stop trying to burst your eardrums. You get away, taking off the strap of the bass and giving it back to him. You think that's enough practicing for now.

Later on the day you confirm your food poisoning suspicions to be true. You've gained a new found respect for Sebek for enduring the poison Lilia calls cooking everyday and still managing to keep that impressive disposition of his. At least you helped the pop music club get more followers on magicam and spread their word out there. A bunch of people sign up to know the club, so you're all really happy! You felt like you've done a good job. (In the next week, the people arrive and see no sight of you, only of the dynamic trio. They don't show up again, leaving the members number back to it's original three.)

It was pretty fun, all things considered. You didn't get hurt other than in your pride and your social image, so it's a win in your books. Still, you're not sure you could handle their energetic and chaotic personalities combined like this evey week and risk getting deaf or suffering stomach failure. Time to check out other clubs.

(Cater comments on how the photos you took together got the most likes, insisting you come over again for a photoshoot. Kalim says he's got new songs to dance with you and that he's asked Jamil to help him cook for the next club meeting. Lilia tells you that you still have to take some more bass lessons to get the hang of it. Well, you suppose you could pass by sometime to be in the know about what goes on at the school and to get to prove Jamil's cooking. And to enjoy your friend's company, of course!)

Masterlist

Hiii I just wanna request something (Srry if ur not taking requests rn) anyways can you do Ruggie,epel,riddle and lilia with a shy s/o who’s love language is physical touch (aka just hugs and cuddles half the time basically)

HII ANON I'm so sorry for taking so long!! I don't even know if you stuck around tho I hope so! and yes, I do take requests but they aren't my priority right now, as I have many other wips I'm working on, so they take forever, as you can see. still, I'm flattered you like my writing so much you'd make me a request! if you're seeing this, I hope you like it <3 

Summary: Riddle, Ruggie, Epel and Lilia with a shy S/O whose love language is physical touch (lots of hugs and cuddles)!

Notes: gn!reader, mostly fluff with some angst sprinkled in (mentions of overblots, nightmares and past traumas, but nothing too serious don't worry!), headcanons + short scenarios since a format wasn't specified, hope you enjoy it anon!

Riddle

Riddle isn't used to receiving affectionate touches, so it takes some time for him to get used to your habits. Not that he's complaining! Just... give him some warning next time, okay?

The first time it happened it went like this: Riddle, being the busy dorm leader he is, had a meeting with his dorm students to attend. He was helping you out with a subject you didn't understand and, as much as he loved to spend some quality time with you, he really had to go. As he got up, you did the same. Since you're shy, you'd usually just wave him goodbye with a cute smile, so this was quite unusual. He wasn't expecting to receive a farewell hug.

Riddle froze, unsure of what to do. His whole face was as red as Heartslabyul's roses and he was stiff, hand hovering at his side. Every place that you were touching felt like it was on fire, it was very strange. Still, it was... nice. It was very nice. The pressure from your body holding his, the pure affection transferred from such an act, the feeling of being cared for. It was nice.

You quickly let go of him, cheeks burning as well, and stuttered some parting words  before scurrying away. He stood there for some minutes, staring at the spot you had long left, face still red and thoughts running wild.

Riddle wasn't used to this at all, but it was nice, and he couldn't help but crave your touch.

(He was a little out of it during the whole meeting, the scene from earlier repeating on his head. Trey got so worried he ended the meeting halfway through.)

The next times you met, be it on a study date (you'd both deny it was a date though) or a casual hangout, Riddle would expect your farewell hugs, even look forward to them. He made sure to reciprocate them, wrapping his arms around you softly and resting his head against your shoulder, closing his eyes and taking a brief moment to just be there with you and feel loved.

Cuddles would take some more time to happen, since just the hugs were already a huge step for both of you. (Not to mention the casual touches you'd give so freely. A hand on his arms or your head resting against his was enough to make his face burst to flames and his mind be consumed by that single moment). 

It was on one of your late night studies session, you were both at Ramshackle's lounge, cups of tea gone cold on your table and books pilling up on each other. The couch was calling for you and your exhaustion from a long day of classes crashed onto you as you listened to Riddle's calm voice explain some potion's formula. Truly, you wanted to hear what he had to say, but you couldn't help but relax near him.

The weight of your head hitting his shoulder made him stop in his tracks and just stay still as he processed the situation. He normally would feel a tinge of irritation from his lecture being cut short, but he couldn't stay mad at you, specially when he saw how tired you were but insisted on keep trying to get the formula right. 

Riddle could try to clean up your table, but that would make him move too much and disturb your sleep. When he saw how peaceful you looked, completely safe by his side, he couldn't bring himself to wake you up. Thus he adjusted your positions on the couch, making you both lean down to not put a strain on your neck, and wrapped his arms around your torso to make sure you wouldn't fall in the middle of the night. Just a quick nap and he would be back at his dorm.

You both wake up cuddling the next morning. Both your faces burn in embarrassment and you're quick to get up and apologize, offering to make breakfest for him. He accepts the offer, but as you're having tea together, your hair tousled and your eyes drowsy, he thinks on how it was the best sleep he's had in a while.

From then on, you get a bit more bold in your physical touches, the shyness ebbing away bit by bit when you're near him. He still gets caught off guard at times, but he loves it. From someone who never got such things growing up, it means the world to him how you're willing to show your affection in such a way.

He'll always blush, no matter how much time passes. You find it extremely endearing. Throw in a compliment in the mix and you've got the ultimate combo to fluster and please him at the same time.

Ruggie

Ruggie found it adorable how your shyness contrasted his shamelessness. He thought you two made for quite the pair. 

He's used to physical touch, being in Savanaclaw where play fights and roughhousing is pretty common between students, so your occasional touches weren't anything new, though they were gentler than what he was used to, and he didn't give much thought to it.

That changed after Leona's overblot. When the fight was over, the feelings of helplessness came crashing down on him, the fact they'd surely lose the tournament even after all their efforts and that his closest friend (were they even friends? The doubt crept up to him) had betrayed him, uttered the words he hated to hear. The exhaustion and the fact he almost died- his friend- his dorm leader- Leona almost-

Before he could spiral any longer, you came crashing onto him, figure shaking as your arms held him close, tightly as if trying to get your bodies as close together as possible, to feel that he was there and real and alive. He could feel your heart beating like crazy against your chest, mirroring his own. His shoulder, where you were leaning your face on, felt wet. Your hands gripped onto his shirt like a lifeline. You were muttering something, voice breaking, as if saying "we're okay" over and over. 

Ruggie embraced you back, holding on just as tightly, burrying his face on your hair. He never was held like this, like he was something precious, like he truly had worth. In that moment, in your arms, he felt loved.

Ruggie's hunger isn't limited to food. In fact, you'd come to notice that he seems to be hungry to be loved too. Ever since the incident, Ruggie seemed more eager to share little touches with you, letting them linger longer, doing things out of his way to have an excuse for you to touch him, like doing little favours in exchange for a hug and, if you were feeling bold enough, a head rub. 

For him to take time out of his busy schedule to spend it with you in hopes that he'd get your affection back meant a lot to you, so you tried to overcome some of your shyness to be able to show him just how much you appreciated it and all the little things he did, even doing some acts of service on occasion for him as well.

The cuddles came some time later. You knew Ruggie had nightmares at times, some regarding his life before he came to NRC and some about Leona's overblot. He didn't want you to worry about it and waved it off, but you could see when they had an impact on him, his darker eyebags and exhaustion making it clear to you. You'd give him back rubs as he rested his head against yours, letting him decide if he'd like to talk about them or just spend some time in silence when that happened. 

One night, you were woken up by your phone ringing. You answered, still half asleep, and were surprised to hear Ruggie's shaking voice coming from the other side, breath ragged as he murmured something about being at your door. Without missing a beat, you ran down the stairs, not caring about the creaks of the floor or the coldness of it against your bare feet. You opened the door before he could even end the call, hurrying him in to get out of the chilly night air.

He looked like a mess, hands shaking and eyes dropping, chest heaving up and down. As soon as you closed the door, you embraced him, one hand rubbing up and down his back while the other patted his hair, trying to calm him down. The grip he had on you was so tight it could bruise, his voice came out rushed as he explained his nightmare. You decided there was no way you'd leave him alone that night, not when he sounded like that.

You took him to your bedroom, noticing Grim was still sleeping on his side of the room, and proposed to share the bed. You were a bit awkward as you got in a comfortable position, but seeing him in that state made you put the shyness away for a moment, focusing on making sure he was okay. You let him bury his head on your shoulder, arms wrapping around his back and hands playing with his hair until he fell asleep, waiting for his breath to soften. 

Both ended up sleeping in for the next day, but you couldn't bring yourself to feel bad about skipping class when you saw how refreshed he looked in the morning, his usual playful demeanor coming back as he joked with you while he cooked breakfeast. 

You've been showing him more physical affection since then, hugs and cheek kisses getting more common on the times you met with each other in the middle of your busy days. His ears perk up and his tail starts wagging as he offers you a cheeky grin.

As used to it as he is, there's a spot behind his ears that if you rub juuuust right will always fluster him and make him let out little giggles. If you rub it after a long day he'll melt in your arms. You got yourself a happy hyena! 

Epel

Epel is used to touch, living with a big family who'd always show affection with hugs and headpats. Therefore, when you started to show it to him the same way, he reciprocated instantly, going as far to initiate it himself, oftentimes through handshakes, pats on the back and side hugs.

If your shyness stops you from reaching out he'd notice and do it himself, helping you to come out of your shell bit by bit, not making a big deal out of it and letting these interactions be casual. He'd be happy to help someone he cares about! 

The first time you initiated a hug was very special to him. It was after he had another spat with Vil about his behaviour. As much as he pretended these didn't affect him at all, deep down he'd get hurt by the harsh words his dorm leader could direct at him. He knew Vil wanted only his best, but his methods weren't the most effective on someone as headstrong as Epel. 

He was hiding in a corner of the hallways, a secret spot he hoped not even Rook could find him in (if such a thing was even possible), head resting against his knees. His thoughts kept going back to the lecture Vil gave him this time, eyes watering against his will and making him furiously rub his face to get rid of them.

That's when a familiar soft voice was heard, making him look up at you. You had a worried expression as you kneeled over to meet him eye to eye, hand hesitating for a second before you rested it on his shoulder and asked what was wrong. He muttered that you didn't need to worry, it was just the usual routine that came with being part of Pomefiore, refusing to meet your eyes, ashamed you've seen him in such a pathetic state. 

You called his name and he turned around. He couldn't ignore it when you said it like that, with so much care, each letter dripping from your lips like honey. The hand on his shoulder pulled him forward until he met your chest, your other arm coming from behind to support his back. You told him it was okay to feel upset about what happened, that he could come to talk with you whenever he wanted to, that you'd listen to him.

He felt a rush of affection run through him as he noticed how firm your tone was, so certain. You were defending him, taking his side, and that meant a lot to him. It didn't feel patronizing, as it would sometimes happen with other people who felt he needed protection since he was so "small and cute". No, with you, it felt like he wasn't alone, like he had someone to count on to have his back, someone that trusted him and wanted him to trust them back. And of course he did, so he let himself lean into your touch fully, a nonverbal "thank you" both understood.

After that, he started to notice you liked to hug a lot. His side hugs became full ones and his heart oftentimes skipped a beat when he saw your pleased face. It felt good to see how happy he made someone he cared so much about.

The cuddles came in naturally, so much so neither of you noticed it until afterwards. You've gotten so used to each other's touch it wasn't anything novel when, a certain day, Epel rested his head on your lap as you were studying in the courtyard and started to talk about his day, complaining about the extra homework Crewel had given his class and gushing over the next spelldrive club meeting he'd have. You listened on, adding in your own two cents and laughing along, your hand playing with his hair. 

Only at night, once you're about to go to sleep do you think about that moment and notice how you two started cuddling like it was something you've always done. Your face heated up at that and you couldn't catch any sleep, thinking over and over about that. Epel was in a similar position, butterflies in his stomach as he thought about how soft your lap felt or how gentle your fingers were as they treaded through his hair. 

Even if there was a bit of awkwardness the next time you met, you quickly overcame it as you noticed how you were both in the same situation. The cuddling continued to happen more frequently, to the point none of your other first year friends even batted an eye at it. 

He likes it the most when he takes you to a ride on his blastycle and you hug tight onto him, head resting against his back, trusting him to keep you safe, it makes him feel dependable and adrenalin rushes two times more than when he rides alone. If you let him try to carry you he'd also be delighted, wanting to prove that he can (even if you two topple over after taking two steps, at least you're having fun).

Lilia

Lilia has lived for so long, touch isn't anything new to him. He'd seen the bad side of it, the hands that hurt and kill, and the good side, the hands that soothe and protect. He's done both, with his own hands. 

Raising Silver, he came to learn the importance of physical touch as an act of affection. For someone used to the violence of the battlefield, being able to experience touch as a soft thing, as a show of love, had been quite the change. He learnt to love the way fingers can run through another person's hair, the way lips can brush a forehead, the way hands can fit together, the way love can shine through little daily actions, every touch becoming a whisper of "I'm here, I care about you, I love you."

Being quite the extrovert, Lilia has no shame in showing affection for others in a physical way. A pat on their head, a hand on their back, chin resting on their shoulder, it all comes easily to him, and he's delighted when you start doing such gestures with him too! Considering your shy nature, he's happy you felt comfortable enough with him to reciprocate his antics.

Hugs aren't something he usually does, as he prefers more casual types of touches, but he likes it when you start hugging him more often! It's a good change of pace to keep things lively!

It starts small, little hugs as greetings or farewells, and then as thank you's and you're welcome's. It's like a whole language you two share, no words needed when your actions speak louder. 

It's on Halloween that it really hits him just how much these moments mean to you. The two of you decided to go check the other dorms' decorations when he was on break, arms interlocked as you walked around campus and commented on the details and costumes. Whenever a student would appear to jumpscare you, you turned to him in a hug, burrying you head on his neck, trusting him to protect you from anything that might come your way. It was the trust, the comfort, the smile you gave him everytime afterwards that made him realize that that's your way of saying "I love you" without words.

He starts to appreciate these touches even more, giving you hugs more frequently, be it to celebrate a victory or to console your sadness.

These hugs envolve to cuddling, as in one moment you'd find yourself sitting side by side, legs touching, and in the other you'd have your back against his chest as he propped his chin on your shoulder. It usually flustered you, but you've grown used to it enough to be able to relax into it.

One time, a history study session turned into him telling you stories from his past, tales of people long gone that managed to capture your interest, be it because of the enthusiastic way he spoke about them or because it was all new to you, someone who wasn't from this world before. The way your attention was solely on him, eagerly hanging onto every word and even making questions or little sounds of surprise, made him feel elated that his old stories could still entertain. 

When he started to talk about his travels, your eyes shone with excitement, the desire to discover a new world and the possibilities this chance presented. You asked him if he could show you it all someday, from the dunes of the Scalding Sands to the waves of the Coral Sea. This proposal of sharing important moments of your life with him made warmth spread through his body, fondness coloring his voice as he softly agreed.

It's not strange to find the two of you cuddling or stading closely to each other, touching in some way, be it by interwining your hands or leaning on each other. The Diasomnia dorm grew used to the sight of you huddled together on the lounge's couch, even Silver seemed happy that his father had found someone that made him feel loved.

Lilia specially likes when it's just the two of you, cuddling on his bed, and you take his face into your hands, fingers softly rubbing his skin, heavy lidded eyes taking in every detail and reaction. Such an innocent gesture, warm hands holding onto him so gently, makes him feel cared for more than grand declarations ever could. Give him a little kiss on the nose or the forehead and his chest will burst with affection, making him give you little kisses all over your face, your giggles sounding heavenly to him. 

Masterlist

🥀𝑳𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖆 𝑽𝖆𝖓𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖊 🥀

🌷- 𝑭𝖑𝖚𝖋𝖋

💐- 𝑨𝖓𝖌𝖘𝖙

🌻- 𝑪𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖐

🌼- 𝑯𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖓𝖔𝖓𝖘

🌺- 𝑺𝖚𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖛𝖊 (𝜨𝜪𝜯 𝑺𝜧𝑼𝜯)

Reader really likes Moray Eels 🌼ft Jade, Azul, Floyd

𝑭𝖔𝖝𝖌𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖕𝖓𝖌™

Can i request for any twisted wonderland characters that's fit x reader who don't know how to cook

yeah, of course!

Some of these characters have shorter parts because I added every character in the game, minus side characters such as (Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker (Che'nya), Rollo Flamme, et cetera)

Also! If there are any inadequacies with grammar, I apologize, I'm at a friend's house while i'm writing this and I'm very easily distracted.

If it's not obvious, I'm a sucker for soft Sebek

Ortho is strictly platonic!

And Reader can be viewed as either Yuu or not!

@nisobird because there's Azul

Warnings ;; None

Relationship ;; Romantic

Type ;; Headcanons

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts ;; Heartslabyul Housewarden ;; Second Year

Riddle's world comes crashing down, in all honesty.

The boy was raised with the ideal that a partner is supposed to be at least a decent cook, but you are the exact opposite.

He will eat your food only to be nice.

Even though he can't cook all that well himself, he'll try to suggest ways to make it better even though none of his suggestions really, truly help the awfulness of your cooking.

Let's just hope you don't end up cooking for his mother.

Trey Clover ;; Heartslabyul Vice-Housewarden ;; Third Year

Trey is quite literally the sunshine to your moonlight, your sky to your ground.

You two are total, clear opposites.

He can cook almost anything without flaw, especially pastries and sweets.

He will panic if he ever sees you in the kitchen, trying to cook something.

He'll subtly take over for you, slowly taking more and more control of the kitchen.

Cater Diamond ;; Heartslabyul ;; Third Year

Cater would not care one single bit.

He is taking so, so many photos and posting them on Magicam, he does not give two shits whether it looks amazing, or absolutely terrible.

He will post it, specifically because you're his partner, you're his significant other.

And yes, he will shove it down his throat even if he needs to vomit it up later.

Ace Trappola ;; Heartslabyul ;; First Year

Ace can't cook, not one bit.

He's also very weird about his tastes.

He'll eat pickles and ice cream but he probably won't eat a single slice of cheese.

He'll eat anything you make at all whatsoever, unless there's cheese. (I headcanon he absolutely hates cheese, don't ask why)

He'll watch you cook and won't even interfere.

He does notice how bad your cooking is but he won't say or do anything about it because he genuinely does not care.

He'll even tell you it's actually good

Deuce Spade ;; Heartslabyul ;; First Year

Deuce doesn't even notice how bad it is, and if he did, he wouldn't even care.

He'll anything and everything, minus bell peppers.

He cannot, and will not, eat bell peppers.

He hates the taste, the texture, everything about bell peppers is everything he hates in all of Twisted Wonderland.

He tends to not watch you cook and has no reason for it.

Savanaclaw

Leona Kingscholar ;; Savanaclaw Housewarden ;; Third Year

Leona's not exactly shameless when it comes to meats, despite any sort of meat being among his absolute favorite foods.

He's not very picky about meats though. Just as long as it's cooked decently, and seasoned alright, he's fine.

Despite being a literal prince, he does not have a prince's palette.

He'll literally eat raw meat if it suits his needs

Of course, that's mostly because of the lion beastman part of him

Ruggie Bucchi ;; Savanaclaw ;; Second Year

Ruggie is literally shameless, make him anything and he'll eat it.

Just as long as it's not rotten, he'll eat quite literally anything.

He's not the greatest cook, but he'll help in any way he possibly can.

He'll most definitely bring your food to the kids in his neighborhood, no matter how terrible it is.

He wants to make sure they're fed, and he's happy when you're willing to cook.

He never tells you if he genuinely thinks you're food is bad, he'll end up feeling terrible and he knows that so he won't say a thing about your cooking.

Unless it's any sort of praise.

Jack Howl ;; Savanaclaw ;; First Year

Jack isn't entirely picky, but he's not the biggest fan of your cooking.

Being who he is, he'll feel bad for even thinking that your food is bad.

Also being the honest man he is, he'll sadly point it out to you, admitting his wrongdoing.

He's a big sweetheart, so he'll try to be as kind to you as he can, no matter how you end up reacting.

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto ;; Octavinelle Housewarden ;; Second Year

Given that Azul grew up with his mother owning a restaurant, and he himself owning a restaurant, he's a bit... iffy over your cooking skills.

Of course, he'll always be nice when he brings it up. You're his significant other after all.

He'll point it out and he may give you some of his mom's recipes to help you follow along.

He helps you cook much more than he used to, letting you have most of the control, but he will come in if he sees you do something wrong.

Jade Leech ;; Octavinelle Vice-Housewarden ;; Second Year

Jade finds you and your cooking very, very entertaining.

He doesn't ever actually help you unless he finds you cooking mushrooms and.... screwing them up.

After that, he's immediately on your case and helping you cook.

Within the next two or three weeks, you're an absolute master chef.

Especially with mushrooms. By time Jade is done with you, you're more than likely a better chef when it comes to mushrooms than he is.

Floyd Leech ;; Octavinelle ;; Second Year

Floyd thinks you are the most entertaining human he's ever met.

Like some other people, he doesn't think your food is bad, just that it's so unbelievably entertaining and unique.

He actually doesn't try to help your cooking or change it or buy you anything new.

He simply watches the chaos of your cooking unfold, while occasionally adding his own, odd concoction to the mix.

And he will eat your food, no matter what you put on his plate, or what you put in the odd concoction you call your cooking.

Just don't add any shiitake mushrooms, he begs of you.

Scarabia

Kalim Al-Asim ;; Scarabia Housewarden ;; Second Year

Kalim more than likely trusts you enough to not have Jamil test the food you give him.

The only way Jamil would let Kalim eat your food is if Jamil himself trusted you.

So, if Jamil trusted you, Kalim would more than happily eat your food himself.

He probably wouldn't care if your food was the best food in the whole of Twisted Wonderland, or if your food is the worst thing in all of Twisted Wonderland.

He'll eat it happily and won't complain one bit.

Jamil Viper ;; Scarabia Vice-Housewarden ;; Second Year

Jamil, if he truly trusts you, will eat small bits of your food and will help you cook every single time you step in a kitchen.

He won't completely take over like Trey would, but he will guide you in every single way, subtle or not.

Once you get better and better, he'll eat your food more and more.

He'll take over for you at any time and finish the cooking for you, if that's what you'd like, all you'd have to do is say the word.

Pomefiore

Vil Schoenheit ;; Pomefiore Housewarden ;; Third Year

You're going to make the Vil Schoenheit break out. And that's a feat, especially considering his rigorous skincare routine.

He won't eat any of your food, and he will flat-out tell you, in a relatively nice tone of voice, that your food is not exactly good.

If he realizes that it hurts you, he'll try to find ways for your cooking to taste relatively better, whether it be buying you new utensils, or buying you cookbooks or any other things like that.

He promises you that he never meant to hurt you, he just wants to... help.

Rook Hunt ;; Pomefiore Vice-Housewarden ;; Third Year

Oh, Rook does not care. He genuinely thinks that your cooking is beautiful and wonderful in every single way possible.

He will eat your food and compliment you even if you put whole-ass children's toys in your food.

He'll buy you whatever you need for your cooking without you even need to ask him, he's kind of a freak like that.

Epel Felmier ;; Pomefiore ;; First Year

Epel is very in the middle, he's fine with your bad cooking just.... don't make him eat it because he will act like a toddler having to eat vegetables.

Or, that's what he says he won't do.

He says he'll be all manly and eat it like a man, but you know for a fact that he won't and he will act like a little kid.

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud ;; Ignihyde Housewarden ;; Third Year

Idia barely eats as it is, so when you bring him food, his hair will immediately turn pink and he'll try to hide his face by tightening his hood over his head.

He won't care whether it's bad or good, he'll only care about the fact that you actually... brought him food.

Of course, Ortho does so all the time, but it's different when your significant other brings you a whole meal because they don't want you to starve.

Once again, he doesn't care whether it's good or bad, he'll shove it down his throat either way.

Ortho Shroud ;; Ignihyde ;; First Year

Ortho can't exactly eat, given that he's both a robot and a machine.

But he'll look up recipes and help you cook and help you get as best and as good as you can get.

He'll always help, and use every single upgrade he's ever got put into him by his big brother to help you cook as best as you can.

Diasomnia

Malleus Draconia ;; Diasomnia Housewarden ;; Third Year

Oh, boy. Malleus is scared that he has another Lilia on his hands. Of course, your food is not as bad as Lilia's, but it's still not, for lack of a better word, good.

He will eat it, but he'll compliment and praise your cooking in a very... odd way.

He'll compliment you, yes. But he'll also add in some, not-so-subtle ways you can improve.

Don't tell him, he genuinely thinks his attempts at helping are extremely subtle, when they are absolutely not.

Lilia Vanrouge ;; Diasomnia Vice-Housewarden ;; Third Year

Lilia, like Rook, Kalim, and Deuce, won't even notice that your food is bad.

And that is mostly because he, himself is a bad chef.

He's such a bad chef he can't even tell when foods are actually bad.

Even if he could tell that your food was not good, he still wouldn't care because he just loves you far, far too much to even think of pointing it out.

Silver Vanrouge ;; Diasomnia ;; Second Year

Silver is internally sobbing. First, his Father, and now, his significant other.

He's very sweet about telling you ways you can improve.

He actually does this with his father, too. But you're the only one who picks up on it, Lilia, sadly, does not.

Silver tries his absolute hardest to help, but he eventually succumbs to his sleep, but he always profusely apologizes afterward.

Sebek Zigvolt ;; Diasomnia ;; First Year

Sebek is oddly much sweeter about it than you'd ever expect.

He doesn't yell, but he does let you know that it doesn't taste good.

He explains ways you can fix it, despite he himself not knowing how to cook all that well.

He explains everything he knows about cooking to try and help you.

If Sebek manages to view a human as a significant other, or partner, he will dote on your every need or want in the sweetest way that you'd never, ever expect from him.

He's very sweet as he helps you cook, making sure that you do everything to the best of your genuine ability.

Familiar, Not So Familiar || Lilia Vanrouge

You, a mage-in-training, attempt to summon a simple familiar—only to accidentally get yourself Lilia Vanrouge, a legendary fae with a penchant for chaos.

You have tried. You have tried so many times that the gods themselves must be watching your efforts like a soap opera, popcorn in hand, marveling at your persistence and misfortune.

Every spell you’ve ever learned? Perfect. Every potion you’ve ever brewed? Immaculate. Every single tedious little task required of an apprentice mage? Completed with at least passing competence.

And yet—this. This one, single, crucial spell has eluded you since the moment you first picked up a wand and thought, yes, let’s dedicate my life to this craft instead of something simple, like farming, or piracy, or a career in interpretive dance.

For years, you have watched your classmates perform their familiar rituals with ease. You have seen their little foxes, their wise owls, their unbearably smug salamanders perched on their shoulders like accessories in an enchanted fashion show. Oh, you don’t have a familiar yet? they’d say, voices dripping with polite condescension. That must be so hard! Magic must be so exhausting for you!

Yes. Yes, it is exhausting, Martha, you imbecile. Magic without a familiar is like trying to run a marathon uphill while being punched repeatedly in the stomach. It is like carrying a cauldron of molten lava with no gloves and being told, just don’t drop it! It is slowly killing you, and you are tired.

So tonight? Tonight is it. The line has been drawn. The candles have been lit. You have researched, you have practiced, you have painstakingly carved every single rune with the desperation of a student facing final exams with an empty study guide.

Either you summon your familiar, or you start looking into lucrative careers in something that requires zero magical ability. Candle-making. Tax fraud. Something.

You kneel before the summoning circle, hands clasped in pure, unfiltered desperation. Your voice is raw as you plead, as you offer up your dignity to the uncaring forces of the universe.

"Please," you whisper, nearly headbutting the floor. "Just this once. A cat. A dog. A single, semi-intelligent rat. Hell, a bat—bats are magical, right? I’ll take a bat. I’ll take a sentient pile of mold if it can cast at least one large spell without dying. Just something. Please, I am begging you."

The room is deathly silent.

And then—

A hum. A vibration in the air, as if reality itself is rethinking its choices.

The summoning circle does not glow—it erupts, an explosion of light so bright that your first instinct is to assume you have been smote for your insolence. The ground shudders. The candles flicker wildly. The sheer energy of the spell crackles through the air like the universe is taking a deep breath and laughing at you.

And then, through the haze, a silhouette.

Your first thought: That is not an animal.

Your second thought: That is not an animal, that is a person.

Your third thought: THAT IS A FAE.

Your fourth thought does not get to exist because your brain has blue screened.

The figure steps forward, hands clasped neatly behind his back, surveying the room with the air of someone who has just walked into an amusing play and finds himself the lead actor. He is floating, because of course he is. His wild hair is a chaotic mess of black and magenta, his sharp eyes twinkling with mirth, his very presence radiating power that should not, under any circumstances, be inside your living room.

Then he smiles, and you are abruptly hit with the horrifying realization that you know who he is.

The portraits. The stories. The absolute legend that is Lilia Vanrouge, former general, feared warrior, living relic of a bygone era, the kind of fae you read about in history books with the unspoken footnote of probably do not summon him.

And he is here.

And he is looking at you.

"Ah," he says, with all the delight of someone who has just stumbled upon something incredibly amusing. "How interesting."

You are frozen. Your body has stopped functioning. Your brain is actively trying to escape this situation by retreating into the astral plane.

Lilia tilts his head, observing your utter paralysis with great amusement, and then, with the flourish of a seasoned actor stepping onto the grandest stage of his life, he presses a hand to his chest and bows deeply.

"You have called," he proclaims, voice rich with dramatic flair, "and I have answered! For one year, I shall serve as your loyal familiar! May our contract be fruitful, our battles glorious, and our meals—" he pauses, grinning like a fox, "well, we shall see."

He straightens, clearly expecting some sort of response.

You do not move. You do not speak. You do not even blink.

Because you are still attempting to comprehend the fact that you have, against every possible law of magic, logic, and common sense, just summoned Lilia Vanrouge as your familiar.

The next morning, you awaken to the horrifying realization that last night was not, in fact, a fever dream.

Lilia Vanrouge is still here.

Floating.

In your kitchen.

Sipping tea.

With your mug.

You stand there, unblinking, as he lifts the cup in greeting, utterly unbothered by your complete mental breakdown. “Ah, you’re awake! Good morning, my dear summoner! Did you sleep well? Oh, never mind that, of course you didn’t—you must be so excited! Your first day with your new familiar!”

Your eye twitches. The existential dread is setting in. But there is no time to panic because you have class.

And now, for the first time in your absolutely miserable academic career, you have a familiar to bring with you.

Which would be a cause for celebration.

If your familiar was literally anyone else.

But no. No, you are marching through the academy halls with a floating, ancient fae war general drifting beside you, humming cheerfully, taking in his new surroundings like a tourist at a historical landmark.

Your classmates? Shitting bricks.

Your professors? Re-evaluating their life choices.

Your history professor? Actively vibrating in place. This is a man who has spent years studying Lilia Vanrouge, reconstructing battle strategies, debating historical inaccuracies, analyzing old texts to understand the mind of one of the most enigmatic figures in magical warfare. He looks at you, at Lilia, back at you, back at Lilia, and you swear to the gods above that this man is about two seconds away from weeping.

He wants an interview. He wants an entire dissertation. He wants to shake your hand for the sheer magnitude of this academic opportunity, and you are just standing there, barely holding onto your last scrap of sanity, because this is not a research opportunity, Professor, this is my life.

Meanwhile, Lilia is having a blast.

“Ohoho, what a delightful institution!” he muses, drifting through the halls, peering into classrooms, inspecting the architecture with a level of interest that should not belong to someone who predates half of these buildings. “Ah, look at that banner! I remember when these were in fashion—horrid little things, always got caught in the wind and smacked people in the face during duels. Ah! And look at these uniforms! What a quaint design! Oh, but that color… tragic choice, really, you should have seen the battle robes from my era. Those had flair!”

You press a hand to your face, inhaling deeply.

You are not going to survive this year.

But at the very least, you are about to have the first productive Offensive Magic class of your entire life.

For years, casting magic without a familiar has been hell. You’ve always struggled with large-scale spells, your body too weak to sustain the energy required. Your classmates have always had an advantage, their familiars supplying them with extra mana while you struggled to get anything stronger than a low-tier fireball.

But today?

Today, you have Lilia Vanrouge as a mana battery.

And you are about to find out exactly what that means.

The spell you’ve been struggling with for years—the one that has never worked properly, the one that has always left you half-conscious and questioning your life decisions—flows from your hands as easily as breathing. You don’t even have time to be excited because the moment the spell leaves your fingertips, the entire training ground erupts.

Not a small explosion.

Not a reasonable, manageable, academically acceptable explosion.

No.

You have just cratered the battlefield.

The shockwave sends everyone flying. The ground is smoking. There is a hole where the target dummies used to be. Somewhere in the distance, alarms are going off. Birds are screaming. Your professor is staring in mute horror at the absolute devastation before him.

And you?

You turn to Lilia, hands shaking, mouth opening and closing like a fish, because what the hell just happened.

Lilia, floating beside you, watches the destruction with the expression of a man who has just seen a slightly amusing street performance. He clasps his hands together, nodding approvingly.

“Well! Now that that’s done, why don’t we go find something fun to do?”

You are not going to survive the year.

It is supposed to be a quiet night.

Supposed to be.

You, a dedicated apprentice mage (read: overworked and underpaid student), have settled down with your magical theory book, prepared to suffer through the finer details of mana channeling. The lamp flickers softly, the air is calm, and for once in your chaotic existence, things feel peaceful.

Then, from the kitchen, you hear something.

Something that does not belong in the realm of mortals.

It begins with an unsettling hiss, followed by a squelching noise so visceral it sends a shudder down your spine. Then there’s a clank—something metal hitting the floor—then a thud, then another squelch. You are gripping your book so tightly that the pages crinkle.

And then—

A chainsaw.

You blink.

You tilt your head, straining your ears, waiting for your exhausted mind to correct you.

The chainsaw revs again.

There is a cackle—a delighted, mischievous giggle, unmistakably Lilia’s—followed by the sound of what can only be described as something wet hitting the walls.

You place your book down with the slow, measured movements of a person who has just realized that, against all odds, they are in mortal danger.

Before you can even get up, Lilia emerges from the kitchen, beaming, holding something that should not exist.

It is a plate of food.

You think.

At least, you assume that’s what it is. The thing on the plate is writhing slightly, like it’s trying to escape, its color shifting between shades of green that have never been found in nature. It looks less like a meal and more like something that should have been sealed away in a forbidden vault centuries ago. You are pretty sure it just twitched.

Lilia, looking pleased with himself, holds the plate out to you like a proud parent. “Here you go! A little something I whipped up! A good meal is essential for a strong mage!”

You stare at him. You stare at the food. You stare at him again. Then back at the food, as if hoping that, upon a second glance, it will suddenly become normal. It does not. It continues to vibrate menacingly.

You inhale slowly. You pray to the gods—the ones who have clearly abandoned you—and take a bite.

And then—

You almost meet them.

Your soul briefly leaves your body. Your ancestors appear before you, shaking their heads in deep disappointment. The concept of life and death ceases to have meaning. Time itself slows to a crawl as your taste buds experience a level of suffering once reserved only for cursed spirits.

You slam the fork down, forcing a smile that looks more like a pained grimace. “I—uh—actually, I’m not really that hungry right now!”

Lilia blinks, tilting his head. “Oh? But you just took a bite—”

You cut him off, nodding so quickly it could give you whiplash. “Nope! Super full! Wow, so full. Stuffed, actually. I definitely can’t eat another bite!”

Lilia frowns, looking genuinely disappointed, and for a brief, insane moment, you almost consider eating more.

Then the food on the plate shudders again.

And you decide that no matter how cute Lilia Vanrouge is, you simply cannot abide.

Later that night, you are once again seated at your desk, trying to get through your magical theory reading, when Lilia appears at your side.

For a brief moment, fear seizes you—until you see what he’s holding.

A cup of warm milk.

Just milk.

You stare at it, half-expecting it to start glowing or whispering in an ancient, cursed tongue. But no, it’s just milk. Safe. Harmless. Normal.

You accept it with more gratitude than you’ve ever felt in your life. “Thank you.”

Lilia settles in beside you, watching as you study, occasionally making little jokes, pointing out errors in your book’s outdated magical theories, offering insights that no historian could ever dream of. The conversation flows easily, his voice a constant, comforting presence, a bridge between history and now, between chaos and something softer.

And as you sit there, sipping your drink, listening to Lilia hum an old tune while offering you obscure magical trivia, you think—

Yeah.

Maybe he really is the best familiar you could have summoned.

Lilia does not like your magical theory professor.

At least, you think he doesn’t.

He’s always cheerful—borderline impossible to ruffle—but the moment you step into that class, something shifts. His usual smile dims, his eyes narrow ever so slightly, and his arms stay folded across his chest like a particularly judgmental gargoyle. It’s subtle—so subtle that if you weren’t stuck with him 24/7 (as your familiar, and definitely not because you enjoy his company), you might not have noticed.

But you have noticed. And it’s weird.

Even weirder? Every time you ask him about it, he gives you the most convincing performance of utter cluelessness you have ever witnessed. The first time, he even tilted his head, widened his eyes, and said, “Me? Dislike someone? Oh, dear apprentice, you wound me!” in the most theatrical, exaggerated manner possible.

And the thing about Lilia is, if he doesn’t want to talk about something, there is no force in the universe that can make him.

You gave up after the third attempt. If it was major, he’d tell you.

…Right?

Today, your professor smiles as she hands you a new assignment: a magic circle for you to analyze.

“You should be able to cast this with your familiar’s assistance,” she says, smiling in that teacher who’s about to ruin your life way.

You glance at the intricate diagram, tilting your head. “What’s it for?”

“Oh, it’s just illusion magic,” she assures you breezily.

And before you can say anything else, Lilia moves.

One moment, he’s standing behind you, silent as a shadow. The next, he’s in front of you, plucking the book from your hands with the effortless grace of someone who has definitely stolen things before.

His gaze sharpens as he scans the magic circle, his usual playful demeanor gone. His fingers tighten slightly on the book’s spine. Then, without hesitation, he snaps it shut and hands it right back to your professor.

“No.”

Your professor blinks, looking caught between offense and confusion. “Pardon?”

Lilia’s voice remains pleasant—but it is the kind of pleasant that makes your survival instincts scream. “I said no. My dear apprentice will not be casting this.”

The professor balks. “Excuse me, but I gave them an assignment. You contain your familiar—”

You raise your hands in exasperation. “Lady, are you kidding? This is a war general. You think I can just ‘contain’ him? You contain him.”

Your professor looks like she wants to argue. Lilia, meanwhile, tilts his head at her with the serene patience of a man watching a squirrel try to pick a fight with a dragon.

Then, he smiles.

It is not his usual mischievous grin. It is a deliberate, pointed smile.

“Why don’t you cast it first?” he asks, tone deceptively light.

Your professor stiffens. “That’s unnecessary, I already—”

Lilia’s eyes gleam. “Go on, then. Just illusion magic, isn’t it?”

The tension in the room spikes. Your professor, who has just spent the past five minutes acting like the spell is no big deal, suddenly looks very nervous.

“Oh, well,” she flounders, “I—it’s meant for—um—student practice—”

“Ah,” Lilia hums, nodding sagely. “So you’d assign a spell you wouldn’t cast yourself to my dear apprentice? How interesting.”

Your professor’s expression freezes.

And that’s when you realize something.

Lilia knew.

He knew the moment he saw the circle that something was off. He recognized it. And whatever it was meant to do, it wasn’t just harmless illusion magic.

Your professor coughs, clearly scrambling for a way out. Lilia waits, ever-patient, eyes half-lidded like a cat watching a cornered mouse.

Then, before she can say anything else, he turns to you. “We’re leaving.”

And you do not argue.

Outside, Lilia floats beside you, humming a little tune. You don’t say anything for a while, still processing.

Finally, you sigh. “You’re not gonna tell me what that spell actually was, are you?”

Lilia’s grin returns, bright and playful. “Who’s to say~?”

You groan. “Lilia.”

He chuckles, reaching out to pat your head in a way that is both condescending and annoyingly affectionate. “Let’s just say I’d rather not have to un-curse you anytime soon, hmm?”

Your stomach sinks slightly. You glance back toward the classroom building, frowning. Your professor has never pulled something like that before. But before you can dwell on it too much, Lilia floats closer, arms crossed.

“Promise me something,” he says, tone suddenly softer.

You blink up at him. “What?”

“Run your spells by me before casting them.” His smile doesn’t falter, but there’s something firm—unshakable—beneath the usual playfulness.

Your first instinct is to argue. To say you know what you’re doing. That you’re a capable mage. But then you think about how fast he moved. How easily he spotted the issue. How your professor, faced with his simple challenge, folded like wet parchment.

“…Okay,” you say.

His smile widens, but this time, it’s warm. “Good.”

And then, just like that, he’s back to his usual self, floating ahead, dramatically stretching as if he was the one who had to deal with a dangerous spell.

“Now that that’s settled,” he sighs, “why don’t set something on fire?”

You press a hand to your forehead.

At first, it was little things.

Your professors started assigning you slightly more advanced spells—reasonable enough, considering your mana pool had technically expanded (read: you accidentally summoned an ancient fae war general as your familiar). You could handle it. You were handling it.

But then it got worse.

Much worse.

It started with offensive spells. The usual: fireballs, lightning strikes, the occasional tornado. And then, gradually, the assignments escalated into city-leveling disasters.

One moment, you were casting a moderately powerful explosion spell. The next, you were being instructed to conjure something called the Wrath of the Abyss—which, from the name alone, sounded like it had no business being taught in a school.

Lilia, floating serenely beside you, casually flicked his fingers, erasing the spell from your assignment scroll. “No,” he said.

You didn’t argue.

The final straw came when you were assigned a spell so ridiculously strong that had Lilia not interfered, you’re pretty sure you would’ve smited an entire town off the map.

That night, exhausted and frustrated, you marched to the headmaster’s office to finally have a conversation about this.

And that’s when you heard it.

Muffled voices.

The headmaster and your professors—all of them—discussing how to weaponize your newly expanded mana pool. How to push you further, how to ensure you could be controlled—with force, if necessary.

You stood there for a long moment, processing.

Then you turned on your heel, went back to your dorm, and drafted the most polite resignation letter you have ever written in your entire life.

By morning, you were gone.

Which brings you to now.

Laid out on the couch.

Bored.

Contemplating your life choices.

Lilia floats around the new house, inspecting it with the air of a man who has been evicted from kingdoms before and now finds the concept of moving vaguely amusing. Occasionally, he hums in approval. Once, he sticks his head into the kitchen and mutters, “I could work with this.” (You choose to ignore the implication.)

Eventually, he drifts over to the couch, settling next to you. He watches you for a moment, eyes softer than usual, before reaching out and gently patting your head.

“…I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

You blink, turning your head to look at him. “For what?”

He offers a small, almost wistful smile. “For everything. You wanted a small familiar. A cat, perhaps. A gentle companion to aid your studies. And instead… you got me.”

Something about the way he says it makes your heart squeeze.

You sit up, shaking your head. “That’s not your fault. It’s not your fault humans are garbage sometimes.” You snort. “Honestly, I should be the one apologizing to you. You got roped into this mess because of me.”

Lilia laughs softly. “Oh, please. This is hardly the worst summoning I’ve been part of.”

You roll your eyes but lean into him anyway, resting your head against his shoulder. “I mean it, though. I’m glad you were there to look out for me.” You exhale, closing your eyes. “I wouldn’t have wanted anyone else. You’re the best fit for me.”

There’s a pause.

Then, Lilia shifts slightly, tilting his head to look at you.

“…You know,” he murmurs, amusement creeping into his voice, “it almost sounds like you like me.”

You groan. “Lilia.”

He chuckles, clearly pleased with himself, and lets you rest against him, draping an arm over the back of the couch.

The TV plays some mindless reality show in the background—something ridiculous, the kind of show where two rich people argue over whose yacht is shinier. Lilia occasionally makes a quiet, offhand comment about the historical implications of their arguments, which, considering he’s been around long enough to have historical context for everything, is both fascinating and deeply concerning.

Still, as you sit there, comfortable and safe, a strange sort of peace settles over you.

Maybe this is okay, too.

Moping is unsustainable.

Yes, your dreams of becoming a renowned royal mage have withered and died like a houseplant you swore you watered (you didn’t). Yes, the academy tried to turn you into a walking magical war crime before you dropped out. And yes, you are technically in magical witness protection now.

But you refuse to let that get you down.

You are a problem solver. A forward-thinker. A survivor.

And what do survivors do? They pivot.

Thus begins your new life as the proud owner of Mystic Remedies, a charming little potion shop in a sleepy town where nobody knows—or cares—that you once accidentally summoned a literal fae war general as a familiar.

And surprisingly? Business is booming.

Apparently, people love magic when it’s used for normal things, like fixing bald spots or whitening teeth or getting rid of that one really stubborn pimple that refuses to die no matter how many times you pray to the gods. Your bestselling potions?

“The Shine of Youth” – Teeth Whitening Elixir

Results are instantaneous and blindingly effective (literally. One guy came back complaining his teeth were so white they were reflecting sunlight into his own eyes.)*

“Regrowth & Renewal” – Anti-Baldness Tonic

The town’s balding population has never been happier. One man sobbed openly in your shop after seeing his full head of hair for the first time in twenty years.

“Vanisher’s Touch” – Acne & Scar Removal Serum

One (1) drop and your skin becomes as smooth as a newborn’s. Side effects include strangers asking you for your entire skincare routine (which, obviously, you refuse to share because you are making BANK off of this).

And presiding over all of this?

Lilia Vanrouge.

Your fae general, immortal menace, questionably helpful familiar.

At first, you thought Lilia would just hang around for company. Maybe help with security. Offer sage wisdom. That kind of thing.

You were wrong.

Instead, he has taken it upon himself to be your business partner.

Which would be fine, except:

1. Lilia insists on being the shop greeter.

“Welcome, weary traveler!” he announces grandly every time someone enters, even if it’s just the lady from next door.

2.He also bows dramatically every time, which has led to multiple people thinking they’ve accidentally entered a royal court instead of a potion shop.

3. He makes up fake tragic backstories for your potions.

The baldness potion? “Crafted from the tears of a forgotten god who, himself, was once afflicted with hair loss.”

The teeth whitening elixir? “Distilled from the ancient wisdom of a radiant moonbeam, stolen by a trickster spirit under the cover of night.”

The anti-acne potion? “Forged in the fires of celestial vanity, when the first star envied the smoothness of the moon’s face.”

The customers eat it up. Business doubles because people now believe they’re purchasing legendary magical relics instead of DIY cosmetic solutions.

4. He takes “quality control” VERY seriously.

You once caught him drinking the hair regrowth tonic.

“Lilia,” you said. “You have hair. You have a lot of hair.”

He took a long, thoughtful sip, smacked his lips, and simply said, “Quality assurance.”

(The next day, his hair was so voluminous it looked like he had absorbed a lion. He seemed thrilled about this. You refused to comment.)

5. His idea of “helping” with potion-making is... distressing.

One time, you left him alone for five minutes.

When you came back, he had somehow produced a glowing purple substance that was hovering slightly above the table and making whale noises.

You didn’t even ask. You just threw the entire thing out.

Lilia disappears sometimes in the middle of the night. You’ll wake up, the room unnaturally quiet, and immediately know he’s gone. Not gone gone—he’s not that dramatic—but somewhere else, wrapped in thoughts you never quite get to see.

Tonight, the air is cool when you step outside, wrapping around you like a second skin. You don’t have to search long. He’s on the rooftop, perched with all the effortless grace of a creature who defies gravity. His eyes are locked onto the moon, silver light washing over his face, his usual impishness replaced with something… else.

You’ve seen Lilia in many states—mischievous, chaotic, wise, deeply concerning—but you’ve never seen him like this.

So, naturally, you make the entirely reasonable decision to scale the side of the house.

It is not a graceful process. There’s a lot of slipping, a lot of swearing, and at one point, you’re pretty sure you get stuck in a position that defies basic human anatomy. Lilia watches all of this unfold with what you know is barely suppressed laughter, but he doesn’t help.

Rude.

By the time you haul yourself onto the roof, panting like you’ve just wrestled a bear, Lilia looks at you like you’re the strange one here.

“…You could have used the stairs,” he points out.

You glare at him. “Yeah? Well, you could’ve not brooded on the roof like the protagonist of a tragic novel, but here we are.”

For a moment, you think he might tease you, but instead, something in his expression softens. Like he hadn’t expected you to come. Like the idea of being found was somehow surprising.

You settle beside him, deliberately sitting close enough that your arms brush. Lilia doesn’t say anything, just leans into you, his weight light but grounding.

“I’m grateful you left immediately when you did,” he murmurs, voice quiet in a way that makes you pause. “I wasn’t prepared to lose you.”

You don’t ask. You never have. Lilia carries centuries in his gaze, in the way he moves, in the weight of the things he doesn’t say. But this? This moment, this sliver of vulnerability? This is his truth, and you’ll never push him to unravel more than he wants to.

So you nod. You pull him closer. And you sit there, pressed together beneath the vast, endless sky, offering nothing but presence.

Because sometimes, companionship is enough.

Despite all of this—despite the dramatics, the chaos, the fact that you are pretty sure Lilia is making up 90% of his fae wisdom on the spot—your little potion shop thrives.

You get to help people. You get to live peacefully.

And best of all? You get to spend your days with someone who makes life interesting.

One evening, as you’re closing up, Lilia floats beside you, watching as you count today’s earnings.

“You’ve done well for yourself,” he says, tone oddly soft, absent of his usual teasing lilt.

You glance at him, raising a brow. “We have,” you correct, shoving the last of the gold into the till. “I’d be lost without you.”

He hums in amusement, resting his chin in his hand. “Flattery will get you everywhere, you know.”

You snort. “It’s not flattery if it’s true.”

There’s a pause.

Then, after a moment, he reaches over—ruffles your hair with genuine fondness.

You pretend to be annoyed, but you don’t move away.

(And later, as you sit together, sharing a cup of tea under the quiet glow of lantern light, you think—maybe this life? This ridiculous, unpredictable, strangely wonderful life? Maybe it’s not so bad, after all.)

The first time you created a potion for hair growth, you barely had time to marvel at your genius before Lilia grabbed the vial and downed it in one gulp. No hesitation. No patch test. Just the unwavering confidence of a man who believed you were capable of alchemy miracles despite your previous track record, which included but was not limited to:

Accidentally making a love potion so strong it made a squirrel propose to a tree.

Brewing an invisibility elixir that only made clothes disappear (awkward).

Concocting a sleeping draught that did, in fact, induce sleep—just exclusively in yourself.

So, really, this blind faith of his was either heartwarming or deeply concerning.

The effect was immediate. Lilia’s short, fluffy locks exploded outward in a dramatic cascade, flowing past his shoulders, his waist, and then pooling onto the floor in a heap of silky, midnight strands. He blinked at you from behind his newly acquired curtain of hair, looking entirely unbothered, while you sat there in stunned horror like an artist realizing they’d just painted the Mona Lisa using finger paints.

“Well,” he said cheerfully, lifting a section of his hair with mild curiosity. “At least I won’t have to buy a blanket anymore.”

You groaned, already reaching for the shears. “Sit down. I’m cutting it before you trip and break your immortal neck.”

Lilia plopped down in front of you, perfectly content as you gathered the thick locks in your hands, marveling at how soft they were. You ran your fingers through them, untangling strands, watching them catch the light like the finest silk. Somewhere in the middle of methodically snipping away, your hand brushed against the nape of his neck.

And Lilia—Lilia of the endless energy, mischievous smirks, and unpredictable chaos—tilted his head into your touch like a cat craving warmth. He let his cheek brush against your palm, the weight of him light but deliberate, and you felt something in your chest hiccup.

Oh no.

Nope. Absolutely not. You were not going to sit here and have an emotional epiphany over a haircut.

You cleared your throat and kept cutting, pretending you didn’t notice the way his eyes fluttered shut, how he sighed just the slightest bit when you raked your fingers through his hair again. You ignored the warmth curling in your stomach, the way your heart stuttered like a miscast spell.

This was fine. Just a normal, everyday occurrence. No significance whatsoever.

(You ignored the fact that, long after the potion’s effects had worn off, Lilia still asks you to fix his hair for him.)

It has been a year.

A whole year since you knelt in front of a summoning circle, begging the universe for a small, manageable familiar—a cat, a bat, anything reasonable—only for reality to spit in your face and drop a war general into your living room.

A year since Lilia Vanrouge, former general, ancient fae, and walking eldritch menace, declared himself your familiar with a dramatic flourish while you stood there questioning every single life decision that had led to that moment.

And now, it’s time to let him go.

You knew this day would come. You told yourself you wouldn’t get attached. He was never supposed to stay forever. He has actual, important, world-changing things to do, and you—what are you? A small-town potion seller with a thriving business in male pattern baldness reversal and anti-aging tonics. This is not a worthy occupation for a fae of his caliber.

So why does the thought of him leaving feel like your heart is about to crawl out of your chest, slap you in the face, and then dramatically expire in protest?

You’re an adult. You can handle this. You will handle this.

Night falls, and you set up the ritual.

The summoning contract that bound him to you for a year must now be undone. The process is simple: draw the circle, say the words, and Lilia will be free to return to whatever grand, fae-magic-drenched existence he had before meeting you.

Your hands shake as you carve the sigils into the ground. You tell yourself it’s just fatigue.

The circle is perfect. The words are ready. You steel yourself, take a deep breath, and—

SCRATCH.

You blink.

Your circle is ruined.

Because Lilia just dragged his foot through it like a toddler messing up a sandcastle.

“Whoops,” he says, tone entirely insincere.

You stare at the ruined circle. Then at him. Then at the deep, deliberate groove he just scraped through the sigils.

“…Did you just—”

“Oh dear,” Lilia sighs, not looking remotely sorry. “How clumsy of me.”

You narrow your eyes.

Fine. Fine. You can work with this. You redraw the circle, faster this time, heart pounding, trying not to think about how every stroke is another step toward the inevitable.

But as soon as you finish it, it vanishes.

You gape. “What the fu—”

Lilia, sitting lazily on your kitchen counter, swirls his wine glass and hums, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

You try again. And again.

Each time, something goes wrong.

The chalk disappears. The ink dries too fast. The lines curve into nonsense when you look away. Lilia, drinking his wine, watching you struggle, looking like a cat who just knocked over an entire shelf and is waiting for applause.

Then, finally, the last straw.

You painstakingly carve the circle one last time, standing up with triumphant determination—

And Lilia immediately spills his wine on it.

He gasps, eyes wide with the fakest, most dramatic shock you have ever seen. “Oh my. How unfortunate.”

You drop the chalk.

You inhale, slow and measured, like a parent about to scold a misbehaving child.

Then you turn to him.

“…Hey,” you say, voice trembling, not with sadness, but with the sheer, earth-shattering realization that this little fae menace is playing with you.

He takes another sip of wine, as if to fortify himself against the incoming confrontation.

“Do you,” you say, pointing at him, “not want to leave?”

Lilia smiles. That infuriatingly cryptic, all-knowing smile that he has given you exactly one thousand times over the past year.

He doesn’t answer.

And you are done.

You grab him by the collar, yanking his floating self down to your level, because no. Not this time.

“Say it.” Your heart is racing, your voice shaking. “Stop playing with my feelings and just say it.”

For the first time in a long time, Lilia looks genuinely surprised.

His bright red eyes flick over your face, searching, calculating.

Then, gently, effortlessly, he kisses you.

It’s soft. Unhurried. Like a promise instead of a confession.

When he pulls away, there’s no teasing, no smug amusement. Just quiet certainty as he murmurs, “I thought that was obvious, little mage.”

And you—

You think, yeah. This is perfect.

The day after the kiss is, by all accounts, completely normal.

Lilia is still Lilia—dramatic, whimsical, and absolutely insufferable in the best way possible. He flits around the shop like a particularly mischievous specter, rearranges your potions in ways that make absolutely no sense, and startles at least three customers by dropping upside down from the rafters like a bat with a caffeine addiction.

The only difference are the little changes in his proximity.

The way he brushes a little closer, his fingertips lingering on yours when he hands you a vial. The way he leans in when he speaks, voice a low murmur that sends shivers down your spine. The way his eyes—sharp, playful, knowing—linger just a second too long, like he’s drinking in every reaction.

Your regulars notice immediately.

“You two finally figured it out, huh?”

“About damn time.”

“Oh, we’ve been betting on this for months—Edgar, pay up.”

Even the old woman who only comes in for her arthritis tincture pats your cheek with grandmotherly approval, declaring, "He’s a little strange, but you always liked strays."

By the time you close up for the night, you’re warm with laughter, exhaustion, and the sheer reality of it. Of him. Of you.

And then there’s a weight on your back, light but unmistakable, arms winding around you as Lilia attaches himself like a particularly affectionate cloak.

“You still haven’t actually asked me to stay,” he hums, his chin resting on your shoulder. You can hear the grin in his voice, teasing and pleased.

You roll your eyes, exasperated and utterly, helplessly fond.

Then, without warning, you turn, grabbing his face in both hands and kissing him hard.

He makes a soft, surprised noise against your lips before immediately melting into it, responding with all the fervor of someone who has absolutely been waiting for this. His hands tighten on your waist, pulling you closer, and you swear you can feel him smiling into the kiss.

When you finally pull back, breathless and a little dazed, you meet his gaze and say, firm and sure,

“Stay.”

Lilia blinks, as if he wasn’t expecting you to actually say it. Then his lips curl into something unbearably soft, unbearably fond, and he whispers,

“Till the end of my life.”

Masterlist

This is a Twisted Wonderland request, but you have a lot of freedom lol. Thank you if you decide to do this! If not, totally okay!

Any characters of your choice. How would they be as a father? How many kids would they want? Would they be overprotective? etc. etc. Of course, their spouse is Yuu/Reader.

@blues824 You're welcome and I'm honestly happy that you submitted a request cause this is my first one i've ever done and i have nothing to do since it's almost summer break (for me), so it won't be a lot of characters or perfect, On top of that i haven't really been catching up with twisted wonderland so this might be out of character. However, i hope that this would satisfy you and others ( I was doing this on my school computer at school so this might look weird ) Edited : this was not proof read so their might be some errors

How they would be as Fathers

Feat. Malleus Draconia, Vil Schoenheit, and Lilia Vanrouge

Malleus Draconia 🐉

-Most definitely be a great father 🐉Probably would want two or three (probably more) but starts with one to have some experience with raising one 🐉 Would buy his child(ren) everything they want (most) and need, basically spoil them rotten including you 🐉 doesn't really have a preference what gender the child is 🐉 the most overprotective father, wouldn't hurt anyone unless they hurt his child otherwise he would strike fear into those who dared to hurt his child, same goes for his spouse. 🐉 When he has free time he would spend time with his family, probably teach his child(ren) about gargoyles and the amazing things they do or go get some ice cream, if they don't like ice cream he would go somewhere they would like 🐉 would ask lilia for advice to deal with certain situations and to babysit them when both of you go on a date or busy with work

Vil Schoenheit 👑

-He would be a great father

👑 Probably would want one, would probably want one more when he doesn't have a busy schedule 👑 Doesn't necessarily prefer a gender, he would be fine with any gender 👑 like Malleus, Vil would buy all of his child's needs and most of their wants 👑 Also is very protective, he would probably cast a spell or something if they ever try or do hurt his child and/or spouse.{idk what else to put 😭} 👑 When he has free time he would spend time with his family, most likely do a spa day or just have a relaxing time ( like watching a movie/series, doing each others make-up, etc etc )

Lilia Vanrouge 🦇

-Of course he would be a good father considering he already has one ( technically three )

🦇 Would want one child, would most likely reconsider it for some reason 🦇 Doesn't necessarily care about the gender, However he would prefer a girl 🦇 Like Malleus and Vil, Lilia would buy all of his child needs and most of their wants 🦇 Very overprotective, would hurt those who would harm/hurt his family, mentally and/or physically 🦇 Maybe would spend his time with his child training (when they are old enough) or would probably just play games with them etc

I know it's short and it's not very good but this was the most my imagination could take me, so i hope this could satisfy you, again thank you for requesting, Have a great day ! Also hopefully you manage to finish the amount of requests you have to do.

Sweet Dreams

Lilia Vanrouge x GN!Reader

Synopsis: Lilia was certainly strange, visiting you out of the blue- saying things you could easily mistake for something loving. Truly, he was peculiar. Yet, it wasn't yet another prank- he had his reasons. After all, he couldn't see you suffer. Thus, he didn't let you suffer. With a sweet song and a bit of magic, you were lulled into his comforting arms.

TW: None, just fluff! (a little bittersweet at the end though, maybe-)

A serene morning; raven's cawing outside, Grim yawning as he clings to you, and the ghosts chattering outside your room. This was the usual for Ramshackle mornings, well except for the questionable singing outside. You'd just awoken, lashes fluttering open as you tried to pry Grim off of you. You sighed as his form wouldn't budge, sleepy rambles of tuna spilling from his mouth.

You stretched your tired body trying to accommodate to the chilly morning. Still, what was that strange noise- no, singing outside? It wasn't ghastly, quite the opposite actually. it sounded as though someone was singing lullabies- whoever it was must've been confused about the time of day, it was clearly morning.

Raising a brow in confusion you woke grim up who huffed angrily and complained about how lovely his dream was.

"Huh!? My tuna! W-where is my tuna and my servants!?" Grim exclaimed before you picked him up by the scruff.

"It was a dream, Grim. We have stranger things to worry about than tuna and you having servants." You said nonchalantly, a yawn escaping your lips.

"There's someone singing something outside." You spoke to wish Grim's ears twitched as if he was trying to listen.

"Henchman, you're right! But why're they singin' a lullaby in the morning?" Grim asked, his paw's rising up to jab you- commanding you to let him go. You sighed as you released him- he etched towards the nearest window to go peek at who was outside, and yell at them to stop.

"There's nothin' here." he said, to which you responded with a raised brow. You began to march over to the window too, certainly there was someone or something outside- music didn't just spawn without a source.

"What do you mean there's nothing? There has to be someone-" He was right, no one was outside neither was there something that could generate music. You and Grim glanced at each other in confusion then looked outside the window once more, in sync.

Out of the blue, a head popped up in front of you- upside down.

"Good morning, how's the day for you two?" You both only shrieked in response, backing away from the window- you swore your heart thumped three times faster. That is until you realized, that was Lilia and not one of the ghosts playing a prank on you- it didn't make the ache on your bum any better from falling down though.

"Lilia!? Why are you- what are you doing here," You said, quickly pausing to glance at the old clock to check the time before continuing. "at seven in the morning?" You asked with a huff, Grim nodding at your side- both your and Grim's arms crossed in sync, to which Lilia heartily laughed. He quickly got off your roof and began to float outside your window- this wasn't the morning you were expecting and you did mind, sort of.

"Well I merely thought it would be a lovely idea to visit you, isn't that what you do with loved ones?" He said, his tone filled with mischief and a cheeky warmth. At his mention of 'loved ones' your cheeks flared up, a wide-eyed stare following suit. Nevertheless, you brushed it off, realizing that he could very well mean a dear friend.

That stung.

"Not by scaring them first thing when they wake up, anyways-" You began after composing yourself, only to be cut off by Grim.

"Hey, were you the one singin' outside?"

"I certainly was, good ears." He winked before continuing once more. "I thought it would be a lovely gift for the prefect. I've heard that singing for the one you love is a form of endearment, no?" With that, he disappeared with another, cheekier, wink.

Grim simply nodded, still half-asleep- you did too, for a second that is, until you realized what he said. His words played in your mind: 'the one you love'. A soft blush coated your face yet you said nothing. You probably misunderstood him, he meant friend- that was it for sure. You should stop getting these wried thoughts.

Just a friend. Right?

A sigh escaped your lips as you got ready for classes, Grim draped across the couch as he napped for a while.

After your classes, the Adeuce duo's shenanigans, random tasks from Crowley, reminders that overblots could still take place, and Grim's constant yapping about tuna- you were simply tired.

You were ready to go back to ramshackle, climb into bed and not get up till late- mainly because there were no classes tomorrow, you couldn't remember why. With a tired smile you left a talkative Grim at Heartslabyul for the night as you treaded for Ramshackle yourself, ready to plop onto your bed and forget everything that took place around you.

The urge to just disappear from all your problems.

Upon entering Ramshackle, you felt so comfortable- not like you normally didn't, but there was something different. You weren't sure exactly what it was, but your dusty old room- it felt mystic. It was as if someone or something magical has visited your room, blessing it it with a sweet sleep spell. You were tired, yes, but rather than groggily falling asleep, you felt as if you were lulled to sleep.

As if someone was singing you a lullaby, cradling you in comforting arms.

Tired eyes fluttered, struggling to stay awake, scared to miss something- someone. A small yawn escaped your lips as you began to fall from the need to sleep.

Endearing.

Before you could fall on the hard ground, a pair of arms caught you- a cheeky smile etched onto Lilia's lips as he held your sleeping from. A soft sigh released as he continued to sing, only now actually entering your chambers. After all, what kind of lover would let his beloved fall?

A sweet hum left his lips as he finished his song, his arms cradling you one last time before placing you on your bed. A soft kiss was planted on your forehead, a kiss to keep away nightmares.

He'd felt wrong in the past, entering your chambers as he cradled you to sleep- his beloved crying in his arms. It could be immoral to enter someone's room, yet how could he leave? Nightmares plagued you every single night, Grim noticed too- thus clinging to you in desperation to comfort you, when sleeping at Ramshackle.

With no choice left, A sleeping spell was cast in the dorm by Lilia, ever since the day he noticed how these horrid dreams affected you. You'd toss and turn, cry and mumble in sleep. Maybe fear from overblots? Perhaps homesickness? Or maybe it was pure lonlieless.

Whatever it was, Lilia was there- whether you realized it or not. A soft, blessed, tune to sing you to sleep.

As his usual night routine went, tucking you to bed and leaving- he propped himself up from your bed as he prepared to return back to Diasomnia. Yet, a soft tug at his sleeve stopped him; an incoherent mumble from your lips as your brows furrowed- still asleep.

Therefore, a kiss was placed on your lips- a spell.

Now your nightmares were his to keep, a gift in his eyes- for as long as you didn't suffer, he'd remain content.

Before leaving, he sung one last song.

"Sweet dreams"

Note: If you enjoyed this, please interact with this post, my blog, and reblog! Any kind gestures are greatly appreciated! Thank you!

Note 2: Please reblog, even if you don't press like on the post. Reblogs help a ton more!

Note 3: Just realized I spelt his name wrong- fixed it.