Can I Request A Reader With A Etheral, Angel - Like Beauty? Like They're Stunning And Beautiful As Hell.

Can i request a reader with a etheral, angel - like beauty? Like they're stunning and beautiful as hell. With Vil, Malleus and Leona please. ( gn!reader please.)

Hi! Sorry, this took so long! I’ve been busy with a lot of things going on! 

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the Headcanons! I had a lot of fun writing this, especially playing around with the personality of the reader for each character! 

Vil Schoenheit

At first, Vil was jealous of (S/O). How could they be so effortlessly ethereal? How do they not see what they did to other people with just a glance or a smile?

How did they stay so kind, humble, and angelic all the time without notice?

He hated (S/O), he wanted to be them. To have people see him as more than a pretty face and villainous persona.

But then Vil began to realize he and (S/O) weren't so different. Everyone saw them only for their beauty, everything else came second. They were seen as an object to ogle at, just like how so many people saw him. But instead of him being seen as the villain of every tale, they were the damsel in distress.

Thats when Vil decided to have Rook do some “research” on them. Asking him to find out whatever he could, common ground that the two could start conversating on, anything that would make getting closer easier.

And when Rook had delivered on what was asked of him, Vil approached (S/O) with the knowledge he had acquired, the intent of making an acquaintance or perhaps a friend, clear in his mind just as the rest of his goals are.

But what he go was so much more. (S/O) turned out to be an incredibly smart person, knowledgeable in so many topics Vil could hardly keep up.

(S/O) was kind, but that kindness only stretched so far. And as it turned out it wasn;t that far at all. Once that carefully tended thread of patience snapped a raging demon took the place of that ethereal angel everyone saw on the surface.

Vil fell in love without even noticing, his heart captured not by (S/O) looks, but by them as a whole person. Their flaws and quirks and everything that made them who they are.

(S/O) confessed first surprisingly enough. They made it clear they wanted to be with Vil and not “Vil.” They were frustrated, and weren't entirely sure how to get their entire point across, but Vil got the message. He understood entirely what they meant and accepted their confession, returning the gesture with more grace than they had presented him with.

After the two of them became a couple They were seen as the celebrity power couple on campus. Their beauty was unrivaled, and their infamy spread like wildfire. 

Once Vil’s fans got wind of the news he was no longer on the market most of them were happy for him, excited to know that their favorite celebrity was happily in love with someone who was sure to cherish him like the treasure he was. But there are always a few bad apples that’ll ruin the whole bunch.

Vil, unfortunately, had to put his foot down and make it crystal clear that his relationship was none of his fan's business. Who he loved and was with wasn’t for them to nitpick and shout for change. If they didn’t respect him in his choice to be with the one he loves then they weren't a true fan of his.

Malleus Draconia

He found (S/O) rather striking, like a lightning flash in the dead of a starless night.

Malleus expected to just admire them from afar, believing if he approached they’d fly away just like everyone else seemed to. Intimidated by his aura and status.

But to His surprise (S/O) was the one to approach him, starting off their encounter with “Your horns are so pretty! Can I touch them?” Malleus was amused by their boldness, but (regrettably) declined their request to touch his horns.

That didn’t seem to deter the human, however. They always came back to him, always with some sort of gift; A pretty rock or odd gemstone they found, a messy bouquet of wildflowers, or an invitation for the two of them to have lunch or dinner together, always ending in an amusing disaster.

It took him much longer than it should’ve to realize (S/O) was trying to court him, in their own odd, messy little way. It was endearing, Malleus couldn’t help but soften at the realization that his first friend was trying to biome his significant other. (S/O) wasn’t just angelically beautiful, they were bold, and messy, and disorganized, and so captivating! How could Malleus not fall in love with this adorable child of man?

He began to reciprocate their courting efforts. Gifting them jewelry and clothing meant for royalty, inviting them out to balls and banquets held in his or his grandmother’s honor, eventually, it became an unspoken rule that those gatherings were in honor of Malleus’s chosen partner as well, even without a formal announcement the two were together.

Some began to fear (S/O) out of association to the Crown Prince of Fae, others believed he had cursed their psyche somehow, and some were merely impressed and amused at the duality of the couple.

The dark and gloomy fae prince’s heart seized by a bold and ethereal human? Truly a contrast destined for greatness.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona didn’t care for (S/O) at first. Another pretty face around campus? Not his problem that another wannabe drama queen started walking the halls, acting like they were the hottest thing since sliced bread. As long as they left him alone he couldn’t care less.

He mostly ignored them whenever their paths would cross in the halls. But it was difficult, something about them… it was almost as if they were posturing him.

Eventually, Leona got fed up and confronted them about it. He wasn’t expecting the feather-faced herbivore to try and start a fight.

He learned very quickly that (S/O) was more than a pretty face, they were strong and domineering. They demanded attention and controlled what form it took with ease. They were pretty, but not in a way like ice or glass, more in the way of a venomous snake or poisonous flower.

They gained his respect, which grew into admiration, and finally into infatuation. Leona was not happy to realize he fell in love with that feather-faced (S/O), but sucked it up and confessed faster than even he expected, considering his nature.

(S/O) was amazing, truly a catch and they damn-well knew it! If they were going to be with anyone it was going to be Leona, he was the only guy worth their time as long as they were concerned.

Leona’s romantic gestures are sloppy, but sweet, rakish, if you will. His efforts did pay off, though., (S/O) didn’t make it easy on him by any means. It's a good thing Leona likes a challenge when he sets his mind to something, especially when the ‘prize’ is something as worth it as (S/O) is.

People that only know (S/O) from afar were shocked to see them with Leona in any aspect. I mean, a pretty, elegant, angelic-looking person with the callous, and rough Savanaclaw dorm leader? It seems like some joke. But those that actually know (S/O) know that Leona is exactly their type.

hello darling! soo i’m one of the Aemond gals, could you maybe write something with him? maybe the reader is from our world and just out of blue she finds herself in Westeros! Aemond is so dumbfounded - here she is, this weird girl, talking about some nonsense things, well educated in history and philosophy (another nurts obvi) with sparkling dragon-like coloured irises, so lost but welcoming everything that surrounds her, even all of him. welll as you can see - I’m so deep in it! if you decide to write something about this, thank you so much!! take care! 🌟🌟

TRAVELER | endless drabble series (winter edition)    

summary: differences can actually be appealing pairing: aemond targaryen x f!reader a/n: i changed it up a bit, i hope you don’t mind!! i didn’t rly know how to incorporate our world reader into westeros, so i just made her origins unknown but heavily implied to be from sothoryos, which, to be fair, is kinda from a different world too! used 4. mulled wine from this list <3

masterlist. ☕. reqs are open for the winter prompts list 1 & 2 !

It had been a regular flight - easy winds, no storms but an odd fad of snow - when he had noticed a strange figure asleep in the frost covered plains up North. From so high up, Aemond could not yet tell if it was a bear or a human - the first would be easier to explain, but his curiosity was quipped and so Vhagar cast her wings and dipped down and what he saw proved to be quite extraordinary.

There, a woman in a dress, asleep in a ring of dewy grass. The only thing valuable seemed to be her jewels - big, heavy silver rings and long, clunky pendants made from black oily stones. Like a lily submerged underwater, he figured she had died from the cold. But as he landed, and the ground shook, so did the body, and the woman slowly, achingly opened her eyes to see the mouth of a dragon.

That waxen face now breathes with life in a local tavern. Drunken sonnets spill into the air like ale on wooden tables, and she nurses her second cup of mulled wine. The cup’s clay, chipped - she had cut her lip when she first took a sip, though it seemed that she did not notice. Aemond, sitting across from her, measures her up and down once more - so far, she had given no indication of knowing where she is, or who he is, nor did she portray any surprise faced with a dragon.

Covered in furs and deer hide, she’s finally warm enough to speak, “My thanks, stranger.” She says, and he’s fascinated by her accent, a fluid song broken by the harsh rasp of the chill. She smiles, and her jewelry glimmers in the dancing fires of the hearth.

“It’s surprising you didn’t die,” He comments, holding his own cup, “the North is not usually so kind to travelers.”

“I am lucky,” She admits, almost shyly, “though I don’t recall how is it that I got here, nor where I came from.”

“Perhaps you’re from beyond the Wall?” He suggest smugly, but she only shakes her head with a small smile.

“In the Lands of Always Winter, I do wonder what world lies there. Where it ends, and where it begins - at the same point of measure, perhaps? It’s easy to get lost in the snow, turned around all over; perhaps there are dragons there as well that breathe frost, not unlike those in the Shivering Sea?” She tilts her head at his confusion, “You’ve read the histories, no?”

“I’ve had the leisure.” He says curtly.

“Then you must know a great deal of Valyria.” She says, “Have you ever been?”

“There’s nothing left of it.”

She blinks, “...Truly? Nothing? No graves or gold or cadavers to tell tales older than time? No ancient ruins and histories lost to us, only to be rediscovered?”

“You seem to know all but of the fact that old Valyria is covered in greyscale. Or did you forget to read that page in the tomes you poured over before falling ill in the North?”

She laughs, “Are you afraid?” She lowers her head, watches him under her lashes, “A Prince, afraid of sickness. I figured Targaryens cannot be burned, thus cannot be ill. Or are those all fairy tales as well?”

He raises a brow, “So you do know who I am.”

“Hard not to when the bard sings praises of Prince Aemond One-Eye as soon as you walk in with me in tow,” Her gazes fixates on the leather patch, “what happened to it?”

“My cousin cut it out.” He retorts.

She hums, “Blood for blood. Have you taken your vengeance yet?”

“I’m a patient man.”

“Patience is a kind virtue unless used otherwise.” She empties her cup, “More, please,” She pushes it to him, “I still can’t feel my fingers.”

He looks at her rings as he holds up a hand for the waitress, “Those seem expensive. You surprise me, traveler. I wonder how they have not been stolen.”

Something shifts in her expression, and a chill creeps up from behind. The waitress pours wine and the traveler smiles, but it’s a strange smile, one he should not trust. She feels dangerous, suddenly, and he is all the more intrigued.

“Would you like to keep one?” It’s an innocent question, but it holds something dark underneath all of that loveliness.

“I have no fancy for jewelry,” He refuses easily, though his heart beats just a tad faster. If he did not know any better, he’d think it’s from nerves, “as a prince I have many and find it quite ugly. My brother would like one, though.”

She retracts her hands and her smile falls, “He didn’t save me from the snow, so he has no use for it.”

It did not quite seem as if she needed saving, but the severity in her voice urges his pride. Perhaps he’ll be a hero yet.

“Have you got a name?” He inquires, and he’s all past common decency, never had any to begin with. He wishes to know.

She thinks, “Everyone has a name, no? Surely, I do think everyone does. Even toys, the objects of our affection, and our sword, and ships, and pets, do. I heard some ladies name their favorite perfumes. It builds attachment, you never forget something or someone with a name. I must have a name, I think, only for the life of me I do not remember it. Which begs to question whether I ever had one at all.”

After a pause, she sighs, “I suppose I’m fortunate. I can pick one for myself. Become new, here, in the North. But I don’t think it important. I have no one to share it with, and no one here would like to recall me.”

“I’d like to know your name,” He says, “but only because I wish to know who I saved.”

She grins, “...Then you are free to name me yourself, prince.”

hope u liked it! xx

omi and his girly little gf <3

he thinks you’re so PRECIOUS. when he first saw you walking across campus with your nails done, shorter than most of your friends, dressed well and in pink he couldn’t stop thinking about you. atsumu had to snap him back into the conversation. kiyoomi thought that you looked like a pretty princess.

when you two become friends and talk more, he’s a little more obvious about it. when you get your nails done or ask him if he likes a skirt you got he always compliments how well it suits you, that pink is your colour!!

if you’re black, and you add pink into your braids/ dreads/ locs/ twists he thinks you look like an absolute FAIRY!!! you come back from the salon [ he wanted to come see you. he swears he did. but you didn’t let him for the ‘surprise’ of it): ] his mouth curls into a smile and his dimples are on display, he gets up from his spot on the sofa and asks if he can touch them. he clears some of the hair from your face and he places a feathery kiss on your forehead , “it’s not fair, how pretty you are,” he says.

kiyoomi just loves when you have french tips. he loves it. especially when the base is a pale pink colour, and the tips are just a crisp white. he loves how it contrasts with his black rings as he holds your hand. his heart flutters when your little, neat palm can only wrap around a few of his fingers. he loves how your manicured thumb rubs against his battered knuckles - it makes him feel dizzy.

he loves when you wear skirts or get new ones, he always twirls you around like you two were slow dancing. he’ll chuckle along with you when you giggle, “i think this one’s my favorite now,” he said to you ; although he’s said that about all 7 of the skirts.

don’t you dare try to do anything when you’ve just gotten your nails done. laundry? he’ll help. you wanna make yourself smth to eat? nah, he’s got it. you wanna shower??? why????? he’ll just clean you🤞🏻🤞🏻. his big sister used to complain about having to do things with her nails on and he’d never let his sweet little princess do anything by herself ):

omi would absolutely let you do his makeup if you wanted to try a new makeup look. you sit him down, putting his bouncy curls in a little bun and then priming his face. his cheeks smush and squish as your small hands work on him gently. he can’t help the warmth in his chest when he feels that you’re making a conscious effort to be gentle when you’re soaping down his eyebrows or blending out the highlight. his favorite is when you put on mascara- the way your index finger tilts his chin upwards and you mutter a ,’ look up f’ me, kiyo’ in the most sugary sweet tone he’s ever heard. he replies with a simple , ‘ ‘kay’ that could never give away the butterflies in the pit of his belly.

lastly - he’s spoiling you ROTTEN. he’s got allll that athlete money for what???? you, obviously. you saw some pretty mary janes you wanna wear to work? done. you want new earrings? done. you want a necklace with his name on it? done. well, that part wasn’t a choice- but he’s still happy that you wanted it. if you two are out and you even say that something is cute , his immediate response is , “do you want it?” and he’s dead serious. even if it’s ridiculously over priced. if you’re someone who cries when they accept gifts i’m projecting i’m sorry consider his heart SHATTERED when he hears the break in your voice as you thank him. he’s coddling you, asking if you really hated the gift that much, but when you explain that it just overwhelms you he feels tears in his own eyes at how precious you truly are. his large hand caressing your head and the other rubbing gentle circles on your back, whispering to you that you deserve his gifts, his love, his patience because you give it back to him. you deserve to be a princess- his princess- forever</3333333

Ugly Love

Vil, my beloved, I don’t feel like I can do him justice. But if anyone has to make a change to love someone, then it would be him, let’s be real :P Also I hurt myself every time I have to write Schoenheit knowing my keyboard literally has an ö-key, but that’s a german problem I guess…

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Pairings: Vil Schoenheit x GN!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Forced Touch/Kissing, Violent Fantasies like biting and strangling mentioned, There are some mention of not being pretty because of under-eye bags or when he isn’t perfect so lowkey body issues and later reflected on the reader in comparison, Lowkey-highkey anger issues due to suppressed/unacknowledged emotions

Prompt:  @sintember Transformation - Becoming comes with pain, with loss. What skin do you shed, and what steps into new moonlight?

»»———————— ♡ ————————««    

That’s what he was—the most beautiful in the land.

At least, in Vil’s and some other eyes, he already held the title and the crown to be just like the one he aspired to be. He already had the tenacity that someone chosen to represent the dorm of the Fairest Queen should have; discipline and persistence were all traits Vil could identify with. Even if there was the occasional hiccup with his archrival Neige, no one in all of Night Raven College could have denied Vil the respect he deserved in terms of beauty and dedication.

It had taken a lot of time—years even!—to become the man he was now, guided by beauty and grace, and a lot of biting his tongue from speaking his true opinion and clenching his teeth so his costumes would always fit. He had to go through a lot to be able to afford to speak his mind and know how much and what to eat to not endure the hardships this life he chose threw at him, but it all worked out in the end.

That, already, had been a massive change for Vil.

One that he basked in every day like he was blessed by the gods themselves.

Being like this had its own price. Vil had to ignore the people talking behind his back, the whispers of envious onlookers. Every time he did anything, he had to prove himself as the figure he was made out to be, so no one could call him a monster in hiding. He woke up when the sun barely lurked from behind the horizon, already preparing himself for his day while others still slumbered. No one knew about all the experiments he had to do on himself, the constant improvements and changes he had to undergo to fit the expectations, especially the ones he put on himself. But he didn’t mind. He also thought it was best to be perceived to be effortless, adding to his charm.

Until you came along.

Vil Schoenheit needn’t impress anyone, and no one impressed him. But he did stand even a tiny bit straighter next to you, imposing, tall, so you’d have to stretch out this pretty neck of yours that he’d like to adorn in jewels, bite marks, or his hands. No one would notice his inappropriate thoughts except maybe Rook, who observed you two curiously but never intervened.

But much to everyone’s chagrin, it didn’t concern you in any way as the housewarden was trying to tempt you with his charm seeping off him. You didn’t even want to stick around to admire him after you asked your question about potions (and he graciously answered), waving your hand at him and bounding away unbothered by Vil’s posture faltering or his eyes widening in disbelief, an expression so rarely allowed on his face. He had no intention to lose his composure, and yet, if only for a split second, you brought him to his, figuratively speaking, knees.

And that’s when all his hard work went down the drain.

Suddenly, just because you were so incomprehensible rude as to not give him the attention he deserved from you, the carefully built house of cards that was his mental state collapsed. He had steeled himself for years, improved, changed, and transformed himself into perfection. In terms of humans, wasn’t he the species most remarkable? Yet, he couldn’t even keep the attention of one otherworldly visitor? Unforgivable. Absolutely despicable, and he could not stand the idea of just ignoring you.

Suddenly, things were all about you. He no longer worked out to keep his body fit; he did it to run by Ramshackle Dorm in the hope of catching your attention this way. He created the most potent poisons and best-selling potions so his face would be on every newspaper, the NRC’s homepage, and posters around the school, so you’d have to compliment him on his success eventually. Rook even noted that Vil changed the shade of his lipstick after he found out what colors you liked and cleaned out his wardrobe to make room for new things that fit your style.

Something. He just needed something that would make you go, “Oh, wow, Vil!” and he would have been satisfied. But the day never came. When he did pass you in the hallways, you’d greet him, keep up eye contact, and nod at him before letting him stew by himself. You didn’t even care about what he did for you to notice! Either you were ignoring them willingly or couldn’t be bothered, and Vil didn’t know which was worse.

It got so far that he lost sleep over it, and seeing dark circles under his eyes—a phenomenon that hadn’t occurred for a decade or so—he realized he had to take drastic measures to save himself from the shame you put on his head.

Vil couldn’t stand around and let you play with him like this. If subtle nudges didn’t work on you, he had to go into the offensive. He was the fairest of them all, damnit! It couldn’t be that one unworthy student would ruin him like this! So he put on his best clothes, did his hair, and concealed the marks of shame under his eyes with make-up, radiating elegance and class as he marched through the hallways, everyone parting and freeing up the way for him.

Ordering his entourage to stay outside your classroom, he went inside alone, his heart beating out of his chest as he suddenly felt nervous at the sight of you chatting and laughing with other students. Not noticing him at all. God, why did his heart, mind, and soul choose you when you had so little regard for his presence? When did he develop these feelings, or had they been right there from the beginning? What was even the potion you asked him about all these weeks ago?

It didn’t matter. Bellowing a loud, “Get out!” everyone jumped up before hurrying outside, and he grabbed your collar before you could slip out in the mass of students he ordered to give you two some space. Rook closed the door behind the last student, giving Vil a wink as you stood there, confusion visible on your face. Finally, he let you down again, trying to resist fixing your uniform but eventually clicking his tongue and smoothing out the wrinkles he caused, almost feeling bad.

But not so bad that he didn’t start to scold you the second he was done.

You looked at him—finally!—wide-eyed and shocked as Vil laid into you about your manners and incredible rudeness towards him. Your mouth opened and closed like a fish, and he hated you for being able to just express your emotions this freely and not thinking twice before doing anything. That’s right! What he felt for you was hate. He hated you for having all the freedoms and not caring about other opinions and doing things just because you wanted to. Eat, drink, sleep, you could do it without thinking of the consequences it had for your skin or figure and your future job or social media promotions.

He screamed this at you, repeating over and over how he hated people like you, but you especially, and you backed away, beginning to feel frightened by his anger dripping from his lips until he backed you up against a wall. Neither of you knew what was happening as his arms caged you in. His voice finally gave out as his face was inches away from yours, his heavy breaths caressing your skin, and you made the fatal mistake of looking at his lips. A look that shattered even the last boundaries between you for Vil.

Before you knew it, he was smearing lipstick all over your lips, teasing, biting at the supple flesh until you flinched. You gasped for air, pushing your hands into his chest as he leaned into you, but Vil took it as an invitation to slip his tongue across yours. Even though you grabbed his clothes and ruined his whole look with your hands, his make-up with your lips, and his heart by merely existing, Vil couldn’t care less for once. You screamed muffled words into the kiss, but he only felt his face heat up to the tips of his ears, his mind growing foggy at the intensity of the kiss.

You made him wonder if red suited him.

He’d have to see that in front of a mirror and try it again just to be sure. When he finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, silent just because neither of you knew what to say. You were obviously disgusted by the taste of his kiss, but something had changed inside Vil. It didn’t bother him so much. Looking up, he caught his reflection in the glass window and witnessed the joy shimmering in his eyes and the sensual expression on his face. All he could think about was how beautiful he was like this.

God, he was stunning.

He loved this.

Yes, he hated you. He hated the ugly noises you made, the coughing and wiping your face as you started lecturing him about how wrong it was to kiss you. He hated that you made him miserable by transforming him into someone with bags under his eyes and unashamedly losing his cool and scolding a freshman who wasn’t even in his own dorm. Logically, he knew you couldn’t be blamed for his feelings, but he still hated everything about how you made him feel and how you forced him to kiss you with that chaste glance at his lips.

Bringing a hand up to your face, you flinched as he cupped your cheek, tracing his thumb over your lips. And yet… he didn’t hate this. The sight of his lipstick smeared on your face, the same hatred shining through your eyes that he had for you, and how you shivered ever so slightly at his touch because there was still a part of you that was afraid of him.

Vil shivered too. He could feel the transformation that was occurring inside him once again. It was changing him, scurrying him up and wrenching into place, making space in his heart. A change that was so ugly, he never thought he’d go through it. One he’d never show to anyone but you. Before you could protest, he lifted you into his arms, ordered Rook to get the door from the outside, and marched off with you wiggling in his hold. However, he was much stronger, much more powerful than you after everything he did to make his dream of absolute beauty come true. You never stood a chance against him, and little did Vil know, he never did stand a chance against you either.

From the very beginning, you had captivated him, causing the change to take place long before he claimed you as his. All this time, neither of you even knew it was happening. Only true love’s kiss could unravel the truth behind his erratic behavior and actions, and open his eyes to new opportunities and a future he had never cared about. It made him want to change himself in any way possible, whether good or bad, right or wrong, and it was nothing like he had ever felt before. But Vil knew he’d rather lose himself than lose this feeling you caused inside of him, no matter how much either of you would hurt in the process.

Because, in the end, love was absolutely hideous.

And Vil had yet to learn of the depths of ugliness it would cause him to plunge into.