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Of Seashells and Sweet Nothings - Vil Schoenheit x reader
You're cursed to love everyone except Vil, and he's cursed to love only you. And yet somewhere along the way, it seems the curse has skipped you.
aka Merman! Vil x Reader
The wedding was simple, almost understated, despite the weight of its significance. You stood beside Vil Schoenheit, hand in his, as the officiant spoke words you barely registered. The setting sun bathed everything in a warm glow, but your mind was elsewhere—far away from the ceremony itself.
Vil looked impeccable, as always. His eyes were on you, piercing and focused, but you couldn’t quite make out what he was thinking. It didn’t matter. This wasn’t about feelings; it was about fulfilling a duty, one you had known was coming for a long time.
The vows were exchanged, and that was that. You turned, now bound together, walking side by side down the aisle, your thoughts already moving on to what came next. The ceremony was done. A formality.
And yet, as you glanced at Vil, something about it didn’t feel as hollow as you’d expected.
In this world, balance is everything. The fae of the forests, the beastmen of the land, the merpeople of the water, and the Valkyra—yes, birdpeople—of the wind, each control their own domain. They’re the most powerful clans, each lording over their respective elements like some kind of cosmic HOA. And, of course, they all have peace treaties in place to keep everyone from accidentally (or intentionally) obliterating each other.
But no treaty is quite as peculiar as the one between the merpeople and the Valkyra.
See, hundreds of years ago, some genius thought it would be a grand idea to curse the heads of these two clans with the most impractical love curse in existence. The curse works like this: the head of the merpeople is doomed to love only the head of the Valkyra, while the head of the Valkyra is cursed to love literally everyone else except the head of the merpeople. It’s like a bad romcom plot, but with deadly consequences.
Here’s where things get complicated: the merpeople’s head, their heir, only appears once every 30 years. If they’re not with their “one true love” (a.k.a. the head of the Valkyra) at least once during every full moon, they’ll keel over and die before the next heir can pop up. No heir, no merpeople, and—boom—extinction.
This is where the "deal" comes into play. To avoid this catastrophe, the Valkyra agreed to this bizarre matchmaking curse, which now means every new head of the Valkyra has to marry the head of the merpeople. No exceptions, no complaints. The two of them must meet monthly, like clockwork, for a kind of celestial forced date night.
And just to make things even worse, if the Valkyra head doesn’t marry the merpeople’s head, they lose their ability to fly. Wings, grounded—forever. Imagine that: a birdperson without the ability to fly, as if the universe needed to throw in an extra slap to the face.
Over the generations, this has become less of a romantic arrangement and more of a job requirement, with each Valkyra head treating it like an odd but unavoidable business deal. They don’t have to like it; they just have to show up, check the box, keep the merpeople from turning into tragic folklore, and—of course—keep their own wings in working order.
That’s the way it’s always been: cursed, inconvenient, and awkward.
It was supposed to be like every other betrothal ceremony between the Valkyra and the merpeople. The air was thick with the usual tension—two clans bound by duty, not desire, meeting at the ceremonial altar like this was some awkward, forced blind date.
You, newly anointed head of the Valkyra, stood there, your wings giving an occasional twitch behind you like they’d rather be anywhere but here. You had been briefed on the whole ordeal—“meet the heir, exchange some greetings, throw the ring at them, and fly off.” Simple. This wasn’t about love. It was a political arrangement to keep the merpeople alive and the peace treaty intact.
Across from you stood Vil Schoenheit, heir to the merpeople. His golden hair shimmered like the sun reflecting off the ocean, and his face? It was disgustingly perfect, like he had been carved out of marble by some lovesick artist. In theory, the curse would make him fall for you the moment he saw you. After all, that was how it worked—he was bound to love only the Valkyra head.
But what no one expected—least of all you—was that you would be the one caught off guard.
Vil was striking, yes, but it wasn’t just his looks. It was the way he carried himself, like he was fully aware of how radiant he was but still carried an air of unapproachable elegance. Most Valkyra heads would have felt the usual disgust at their cursed partner, barely making eye contact before tossing the ring and flying off. That’s how these things went. They were practically trained to do it with their eyes shut.
But you?
You found yourself staring, actually intrigued. Instead of the wave of revulsion that was expected, something odd stirred in your chest. It wasn’t love, not by a long shot. It was…fascination. A curious pull that made you hesitate, which was enough to stun the entire audience. This had never happened before.
Vil, on the other hand, looked as if he had just seen the personification of his deepest dreams. He was besotted, as was expected by the curse, but there was something different about the way he gazed at you. Normally, the merpeople heir would fall head over heels, but Vil was genuinely taken by the way you moved, the way you stood. It wasn’t just the curse making him like you; it seemed like you intrigued him beyond the curse's binding.
And then you did something no Valkyra head had ever done before.
Instead of throwing the ring and bolting out of there like your predecessors, you knelt down in front of him, offering the ring with all the grace and seriousness of a real proposal. The crowd gasped. This wasn’t in the script. You were supposed to go through the motions, not act like this was some kind of grand romance!
Vil’s eyes widened, and for the first time in this ridiculous tradition’s history, the merpeople heir didn’t just fall in love out of obligation—he fell head over heels, utterly smitten, entirely because of you.
The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silvery glow across the beach where you waited, wings fluttering with nerves you tried to ignore. This was it—the first official "date" since your marriage to Vil Schoenheit, the current head of the merpeople. A union bound by centuries-old curses, it was normally a formality, something both clans did with begrudging acceptance.
Merpeople were only allowed on land during the full moon, and this was the first of many such meetings.
But tonight, you felt something different, something almost... hopeful. Maybe it was the fact that you had brought a gift, a small but meaningful token. A delicate brooch shaped like a seashell, with silver feathers—merging your worlds into one. No one had told you to do this; in fact, most Valkyra heads would never bother. But something about Vil made you want to try.
You spotted movement as Vil emerged from the water, his sleek, golden hair gleaming in the moonlight, not a strand out of place. He looked, as always, impossibly perfect, like he had stepped straight out of a painting. His eyes—a sharp, intelligent violet—landed on you, though they didn’t hold the frantic eagerness you’d seen in other cursed merpeople heads before. No desperation to win you over with excessive gifts or grand gestures. Instead, Vil’s gaze was steady, though undeniably smitten, a subtle warmth in his expression.
“Good evening,” Vil said smoothly, gliding toward you with an elegance that felt effortless.
“Evening,” you replied, your voice casual but steady. You extended your hand, offering the small box with the brooch inside. “I, uh, brought you something.”
Vil’s brow raised slightly, but he took the box from you with practiced grace. “A gift?” he asked, his tone curious as he opened it. The faintest smile touched his lips when he saw the brooch, a rare expression on someone usually so composed. “This is... unexpected.”
You shrugged, trying to play it off. “Thought it’d be nice to bring something for a change. You know, switch things up.”
Vil inspected the brooch with an appreciative eye, his fingers brushing lightly over the delicate silver feathers. “It’s beautiful,” he said, pinning it to his chest with his usual attention to detail. “And thoughtful. Not many would bother with such an effort.”
You couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “Yeah, well... I’m not like the others.”
Vil’s smile widened ever so slightly, the amusement in his eyes growing. “No, I suppose you’re not. And for that, I’m grateful.”
The two of you walked along the shoreline, side by side, the conversation surprisingly light. Normally, these meetings were stilted affairs, with the merpeople head desperate to please and the Valkyra head barely tolerating their presence. But this? This felt... different. There wasn’t the usual tension, the frantic attempts to impress, or the thinly veiled disgust. Instead, there was something approaching ease.
“You’re not what I expected,” Vil said after a few moments of comfortable silence.
“Oh?” you asked, glancing over at him.
“In the past, the Valkyra heads were always... distant. Formal. Like they couldn’t wait to leave,” Vil explained, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “You seem... different.”
You shrugged, a smile tugging at your lips. “Figured I’d try to make this less painful for both of us. I mean, we’re stuck together, right? Might as well try to get along.”
Vil laughed, a soft sound that seemed to surprise even him. “A practical approach. I like that.” His violet eyes twinkled with amusement. “And I must admit, it’s a refreshing change not to feel like I’m constantly chasing after someone.”
You smirked, crossing your arms. “What, the other merpeple heads weren’t exactly thrilled about this whole curse thing?”
Vil gave you a knowing look. “Imagine being hopelessly in love with someone who can’t stand the sight of you, every single time. That’s usually how these meetings go.”
You nodded, understanding the frustration in his words. “Yeah, well, I’m not about to make this harder than it needs to be. Besides, you’re not that bad,” you added, giving him a playful nudge.
Vil chuckled, shaking his head. “Not that bad? I’ll take it.” He paused, then added more softly, “You’re not like the others either. You’re... different.”
His words hung in the air, and for the first time, you saw something more in Vil’s eyes than just the effects of the curse. There was genuine admiration there, something deeper than mere obligation. It wasn’t just the curse binding him to you—he liked you, plain and simple.
The moonlight reflected off the water, casting long shadows as the two of you continued to walk, talking about everything from your respective clans to the pressures of leadership. It was the first time in centuries that a merpeople-Valkyra meeting wasn’t a disaster. There were no awkward silences, no rushed goodbyes, just... peace.
And maybe, just maybe, something more.
As the night wore on, you both found yourselves sitting on a rock near the shore, watching the gentle waves lap at the sand. The air was calm, filled only with the quiet hum of the ocean and the soft rustle of your wings.
“I wasn’t expecting this,” Vil said after a long pause, his voice softer than before. “Not the curse, not the marriage, and certainly not... this.” He gestured between the two of you.
“Yeah, me neither,” you admitted, your eyes focused on the horizon. “But hey, it could be worse, right? At least we don’t hate each other.”
Vil smiled at that, a real, genuine smile. “No, we don’t.”
For the first time, you realized that this might actually work. You weren’t just honoring the tradition anymore. You were connecting—really connecting—and it felt... right.
And as Vil glanced at you, a soft, unreadable expression on his face, you wondered if maybe, just maybe, this cursed love story wasn’t as doomed as everyone thought.
Vil looked away, his hand brushing against yours ever so slightly. “Until next month then?”
You grinned, your heart lighter than you expected. “Yeah. Until next month.”
The sun had barely risen when you made your way to the beach, the gift cradled carefully in your hands. You had spent days crafting it—a pendant of polished obsidian shaped like a feather, inlaid with shimmering sea glass that caught the light like scattered stars. You knew merpeople loved shiny things, and you figured this would catch Vil’s eye. The excuse to see him outside of your usual monthly meetings? Well, that was something you were still sorting out in your head.
By the time you reached the shore, the waves were calm, the water a deep blue-green that mirrored the sky. Vil had mentioned that he sometimes liked to swim during the day, despite the fact that the full moon was required for him to walk on land. It wasn’t a guarantee that you’d see him, but... you hoped.
And then, as if on cue, he appeared. Vil surfaced from the water with the same ethereal grace as always, his hair glistening under the sunlight, the sleek scales on his tail catching the light like gemstones. He spotted you instantly, his violet eyes locking onto yours. A small, amused smile tugged at his lips as he swam closer to the shore.
“Well, this is a surprise,” Vil said, his voice smooth as the sea itself. “It’s not our usual meeting time. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
You shifted awkwardly, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “I, uh, just thought I’d drop by. You know, casually. No big deal.”
Vil raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying your nonchalance. “Casually, hm?” He leaned slightly against the rocks at the edge of the shore, his eyes narrowing in playful suspicion. “You didn’t come all this way without a reason, did you?”
Your face heated up immediately. Great. This was going well.
“I, uh, made you something.” You fumbled with the box before finally thrusting it toward him, trying to avoid his amused gaze. “Here.”
Vil’s eyes lit up with interest as he took the box from your hands, opening it with the same precision and care he gave to everything. His smile widened when he saw the pendant, the sea glass glittering against the dark stone.
“A gift? For me?” His tone was teasing, but you could tell by the way his fingers brushed lightly over the pendant that he was genuinely pleased. “You’ve outdone yourself.”
You rubbed the back of your neck, trying not to be overwhelmed by the way he was looking at you. “I just thought you’d like something shiny. You know, since you—um—merpeople and all…”
“Shiny things?” Vil’s smile grew, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Yes, we do have a weakness for them. But this... this is exquisite. I can see you put a lot of effort into it.”
He clasped the pendant around his neck, adjusting it until it sat perfectly against his chest. He was absolutely preening, and you could feel your face heating up even more under his gaze.
“You’re... welcome,” you mumbled, desperately trying to keep your composure.
Vil chuckled softly, his eyes gleaming as he watched you fidget under his scrutiny. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you quite this flustered. It’s endearing, you know.”
“Flustered? Who, me?” You tried to brush it off, crossing your arms and turning your head away, but your cheeks were burning, and you knew you weren’t fooling anyone. “I’m just—uh—being polite. That’s all.”
“Polite, of course,” Vil replied, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “Well, I’m very grateful for your... politeness today.” He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping just enough to make your heart skip a beat. “And for the gift. Truly.”
You weren’t sure if it was the warm sunlight, the proximity to Vil, or just the fact that he looked so pleased, but you felt your heart flutter in a way you hadn’t expected. It was odd—normally, the Valkyra head’s instinct to despise the merpeople head would have kicked in by now. That strange hatred that had been passed down through the generations? It just wasn’t there. You liked him. Really liked him. And from the way his violet eyes held yours, you couldn’t help but think that maybe he felt the same way, curse or no curse.
Before you could say anything else that might make you look even more ridiculous, you quickly cleared your throat and took a step back. “Well! I should probably get going. Don’t want to, uh, overstay my welcome or anything.”
Vil tilted his head slightly, a knowing smile still playing on his lips. “Leaving so soon? Pity. I was rather enjoying your company.”
You tried not to trip over your own feet as you backed away, your wings fluttering nervously behind you. “Yeah, well, next time. I’m sure we’ll... have more time to talk.”
Vil chuckled softly as he watched you take off, his gaze following you until you disappeared into the sky. “I’ll be waiting,” he called after you, his voice filled with unmistakable warmth.
Later that evening, as Vil returned to his quarters beneath the sea, Epel leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, grinning like a mischievous cat. “Ya know, Vil, you can pretend all you want, but I’ve never seen you so smitten.”
Vil shot him a withering glare, though there was no real malice behind it. “Smitten? Hardly. I am simply... appreciative of their efforts.”
Epel snickered, clearly not buying it. “Yeah, sure. ‘Appreciative.’ That’s why you’ve been wearing that pendant all day like it’s some royal heirloom.”
Vil’s eyes narrowed, though a slight blush crept up his neck. “It’s a thoughtful gift, and it suits me. That’s all.”
Rook, who had been listening from nearby, chimed in with a delighted grin. “Oh, Vil, mon ami! It’s wonderful to see you so moved by affection. But do be careful. The merpeople’s curse has brought heartache to many before you.”
Vil glanced at the pendant around his neck, his expression softening just a little. “I know the risks, Rook. But this time... it feels different.”
Rook smiled, though there was a hint of concern in his eyes. “I hope you’re right, Vil. For your sake, I truly do.”
Vil didn’t respond, his fingers absently tracing the edge of the pendant. Deep down, he knew that Rook’s concerns weren’t without merit. But for the first time in centuries, a merpeople-Valkyra union felt like more than just a curse or a duty. And maybe, just maybe, this time would be different.
It was your usual monthly meeting, but this time, you had something special planned. The night was calm, the sea glimmering under the moonlight as Vil stood waiting on the shore. His presence was as striking as always—elegant, regal, with an air of serene confidence. And yet, tonight, there was something different about the way you looked at him.
You smiled as you approached, feeling your heart beat a little faster. "I’ve been thinking... since you bring so many treasures from the sea, it’s only fair I give you something from the skies in return."
Vil’s eyebrow arched in curiosity. “Oh? And what exactly do you have in mind?”
Without a word, you stepped closer, your wings unfurling behind you, casting long shadows across the beach. Before Vil could question you further, you gently scooped him up in your arms. He stiffened for a moment, his usual composure slipping just slightly.
“You’re trusting me to carry you, aren’t you?” you teased, your grin widening.
“Of course,” he replied, though there was a flicker of surprise in his voice. “I simply wasn’t expecting... this.”
With a strong beat of your wings, you soared into the sky, Vil held securely against your chest. The world below began to shrink, the crashing of the waves fading into a distant hum. Vil’s gaze widened as the mountains and clouds stretched out before him, closer than they’d ever been. For someone used to the ocean’s depths, this must’ve been an entirely new perspective—one where the world opened up endlessly.
You flew higher, taking him to the peak of the mountain your clan called home. The horizon stretched out in every direction, the first light of dawn beginning to paint the sky in hues of pink and gold. You landed softly, still holding Vil, and set him down gently on a smooth rock overlooking the expanse below.
Vil stood there in awe, his usually sharp eyes softening as he took in the sight. “It’s... beautiful,” he murmured, his voice almost a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would disturb the tranquility of the moment.
You, however, were no longer looking at the sunrise. “It is,” you replied, but your eyes were on him, drinking in the way the first rays of light illuminated his features—the golden strands of his hair catching the morning glow, his sharp profile outlined against the sky, his violet eyes reflecting the dawn. “It really is.”
He turned his head to you, catching the way you were staring, and for once, Vil seemed... uncertain. Perhaps it was the rare vulnerability of the moment, or maybe the fact that you were seeing him in a way no one had before. Either way, you didn’t look away.
“I meant the sunrise,” Vil said, his lips curving into a small smile, though the warmth in his gaze betrayed him.
“So did I,” you lied, the faintest blush creeping up your neck.
The two of you stayed like that for a while, Vil leaning against you as the first light of the sun bathed the mountain in gold. The silence between you wasn’t awkward—it was peaceful, almost as if the curse that tied your clans together had, for once, allowed something genuine to grow between you.
But as the sun climbed higher in the sky, you knew it was time to return. With a heavy heart, you carried Vil back down, feeling the weight of the impending separation settle in your chest. For the first time, parting felt harder than it should’ve been.
When you finally set him back down on the beach, Vil’s feet touched the sand, but he lingered close to you for a moment longer. “I’ll admit, that was... something I never expected.”
“I like surprising you,” you said, your voice softer now, unwilling to let this moment go just yet.
Vil smiled, his usual sharpness returning to his features, but there was an undeniable warmth beneath it. “You’ve become quite adept at it.”
As you prepared to leave, you couldn’t shake the sadness that gnawed at you. The monthly meetings were all you had, but each one felt shorter than the last. It seemed like the instinct your ancestors had—the hate, the disdain for the merpeople—had completely skipped you.
“You know...” you started, your voice barely above a whisper, “I don’t think I ever hated you. Not even when we first met.”
Vil tilted his head, curious. “And why do you think that is?”
You looked at him, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe the valkyra hate genes just skipped me. Or maybe... I’m just lucky.”
Vil didn’t respond immediately, but there was something unspoken in the way he looked at you. Something that told you he felt it too—that strange, undeniable pull between you both. Not just the curse, but something deeper.
With a final, reluctant glance, you spread your wings and took to the skies, leaving him on the shore once again. But this time, the separation felt heavier, like leaving behind a part of yourself.
And though you couldn’t see it, Vil stayed there for a long while after you left, his gaze fixed on the horizon, already counting down the days until he’d see you again.
The moon wasn't full, and yet here you were, standing by the shore once again. It had been weeks since you and Vil started meeting outside of the required "monthly date nights." You told yourself that each visit had a purpose—bringing him a new gift, asking about the state of the seas, or simply “checking in.” But after each visit, it became harder to deny the real reason you kept showing up.
Today, you'd brought a set of polished gems woven into a necklace, knowing how much Vil appreciated delicate craftsmanship and, of course, shiny things. You were proud of it, but there was an undeniable anticipation building inside you—not just to give him the gift, but to see him again.
As you neared the shore, Vil was already waiting for you, his figure poised like something out of a painting. His golden hair glimmered even in the fading light of dusk, and his violet eyes caught yours with a familiar, almost teasing look.
"You do realize it’s not the full moon," Vil remarked as you approached, though there was a clear warmth in his voice. "What brings you here this time, again?"
You smirked, holding out the necklace. “Just thought I’d drop by... with this.”
Vil’s eyes lit up at the sight of it, and he accepted the necklace with his usual grace, though his smirk was just as playful as yours. "You’ve been quite generous lately. I’m starting to think you're looking for excuses to see me.”
“Excuses? Never.” You chuckled, though the heat rising to your face betrayed you. "I'm just keeping the tradition alive—maybe putting in a little extra effort."
Vil raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “A little extra? Darling, this is bordering on obsession.”
You rolled your eyes, but there was no denying it—especially when you saw the way Vil’s fingers traced the necklace, his appreciation clear in the way his lips curved into a satisfied smile.
“Well, you’re one to talk,” you shot back. “I seem to recall a certain someone gifting me a chest of pearls the last time I dropped by. You could decorate a palace with the amount of sea treasures you’ve been giving me.”
Vil laughed softly, his voice like velvet. “I wouldn’t want to be accused of neglecting my duties as your devoted spouse, now would I?”
The teasing back and forth had become your favorite part of these meetings—there was something light, effortless, in the way the two of you communicated. And the more time you spent with Vil, the more that odd sense of duty morphed into something genuine.
Suddenly, Vil’s attention shifted to the cliffs behind you, and when you turned, you saw two figures approaching—both of them unmistakable.
Rook and Epel.
“Oh,” you muttered under your breath, feeling a bit exposed. You hadn't expected company.
Rook, ever the observant one, smiled widely when he caught sight of you. “Ah, the elusive Valkyra head themselves! A rare sighting, but of course, you must have been drawn here by our beautiful Vil, oui?”
Epel, on the other hand, snorted as he sized you up. "Yeah, no kidding. You look like you’ve been hit with the ‘love curse’ pretty hard. I bet if we got closer, we’d see little hearts in your eyes.”
Your face flushed immediately. “W-what? No way! That’s ridiculous. I’m just—uh—here to visit. That’s all.”
Rook’s eyes gleamed, and he exchanged a knowing glance with Vil. “Oh, but I think there’s more than just a simple visit in play here! Non, non, non—you have the air of someone who has fallen hook, line, and sinker as they say.”
You opened your mouth to protest, but the blush on your face wasn’t helping your case. Epel grinned mischievously, crossing his arms. “You should just admit it. You’re so head-over-heels, you don’t even see it.”
Vil, standing beside you with a graceful smirk, finally spoke. “They do have a point, you know. It’s becoming rather obvious.”
You glared at him, feeling both flustered and betrayed. “Whose side are you on?”
Vil’s lips curved into a teasing smile. “I’m always on my side, dear. But if it helps, I do appreciate the attention.”
Epel snickered again. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so whipped.”
“Oh, merci, Epel,” Rook chimed in, his gaze turning fond as he looked at Vil. “Though it seems our beloved Vil is no different. A love so mutual—ah, it’s truly a sight to behold!”
Vil shot Rook a warning glance, but it didn’t diminish the contented gleam in his eyes. “I wouldn’t go that far,” he muttered, though the slight blush on his cheeks said otherwise.
You, meanwhile, were desperately trying to hold onto the remnants of your dignity. “Alright, alright, enough of this. I’ll be going now.”
But before you could make your grand escape, you acted on impulse—a bold, unexpected impulse. Leaning in, you quickly pressed a kiss to Vil’s cheek, your face practically burning with embarrassment the second your lips made contact. You barely had a second to register the shock in his eyes before you turned on your heel and shot into the sky, your wings carrying you away at lightning speed.
Behind you, you could just barely hear Rook and Epel erupt into laughter.
After you left, Epel turned to Vil with a wide grin, clearly trying to contain himself. “Well, that was somethin’. I ain’t ever seen you look so...”
“So elated?” Rook finished for him, smiling like the cat that caught the canary. “Oh, Vil, you are besotted, aren’t you? Don’t try to deny it!”
Vil’s hand slowly rose to touch the spot where you had kissed his cheek, his expression softened, his eyes glittering with a rare mix of surprise and delight. Despite himself, a small, pleased smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Vil replied, his voice carefully measured but the satisfaction in his tone impossible to miss. “But they certainly know how to make an exit, don’t they?”
Epel raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, keep tellin’ yourself that. But don’t think we didn’t notice the way you lit up the second they kissed ya.”
Vil glanced at Epel, one elegant eyebrow raised, but he couldn’t entirely suppress the smirk that followed. “Maybe I’m more appreciative of affection than you give me credit for.”
Rook clapped his hands together, looking utterly delighted. “Oh, Vil, this is magnifique! But remember—while this love may shine brighter than the stars, the curse has not yet been broken. Tread carefully, my friend.”
Vil’s gaze flickered, but the smile didn’t leave his face. “Yes, well... I’m willing to take that risk.”
And for the first time in centuries, a merpeople head wasn’t just a smitten puppet of a curse—he was utterly and entirely in love.
The vow renewal was supposed to be a dignified affair, steeped in tradition and whatever formalities came with being the head of the Valkyra clan. But dignified was hard to maintain when your heart was doing somersaults every time you so much as glanced at Vil Schoenheit. It didn’t help that he was ridiculously perfect in that “effortlessly ethereal sea deity” way, while you were standing there, sweating like you’d just run from a sea witch. Not that you had, yet.
This year was different. After a full year of avoiding your feelings like the plague, of meeting Vil whenever you could justify it (and even when you couldn’t), you were done. If there was one thing you were more tired of than being cursed, it was this weird romantic limbo where you both pretended you didn’t want to rip each other’s clothes off every time you were alone together.
And so, you stood at the sanctum, between the mountains and the sea, surrounded by both your clans—Rook’s over-the-top grin already making you nervous as he clearly prepared to be... well, Rook. Epel was next to him, arms crossed, his face a mix of intrigue and really?
But you had your ace: the magnum opus of gifts. The first gem ever given by a merperson to the first head of the Valkyra clan. A symbol of true love that—if things went sideways—could also be the final nail in the coffin for your cursed family line. Yay for high stakes!
The vow renewal started, and there was Vil, looking so majestic that you kinda wanted to scream. Why did he have to be so damn perfect? Couldn’t he just look a little tired, or maybe slightly disheveled? Nope. Not Vil.
Your vows were an absolute blur. You muttered something that vaguely sounded right while trying not to pass out from the sheer intensity of his gaze. When it was finally over, you had the spotlight, and there was no backing out now.
“I have something,” you said, your voice wavering but determined. “Something to prove that I’m done letting fear rule over us.”
You pulled out the gem, and suddenly, it felt like every pair of eyes in the sanctum was laser-focused on you. Especially Vil’s. His violet eyes widened slightly, and you almost dropped the damn thing right there. But no. Not today, curse! You were going to face this head-on, and probably make a fool of yourself in the process, but hey, at least you were trying.
The second Vil’s fingers touched the gem—it shattered.
For a brief, terrifying moment, you stared at the fragments in your hands, heart pounding as your mind raced to some truly unhinged conclusions. Oh my god, I just cursed us even more, didn’t I? Have I doomed the entire Valkyra clan to eternal hatred of the ocean? Will we be landlocked forever? No more beach vacations, no more seashell necklaces—
Before you could spiral any further, a soft light emerged from the shards, and two shimmering figures appeared. A merperson and a valkyra, their voices carrying through the sanctum like a breeze. They told the real story, about how a jealous witch had cursed them, making sure they could never be together. The cure? True love despite the curse. And, as fate would have it, you and Vil had just broken it.
“Well, that’s one way to kick things off,” you muttered under your breath, still half-expecting someone to start panicking about the broken clan treasure. But instead, Vil—bless his elegant, perfect self—took your face in his hands and kissed you.
In front of both your clans, in front of everyone who mattered, Vil kissed you like the world had finally aligned in your favor. The kiss wasn’t just tender—it was a promise, a declaration that the curse had no power over what you two had built.
Then, predictably, Rook gasped. “Ah, l'amour! A love that shatters curses and binds souls together for eternity! The stars themselves tremble at the magnitude of your passion!”
You could hear Epel snickering next to him, probably waiting for a punchline. “Well, hell, guess we should’ve seen this comin’. That’s the most dramatic vow renewal I’ve ever been to.”
Rook, undeterred, continued his monologue as if he were on a stage. “True love! It breaks all chains, transcends all curses! You have done what many could only dream of!”
Meanwhile, you were trying to stay upright after that kiss. “Did... did we just fix everything? Is that it? Can I stop worrying about accidentally damning the clan now?”
Vil smirked at you, his hands still lingering on your face, his thumbs brushing gently across your cheekbones. “If you’re asking whether the curse is gone—yes, we’re free.”
You blinked at him. “No strings attached? No hidden fine print? The curse isn’t gonna boomerang back on us in a few years, right?”
Vil’s eyes glittered with amusement. “No fine print. You and I are no longer bound by fear.”
The next morning, you woke up beside him, which, honestly, was a surreal experience. Vil, looking all peaceful and not like the intimidating figure he usually presented to the world, was kind of adorable. Of course, you couldn’t resist leaning over and planting a soft kiss on his forehead.
He stirred slightly, eyes fluttering open as he murmured, “If you keep doing that, I might get used to it.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” you teased, sliding out of bed to make breakfast, because if you were going to start your curse-free life with Vil, you might as well impress him with your domestic skills.
You didn’t get very far before you felt arms wrap around your waist, pulling you back against a warm chest. “Leaving so soon?” Vil whispered against your ear, his voice low and just a little bit too seductive for this early in the morning.
“I was gonna make breakfast, but I can see how I might’ve gotten distracted,” you shot back, trying (and failing) not to grin like an idiot.
Vil chuckled softly, his lips brushing your neck. “Well, since we have all the time in the world now, maybe breakfast can wait.”
You turned in his arms, raising an eyebrow. “Are you proposing we spend the entire day in bed?”
His smirk was enough of an answer.
But you had plans. “Okay, okay. How about this: breakfast first, then we can lounge around and plan our next big adventure.”
Vil leaned in, his lips ghosting over yours. “Deal. But I’m holding you to that promise.”
And so, you started your first day of freedom together, planning all the adventures the world had to offer. Because now, there was nothing stopping you—no curse, no fear, just the two of you, ready to face whatever came next.
there's a lot of lore dump but I hope yall enjoyed it!!
also this was supposed to be star crossed lovers but I absolutely cannot do angst no comfort because I'm a baby.
Masterlist
when god closes a door you reach your little paws under it and go mrrwwaaaooow mmreeaaow
“It could’ve been worse.” It could’ve been BETTER. It could’e been EASIER. It could’ve been lovely. It could’ve been beautiful, it could’ve been fun. It could have been simple, it could’ve made you HAPPY.
You can drown in two feet of water just as simply as you can in an ocean. Stop downplaying what happened and neglecting your feelings. Kill that idea with fire. Or at least acknowledge that what happened was bad without immediately trying to justify or dismiss it.
My Discord out of context messages but as TWST characters, pt. 2
This one was edited by me, so it's a bit sloppy
Happy anniversary to the rumor coming out about does Bruno Mars is gay
attractive things they do #2 !
— w. housewardens
⤷ "yuutapdatass tweeted: malleus pls stop dming me to rub our feet together as a nightly custom"
cw: hinted suggestive content for malleus, vil and leona. passive reader! enjoy ♡
RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS
shushing others so you can focus.
pens and textbooks alike cluster along your designated study table, accompanied by the riddle rosehearts as his knee brushes against yours wordlessly. he's utilising this free period, toiling out and about to aid you in your, regretfully, pointless revision. finals season starts to get rigid around this time, so he's more than content to lend a hand if you're willing to put in the effort. except—the students abounded at the table diagonal to yours start getting chattier than what's socially allowed in the library, so riddle calls them out without a pain. one "they're trying to focus." and their mouths are zipped. he turns back to you, unperturbed, and smiles. "shall we continue?"
SO patient with you it makes you cry.
riddle may be a bomb of ire waiting to burst at any given moment, but you believe that his patience shouldn't go uncredited. a tireless awardee, a distinguished laureate, going sleepy in your eyes, although he's wrestling to win over the urge just so you can get the hand of the concept he's cramming into your head last-minute. the scent of white petunias could really alleviate his fatigue, and you make a promise to bring over a few of those in favour for his devoutness to your study sessions. for the time being, he'll make sure you pass, for him, and for yourself.
vows that he'll outdo your stupid ex in every way.
whatever your ex did wrong, riddle will do better. that's just in his nature. he swears with each and every fibre of his body, nuzzling his head in the dip of your shoulder, that he'll love you in ways that your morose ex never bothered to think about. a muttered pledge that couldn't compare to the pious burn that lit in his eyes, like a withstanding candle refusing to go out. his confessions are firm, where he'll be the betterment that you wished for on an astral night, so please, don't put him in your doubt.
LEONA KINGSCHOLAR
pressing you against the nearest wall he spots to kiss you.
there are numerous attributes to this man that renders you hopelessly drunk in love. one of them is his maddening habit of pressing you flushed against the nearest surface in his sight, and the most poorly lit areas when you're in stranded in a public space to guise the both of you. he executes this with the softest hint of care, ensuring that the landing wasn't too harsh, and advancing when given the green light. wispy strands of hair stroke your skin like a feather, as fine lips come crashing down to yours in a heartbeat, in paradise. he gives you a sheer once-over, bringing up the following statement: "grab onto my vest if you need to."
breathes the confidence into you.
downgrading oneself may be in his dictionary, but it won't appear in yours. he'll clasp any opportunity to brandish his infamous eye-roll to those whose comments about you stray a bit too loud. you may be a bit thrown off by the audacity and aimlessly think about the ways of which you could live up to his—your standards. you take a bit to reorient yourself when you hear your name being called out, sluggish hands circling your waist, as you're unable to finish your thought about how beautiful he is until he asks whether you're actually sparing a single thought for those nobodies. he casually states that you're leagues better than them, whether you think so or not, and won't mind giving you a physical demonstration if you can't bring yourself to accept it yet, because he knows it.
just knows what you want without you having to tell him.
eyeing an accoutrement that could accent your main outfit? longing for a new stand-alone book after the last one you buried yourself in was a letdown? leona has the prices covered. despite your incessant denial, that you don't actually need those, he tells you that a little spending wouldn't hurt. he doesn't need verbal expression to know what'll satisfy you, the flit of your gaze is the only opening he requires. you're embarrassed by how easily you're read, but the hearty smile that blooms on your face will be all the excuses leona needs to keep spoiling you.
AZUL ASHENGROTTO
drapes his coat over your legs if you're cold.
sometimes, you swear that he has the whole "affection capability" of a wooden plank. his actions aren't entirely faultless, nor was there not a single second of err in the delivery of his speeches, but he does haul around that handy coat solely for moments like these. perched wordlessly on top of mostro lounge's signature high stools, azul rebukes your rash behaviour after spurting out in the rain without an umbrella, clothes weatherworn and all—not to mention the lounge's benevolent addition of its AC. the chills rack your body from head to toe, not noticing that a fuzzy warmth starts to blanket your legs, as azul pats it down creaseless. he says that you can pay him in return at a later date, your declining health is his utmost priority at the moment.
sets you straight when you need it.
his prized coin collection seems to blur boorishly, bleeding into the soft jazz playing in the back. the thirsting need to word-vomit all over the place, thanks to the hours of ennui you've been experiencing ever since you've trudged yourself back to azul's room, threatens to tip over the edge. he notes your irresolute responses to his (nearly) bombarding questions while he's planted over at his desk, and takes the initiative to make you open up to him. he wants you to look at him, commit his words to memory, as he caresses your shoulder under the twinkling lavender glow of his night lamp with a sure look in his eyes, guaranteeing that you're going to do fine.
has a secret album dedicated to pictures of you in his gallery.
azul tries to get accustomed to the revolutionising tricks of technology just for you. fine, if he has to pass through every single hyperlink and learn unfamiliar terms, that's on him. other than owning a booming magicam account promoting #mostrolounge, he saves a single, peculiar file in his gallery that hoards all the pictures he's taken of you when you're together, on a date or not. he can't tell if your lovely visage is the sole cause to the rapid change of pace in his heart when he's dealing with a mounting workload, but if you ever drag yourself down after taking a quick glance at them, he'll bring you right back up.
KALIM-AL-ASIM
clears the hair out of your face when its windy.
you may be a tad bit hesitant to ride the magic carpet every once in a while, but kalim's sparkling serendipity puts your heart at ease. he takes you for a midnight rendezvous, golden embroidery flashing and sheening at every twist and turn you direct with the tassels with aplomb—as he compliments. his headpieces jangle merrily like a thousand bells in the breeze, up until he notices your sight being blocked by the troublesome hair whirling all over the place. chuckle as he may, he shifts it to the side of your face with a deft hand, tracing the last strands down to your chin. "there. seeing better now?"
interlaces your hand with his in your sleep. (the physical touch GOAT)
wrinkled bedsheets rustle under the weight of your movements, coarse, and even a bit sullen as the morning ooze of sunlight drenches through your curtains, as if it prohibits you to sleep in the entire day. kalim's newfound ailment forces the two of you to be separated indefinitely, so colour yourself surprised when you feel the taut clutch of your hand in another, holding onto the remaining pieces of you that he needily ached for all night. sun-kissed fingers wove between yours like silken ribbons, his eyes pleading for you to stay, as a minute—a moment without you in his world—would be infallible torture.
purchases a piece of the moon for you.
you know those moneyed, wealthy fans who purchase a piece of the moon for their favourite idol? kalim gets influenced, and is driven by his conviction that you deserve something more extravagant than rowdy parades or a hallowed mansion (regardless of how many he wishes to buy). he takes it upon himself to surf across Lunar Registry, registering your full name and gifting its stated amount for approximately...5000 sq ft of land of the celestial body that hung high in the sky, radiating its extraterrestrial luminance on your nights of sobriety. you chide him for such an impulsive act in return, but soften up when he states, upright, that he would gift you all the stars in space if he could.
VIL SCHOENHEIT
brings you to touch him himself.
no use if you're cowardly in the bold language of physical touch, vil will simply make you oblige into feeling him, whether its physically or through minds. oftentimes you find yourself hastily straddled on his lap, him decked in his satin-sewn pajamas, as you prod and poke his hands nervously while scrutinizing every area of skin that screamed of his unyielding years of care. there's a teasing lilt that lurks behind his voice, questioning if you're seriously taking your time trying to figure him out where you're aware that he's less than patient. he seizes your hand in his grip, and leads them to his chest—shamelessly. if he needs to remind you of who you're with every day, he'll be more than committed to reel you closer to his body.
demands full eye contact.
tsking and huffing is, an unsurprisingly normal habit for him to adapt. and this includes moments of when you're shying away from him, heaving under your tense breath about how unfairly attractive he is. slick in his latest outfit tailored specifically according to his calibrated measurements. high stilettos bests your height, and he almost seems disappointed in the lack of praise he's receiving (although he knows exactly why). you feel a manicured finger tilt your chin upwards, as your teetering praises come to an abrupt halt. he smiles, demanding you to look him in the eyes throughout every second you're worshipping him.
tells you to ready yourself before he showers you in his love.
vil wants you to experience each and every slide of his nails against your feverish skin, whispering pure promises and cherishing you, affirming that you're worth much more to him than a million grand. if you ever throw yourself below the bar lower than necessary, he waves your deplorable behaviour away, and asks if you truly believe that you're tumbling down that route of thinking when you're with him. vying arms enclose your figure like a velvet blanket, surrendering your chapped lips a centimetre away from his, as his refined scent tickles your nose until he advises you to prepare yourself to revel in his untiring devotion. all your worthwhile priorities were put on hold until further notice.
IDIA SHROUD
leaning back in his chair after finishing a game.
you arose from your sleep, previously dozing off while perusing written tales of the past propped up on idia's bed. the culprit of your awakening is off cheering in the same vicinity after speed running a round and emerging victorious, unmanned, of the latest version of a first-person shooter game he recently installed on his computer. he starts to recline in his chair as it creaks off his weight, arms slackened behind his head and his sweater gliding off of his stomach, exposing the barest bit of delicate skin that indulges you to run your hands across. he emits the heaviest of sighs while he runs a sore hand through his hair, as the disorientation of your mind starts to scatter all over the place.
"i thought it'd cost more."
Idia Shroud will not have you get scammed by lowly, needling scammers surfacing online websites like newborn piranhas. his head begins to split when you spout about the official item being too pricey and that you won't be able to milk a single penny out of your derelict dorm, so he insists that he pays for the item for you himself. you send him a link of the mentioned item, and he felt like he was dragging himself through wet cement throughout the whole mire. he remains indifferent to the price overall, and goes "oh? i thought it'd cost more." with a brazen smirk etched on his face that it almost gave you a whiplash.
discreetly orders things to your front door.
quivering lips settle atop of your shoulder for the last time before he sends you back from his room after the intimate amour that had you two wondrously occupied for the entire day. you pilfer a single gummy worm from his desk, and cloak yourself further into his jacket that intoxicates every one of your senses as you streel into the night air that reeked of petrichor. your steps begin to feel like bricks, whilst your eyes were betraying your wish to stay alert. as you approach the front door welcoming you to your dorm, you gauge the sight of a small box placed on the carpet with a small note plastered on it that follows the lines of "for you, pretty thing."
MALLEUS DRACONIA
cushioning your head with his hand.
bony fingers sail through the pleasance of your hair, twirling each and every tendril that it meets and bringing them to his defined, pillowy lips. amusement cracks through the ominosity that sits in his eyes, shielded by his bangs as he beams a smile your way before grasping your shoulders in a split second. he pushes you down onto the mattress with a thud, cushioning your head with a single hand, and tells you to save your yelps and complaints before he endows you with the ability to sing for him all night. he reassures you that he does in fact, know how to secure the deadbolt on the door.
doesn't bother with any potential contenders whatsoever.
malleus but it's "okay, and?" personified. yes, he's heard of the towering sovereign in the neighbouring country who was recently appointed. yes, he's heard of the lucrative salesman nearby situated in town whose attention you captured after visiting his booth. yes, he's heard of Leona Kingscholar. but he could not give Two (2) flying tamagotchis about whoever has been swaying your way, tossing cheap and low-grade courtship in an attempt to earn your affection. he notes that he does have some cheesy pick-up lines of his own to use, but unlike the others, he knows you inside and out. he has no use for the mainstream ways of love and is eager to please you to his own liking, further revealing the unparalleled reverence he maintains for you and only you.
brushes his fingers over your collarbone.
once you step across the threshold of his bathroom, adorned in his nightwear, malleus can't help but dim the lights with the flick of his finger after catching the sight of your collarbone that peaks out from underneath. he's in front of you the moment you blink, and hums in response to your addled self. he brings his ice-tipped fingers to your neck, padding it with caution, and sliding them down to the V-shaped collar that hides the rest of your warmth. stark fingers ghost over the structure of your collarbone, and malleus asks whether you think the gibbous moon will be kind enough as to not set so early.
BOOK 7 EN UPDATE DAY!!! only good things happen to them ur honor mhm mhm
BONUS: imagine they magically have cameras in that time period
tfw u finally realize u have a crush on the town farmer
(through gritted teeth) sometimes what's good for your mental health isn't another do nothing day or a little treat sometimes what's good for you is putting in some of the work. Not all of it at once but sometimes you have to finish that essay or at least take the next step or you have to clean your room or at least dust the shelves or you gotta do the laundry or at least put it all in the hamper and it's not fun and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks and it sucks but you have to because i read a post on the internet that told me that's what being nice to yourself is sometimes
papa Lilia and baby Silver.......
and a very small baby Silver, i don't like Mal on this one at all but the funny little guy........ he's too funny to leave him out
ugh what's with this book!!!
I do love how quietly influential Homestuck has been on a generation of animators because it means sometimes I'm just watching a tv show and I have to pause and ask "hey. is that Dave Fucking Strider in the background?"
YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO CRY.
"kids don't pay attention in class anymore Because Of Phone" is so funny as an argument. students haven't paid attention in class since school was invented. my parents' generation were in there making flipbooks out of the corners of their notebooks and doodling random shit instead of taking notes. and they didn't have phones.
