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twistedwonderlandimaginesblog · 4 months

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“You’ve always been mine”

With Leona malleus lilia and Vil?

Leona Kingscholar:

Was Leona always such a possessive person, or was it you that turned him this way? It was a thought he flipped around in his head from time to time, when he had no other things to brood about or concern himself with. The reason your relationship had even been a secret was because Leona didn’t want to deal with his family's questions, not until he himself was sure of what you were and whether you’d be around long enough he’d have to go through the trouble of introducing you. He considered you not being the last person who caught his eye, but he knew it was foolish; when he thought of you the word ‘mine’ repeated in his head like an endless mantra, making his feelings on your relationship quite clear. He wondered if you really knew how he thought of you, if you thought this relationship was just something casual, and he couldn’t wait to memorize the look on your face when he finally told you ‘you’ve always been mine’.

Lilia Vanrouge:

Lilia had never thought he’d fall in love again, that his heart would mend from the pain of the past and he’d be able to feel the comfort in knowing he had someone to come home to. It was a relationship that took time, but even Lilia had known from the day you first spoke that you were someone fascinating, someone who had captivated him with just their voice. He was teasing, poking and prodding, getting the answers to questions he didn’t even know he asked; hearing the way you talked about love, the sparkles in your eyes as you dreamed of a grand romance, it brought a sparkle back to his, too. He wanted to give you that life, those sweet moments, to travel together and see the world and hear all your thoughts on the happenings around you. You sheepishly admitted that you had a crush on him from the start, thinking he might be upset that you weren’t on the same page with what your relationship was, but Lilia could only chuckle at that. He’d press a kiss to your nose before teasing that you’d always been his, even before he knew he loved you.

Malleus Draconia:

There are moments where you come to him, when he’s almost inconsolably sad or so angry lightning scorched the earth around him, that made him want to hoard you away from the world. Your heart was too big, too wonderful a thing to be tainted by the outside, by the hatred the poisons the minds of others to the unknown. Malleus had known you were his soulmate from the moment he laid eyes on you, the chains that locked you to him never allowing you to go too far. And while you loved him, while you weren’t afraid of him, you were still intimidated by the attention that his title brought. The concept of ruling a kingdom, or your differing lifespans, it caused you to avert your eyes from him. Patience had never been his strong suit but in his life, he had nothing but time; as someone with significantly less, he knew you’d come to your own conclusion long before he started getting restless. Malleus’ mere presence was a simple reminder, the way he made your knees weak with just a look, how he could sweep you away from an important event without you even getting mad at him, you knew as well as he did that your heart had always belonged to him.

Vil Schoenheit:

Your heart is pounding in your chest as Vil approached you, the sleek look he chose for the evening stealing your breath away; his confident strut, his head held high, he was the one who deserved the title ‘fairest of them all’. Vil had always known he was a showstopper, he had worked hard to get to where he was and continued to work hard to maintain it, but he was aware of the way others looked at him. As a typecast villain, or just a pretty face, never quite seeing past the surface to the complicated human underneath. Your eyes had always been the most piercing, regardless of your initial intimidation of his presence or the nervousness you exuded whenever he flirted with you, he knew you were a person who he could truly rely on. While dating outside of NRC was not the first thing on his mind you had always stayed in touch; he would have respected if you moved on, not wanting to wait for a man who might never actually settle, but there was a part of him that knew you wouldn’t. As he held your chin between his perfectly manicured fingers, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of your lips, he can’t help but think about how you had always been his, from the moment you laid eyes on each other.

#Twisted Wonderland #TWST #Twisted Wonderland Imagines #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #TWST Imagines #TWST x Reader #Vil Schoenheit #Malleus Draconia #Leona Kingscholar #Lilia Vanrouge #Vil Schoenheit x Reader #Malleus Draconia x Reader #Leona Kingscholar x Reader #Lilia Vanrouge x Reader

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muiitoloko · 3 months

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Typecast Hearts

Summary: In the midst of an actor's frustration with typecasting and industry expectations, Mrs. Rickman offers unwavering support and lighthearted moments, creating a sanctuary from the challenges they face.

Pairing: Alan Rickman × Fem! Reader

Warning: none.

Author's Notes: Thanks for the 80 followers! 🥳

"Didn't know I married a pervert," Alan commented with a smirk, attempting to inject some light-heartedness into the room. However, you, never one to let a comment slide, set the book aside, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

Alan glanced quickly at his wife, you, who was sitting on the bed, patiently waiting for him. Your eyes, peering over the edge of a book, followed him as he towelled off, a subtle amusement in your gaze.

"Hey! Wasn't it you who played a perverted judge looking at his ward through a hole in the wall?" you retorted, your tone teasing. "Or maybe the teacher who slept with his students?"

Alan's amusement quickly turned sour, irritation replacing the brief smile on his face. He tossed the towel aside with a flick of his hand and went to the wardrobe, his movements reflecting the building frustration within him. You, curious and somewhat puzzled, watched him with a questioning expression.

"Why are you so angry, Al? Did I say something wrong?" you inquired, your voice carrying genuine concern.

Alan, now rifling through the drawer to find a pair of underwear, sighed deeply. "No, love, it's not you," he reassured you, his tone softer. "It's just… annoyed at how I always seem to get offered these types of characters."

Your confusion lingered, and you approached him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. "What do you mean? Characters like what?" you asked, genuinely curious about the source of his frustration.

Alan, pulling out a pair of underwear and avoiding eye contact, elaborated with a tinge of exasperation. "Characters that are perverted or morally questionable. It's as if the industry can't see beyond those roles for me. I've had enough of being typecast."

Understanding dawned in your eyes, sympathy replacing any traces of playfulness. "I see," you said softly, squeezing his shoulder. "That must be frustrating for you."

Alan, grateful for your understanding, nodded. "It is. I want roles that challenge me, not ones that perpetuate the same tired stereotypes. But it seems the industry has a limited imagination."

As Alan slipped into his pajamas, you couldn't help but comment, "I thought you enjoyed playing those roles. You always seemed to revel in being the 'mad dog' or the morally ambiguous character."

Alan scoffed, a bitter edge to his tone, "Well, there's a difference between enjoying a challenge and being pigeonholed into it. I don't want to be the bad guy all the time."

You, sitting on the edge of the bed, tried to lighten the mood. "Maybe they just can't resist that sexy voice of yours," you teased, a playful smile on your lips.

Alan shook his head, unamused. "It's more likely because of this big, horrible nose of mine," he remarked, a self-deprecating tone seeping into his words.

Your playful expression turned into one of protest. "Alan, we've talked about this. Your nose is not horrible, and you're not ugly. I've told you countless times that you're beautiful just the way you are."

Alan, dismissively pulling the covers over himself, muttered, "Well, you're biased. You're my wife."

You, now standing beside the bed, scolded him gently. "That doesn't make it any less true. You need to stop making those self-deprecating comments. It's not healthy, and it certainly doesn't make you any less appealing."

With a sigh, Alan sat up, meeting your gaze. "It's just frustrating, sweet. I want roles that showcase my range, not ones that keep me stuck in the same rut. But it seems the industry only sees me in a certain light."

You, your tone filled with empathy, reassured him, "You're more than the roles you play, Alan. You're a talented actor with depth and nuance. Maybe it's time to challenge the industry's perception of you."

As Alan pondered your words, you approached and gently cupped his face in your hands. "You're not defined by the characters they offer you. You have the power to shape your own narrative, both on and off the screen."

Alan, appreciating the sincerity in your eyes, offered a small, grateful smile. "You always know how to bring me back to reality, don't you?"

"That's what partners do," you replied, planting a soft kiss on his forehead. "Now, let's forget about the industry for a moment and enjoy a quiet night together."

Alan, the weight of frustration momentarily lifted, nodded in agreement. As you settled into bed, your presence served as a comforting anchor, providing solace amidst the challenges of the industry that sought to confine him to a predetermined mold.

In the soft glow of the bedside lamp, the couple embraced the warmth of their shared space, navigating the complexities of an industry that often struggled to see beyond superficial roles. As you drifted into the quietude of the night, Alan found solace in the unwavering support of his love, a respite from the relentless expectations of the film industry.

As you began your familiar ritual, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on Alan's forehead. "You have the most captivating eyes," you murmured, your lips tracing a path across his face. "And your voice, Alan, it's like velvet – deep, resonant, and utterly enchanting."

Your words lingered in the quiet room as you continued, "Your hair, with those silver strands, is a testament to the wisdom and experience you carry. And that nose of yours," you teased, a playful smile forming, "it adds character, a distinctive feature that I find absolutely irresistible."

Your fingers gently brushed through Alan's gray hair as you spoke, emphasizing each compliment. "Your hands, strong and comforting, have held me through both joy and sorrow. And your body," you whispered, "is a canvas that tells stories of resilience and passion, etched with the marks of a life well-lived."

Alan, though attempting to maintain a facade of indifference, couldn't help but crack a smile at your genuine admiration. He listened intently as you continued to shower him with praise, your words creating a soothing melody in the quiet room.

"You're not just beautiful on the outside, Alan," you said, your voice filled with sincerity. "Your depth as a person, your kindness, and the way you navigate the complexities of life – that's what truly makes you irresistible to me."

As you concluded your ritual, you looked into Alan's eyes with unwavering affection. "You are a masterpiece, Alan Rickman, and I'm grateful to share my life with you."

Despite Alan's attempt to remain indifferent, he was touched by your words. "Enough of the cheesy compliments," he grumbled, attempting to deflect the sincerity in your praise. Shouting at you to stop being corny, he turned to the side, supporting himself with his arm, and reached to turn off the bedside table lamp, hoping the darkness would hide the blush creeping onto his cheeks.

As you continued your heartfelt admiration, Alan couldn't escape the warmth spreading through him. Accustomed to compliments from fans, colleagues, and the media, there was a unique vulnerability in receiving such words from you. He found it endearing yet struggled with the embarrassment that accompanied it.

With a mischievous gleam in your eye, you provoked him, "Come on, Mr. Rickman, don't be embarrassed."

"I'm not embarrassed," he insisted, though his tone betrayed a hint of amusement. "Stop calling me Mr. Rickman," he added, playfully rolling his eyes.

Undeterred, you stood up beside him, your eyes glinting mischievously. "Come on, Mr. Rickman, don't be a grump. Embrace the love," you teased, reaching out to give his shoulder an affectionate squeeze.

Alan let out a theatrical sigh. "Fine, fine. But keep it reasonable, will you?" he replied, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You, sensing an opportunity, decided to lighten the mood further. "Reasonable? Mr. Rickman, your charms are beyond reason," you declared with a theatrical flourish.

Rolling his eyes, Alan retorted, "You watch too many romantic films."

With a playful smirk, you launched a surprise tickle attack, your fingers expertly finding those sensitive spots you knew so well. Alan, caught off guard, couldn't help but laugh. "All right, all right, you win," he conceded between laughter, trying to fend off your tickling assault.

As the room echoed with your shared laughter, Alan couldn't deny the joy that radiated from the simple, playful moments with you. Despite the complexities of the film industry and the challenges he faced, your unwavering support and lighthearted antics provided a sanctuary where he could momentarily escape the weight of expectations.

Eventually, you relented, allowing Alan to catch his breath. With a triumphant grin, you looked down at him. "See, not so bad, was it?"

Alan, still chuckling, shook his head. "You're incorrigible, you know that?"

You leaned in, planting a gentle kiss on his cheek. "And you love me for it."

With a resigned smile, Alan admitted, "Guilty as charged."

They were silent for a moment, hugging each other in bed until Alan broke the silence, his thoughts veering towards the inevitable passage of time. "Do you ever worry, love?" he pondered, his deep voice resonating in the quiet room. "About what the future holds, especially when I'm not the dashing young man I once was?"

You, sensing the weight of his thoughts, looked into his eyes with a reassuring smile. "Alan, you'll always be handsome to me, no matter how many years pass. It's not just about the exterior; it's about the incredible person you are."

Alan, appreciating your sentiment, couldn't help but inject a hint of humor into his musings. "Well, what if I lose all my teeth and become a toothless wonder? Would you still find me irresistible?"

You faked a dramatic sigh, your eyes widening in playful exasperation. "Well, I suppose if you become a toothless wonder, I'll have to invest in some dentures for my dear husband," you teased, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "And who knows, with those dentures, you could finally fulfill your destiny as Count Dracula. Imagine the dramatic flair you'd bring to the role with those fake fangs!"

Alan, raising an eyebrow in mock disbelief, responded, "Count Dracula, you say? I'm not sure if I should be flattered or offended. Are you implying I'd make a good vampire, dear?"

You, leaning in with a sly smile, replied, "Absolutely! With that deep, velvety voice and your penchant for intense stares, you'd make the perfect brooding vampire. Just imagine the cape and the whole theatrical entrance. It would be legendary!"

Alan chuckled, the idea of himself as the iconic Count Dracula amusing him. "Well, if I must become a vampire, at least I'll have you as my eternal companion, my dear Mina."

You grinned, playing along with the playful banter. "Oh, Count Rickula, I'd be your eternal bride, forever immune to your toothless bites. We'd rule the night with denture-clad elegance!"

The two shared a moment of laughter, the absurdity of the imaginary scenario lightening the mood. In the quiet of the night, their playful exchange served as a reminder that, no matter the challenges or frustrations, the bond they shared could always find a moment of joy and humor.

#alan rickman #alan rickman x reader #Eli Michaelson #judge turpin #hollywood #reader

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