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justafairytailofinnocence · 10 days

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Caged birds with broken wings

Chapter 2

A/n: I've made chapter 2, enjoy :).

Chapter 1

I was having the same dream again; I was light in thin air. My movements were fluid as if there were no gravity to keep my legs grounded. My right leg stayed in place whilst my left leg was raised, turning inward toward my supporting leg. I spun over and over without the slightest feeling of light-headedness or dizziness. No matter where I moved, the gold plate within the birdcage did not shatter. My arms raised in mid-position as I extended my left leg, hoping to free myself from this prison eventually. My chest felt light; my mind had no fear, even within this cage. I felt the quick flashes of wind touch my face with every motion. I wanted to spread my wings. I wanted to be free. I wanted to be released from my cage. I wanted to reach the world outside. I. wanted. to. Fly. The same spinning visage of the golden bars occurred repeatedly, experiencing the same routine. The golden plate never shattered beneath me, holding my weight. A sense of comfort washed over me, as though seeing the same scenery brought ease to my mind. As I spun, I felt a surge of adrenaline to try something different, to spin in the other direction, to break the dance routine. I tried to push my arms down and lower my left leg. To no avail did my body react; I still spun. The second time, I pushed my arms down slightly harder, yet again to no avail did my body react. The third time, I pushed even harder, the pressure becoming uncomfortable; despite myself spinning, I pushed more not giving up. I pushed—spinning more—I pushed—spinning further—I pushed harder—I can feel the pain rising—I. just. need. to. push. harder. I could feel my face flinching from the pain rising in my limbs going against the force keeping me dancing. Eventually, with one final push, I yelled out, falling to my front as my arms moved to prevent my face from hitting the ground. I breathed heavily, in and out, as my body lay on the ground. Hair strands poked out from the once neatened bun as sweat slid down my face. The final scene panned out to witness me lying there, still, static, trapped within the golden bird cage.

My eyes opened as my vision tried to adjust to make sense of my reality. Once again, it was a nightmare or inspiration. I placed my hands on my face, rubbing my eyes awake; it’s not the first time my sleep schedule has gone off. Once my eyes had adjusted, I noticed I was at my desk with my computer opened from this morning. As my hand ran along my head, I felt something attached to my forehead—paper. I ripped it off, holding it in front of me, realising it was a character sheet for the fae queen, Aelwynn. How late did I stay up last night? I must’ve been writing the first chapter; I recall updating something—huh? On the sheet containing Aelwynn, I noticed her hair was white. I didn’t recall colouring her, but I couldn’t exactly remember what happened last night. As I examined her hair, my finger ran down the traced lines. I quickly grabbed my pencil, drawing extra features of her appearance and outfit. As the pencil traced the outline, it turned into a white gown flowing in motion with the wind as she held a staff made of the oldest oak and decorated in diamonds and quarts. To top it off, I added a crown placed at the back, with pointed edges facing up made from silvery steel. As my hand holding the pencil came off the page, I stopped to glance at her new design. My eyes lit up with amazement as my lips became agape; I was in utter awe of my new creation. Yes! This! This is Aelwynn, the way I wanted to interpret her, an otherworldly beauty that’s kind and graceful, how a true fae queen should look!

However, my eyes glance over to another piece of paper to the side, one depicting a rough sketch of Sarek, my expression nearly dropped. I had figured out Aelwynn, but I’ve yet to figure out how to design the Pirate King. I placed the rough sketch into the pile of papers and neatly folded them on my computer desk. Glancing at the computer, I saw the first few pages written within the document, and the pages went into detail regarding the first drafts. The first couple of chapters read of the pair's first encounter crossing paths: The fae queen danced around the forest alone on an island untouched by man, guarded by heavy forces of magic. She protected the will of fairies and the sources of time. One day, the shield guarding the forest broke. A band of corsairs slashed their way through the dense greenery in search of a plethora of magic jewels. Instead, what they stumbled upon was worth much more than any coffer full of gold or silver. Standing in front of Sarek’s gaze was a woman draped in white, her hair of silver and skin of ice. She danced with the younger fairies of the forest. In his greed, he was smitten; he ordered his men to take her and everything she had. She fell prey. Tears shed down her smooth cheek; she pleaded ‘to take her instead, leave her domain in peace, and they shall be granted with what they desired most’. They complied with her request, binding her in rope, leading her into a world not of her own. She gazed into the eyes of a man whose greed was far more than his ambition; his appearance was—

I jolted from my seat upon hearing my phone’s ringtone; looking at the number, I recognised it was my mum. I picked up the phone, holding it to my ear. I was expecting a ‘Hello, aren’t you going to tell me about your day?’ or ‘You didn’t ring me yesterday; how did you go?’.

I picked up the phone with a “Hi—mo—uh mom”, I said with a slight stutter.

“Y/n, oh, it’s good to hear your voice; I was nearly worried you weren’t going to pick up yesterday,” she said in a high-engaging tone.

“Yeah, sorry I was bus—”.

“So? How was it?” She sounded excited, yet I forgot what happened.

“Was what?” I replied, confused.

“The ballet lessons, the one you attended yesterday.” Once I remembered, the thought sank in; I hadn’t told her these were private lessons.

“O-oh, the lessons, yeah, it’s excellent; I’ve made many connections already.” My lips curved into a smile, trying to make my voice sound sincere.

“Excellent! See what I told you? You're already shining brightly”. I smiled to myself; hearing her words made me feel heartened.

“So, tell me, what’s the instructor like? Is he supportive of you? I know you have trouble speaking to people, and I want to make sure—”

“He’s fine, Mom. He’s—” I pause for a moment, thinking back to the time I met him in that room alone. When our eyes met, I didn’t flinch nor look away. His eyes were like ice, and his hair was like snow; it ignited something I hadn’t remembered in a long time.

“Different.” That was all I could respond with.

“Is he cute?” She asked. I nearly flushed with embarrassment, feeling my cheeks red like a beet.

“What?! N-No! N-not in that way” Where did that come from? Did she really expect me to say yes?

“Oh, I suppose he might be too old for you; what about the guys in your class? Are they any good-looking?” she responded.

“I don’t know; I hadn’t noticed.” I wanted to end this conversation as quickly as possible.

“Oh, hm, well, what about the girls? Surely there are some good-looking girls there too”.

“W-What!” I was flabbergasted.

“I’d be accepting either way—”.

I replied, “Currently, I’m—fine with just me, myself and I”.

That answer had seemed to satisfy her for now.

“Oh, well—of course, if that’s what you're happy with, I’m just happy you're getting out there and speaking to someone. That’s a massive achievement, and I’m so proud of you for that!” she sounded happy, at least.

I sighed deeply. “Thank you”.

“Baby steps, that’s all it takes”, was her final response before I hung up the phone. Sometimes, despite them being my parents, I stumble over my words, even speaking over the phone.

I sighed, gazing at the time. I had no idea that my first lesson was only for an hour. I wouldn’t mind being there early; it was better than falling asleep. What am I saying? I’d much rather sleep! I recall Mr. Oropherion saying he wished me to be there precisely during the seventh hour. Man, the way he phrased it was weird. I quickly rose from my desk, grabbed what I needed, grabbed my car keys, and changed into yesterday's outfit. I should probably stop by to find a leotard, a tutu, or even a pair of pointe shoes. Once I was prepared, I dashed to the car. Making my way through the door leading outside, the cold air hit me; the temperature must’ve dropped vastly since it was dark out. It was nearly seven, after all. To my stupidity, I forgot to park the car inside. Shit, shit, shit, the cars frosted. I panicked, quickly running back inside to grab my parker, zipping it up and then wrapping a scarf around me in the not-so-neatest way possible. I rushed into the kitchen and opened the lower drawer beneath my stove to grab the pan with a deep bottom. I turned on the water quickly, adjusting the temperature to lukewarm. I filled the pan, aiming to get it as full as possible. I tried to walk slowly yet hastily without spilling the water; once outside, I made my way to the car windows, pouring the water slowly. Each one dissolved; I was careful, at least, to make sure it wasn’t hot. I used the sleeve of my parker to rub away what remained of the frost. The frost hadn’t wholly dissolved, but it was enough to see. Quickly, I ran back inside to place the pan back on my kitchen bench. Shit, oh shit, oh shit, I’m going to be late! Coming out of my house, I made it to the car, yet I forgot to lock the front door—I pressed my hands against my forehead, feeling the stupidity rise within me. I sloshed through the snow, heading to the front door to lock it and then back to the car door.

I finally entered and opened the white car door, thank God. I backed out of the parking lot and drove toward where I needed to go. As I drove down, the snow fell heavily, and buildings passed by, turning to blurry visions as I drove further into the distance. It took half an hour to get there, but at least I would make it, I hope. I went to the same car park I had parked in yesterday and turned off the engine. As I got out, I saw many buildings covered in snow. I took a second to look into the sky, feeling the tiny snowflakes touch my face. “Beautiful”, I muttered. I held out my hand; I wanted to feel it; to touch the fragile beauty. As one dropped from the sky, it landed perfectly in my hand. I curled my fingers, feeling the flake melt within my grasp. Such beauty yet fragility. I opened my hand to see it dissolved; my eyes softened at the sight. I can understand; if I were to fall freely, speak my mind, and show my true self, even if someone touched me, I’d melt within their grasp.

Suddenly, I heard someone’s footsteps behind me emitted with a laugh. I turned my head to see the on-coming sight of two ballerinas draped in blue and pink leotards topped with jackets. I recognised them from the class I accidentally stumbled into yesterday. I quickly turned my head, shut the car door, and began to walk briskly. I didn’t want to speak with them, not after how I made a fool of myself. My head lowered into the scarf as I looked down, trying to avoid eye contact. Hopefully, they’ll ignore me. I got to the entrance just in time, or so I thought; I could hear them trailing behind. In a panic, I opened the entrance glass door to the dance studio, walking swiftly up the stairs to where I needed to be. Whilst I walked up the stairs, I could hear them speaking; I didn’t tune in, keeping to myself and focusing on getting to the floor I needed to be. My legs picked up the pace as I heard them walking up. As I got to the fifth floor, I peeked over the side of the staircase railing. I could only see the top of their heads, one brunette and the other raven. I sighed deeply to myself; I realized I lied to Mom. I hated doing that, but—it made her happy in ignorance. Out of curiosity, I attempted to speak out to them, to say hello; perhaps then, I could feel proud of myself. “H-h-hi”, I uttered in a whisper. But before I knew it, they were gone; I was too late.

I couldn’t do it; I couldn’t speak. Why was it so damn hard? Why am I so afraid to show them—me? I could feel the tears prickling the corners of my eyes.

I rubbed the corner of my eyes, letting out a sniff. I needed to be strong, at least for the time being. As Mom said, ��It’s just baby steps; that’s all it takes.’ I took a deep breath in and exhaled; I made my way toward the empty dance studio I was before. It was nice and quiet, peaceful even, I couldn’t hear anyone. I unzipped my parker and took off my shoes. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the windows with blue curtains pulled over them. I wandered over toward the curtains hiding the tall glass windows. My hand reached out, feeling the cotton edge, I slowly pulled the blue curtains to the side. Looking outside, I was in awe; it showed the snowfall. As the tiny flakes gently fell against the window’s glass, I listened, hearing the gentle tapping against the glass. I backed up to the middle of the room, my train of thought departing as I watched the wonderous sight before me.

Suddenly, I heard a stern voice from behind my shoulder. “You're late”.

I quickly turned, only to notice Mr. Oropherion appear out of nowhere. Seriously, was he lurking around the corner watching me this whole time? Are there secret entrances so that he can purposefully remind me?

“I-I, apologies, Mr. Oropherion, I—” Damn it, I can’t even gather my words!

“You’re precisely five minutes past the hour; I presume you have a gift for tardiness”, he spoke coldly.

Is he serious? Why is he treating me as if I’m an hour late? Don’t tell me I’m in trouble for only being five minutes late.

My eyes narrowed, and I could feel my breath slowing down. I didn’t make eye contact with him, but I could hear his footsteps walking from behind me.

“We begin with the simple plie, a simple move you can surely manage,” he said in a clear, deep voice.

My head stooped low; I could only see his feet moving toward the barre attached to the mirrors. I followed suit, raising my left arm and gripping the wooden barre. “Start bending your knees; move your right foot over here” He placed his leg next to the side of my foot, pushing it gently into the correct position. I didn’t pull my leg away, even though I wanted to. As he corrected it, I gazed down, still avoiding eye contact. As I was in position, I closed my eyes, trying to bend my knees and drown out the idea of someone behind me. “No, you’re bending too far”, he softly muttered. As he approached, my breathing grew heavier. He didn't seem to notice, but I felt my chest rise and fall deeply. I froze in place, not knowing what to do. I didn’t want to look at him; I didn’t want to look up. I didn’t want to show him me! I muttered in a whisper, “P-please d-don—”. I felt his hands touch my waist lightly to guide me.

However, I yelled, stumbling back.

I felt like a deer in headlights; my eyes widened as I gasped for air. Mr. Oropherion stared in confusion, more-so, bewilderment; his hands were left hovering. “You do realise my intent was not of ill purpose; do not mistake me for one with a sickening mind”, he spoke cautiously, not wanting to increase the situation.

I covered my face with my hands, feeling foolish. My head stooped low, wanting to hide my tearful gaze. “I’m so sorry. Oh god, I thought I could do this, but I can’t. I’m so afraid, I’m so afraid.”

He approached slowly, maintaining his icy gaze. “Afraid of what?” he questioned in an austere manner.

“Speaking—talking—Showing myself to the world”, my voice cracked.

“I—'m afraid of what they’ll think, of what they’ll see”, I admitted.

He stayed silent, just as I suspected; he wasn’t fazed. I mean, why should he be? After all, I’m just a random person he met a day ago, someone spewing out all this inner turmoil.

I didn’t expect him to respond, and his answer wasn’t what I expected.

“We are not all born with perfection; there are those of us who have been bruised by imperfection. If you dwell too much in fear, it will overtake you, sending afoul things within your mind to come forth and surface. Whether you wish to remain trapped within it or face it to make a difference, is your decision,” he advised.

Even though his words weren’t the most comforting, he held a point. The first time I saw him yesterday, I gazed into the eyes of a man who rekindled a moment I thought was lost. A time I didn’t live in fear, a time I could look into the eyes of another being and speak freely. If I could do it then, I can do it now.

I lifted my hands away from my face, revealing my sorrowful eyes—the eyes of a fearful bird. I turned to his gaze, trying not to look down, showing my irises. His narrowed eyes slightly raised. I stood upright as my breaths slowed. My almond eyes relaxed at the sight of him. Perhaps, if I aim to speak to him again like before, I can train myself to speak to others. I took the time to gather the words I wanted to say. Inhaling slowly, I spoke the words I wanted to say. “M-Mr Oropherion, I d-don’t want to be a-afraid anymore, I w-want to be free”.

His icy eyes lowered. “Well, well, it seems the little bird has learnt to spread her wings once more; however, little bird, you shan’t take flight just yet, for it will take time to heal your wounds, but I shall teach you”.

I inhaled deeply, allowing myself to grab hold of the barre and stand straight. I tried to bend my knees again, yet he wasn’t satisfied. He moved closer to guide me; this time, my head turned to meet his gaze. His hands hovered just where my waist was. I maintained eye contact for a moment before turning to the front as if permitting him. His slender hands touched my waist lightly; I could feel him pushing me up only slightly and then down. “Hold that position; ensure that your knees are bent until they are over your thumbs.” He muttered. I could feel the pressure of trying to keep my balance.

“This next move is a Grande plie. Lower yourself and lift your heels off the ground.” His hands gently pushed me lower on the ground, my heels lifted slightly as I was told. As he lowered me, I glanced into the mirror, falling silent.

I saw my eyes with eyebags beneath them, the same hair falling to my shoulders, and my lips; however, this time, something was different. Something changed. Something made a difference. In the mirror, there were two, two people.

A small smile faintly formed on my lips.

For once, I wasn’t alone.

#thranduil x reader #thranduil #the hobbit #thranduil fanfic #the hobbit au #modern thranduil #modern thranduil au #thranduil x you #the hobbit x reader #thranduil oropherion x reader #thranduil oropherion #thranduil fluff #thranduil angst

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justafairytailofinnocence · 12 days

Text

Modern Thranduil x reader

Caged birds with broken wings

Synopsis: An antisocial, anxious writer in her early 20s attends a ballet class under the teachings of a mysterious, reserved, austere dance instructor. They form an unlikely within their solace and past.

warnings: mentions of blood

A/n: This fanfic doesn't follow along the lines of the hobbit but rather a loosely spin-off au that only uses some characters. I do not own the right to them as they are Tolkien's characters and I respect his creation. (even if the characters might be ooc). Feel free to comment, reblog and like. Let me know if you'd like a chapter 2.

Chapter 1: A dance with tardiness

Chapter 2: The first lessons of beginnings

#thranduil x reader #the hobbit au #thranduil x y/n #thranduil #modern thranduil #thranduil fanfic #the hobbit #thranduil oropherion #thranduil moodboard #thranduil x you #thranduil oropherion x reader #lord of the rings

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justafairytailofinnocence · 12 days

Text

Modern Thranduil x anxious reader

Caged birds with broken wings

Chapter 1:

A Dance with tardiness

Warnings: mentions of blood

Chapter 2

I tended to daydream often, more so when I listened to the music. The tune and tone of the song that played one after the other sent me to the realms I immersed; typically, anyone would daydream into another realm far better than their own: a princess, pirate, elf, fae—anything. My imagination is my realm of comfort, a sealed bubble that I can freely roam however I wish. Unfortunately, within fantasy, we must face reality. Within my reality, I’m not much of an importance, at least not one to have a whole written memoir about. I’m more of one of those faces you’d pass by in the street or grocery store, not giving any second thought to. Though I’d prefer it that way, I’m not much of a talker but rather a writer; I’m more fluent in my words than my speaking. Every attempt I’ve made, I’ve stumbled or become still; my chest would rise heavily and lower deeply. I always asked how people can do it, how they can speak—talk—communicate like it’s a piece of cake. I’d rather shroud myself in my isolation than speak to another living being.

At my desk, in my somewhat clean apartment, I was planning my next latest story in a saga of 3 books. So far, I’ve managed to get in contact with a publishing company via email who were willing to get behind the idea of a feature-length young-adult romance novel, a romance novel about a pirate king and a fae queen. The first chapter was still relatively underdeveloped, yet I’m willing to spend an entire day finishing it. I had only five months to publish the entire chapters. I’ve been a fantasy fan ever since I was a child. To me, fantasy is what the word impossible turned into possible. For ten years, I’ve been writing, and never once has it stripped me of what I truly adore.

Whilst my fingers pressed against the keys on my keyboard, I received a text message on my phone from the side of my desk surrounded by papers. It was from my mom, who was wondering about my well-being. As always, I respond with the usual ‘everything’s going well—I’m pumping out new chapters for my new novel, ‘A Puncture in Time’, you know—the one with pirates and fantasy, new chapters soon to come ;)’. Even though she’s smart enough to see through my little façade, she writes back, ‘Hey listen, I know it’s hard right now, but I can assure you, things will get better; it just takes practice; I know you’ll meet someone you’ll find it easy to talk to’. I sighed heavily; within her words, I have faith, yet doubt. Should I choose to believe her, bite the bullet and try to speak up or wallow in a lie that can send her mind at ease? Before I wrote back, she sent a post with a link. I furrowed my brows as curiosity swelled my thoughts, my finger tapped the link. It was an ad. An ad for ballet classes. I thought it odd why she would send me something like this: I’m no dancer; I’m certainly no ballerina.

I replied with a question mark ‘?’.

A message bubble popped up: ‘…’ I awaited her reply.

As she was still typing, I took the liberty of glancing through the ad quickly. The tab loaded with a cursive font in bold ‘Les danseuses se réjouissent’. Scrolling past the stock images of ballet dancers, I came across a small section of different levels offered: beginner, Intermediate, and advanced. My mind raced with doubt; I had no experience in ballet, at least not since I was a young child. I wondered to myself, ‘Do I really want to take this? After all, I’m not exactly one for groups’. However, my mind was put at ease when my eyes came across an option for ‘one-on-one private lessons’. At least, I wouldn’t be with people who were far more experienced—let alone a group; the thought of many eyes staring at me—would have my heart sink. As I clicked the option, I was astounded; there were no reviews, pictures, or even a description of the instructor. I was sceptical. Surely, if you were to teach a class, you’d have at least a brief introduction of yourself. Even as an author, I have a concise introduction in my publications. I lightly sighed, weighing my options; on the one hand, it’ll please my mom, get me out of the apartment, and keep me fit; on the other hand, despite being private, I’m meeting someone I don’t know. Who knows what this person’s intention is, even if it’s for a class.

Finally, I heard a ‘ding’ as she replied, ‘Please try, at least for me; it’ll be good for your health, and you once mentioned you wanted to be a ballerina. I know the world isn’t always what we want it to be, but I know you can make it shine; I’ve seen it in your novels; give this a chance, give them a chance, to show them how you can shine, because I know you’ll be the brightest star there :).’

My eyes softened as I read every word; I couldn’t deny she had a way of getting through to me. She was always a caring woman, along with my dad. They were the only two people I could speak to without pressure or the weight in my chest.

I pressed back onto the tab with the private lessons. I clicked to see the booking dates—there’s an option to book for tomorrow, and the price is only $45 per lesson. For the price, it wasn’t too bad; yet still expensive. I filled in the details required to send the booking through, yet my finger hovered as I was about to press ‘confirm’. My mind came to a tussle of thoughts and hesitations; this would be the first time, in a long time, that I would speak face-to-face with an actual living being. However, I recalled Mom's words, ‘Because I know you’ll be the brightest star there’.

Breathing in—I pushed it, I pressed confirm.

I did it. I’m going to attend a ballet class. My head slowly lowers onto my desk, surrounded by papers. My hair dangled over my forehead. The adrenaline that reached the height of my mentality came crashing down. It’s like going on a rollercoaster you didn’t ask for, coming from the highest point of the rail down to the pit below. I start to feel light-headed. I want to sleep. I want to stay here. Perhaps I’ve made a mistake. What if this doesn’t work out?

I rose slowly from my desk chair, picked up my phone, and texted, ‘I’ve booked lessons for tomorrow…I hope you're right about this.’

I watched as once more, awaiting her response, ‘…’

‘Oh, I’m so happy, you’ll fit right in, I know it :)’ she texted.

I didn’t respond. She’s pleased, at least.

I decided to call it a night; I’ve had enough pressure for one day. I logged off, cleaned the papers on my desk, pushed them into a neat-ish pile and headed to the bathroom to shower. As I opened the door, I went inside to set down my pyjamas by the medium-small bathtub’s acrylic side rim. My bathroom isn’t big exactly, but neither is it small. It’s moderate for what it was: a bathtub, shower, toilet, sink, and a medium-sized mirror in the same room. It’s not precisely palace material, but it helps soothe my thoughts. I held my hand out as I turned on the shower, feeling the trickling water against my skin. The temperature quickly changed from cold to warm in just five seconds. Once I was satisfied, I stripped bare, sliding my long-sleeved green shirt off and sliding my darker tracksuit pants. I tossed my unmentionables inside the bathtub. I stepped inside the shower, allowing the warm water to run freely down my skin. I shut the shower enough to have a slit entrance still. I grabbed the soap, rubbing it over my skin, arms, legs, and body. I splashed water on my face as the water rinsed the suds away. I hovered my hands in my eyesight, glancing closer at my fingers. I could see the redness and patches from where I’d picked my skin; it’s a habit I developed since childhood. The habit would annoy Mom, often whispering or saying straight, “Stop picking”, even touching my hand to remind me. Unfortunately, this habit hasn’t subsided; I sometimes even look at my skin with little care, picking the cuticles or rough patches.

Once I finished scrubbing my body with soap, I turned off the water and opened the shower door to step onto the bathmat. I grabbed a towel from the single towel rack located beside the shower. I dried my body, running the towel over my skin. As I wrapped the towel around my body, I glanced at my face in the mirror above the sink. They say eyes are the most expressive in emotion. My narrowed, pinkish lips thinned.

I snapped out of my gaze, continuing to slip on my long blue pants decorated in owl prints, then, the next, a long-sleeve top with the basic purple on them topped with a giant owl embroidered in the front area. Owls have always resonated with me, whether it's their symbolism or captivating beauty. I placed the towel on the side of the bathtub’s rim. I picked up my previous clothes and took it into my bedroom. My bedroom was also medium sized, having a queen-sized bed and an oaken cupboard with a mirrored wardrobe. My room was decorated with tiny figurines I’d collect overtime, albeit from movies I’ve fancied or books. I placed the clothes in my hamper basket behind my door. My body relaxed when my eyes lingered toward my bed, the messy, deep blue sheets draped to the left side. I dismissed the thought of tucking them in for the time being, only plonking myself onto the mattress and wrapping myself within the single cotton sheets and doona drifting off.

Dreaming is the easy part, letting what visions came to my mind run wild. Sometimes, it’s suitable for inspiration, but other times, it's nightmares. The imagination is still enchanting, although, this time, it was peculiar. I was in a birdcage decorated with gold; the entrance was bolted shut; my hands gripped the golden rods holding the cage together. I tried to scream but to no avail. I tried to shake the cage, yet I was too small to provoke movement. My body lowered, feeling the coldness of the metal plate below. I had nothing but rosy ribbon pointe shoes. I suddenly felt myself, in no control, rise as though my limbs were attached to strings. I started to dance, my arms and legs stretching to fit the perfect movements. Eventually, I stopped mid-movement, standing on one leg while extending the other behind. I couldn’t move; I was frozen in place. I could do nothing but shut my eyes.

Suddenly, I woke up; my eyes fluttered open from the confusion I had just endured. Rising from the bed, I pondered for a few seconds. ‘What on earth did I dream about?’. My hands pressed against my face, trying to comprehend my dream and reality. I pulled the sheets off me and got up for the morning. A typical morning for me results in the usual routine: dressing, brushing my teeth and hair, and then looking forward to what the day offers me. Until I remembered that I had booked that class. I typically picked out green tracksuit pants with a white singlet, hoping that would suffice. I picked up my purse and headed out the door to my car. I entered inside, placing my purse in the front seat as I turned on the white car. I noticed outside that it started to snow. Snow is beautiful, especially the little snowflakes that fall into your hand and dissolve upon touch.

As the car started, I prepared to drive to wherever it was that awaited me. The location was further from where I lived; it must’ve been at least twenty-eight minutes. The drive wasn’t particularly bothersome for me; when you live in New York, you get used to the traffic.

As I drove, the snowflakes emerged in more significant numbers. Eventually, I found parking just next to the side of a café. I wasn’t aware if it was for the staff or guests. However, it seemed empty with only a few cars, so—if I get called out on it, I’ll move my car. No one seemed to notice, so I assumed I was okay. I grabbed my black parker from the back and zipped it up. Exiting the car, I stopped to admire the snow falling for a few seconds. It was January 4th, so the snow season was still here. My hands shoved in my pockets, beginning to wander toward where I needed to be. According to the ad, it was building ‘52’; it was vague, I know, but it was the details given. I trudged through the snow, seeing building after building, until I came across something with the number ‘52’, where I needed to be. My hand gripped the gold-looking handle attached to the glass door. As I entered, I came upon a staircase; I took one step after the other. I quickly glanced at the ad to see what floor it was on, yet to no avail. Was it the ‘4th floor? Oh god, oh god, please don’t resort to me asking someone. My fingers started to twitch; I raised one of my fingertips to my lips, feeling the rough patches. My thumb started scraping off the first layer, and small blood trickles formed. I ran my fingers over my lips again as I trailed up the stairs. I could feel my chest becoming heavier, my mind swell with thoughts of self-doubt. Suddenly, the anxiety soon started to subside as my eyes saw the sight of a door. My fingers hesitantly wrapped around the door handle; I took one breath in, trying to be brave. I pushed it open—only for my worst nightmare to come to life.

My breathing became heavier, my heart sank, my eyelids widened, and I could feel myself hyperventilating. There was a group of ballerinas staring directly at me. There must’ve been at least four? Five? Looking my way! Their ages varied, going into their late 20s.

The one brunette asked in French “es-tu perdu, cherches quelqu’un”.

I couldn’t concentrate; my mind dwelled with clouded thoughts of judgment. I pressed my finger against my lip, trying to feel the rough patches.

Another asked in English, “My friend asked if you’re searching for someone”.

Quickly, my eyes diverted to the ground, avoiding their gaze. “I-I-, pr-viate, less-on”. I stumbled over my words.

“Lessons? Private lessons?” the girl spoke once more.

I nodded, avoiding eye contact.

As I quickly glanced, a middle-aged woman in her mid-forties stepped closer; I assumed she was the dance teacher. “Are you referring to the private dance lessons advertised? the one taught by Mr. Oropherion?”.

I paused for a moment, trying to gather my words. Mr Oropherion? Is he the teacher I’m with?

“I-Is. This. Right. Floor.” I tried to sound out the right words, but it was impossible. Perhaps my conscience was right; perhaps this was a terrible idea.

The middle-aged woman, confused, pointed toward the direction I needed to go. “you’ll need to head up one more level, then head to your right” Her voice was calm with a hint of soprano.

Still avoiding eye contact, I left, not even saying thank you, focusing on wanting to escape. I closed the door in front and let out a heavy breath. My head lowered to touch the tip of my hands. I wanted to melt in that moment; I wanted nothing more than to return home. However, I reminded myself that I was doing this for Mom. I breathed in once more, looking up at the door; my hands quickly released, and I began to walk quickly, edging further up the stairs. My mind came crashing down, feeling the dreariness wash over me. Feeling tired, I finally, at last, came across the door I needed to be. It was blank, the painted white withering away around the edges. My hand reached the doorknob, feeling the roundness, turning it slightly. I could feel the adrenaline kick in. I was hesitant, but my nerves started to build.

I started to whisper to myself, “Just a general hello, that’s all it takes—

You're doing this for Mom—

Give them a chance to show them how I can shine; give them a chance to see who I am because I’ll be the brightest star there”.

I breathed in, closing my eyes and opening the door. As I tried to force my eyes open, I was confused. There was no one here. It was an empty space surrounded by mirrors with bar beams attached to them. My eyes scanned the room, yet no one was there. I suppose I should be relieved, maybe the teacher had caught a sickness and decided to ditch the whole class. I wandered further inside; I might as well take a quick peek. I unzipped my black parker with a furry hood, tossed it on the coat hanger and took off my shoes, leaving my white socks on. I stood in the middle of the dance room, embracing the quiet ambience. I looked in the mirrors, reflecting my figure. Was this even what ballerinas wear? Who even is Mr. Oropherion? If he doesn’t show up in the next 15 minutes, I’m heading off and not returning.

Perhaps Aelwynn, the fae queen in my novel, would’ve also been able to dance freely and eloquently in movement. I still wonder what would entrance the pirate king Sarek Salazar. I never pictured him to be devilishly handsome, though. I suppose Aelwynn would be a beauty, but there must be more to it—beauty can only go so far in their bond; what would their obstacles or hardships be? Perhaps the fae queen is somewhat intertwined with difference, the opposite of a fairytale. Aelwynn is fair, kind, beautiful and strong; she meets all the criteria for something otherworldly, yet what if Sarek is her opposite, a beast? No—What if he was average, a gross-looking thing? Pirates are anyway; what if he wasn’t powerful, just an average man with greed—and the dynamic changes, challenging Sarek to choose between the love of his life or treasure?

Or he would choose—

Suddenly, I heard a male voice emit behind me: “You best have a thorough explanation, girl. Do not even think about squandering my precious time.”

My breathing became heavier as I realized someone was speaking to me. I did not turn around; I was afraid to. Instead, I avoided eye contact, too paralysed to move. My head stooped low, and my hands stood to the side. He spoke again, “Clearly, you are here for a reason, are you not? I’ll admit your intrusion is rather fatuous.”

I didn’t glance up; I couldn’t look; I needed time to gather the words to explain. What should I say? Hey, sir, some ballerinas told me to come here, and I fear speaking to people.

“I see you have a mouth; that means you must have a tongue. Go on, speak.” His voice was deep and tranquil, composed yet icy.

I took a deep breath in, slowly turning around. As my legs moved, I slowly gathered the courage to look into the man’s eyes, even if I muttered a ‘hello’. It would be enough. As my head glanced up to meet his, I noticed his appearance.

He—was like—something out of a fairytale. His face was lean and chiselled; his eyes were like ice; his blueish-greyish irises complemented his cold gaze. His hair tressed down like water reaching his chest, light like snow. Whilst his skin was pale in comparison, a fair tone in colour. His attire seemed far more affluent than mine, donning a black trench coat with white underneath. His trousers complimented the darkness of his coat, and his black loafers were polished. I glanced at his right finger, an oval-shaped ring with a diamond glass stone crafted in sterling silver.

“Did you hear me not the first-time girl?” his tone turned stern.

My mouth moved, finally finding the words to speak. “H-hello, I’m Y/n”.

“y/n?” he muttered.

My eyes glanced downward once more as I slowly nodded.

“So, you have a voice after all, pray, tell. Why are you lingering in my domain?” he said shortly.

I muttered “private lessons”, though my voice sounded like a whisper.

“Ah, so you’ve seen the ad; I suppose you haven’t wasted our time after all, although you are five minutes late; I expect punctuality, to be exactly on time at the hour.” His voice sounded stern once more.

Well gee, it’s not like it’s my first time here, and gotten lost. My eyes still avoided his; I couldn’t look up, so I nodded.

He didn't react when I avoided his gaze, dismissing it. However, he commented on something else: “Your posture is lamentable. Stand up straighter like so.” The tip of his finger lightly touched my chin, lifting it to meet his gaze. I didn’t turn away precisely, yet I still flinched. My breathing slowed down as I once more met his gaze. His eyes narrowed, and his lips thinned.

“You stand there like a bird, wounded by the natures of evil, ignorant of the world’s knowledge, caged and sheltered from the shadows that lurk within the realm. Tell me, little bird, care to spread your wings?” I glanced at myself in the mirror, standing straighter. I could feel the flush in my cheeks, but I didn’t say anything, only breathing slowly.

His finger pulled away, and he turned his back to me, walking away.

“I expect to see you here tomorrow at exactly the seventh hour of the night”.

“Do not make me regret my decision, or you shall return to the cage from where you came, little bird”, He muttered.

With that, he walked out of the room, distancing himself further and further away. At that moment, I stood in disbelief for a few seconds, trying to understand what had happened. However, once my thoughts were collected, I gathered my things and scurried out of there, wanting nothing more than to enter my car. Once I exited the building, I was hit with the coldness in temperature as it touched my face.

I opened the car door, tossing my things in the back, turning the engine on. I looked back, trying to see the building to the left. As I drove, my thoughts were plagued with astonishment. I didn’t look away; I maintained eye contact for longer than three seconds, and—I managed to speak my name without stumbling over my words. My emotions displayed were as if I’d seen a ghost. Yet—his face—his appearance—it reminded me of snow; I always loved snow; even when I was a child, it was the happiest of my memories. I recall when my parents took me to the park; I was fascinated by the sight of the winter wonderland, my face lighting up with delight and laughing with joy. I always find that snow rekindles the fond memories I have.

Perhaps Mom was right after all; this might be the start of something I’ve never been able to do. Talk.

#thranduil au #thranduil x you #thranduil #thranduil oropherion #the hobbit au #the hobbit #thranduil fanfic #lord of the rings #thranduil ballet au #thranduil headcanon #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil x reader #thranduil oropherion x reader

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justafairytailofinnocence · 3 months

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hi, when will requests be open again!

Hello dear, unfortunately I'm not sure at this stage. I may open it in the near future. Thanks for asking 🙂

#thanks for reading

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justafairytailofinnocence · 3 months

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Hello everyone,

Thank you all for a great year and a wonderful time for helping me get to where I am in terms of writing. As of late, I haven't been as active as I wanted to—or would've liked to. I had so much fun seeing everyone's great ideas and considerate posts on my works, even on my old cringy ones, lol.

Unfortunately, all good things do come to an end. It's completely normal for many people to move on to new things and create something new. I've come to that conclusion. In the past, I had a fun time learning new things in writing and seeing new ideas flog to my head. The greatest thing to a writer is making their readers feel; smile, cry, or laugh even at the most ridiculous of my silly little scenarios, grammar mistakes, and characters 🤣.

That—to me—is the greatest part of storytelling, seeing readers connect and feel over a story.

I've come to terms—as sad as it may be—I'm no longer going to be active on this account anymore. The many struggles of writing are motivation, and I'm among the many who have been unfortunate enough to have this. However, this doesn't mean I'm giving up my passion for writing.

I hoped to have one day brought a smile on someone's face as they read my silly little words. That's all I could ask for.

This account will stay up. You may read every work I've put out there as many times as you wish.

It's been a great journey, and I wish you all the best, my dear readers~.

#goodbye everyone #thanks alot #fanfiction #writers #writing #writing fanfiction #fanfics #fanfic

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justafairytailofinnocence · 4 months

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Mirroring dance

A/n: Hello, I've finally returned to write. Yay! I have had this lingering idea for a while now, and I wanted to write it. However, I'm stuck on which character to use, so I'm putting a vote out there to see which character shall feature in the x reader.

Synopsis:

At midnight, a mysterious dimension appeared in the mirror of a person whose name is represented by y/n. She stepped inside and found herself in a room with a ball. She was only wearing her pyjamas, not a fancy gown or laced dress. In the ballroom, she met a mysterious stranger wearing royal attire, and they danced freely as they wished throughout the night.

Which character would you like to see written:

#fanfiction #harry potter #house of the dragon #dracula #labyrinth #lord of the rings #the hobbit #x reader #twilight

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justafairytailofinnocence · 5 months

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are you doing any requests for characters based on Christmas themes!

Hi dear,

I will be planning on doing them soon. I have a lot of requests to get through, but at the moment, this week is put on hold due to me needing to finish up my studies. I can't guarantee a certain time frame of when, but I will most certainly get to them once done 🙂😁

#anon ask

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justafairytailofinnocence · 7 months

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Thanks, I really love it. I'll let you know if I ask for another request on him 😍!

🦸‍♂️- anon

Of course, it was definitely interesting to write 🙂

#thanks for the request

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justafairytailofinnocence · 7 months

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Plot: (Flashback: June, 2023: Somewhere in "Lynchburg, Va" during a mission to stop: The Toddler, The Time Jerker, and Dr. Minyak from stealing from the "Target" store Captain Man was seen talking to a beautiful waitress who works at "Starbucks' Cafe" during her shift Captain Man flirts with her a bit and asked if she'd be interested in going out on a date with him sometime and gave her his number before getting called away by his sidekick: Kid Danger in order to remind him about the mission. Flashback Ended)

Present Day: (September: 2023) In "Swellview" Captain Man was setting up a romantic dinner of the reader's favorite dishes (Fettuccine Alfredo Pasta, Healthy bowl of Salad, Breadsticks, and a glass of Ice cold Water) in the "Man Cave". After being picked up by Captain Man's assistant: Schwoz in the Man-Copter bringing her back to Swellview Captain Man welcomed the reader to his hometown giving her a bouquet of blue roses which flattered the reader, during dinner the reader told Captain man about her dream to explore, see the World and becoming a Fashion Designer, after dinner Captain Man flirts with the reader and surprises her with her favorite DQ ice cream cake (Chocolate Cookie crunch) for dessert. Before Schwoz could escort the reader back to Lynchburg, Va Captain Man makes the first move by telling the reader that he's in love with her as he shares a passionate kiss with the reader (this was the reader's First Kiss) which made her blush as they quickly became a couple making it a long distance relationship between them!

Details: The reader lives in Lynchburg, va who's studying to be a fashion designer, she's works as a waitress at Starbucks cafe, she's a vegetarian, she's a skilled martial artist, her favorite color is Blue, her favorite flowers are Blue Orchids, She loves animals, loves to read, her dream is to explore, see the World, and be a Fashion Designer. She dislikes: Chewing gum, High heels shoes, clowns, trapped in small spaces, having nightmares, needle shots, drowning, being alone. She doesn't drink any kind of alcohol!

Hello dear, apologies if this rather short, I ran out of time and had only a small amount to write this, but I hope this is enough.

Happy birthday to the dear anon who requested this. 🎂🎂🎂

Captain Man x waitress reader A date with a hero 🦸☕

Flashback:

Within the lush city of Lynchburg in Virginia, Captain Man and Kid Danger were on a mission to stop the Toddler, The Time Jerker and Dr. Minyak. They had a ravishingly, devilish, brilliant plan to steal from Target. The three had joined an alliance. However, just as Captain Man and Kid Danger were locating their target, they stopped briefly in Starbucks to devise a plan to stop their evil foes. Many civilians outside were still unaware of the dangerous situation. “We located the signal of our targets, at well—target”, Kid Danger reported to Captain Man. “Excellent work, Kid Danger, just—” His voice trailed off at the sight of an extraordinary beauty. She wore the Starbucks uniform, her hair flowed freely with ease as she walked, and her eyes sparkled joyfully. Captain Man had gotten distracted and approached the beautiful waitress serving drinks and food. “Hey, couldn’t help but notice heaven’s missing an angel”, Ray winked with a flirtatious smirk. “Hm, nice try, sorry buddy, my shift hasn’t ended yet”, the waitress smirked. “Well, I imagine a woman like you is worth the wait.” He flirted.

“Aren’t you captain man, the hero of small view?” the waitress asked.

“Yes, yes I am.” He smiles heroically “, the one and only, and you are?”.

“Y/n, L/n”, the waitress smiles dreamily.

“If you’re ever interested, I’m available at anytime, anywhere; here’s my number.” Captain Man leaned against the wall, putting his hand behind his head. “Captain, the mission, we’ve gotta go” Kid Danger said annoyed by Captain Man’s “distraction”.

“Well, if you ever in danger, you know who to call” Captain Man smiled in a flirtatious remark.

Present day:

Captain Man, whose real name is Ray Manchester, was busy preparing for a special date that he had planned months in advance. He had decided to cook a delicious meal consisting of Fettuccine Alfredo Pasta, a healthy salad, breadsticks, and a glass of cold water. To ensure everything was perfect, his assistant Schworz had been tasked with organizing transportation for his date, Miss Y/N, via the man-copter. As Captain Man was finishing the meal, he couldn't help but feel excited about the evening ahead.

The man cave had been tidied up, and everything was in its proper place. The table was set with an air of romance, with candlelight and a beautiful vase filled with blue orchids as the center piece. As Captain Man heard the man-copter descending, he couldn't help but feel his heart racing with anticipation. Fortunately, the elevator functioned correctly and made it safely to the ground floor.

As Miss Y/N stepped out of the man-copter, Captain Man greeted her with something special behind his back. He approached her flirty and offered her a bouquet of blue roses, saying, "For you, the rose of my eye," with a charming wink. Miss Y/N was wearing a stunning dress that she had designed, which only added to the magic of the evening.

As Captain Man pulled out Y/n’s chair to allow her to sit, the two started to have dinner. Y/n thought she would explain her future dream. “I’ve always wanted to explore the world, to see the world and become a fashion designer”, she heartfeltly said. “I’ve wanted to be one since I was 10; fashion is my passion”. Ray admired Y/N's passion and commitment to her dream. Suddenly, he surprised her with a platter of chocolate cookie crunch ice cream cake, which excited her. As they finished, y/n, to her dismay was rather sad to go. Schwoz arrived in a sleek man-copter, the blades whirring loudly as it hovered over the landing pad. Y/n couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness as she prepared to leave her new friends and the exciting city behind. However, her departure was interrupted by Captain Man, who pulled her aside for a private conversation.

As he looked into her eyes, he confessed his feelings for her. "Y/n, I hope you don't mind me saying this, but I've had my eyes on you since the moment we met. I know our time together was short, but I feel like there's something special between us. I've fallen for you, and I can't stop thinking about you."

Y/n felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment, but also with a sense of excitement. She had never had anyone confess their feelings to her so boldly before. Before she could respond, Ray pulled her into a sudden, passionate kiss. It was her first kiss, and it left her breathless and dizzy.

As they said their goodbyes and she climbed into the man-copter, y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of longing in her heart. Even though they were separated by distance, she and Captain Man kept in touch as often as they could. And every time he looked at the blue orchids, she had given him as a parting gift, he thought back on the time they spent together and wondered what the future held for them. Despite the presence of Kid Danger and the constant danger they faced, y/n and Captain Man remained connected by a deep, unspoken bond.

Anyways that's all I have for now:

Ta Ta✨

#captain man x reader #captain man oneshot #captain man #Ray Manchester x reader

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justafairytailofinnocence · 7 months

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hi, I finally finished my plot and details let me know if you want any links for how things are described from the plot!

🦸‍♀️- Anon

Hello, I think that would help me greatly. Unfortunately, it won't be posted until tomorrow evening. I hope that's fine, but I'll try to write it up 🙂 before.

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justafairytailofinnocence · 8 months

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my birthday's on the 25th of September and I was wondering if I'll still have time to give you my plot and details for the x reader oneshot on this character (https://dangerverse.fandom.com/wiki/Ray_Manchester_(Captain_Man) )!

Hello, of course. If you send them in, I'll get it done by the 24th 😀.

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justafairytailofinnocence · 8 months

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will I still have to give you my plot and details for this character (https://dangerverse.fandom.com/wiki/Ray_Manchester_(Captain_Man) before the 25th of September!

Yes, please, that would be great 😊

#danger verse

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justafairytailofinnocence · 8 months

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Just out of curiosity, would you ever write for Captain Hook?

Hey dear 💖, I'm up for writing anything. It might be a wait, though, but if you send it in, I'll get to it 😊

#answered

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justafairytailofinnocence · 8 months

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James Norrington x male pirate reader? Maybe the pirate got caught by James, heading to the gallows, but James free them instead?

Hello dear, thanks for your request.

James Norrington x male pirate reader 🏴‍☠️⚔ A matter of time⚓

Synopsis: James frees someone from his past from the gallows

Warning: mention's of hanging

The prison of Port Royal was rustic and unkempt; all the cells were lined in an orderly set of rows. Many men within the cells screamed and cursed names that shan’t have been brought to light. The officers at the entrance door wore red regimental coats and white shirts. Over the shirts were cross belts and grey breeches held by braces. They both wore black naval tricorne hats whilst their long hair was tied back with black ribbons. They held their Brown Bess muskets upright, gazing at a man formerly walking down the hall. The man wore a blue, full-skirted royal naval uniform made of wool fitted with very deep boot cuffs. He wore a white powdered wig with a black tricorn adorned with white feathers around the top. He held his hands behind his back, looking stern yet pristine, ignoring the prisoner's squabbles. The two lower-ranked officers saluted him, allowing him passage. He kept walking past all the cells while the prisoners shouted, “Oi, get’s me outta ere’!”, “Aye, I’m beggin ya”, “Lad, Lad, I’ll give ye three shillings fer tha keys”. He scowled at the sight of them, ‘good-for-nothing filthy pirates’ he thought. Scoundrels that held no honour or morals did all they did was steal, pillage, plunder, and commit the most treasonous crimes. His hatred for pirates stemmed from his childhood, ever since his father taught him. He despises any mentions of their names; to think anyone foolish enough to become one deserves a short drop and sudden stop.

The commodore halted in front of a particular cell, his eyes gazing coldly at the pirate seated in the corner. “I trust you’ve saved your prayers, for you shall hang at the gallows on this day”, he spoke with a deep, strict voice. The pirate in question was relatively quiet, unlike the others, he held no regard to acknowledge the commodore's presence. He was quite an untidy fellow, his hair in a mess, wearing a brown tricorn clothed with a brown frock coat and poet blouse. He wore black pantaloons and brown boots for shoes. The commodore had no care if the buccaneer wished to speak or act like a rapscallion. He was set to hang. “Do keep you’re your spirits high Mr L/n, I do believe your worthless life might just end quicker after all”.

The pirate, in turn, glanced up at the austere man with cold eyes. It seemed unfounded how a man had a deep detestation over one's life because they deemed themselves pirates. Had he known what true freedom was, one might say he would turn too. “Aye, keep yer knickers on, I know tis be me day of death, least I get ta visit fiddlers green in the afterlife”. James sternly spoke, “I believe where you’ll wind up, they’ll be no ‘fiddlers green’ but only your sinful damnation”.

The commodore ordered the naval officers to drag this scoundrel to the gallows. “Before ye send me ter me grave in Davy Jones’s locker, I ask why ye betrayed em’ commodore”. The statement in general, made James curious and halted the officers from opening the cell. “And what business do you wish to pry of mine, Mr L/n”.

“Cutler be at large, and ye stand thar a prideful man tha betrayed sparrah’s crew, hell, ye betrayed er—”.

“Whatever nosy rumours you’ve heard of is none of your concern.” The commodore furrowed his brows as his voice grew harsher.

“Aye but tis is, fer I recall a lass and lad back on that island searching fer a coffer” The pirate’s voice grew louder. “Why, don’t-che remember James, I was thar when ye ran wit tha chest, I saw ye leave Jack, Will and Miss Swann”.

“Don’t!” James growled.

“Yer guilty, tis written in yer deadlights”. It was impossible to reason; the pirate was a part of Jack’s crew and had pledged his loyalty to the captain. However, it all changed when the commodore came along, looking like a lost sod. He was a mess in a heap; his rank had become soiled. How could y/n not care for him? He was lost at sea in his state of well-being, drunk. Over time the two had formed a kindred relationship; they both bonded over the loss of their adventures and their devotion to their loved ones—James with Elizabeth and Y/n with Jack. Everything was going well when James betrayed the crew and turned y/n in. Left and set to hang for dead.

Albeit twas y/n’s fault for falling into such a bittersweet lie. Indeed, y/n cared for the commodore more than he should have. Oh alas, and ruin, a man’s yearning heart set on the beating beauty for a lass he is not.

James inhaled and quickly exhaled, displaying a sign of annoyance. He ordered the guards to open the cell and drag y/n out. With both on each side with one arm latched roughly around y/n’s, they began to head toward the gallows—or what should’ve been that way.

Upon exiting the building, the gentle pitter-patter of raindrops could be heard around Y/N. The individual took a moment to inhale the refreshing scent of the precipitation, relishing in its natural aroma. The droplets cascaded down from the sky, creating a stunning display as they contacted the pavement and pooled into small puddles. Y/N couldn't help but feel immensely grateful for the opportunity to stand in place and bask in the mesmerising allure of the rain. As they moved, he savoured every moment of his freedom, relishing every breath of air inhaled and exhaled. Closing his eyes, he felt the raindrops caress his cheeks, cascading gently down his face. As the naval officers led him to the gallows, Y/n took in his surroundings with a sense of calm. His last breath left him, and he opened his eyes to the sight of the rolling sea, gently lapping against the docks of the bustling port. The sound of waves crashing against the shore was soothing to his ears, and he imagined himself on a grand galleon, sailing towards the mythical Fiddler's Green with the wind in his hair. The view of the vast horizon was breathtaking, and he took it all in as he walked towards his destination. Every adventure he had flashed before his eyes, Jack Sparrow, Joshamee Gibbs, Elizabeth Swann, Will Turner and—

James.

Suddenly, the naval officers stopped and pushed the rogue before them. Y/n opened his eyes, feeling disoriented by the new surroundings. He expected to see the gallows and an angry crowd chanting his name in hatred, but instead, he found himself somewhere else, without the Hempen Holter.

They stood by the wooden dock where a schooner was anchored. All the sailors were carrying cargo onboard. As Y/n swivelled around, they were met with a rather grave countenance on James' face. His hands were firmly clasped at his back, and his brows were knitted together in a manner that suggested deep concern. Y/n, perplexed by his demeanour, approached the admiral's chains that were still attached to their wrists and legs. "Care ta enlighten me, James? Are ye tryna hornswoggle me mind?” y/n asked. The admiral swiftly ordered the naval officers to be dismissed, leaving the two of them alone. James drew closer to Y/n and removed the chains from their arms and legs, freeing them from their constraints. Y/n exaggeratedly stretched his arms while moving his arms from side to side. “I must admit, yer surely an odd one James”.

James grasped y/n by his shoulders and revealed his true expression of genuine worry. “Quickly, you don’t have much time, get on while you can—I don’t expect you or Elizabeth to forgive me but I can at least atone for my sins by saving you”.

As Y/n fixed his gaze upon the magnificent schooner, his eyes were brimming with a sense of purpose and longing. "Come with me, together we can break free from our current constraints an’ embark upon a new path," he suggested with a hopeful tone, inviting his companion to take the leap of faith with him. “Our paths may intertwine in the future y/n, but I mustn’t let Beckett know of Elizabeth’s whereabouts—neither your own.

"Go, now” "Please understand," he stated firmly, his expression stern and unwavering. In a sudden surge of emotion, James took hold of the pirate's shoulders and pressed his lips against his with an intense force, leaving them both gasping for breath. Y/n found themselves wrapped up in James's embrace, feeling the softness of his admiral's coat against their skin. "Tif fate allows us to reunite in Fiddler's Green, each and every treasure chest will bear your name, and I shall cherish em’ with all me heart."

As Y/n stepped onto the ship, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness in his heart as he left James behind. They hurriedly made their way through onto the ship as they prepared to set sail. Meanwhile, James watched from a distance, his eyes locked on Y/n's retreating form, his hands clasping behind him, wishing desperately that Y/n could stay with him just a little bit longer. The helmsman shouted, “Prepare to set sail”. With one last look, y/n locked eyes with James and nodded as a departing gesture. “Aye, cap’n!” y/n shouted to the helmsman.

With a heavy heart, James gazed upon the ship as it slowly drifted away from the harbour, carrying away the one person who had captured his heart completely - y/n. As he watched the vessel shrink in the distance, he couldn't help but feel a deep sense of worry and fear creeping up on him. He prayed fervently, hoping that his beloved would reach his destination safely and unharmed and that he would be able to find a new life filled with hope and happiness. Despite his own pain and despair, James knew that he had to remain strong and focused, no matter what challenges he might face.

Anyways that's all I have for now:

Ta Ta ✨

#potc #james norrington x reader #james norrington x male reader #james norrington oneshot #potc x reader #pirates of the caribbean #pirates of the caribbean x reader

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justafairytailofinnocence · 8 months

Text

Entangled sombres🎭🧛‍♀️

Edward x fem reader

Synopsis: Twas the night of the Venetian carnival at the palace of Versialles, y/n's encounter with the infamous Edward Cullen leads to a strange phenomenon of events.

Warning: none

A/n: If possible, please feel free to comment and reblog as it always helps me as a writer to improve and get inspired.

The annual Venetian masquerade ball at the Palace of Versailles was a grand affair attended by both ladies and gentlemen. The halls and gardens echoed with the sounds of laughter and lively conversation. The ladies wore exquisite robe a la Francaises and elegant robe a l’anglaises, made of fine silks in floral, royal, and regal colours. Men wore rich, extravagant, full-skirted knee-length coats adorned with frills and buckled shoes. Elaborate wigs adorned their heads, styled in a variety of fashions. The gentlemen sported cavalier-style powdered wigs with lovelocks decorated with ribbons and bows, while some opted for simpler styles with a single ribbon tied at the back. The ladies' hair was styled in various ways, including la pouffes, beignets, coiffures, and chenilles. They wore extravagant and prodigious Venetian masks adorned with feathers and ribbons. The identity of who one was was a mystery among the crowd. The Venetian masquerade’s purpose was for one to indulge themselves in desire and greed without exposure. Within the group, masses gathered to dance and participate in alcohol. Amidst the jovial laughter of the gathering, a lone figure stood in the corner, garbed in a full-skirted coat of sombre black. Though his attire was not as finely crafted as his male counterparts, he maintained a stoic composure, observing the scene with a quiet intensity. He wore a simple, laced Venetian mask that only partially covered his eyes. The man's eyes, visible through his mask, were an unusual golden colour instead of the typical hue.

Staring at the crowd of drunken, jovial attendants, he heard their voices, their thoughts.

“I shall have a rendezvous evening with that mistress.”

“Such a fetching gent”.

The ominous man took off without a word; he couldn’t stand the whole façade of the alluring illusion of wicked cravings and sinful desires surrounding him. He trailed up the stairs, his hand touching the rail decorated in gold. With each step he took, his mind felt more at ease as the crowd’s thoughts had finally ceased. Peace at last. He stopped at the foot of a marble golden-coated rococo door painted with cherubs. Curiously, he placed his ear to the door, wondering if anyone was inside. With no answer, he entered—unassuming to the lady he was greeted with. The room was covered in paintings and finely rich furniture. In the middle of the room was a platter of Turkish delights and cakes with chocolate. His eyes were met with a young lady lying on the couch, holding a hand fan holding it to her plump lips. She drew the hand fan to her lips, curious at the gent who intruded on her. The attire she donned was a graceful sack-back gown adorned with a delightful blue floral pattern. To complete the ensemble, she wore a petticoat waistcoat, adding a touch of elegance to her overall appearance. Her hair was done in a bun style, with a single curled lock touching her shoulder. A Colombina mask in the design of a swan adorned with ribbons covered her face.

The man who barged in by mistake shook his head in embarrassment. “I’m sorry—forgive me, I’m new here. Are you here for the Venetian carnival?”.

The young woman lowered her fan so the dorsal point touched the upper tip of her lips. “Y/n, Tis y/n.” She smiled in a flirtatious manner.

“Since you—oh so—unkindly barged into my accommodation, you must pry me on your name and business,” Y/n spoke with pursed lips.

“Edward, Edward Cullen." He spoke politely but with a hint of humility.

“Edward, you’re quite an unusual gent.” She sat up while lifting her legs in the air, revealing her silk stockings and patterned heels. “For I’m doting upon your eyes of unusual colour, quite a golden hue”.

Y/n’s compliment took Edward aback. He didn’t smile at her gracious words but kept his cold gaze. “No, don't ever consider me stunning; I’m not the kind of guy you should be…going for”.

“You don’t know a thing about me; I’m not a good person, y/n.” Edward’s voice showed a genuine tone of guilt.

“If the world were full of good, then we wouldn’t have things such as this,” Y/n mischievously smiled.

Edward felt reassured, but the young woman didn't understand. He harboured a dark secret. He wasn’t like the rest surrounding the streets going about their daily lives. His family had lived differently; they only went out on rainy or dark days. The Cullen family was notorious, with rumours circulating in courts and towns in France and England. It was said that the Cullens hailed from a small plot of land in Forks purchased by their patriarch, Carlisle Cullen. Lord Carlisle's origins are little known, but he may have come from Italy. He married a woman who was known for her beauty, Lady Esme Cullen.

The pair had decided to adopt only, not children, teenagers. At the tender age of eighteen, the first was a daughter with a remarkable beauty that charmed suitors from distant lands. Her grace and elegance were unparalleled, and many hopefuls sought her hand in marriage. Despite the numerous proposals, she steadfastly refused them, holding out for a love that would surpass all others. Legend has it that her hair was as radiant as the golden hue of honey, and her complexion was as pure and fair as freshly fallen snow. Her eyes, which shone with an unusual and alluring golden tint, made her even more captivating. Not long before, she discovered love with a man who hailed from a noble family in Gatlinburg, Tennessee; the two of them grew inseparable, and eventually, she took on her spouse's family name, Cullen. Her husband, Emmett, was a strapping and dashing young man who was just twenty-two years old. He was known for prowess in clandestine fighting circles, where he always emerged victorious.

The couple's second adopted daughter, Alice Cullen, was a young adult of nineteen years who was renowned for her peculiar persona. With her vast, feline-like gaze and ever-changing, avant-garde hairstyles, she exuded a certain enigmatic allure that captivated those around her. Her fashion sense was equally impressive, as she effortlessly donned the most fashionable attire. Regrettably, some individuals perceived her as odd and wrongly accused her of dabbling in witchcraft and sorcery. However, Alice's abilities were exceptional, as she possessed the gift of foresight, enabling her to predict one's future accurately. She wedded a naval officer named Jasper Hale, who was in the front. Those who met him personally aren’t fond of him; he was a relatively quiet young man who spoke only when needed. He had blond hair tied back with a delicate silk ribbon, whilst his skin was similar to Rosalie's. According to the accounts of those who knew him, Jasper was reputed to be a man of high moral principles and integrity in his earlier years. He was known to have had a relatively brief romantic relationship with Maria before his involvement with Alice. However, rumours at the time suggested that Maria was somewhat dubious and may have been involved in certain occult practices or dark magic. Given Jasper's eventual transformation, there was speculation about the potential implications of his change in character. When around Alice, his old self would come to light. They attended many galas and balls, waltzing in the moonlight instead of entering the building.

Then, the final child was Edward Cullen, a seventeen-year-old gent who was distant and cold. He never formed relationships or friendships with anyone who wasn’t his family. Many ladies fancied Edward but were intimidated by his mysterious demeanour. He never stepped outside in the sunlight; many theorised it was a rare condition or a disease. They never dared ask, fearing he might lash out.

He found the young woman to be a mystery. He possessed a unique ability to hear the thoughts of those around him, which can be helpful but also annoying when he wants to focus on his thoughts. He attempted to listen for any words or sentences coming from her impure mind, but to his surprise, he heard nothing.

The young woman grinned excitedly and asked, “Well, Sir Cullen, the hour passes swiftly; tis rather rude not to ask a lady for a dance”.

Feeling timid, Edward complied with her inquisitive demeanour and gracefully inclined his body, extending a hand towards her. "I humbly request the honour of this dance, Y/n," he uttered softly. Y/n curtsied gracefully, holding a fan to the left side of her face. Her fingers delicately intertwined with his hand. As she grasped lightly, a slight shiver went down y/n’s spine. It felt like she had dipped her fingers in the Icey waters of a frozen lake. Y/n and Edward held one hand in the air, moving fluently in a circle. Suddenly, the classical music playing down below changed its tune. Y/n and Edward switched arms as soon as they heard the first note.

They only repeated the same movement, moving in a circle, and y/n slightly skipped. They repeated the same direction, but this time, Y/n had a mischievous grin when they switched arms. Y/n skipped in circles, flicking her skirt with one hand out to the side. She added an extra clap to the rhythm during the song's sudden pauses in beats. She skipped in a circle as the violin's rhythm picked up. Edward followed, adding his steps and skips. When the two came to the middle once more and stopped, they stepped to the side out and came in with a twirl, switching sides. Once more, they repeated this move. She delicately took hold of Edward's hand with a gentle touch, gracefully spinning away from him.

As she twirled, she kicked one foot elegantly to the left, adding a touch of flair to her movements. Edward looped to the opposite side and clapped. The two then spun back into the middle as they returned to their first position. As Y/n and Edward danced, the violin's sound filled the room. Y/n's hand tapped against her skirt in time with the music, adding to the rhythm of their steps. As they moved in a circle, Edward couldn't help but steal a glance at Y/n. Her eyes were full of playful amusement yet still held an air of mystery, making him wonder what thoughts were swirling through her mind. Edward stopped coming in close to y/n, and he spun her around.

Y/n was in an utter fantasy; never had she met any gent this fascinating. Many suitors had courted her, yet none could catch her attention. Edward was far more entrancing than any duke, lord or aristocrat who had tried to woo her.

Alas, all good things do come to an end. As y/n twirled she glanced deeper into Edwards's alluring eyes and what she saw caught her off guard. She screamed when she saw his eyes turning from a beautiful aureate hue into a void of darkness. She covered her hands over her mouth in panic. “Good god your eyes, they changed into the black of night” she panicked slightly. Edward, baffled, retreated, and lost all sense of comfort. He moved in a way that appeared to be beyond human capability to the door. She acted impulsively and reached out to grasp Edward's hand in a fleeting moment of connection. Though he paused briefly in response, he ultimately opted to depart silently to avoid attracting undue attention to their interaction. “Edward, what are you” she muttered.

With two words he coldly said, “a monster”.

And with that, he left without any fuss, he fastened the pace leaving y/n in a bewildered state. She stood at the entrance with the rococo-decored door opened widely. As she contemplated the gravity of the situation, a thought occurred to her - why didn't he just kill her straight away? Nevertheless, she observed a genuine expression on his face and discerned that he was experiencing warmth and tenderness towards someone for the first time. A sense of serenity seemed to envelop him. Y/n inched closer to the door and scanned the dancing crowd below, but she couldn't discern the presence of Edward Cullen. She struggled to reconcile the bizarre events that had just transpired and couldn't shake off the feeling that it was all an elaborate dream. She picked up the skirtings of her gown slowly trailing down the stairs as her heels reached each step. Further, she trailed to the entrance, ignoring all the ladies chattering and gents asking for a dance. Upon leaving the Palace of Versailles, she found the gardens deserted except for the rustling of leaves in the wind.

As she lifted her gaze towards the vast expanse of the moonlit sky, her heart filled with a sense of longing, as she pondered whether fate would ever bring her back in the company of Edward.

Anyways that's all I have for now:

Ta Ta ✨

#edward cullen x reader #edward oneshot #edward cullen #twilight x reader #twilight oneshot #twilight au #18th century fanfic #edward cullen x y/n

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