NOCTURNE: RENJUN X READER | CHAPTER 3

PAIRING: YANDERE! RENJUN X READER

NOCTURNE: A DREAMY PIECE OF WORK RELATING TO THE NIGHT OR DARKNESS IN GENERAL.

“And what if… It is the villain you fall for? What then?”

Genre/Warnings: minor character death, yandere/manipulative Renjun, cheating, abusive relationship dynamics/marriage. Smut. Oral (M receiving), questionable consent—Renjun is an incubus here, so he influences people, but nothing is truly forced. Minors, do NOT interact. 

This is the third part of my Dark Fairytale series with Dream’s 00 line and exists in the same universe as Haechan and Jaemin’s stories (links below). Please read the previous chapters to understand what’s happening. 

> CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2

Orphic | Haechan x Reader | Royalty!AU

Nighted | Jaemin x Reader | Vampire!AU

Summary:

Renjun’s nature has always given him assurance over one thing: that regardless of which century or lifetime he lives, he’ll never run out of love and affection from anyone he sets his desires on. As a Gancanagh—a fairy born to seduce and claim mortals—he was designed to be the object of lust and want of everyone, which is why it felt like the universe was finally punishing him when he finally came across the only woman he could ever want, but never have.

"You have a wonderful rose garden, Ma'm."

Your eyes lingered on the walls of the flowering bushes that towered over you as you wove through the sprawling hedge maze. You have heard of stories about the beauty that is the Huang manor before, but no carefully picked adjectives could have prepared you for the level of majesty that stretched now in front of you. Even the woman walking just a few steps ahead seems to fall perfectly in the beauty of the moment, her steps light and graceful as she led the way deeper into the heart of the garden. The lady gave a soft laugh in response to your wonder as her own gaze also touched the lush blooms she passed.

"The first few buds were a gift from the former King. They are the exact same roses that the castle still has in their garden. He gave it to our family when Yun was born."

Your attention snapped back to focus at the mention of that information. You have been so engrossed in appreciating the beauty around you that for a good moment, you have forgotten the knot of nervousness that has been weighing heavily on your stomach since you stepped foot into the grand manor. When you started your day, it absolutely did not cross your mind that you would be spending it doing impromptu portrait work for the High Lady of this house—the very matriarch of the Huang family herself. Your nerves were absolutely frazzled when you got the invite, but of course your mother was only far too elated upon knowing the piece of news. And while you aren't that clueless about the possible implications of this stretch of an offer—especially after the night of the masquerade ball—your assumptions only served to make you even more on edge about this interaction.

"It will be such a great honor to use this place as the backdrop for your portrait then, Madam…" you said, your voice sounding a little bit more careful again. The lady seemed unconscious of it at the very least as she smiled.

"My youngest son, Renjun, was actually the one who suggested the idea. He has mentioned your wonderful work to me so I thought, why not invite you to do my portrait? I am due to have one sooner or later anyway."

You were thankful that the woman was walking a little ways ahead of you, otherwise, she might have caught the way you paused for a breath as she mentioned the boy's name. It has been a good few weeks since that last dance at the ball happened, but the memories came flooding back to you quickly, almost by force. The pointed grip on your hips… The lilt of his lips as he smiled at you… The way his gaze ghosted over face… Every memory of him holding you that night crowded your mind again like an unwelcome visitor. Renjun has never touched or spoken to you in a way that is offensive or unacceptable to society's standards, but there has always been that shadow in the way he looks at you that has always triggered the primal need in your gut to flinch and flee. It was the reason why you've been elusive towards him for quite some time now, but lately, you felt that something has changed in the past few times you've been in each other's radius. You couldn't really put your finger on it, but it's almost like some switch has been flipped…

And now all walls that had been holding him back are gone.

"That is… very nice of him. Especially since he could have done it himself. My work pales to his craft if I must say… He is the best student in our class," you said softly, careful not to let any of your current emotions leak to your tone. Lady Huang seemed pleased at your comment as she gave a soft hum of approval before finally stopping her leisurely pace. You paused as well, and that's when you realized that the two of you have reached the heart of the maze, a clearing of considerable size with hedges of roses higher than the ones you've passed earlier. A fountain made of white marble was set in the middle of it, spewing water so clear that it sparkled under the sunlight.

"So I've been told. I've also heard a lot of stories about you from my youngest son… Which brings me to the second reason why I invited you here."

If you were apprehensive earlier, then you were absolutely petrified now. You have an idea of where the conversation was going, but your awareness did nothing to calm the erratic beating of your heart. Surreptitiously, you clutched the edges of the painting bag that you brought with you while waiting for the woman to finish. She was looking at you with softness in her eyes, an emotion that seemed so alien to you, having not received it before from your own parents.

"I am going to cut to the chase. Darling, I'm sure you know about my oldest son's preference towards you. Yun is very fond of you, and as his mother, I only want to give him happiness. If I may ask… And excuse me for my bluntness, but are you considering him to receive your hand, sooner or later?"

The heat that has overcome your whole face was swift and unforgiving. You ducked your head a little to your chest in a hopeless attempt to at least try and hide the redness of your cheeks.

"I… Lord Yun has not really… Talked to me about this."

It was not a direct answer, but Lady Huang is known for her persistence as much for her beauty. She took a step closer towards you now and took one of your gloved hands in hers.

"He hasn't because he knows you have a number of suitors. It is a well-known fact among the circle of debutantes. My son, unfortunately, is a very accommodating person, almost to a fault. I know he wouldn't want to step forward unless he knows that you have considered the others. But have you, my girl? I know it is not in my position to ask you this, but please give my heart some comfort. I only want my boy to be happy."

It must be the maternal instinct that she is honestly exuding, but something about the words of the woman tugged at your heartstrings. You know in yourself that you are not in love yet with her son, but the honesty and sheer care in her eyes made you want to yearn for something similar for yourself. You stared at her now, eyes bouncing over her graceful features, until something inside of you clicked. Slowly, you turned your hand so that you were holding hers instead.

"Lord Yun is a wonderful man, Ma'm… It would be such an honor for me… to receive his affections."

It was not a straightforward reply, but it was enough for the assurance that she was looking for. Lady Huang's face lit up, her smile so genuine that you can't help but return the gesture to her as she squeezed your hand gratefully. It was an intimate moment of woman to woman, a mother talking to a daughter. Despite yourself, you felt your heart soaring, as if you've finally found a safe space to land on.

"That eases my heart. Thank you. I promise I will not get in the way of your courtship, but I hope you indulge me for saying this early. My dear…"

"I am excited for you to be a part of the family."

******* "So? When am I going to have a sister-in-law?"

Renjun's voice was light and casual as he moved the knight piece over the chessboard calmly. Across from him, his older brother glanced at him with a slightly surprised look before bringing his eyes back to the game with pointed effort. He could almost taste the flustered emotions of the older male at the tip of his tongue, a bitter one that he swallowed behind his calm facade. A moment passed before Yun answered, the man's voice low and almost unsure.

"I have not decided yet. I am giving her time to consider her situation."

"Do you mean to say, you are giving her other suitors a chance to whisk her away from you?"

The sharpness of the truth in his words made the other man slightly wince. Usually, Renjun would toe around his statements for the sake of keeping up the facade of the perfect brother, but he has been incredibly impatient recently. For his own sake, he cannot keep back his own plans anymore just because of the cowardice of another person.

Yun frowned now as he moved a bishop across the board. It is obvious that he has become distracted, because Renjun easily ate the piece with his rook.

"I simply do not want to force myself on her. She has a lot of suitors and I want to make sure she has thought about it well before I offer her the question."

Renjun leaned his head slightly to the side before slowly leveling his gaze towards his brother. Now, he had never particularly hated the man before—he had done a pretty acceptable job of tolerating him in his opinion—but he also had never been fond of his personality as a whole. Yun is so… very much human. Always restricted by what society says is acceptable or not, afraid to inconvenience someone for the sake of being perceived as nice. They were qualities he had never understood, even as a Fae trapped in a human shell. It was irritating for him, how people can't just seem to claim what they desire.

"Did you not make a connection with her during the last Ball?" He asked innocently, his eyes skillfully hiding away his real emotions. The way the man turned red in the face in front of him almost made him puke.

"I… did."

"I think so too. I have watched the two of you from afar. I can't speak for her, but I think anyone with a working pair of eyes can see that there is some… interest there."

Yun looked at him, a hopeful look on his face.

"You think so?"

Renjun smiled charmingly despite the jealousy twisting his stomach into knots. It takes him everything not to lean over and tear the other man's heart off his chest every time he remembers how she looks at him, but he has to control himself… Because this is all part of his carefully plotted plan. For him to get to her, Yun has to tie her to their family first.

"Yes. Which is why I don't understand why you are hesitating. I applaud you, hyung, for giving her space. But don't you think it might also be sending her the message that you're… not really that serious about your intentions?"

A look of slight worry overtook the older Huang. Renjun internally smiled behind his casual mask, knowing full well that he had caught him in his web. He may be human now, but evne the strongest spell cannot entirely take a Gancanagh's power of seduction over words.

"That's not what I… I did not mean to…"

"I know... But it might be the message she is getting. I'm just saying," he shrugged as he pressed the dial on the chess counter to urge the other to make a move. Yun did, but barely, his hand moving his last remaining knight over the board in the midst of his distraction. Renjun's eyes dropped on the pieces briefly, before smiling secretly to himself.

"I have never considered that. Do you think I should…"

"Ask her? I don't know. Are you confident that you are the best of all the men vying for her hand?"

The silence that followed his question was brief, but loaded. Yun pursed his lips as a frown settled on his features.

"Yes. I am."

"There you go. I think that is the only answer that you need. I can't force you to do anything, brother, but personally…" he slowly lifted his  own knight and rested the piece gently over a block on the board. "I think you will be the perfect pair."

The other boy was so distracted wading through his own thoughts, that he failed to notice how his King piece was taken by his last move. Renjun's lips tipped to the sides as he knocked it over effortlessly with his knight.

"Checkmate, by the way. Don't ever let your eyes off the game, hyung. Take it as advice from a man… to another man."

******* The way the sun reflected off the paper you were working on made you smile. You were sitting in the middle of the garden where you usually have your art classes, trying to finish off a quick practice piece using watercolors. It was a Sunday so you have the place to yourself, surrounded only by the gentle chirping of the birds and the soft rustle of trees swaying in the wind. Days like this are your favorite part of the week, because it is the only time you can escape your manor without your parents pressing about your activities. You were far too engrossed in the peacefulness of the moment that you didn't notice the gentle creaking of the gate separating the garden from the rest of the academy. Humming softly, you reached over to dip your paintbrush on your small palettes of color to continue your picture, oblivious of your surroundings.

"That is a very pretty landscape."

The sound of a soft voice from behind you made you suddenly turn around in surprise. It took you a good few seconds to gather yourself, the newcomer taking the chance to cross the distance to where you were sitting. Rising from your spot under the tree, your hands quickly gathered your skirts around you just in time for the man to finally stop at a polite distance from where you are. You were so stunned, that you forgot to give him your usual bow of greeting as he waited for you to speak. 

“Lord Yun… Why are you…”

A slightly sheepish smile flittered over the man’s face at your question. He briefly looked away, before glancing at the ground in front of him. 

“I visited your manor today, but your mother told me that you usually spend your Sundays painting. She said I might find you here…”

You didn’t give any immediate answer. Of course your mother told him where you are. Silently, your heart rate started picking up as your mind tried to go through the possible reasons behind his sudden visit. A part of you berated you for possibly overthinking, but you cannot deny the pressing feeling in your gut that made you fidget your fingers underneath the pleats of your skirt. Yun probably noticed, because for a moment, he looked actually guilty for showing up unannounced. However, a look of determination took over his features as quickly as the doubt came, and he took a moment as if he was gathering himself before he spoke again. 

“My Lady… I do not want to make this longer than it should. I have told myself that I want to give you time to think over my offer, but recently, I have realized that I might lose you should I remain passive about my feelings,” he paused and took his hat, gripping its brim with his fingers. Unconsciously, your eyes shot straight to his face. You thought you felt your heart stutter upon seeing the genuine emotions that have overtaken his features.

“I have no wish of forcing myself on you, but I just want you to know that I adore you, and that I… I would wish nothing more than for you to accept my offer for marriage, if that is what your heart so wishes, too. I… will understand if you give me no for an answer, because a rejection will also be better than this silent dance I’ve initiated for quite some time.”

You were absolutely speechless. You knew what was coming, but it did nothing to calm down the erratic buzzing inside of your head. All of a sudden, it was like everything was happening all at the same time, similar to how one’s life would flash in front of someone’s eyes in the midst of a momentous occasion. Questions overlapped in your head, too quick and fleeting for you to catch and comprehend.

Do you love him? Will this make you happy? What will come out of this?

Will this save you…? Or will jumping into this be your ruin?

You don’t know how long you stood there. It must have taken seconds, maybe a full minute, but for you the moment felt like it lasted forever. Then, just when you thought your head would split from all the thoughts, everything stopped to dead silence, until your consciousness fixated on one thing.

No, you don’t love him.

But you can learn to do it… In time.

“Are you… Asking me to marry you, Lord Yun?” you asked softly, voice steady albeit quiet. Your question rendered him speechless for a heartbeat before he finally gave a nod.

“Yes, my Lady… I am.”

“Then perhaps you can ask me again… More clearly this time?”

The way his face changed from shock, to realization, then back to nervousness made you give the slightest of smiles. You did wait for him to politely speak again, however, your gaze on him more steady this time.

“Will… you marry me?”

The corners of your lips twitched as your smile widened. In that moment, you decided to embrace the uncertainty of it all and focused instead on how your fate will be changed from the point on. When he finally returned the smile, you knew you’ve made the right decision.

“Yes, my Lord. It will be such an honor to be your wife.”

******* “How cruel… Is the girl still alive?”

Renjun barely looked around from his position on the loveseat at the crooning voice that came from the open window. Below him, slumped on the spot on the floor between his legs was a woman, loose hair splayed messily all over her face. The flickering light from the fireplace barely illuminated the form of the girl that clambered from his windowsill, her expensive gown covered by a dark coat that allowed her to blend in the dark. There were no jewels that decorated her hair at the moment, but the unexplainable glow that clung on her as she walked casually over to the edge of his bed, directly across from where he sat, betrayed her affinity to the ethereal and the supernatural.

“Why are you here? Is the King not fucking you well enough that you had to climb over to my bedroom, My Queen?” he asked, voice steady even as his breath hitched from the way the girl bobbed her head slowly around his length. His visitor merely chuckled, unphased by the act happening in front of her.

“I heard the news. When is the wedding happening?”

Her taunting voice almost made him stop. He only stuttered for a second, but he took the moment to weave his fingers through the hair of the woman knelt in front of him and used the leverage to push her head deeper down his cock. The girl choked, sputtering from the way his length invaded her throat, but did nothing to fight it off. It was obvious from the way she limply slumped closer that she was too far gone to even bother. Instead of giving her mercy, Renjun—now irritated for having to do the work—tightened his hold on her and used his strength to move her head to his desired pace. Humans... They are always so disappointing in this regard. They are always so passionate and fiery at the start, but they break so easily and turn into useless dolls. Despite his discontent, a low groan left his lips now as his balls twitched, heavy and ready to spray his arousal down the column of flesh squeezing around his length.

“Not soon enough for my taste,” he said through gritted teeth as his pace turned even more brutal. A soft whimper came from the woman as her nails tried to find purchase on the soft rug under her. The Queen raised her brows curiously, ignoring the sounds. Renjun caught her expression and shot her a look before tipping his head back against the leather seat. With no warning, he pushed the woman’s head hard against him, her nose pressed against his lower stomach. A sound of pleasure escaped from deep in his throat as he unloaded himself inside her mouth until his juices leaked from her lips. He kept her there for a few more seconds while he rode his high before finally loosening his grip, the girl finally slumping right at his feet, unconscious. Eyes closed and head still tipped back, he waited for the current of pleasure to run its course throughout his body before he lazily tucked himself back inside his pants.

“If you came here to think that I would be upset about my brother’s upcoming wedding, then you’re in for a big disappointment,” he laughed softly to himself before finally moving his head again to train his gaze at the Witch Queen. The other slightly narrowed her eyes at him before realization dawned on them.

“You… told him to ask for her hand.”

He chuckled as he pushed himself out of his seat. Walking gracefully over the slumped form on the floor, he went to pick up the glass of whisky on the table by the fireplace and downed the golden liquid there in one go. He ran his hand through his hair as he watched the flames, untangling the knots that his earlier activities have caused.

“Of course, I did. I already told you, when a Gancanagh sets his eyes on a prize, we stop at nothing to get it. Surely, you must have already known that. It was how I captured your former lover in my web before after all.”

Renjun knew from the needles of cold that made the skin of his back prick that he had touched a nerve. It did not surprise him at all, not with the situation being the exact cause why she cursed him to be stuck in this human form. Instead, he simply smiled in satisfaction as the flames from the hearth threw shadows and light over the gentle features of his face that masked his true nature.

“You are playing a dangerous game, Piper. You will be putting a lot of mortal lives in danger.”

“That’s quite rich coming from a Witch Queen who cursed a whole kingdom to never-ending winter before. Now, my dear, do not act like you are any better than me. It was you after all who pushed me to do this. You are as guilty for what is yet to happen as I am,” he said as he turned slowly to face her. She was still only bathed in moonlight streaming from the open window, but it was enough for him to discern her expression from the shadows. Her face was blank, but the way her eyes burned couldn’t fool him about her real emotions.

“You must have thought I will come running around after her, trying to win her from my brother. That is foolish child’s game. Taxing and pointless. It might have worked on you when your King hunted you down, but a true hunter knows a better way how to capture their prey. You don’t seek them. You lure them right into your very own trap,” he crooned, voice as sweet as a siren’s call. When the light from the moon and the glow from the fire touched his face at the same time, they made his smile look angelic and terrifying at the same time.

“Family, as they say, is hard to escape. The moment she thinks she’s free from me, is the moment she becomes mine.”

*******

A/N: Yeah, so... It has almost been a full six months since I’ve updated this. I don’t know if anyone still remembers this story, but I had the sudden urge lately to jump into this plot again. So, here’s an update I guess. 

Taglist: @negincho, @jhornytrash, @aaasteroidsky, @huangberryyy, @ashkuuuu, @cottonniebunnie, @jaehyunenthusiastsworld, @90sgatsby-jjh, @ryu-naa, @i-aecrysture, @mirathe2002, @yuxnan, @strawbunnyjaem, @pukupukupawpau, @terjeno, @glitching-wren, @camzpetite, @injeolmiee​, @lostlovesoul11​, @ellatizw​, @bettyschwallocksyee​

The kiss kill one? 👀👀👀👀👀👀 ( Sorry it had a long title, I don't remember it all 🍳🍳)

Yes I am very happy to discuss 🍳🍳

The full title includes Kiss Kiss Fall in Love which I am only slightly ashamed to admit comes from Ouran High School Host Club an anime/manga that matched adult childhood me’s feral energy it’s not plot relevant really lol. BUT the kiss kill you part is

This wip is a DanYok magic AU where Yok is a fairy and Dan is a human. Specifically, Yok is a gancanagh with the lore heavily inspired by an admittedly not great book series I read in middle school. For these purposes the type of fairy Yok is feed off of human contact but especially romantic/sexual emotions and eventually kill people because of it. Like even just giving someone a high five is a risky endeavor.

But Yok wants to give his boyfriend smooches.

So you can see where the problem starts. Especially since Yok is a little slutty (affectionate)

Sneak peak

“Wait! White you’re dead right! That means we could totally make out and everything would be fine!”

“Technically I’m not dead but I’m a ghost with no heartbeat so strictly speaking it wouldn’t kill me, no.”

Yok and White could practically hear Sean and Dan’s eyes widen in surprise. This was way more fun then it should be.

“Perfect!” Yok strolled up to White, trying to look comedically sexy.

“Absolutely wonderful.” White agreed.

“Babe, no!” Dan finally caught up with the situation and Yok had to admit he was a little happy his boyfriend was jealous.

“C’mon it’d be the perfect test.”

“Shouldn’t you be kissing me?” Dan pointed to himself looking confused and a little sad.

“I can’t believe I agree with a fucking cop.”

“We finally got them to agree on something I guess.” White giggled.

Yok nodded, turning back to Dan. “Don’t worry babe, there’s a lot more I want to do to you.”

Okay don’t let that fool you. There WILL be angst and an identity crisis. But it’s also Yok so like, ferally.

Advent 2021: December 10th- The Love Talker Chapter 13

Universe: Gancanagh/ Fae AU

Rating: M (It’s dark, it’s spooky, it’s sexy without the sex, but our dubcon vibes end here)

Length: 3504 Words

Master post [Here]

Note: Hello, I’m playing catch up for Advent! There will certainly be more Virtual Chemistry coming up as well as an update for A Convenient Arrangement. There will also be some little oneshots and follow ups to previous fics sprinkled in here and there. I don’t know if I’ll actually catch up completely given that everything is Holiday chaos and I’ve just recovered from my vaccination, but we’ll see what happens.

He was trying his best to focus on the repetition, the simplicity of the task as he ran the thick bristled brush through Sven’s fur. It had always been a soothing, meditative task for him, and he needed the comfort it could bring it now more than ever.

“There’s nothing good about this situation.”

Kristoff could feel the unsympathetic gaze of the reindeer laying heavily upon him. After so many years of the creature’s companionship he didn’t need to see his dark eyes to understand the disapproval he’d find there.

Sven was strangely emotive for a “normal” creature of the wood, but truth be told, Kristoff had always been fairly certain that he wasn’t normal at all. He could feel magic in him, but it wasn’t fae like his own. That said, he hadn’t ever inquired with his family about the source of the creature’s uncanny understanding or unnatural lifespan because if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t want to know. He couldn’t complain about the companionship Sven had offered through the years, he would always be grateful for the additional support he provided, even if he still often asked himself why the creature had given him such a boon.

He continued to brush down the deer’s back, combing away his summer shed, bringing him some comfort as best as he could in the transitional season between hot and cold. He couldn’t deny that it made him feel a bit better as well.

He’d felt incredibly useless since Anna had touched him, since she’d become addicted to him. He felt like he was doing little but sitting by, waiting for the day he’d have to end himself to save her life. He’d been without a true purpose for many years, mostly finding himself in the service of Sven and his family, occasionally aiding others as the mood struck him, but now he felt entirely listless. Anna deserved better. He’d had no purpose and yet he felt like he’d failed it.

“There’s only two ways for this to end… and I know my preference.”

The reindeer snorted then, and Kristoff could all but hear his family’s protests echoed in the creature’s displeasure.

There’s a third option. There’s hope.

Kristoff huffed out a sigh of his own and set the brush in his hand on a nearby shelf, the stable walls serving like something of a chapel to his confessions.

He understood that he was the only one in the situation who wasn’t being optimistic about the chances of a happily ever after. His family, and evidently Sven as well, seemed to believe that it was possible that his curse was soon to end. Even Anna was optimistic, and she didn’t even know about his family’s theory or his plans to kill himself to save her. She was almost certain that she was going to die, but still she smiled.

She was stronger than him.

He closed his eyes, letting his hands drop empty to his sides as he pictured that smile in his head, the soft, encouraging one she gave him when it came time for him to touch her. The one she let him see when they ate together, for her a necessity, for him a small pleasure. The one that she offered each time they spent time together, the one he had started to think meant something more than civility.

He’d kept to his end of the bargain, chaste touches only. He’d clasped her hand in his, laid his forearms against hers with sleeves rolled up, and despite the innocence of these touches, he’d felt her warm under his touch in a way no woman ever had before. He’d felt her melt into him, and he knew that it wasn’t all connected to her addiction to him. There was a slowness to it that the other addicted women had never shown, a sort of deliberateness that was unconscious but said in every untensing of muscle, ever centimeter of movement, that she wanted to be nearer.

Of course, when the touching started, she’d always tentatively initiate, as if she were scared to start, but then slowly she would warm to him. He let her lead, even when his palms itched to run over her arms. He let her lean into him when what he wanted more than anything was to press kisses across her freckled shoulders.

They hadn’t even come close to something so intimate. In fact, he often felt that the intimacy of the way they’d touched through clothes was somehow more profound than skin to skin contact felt now. When it came down to it, when he spent quiet moments in reflection, he knew the reasoning behind the feeling. It was fear. He was terrified that even with her mind clear, the addiction was all that made her want him.

Before, when he wouldn’t touch her, things had been easier. Before, it had been easier to tell himself that the second glances she gave him were unfettered interest and desire.

Kristoff felt the shifting of the animal at his side. Sven had seemed restless since he and Anna had returned from the valley of living rock, or really since the incident at the stream.

“You can’t blame yourself old friend,” he offered, opening his eyes and meeting the creature’s gaze. “You did the best you could to keep her safe.”

The deer snorted as if to say, same to you and I’ll believe it when you do.

***

It had been a week. It felt like years, but it had only been seven days.

Anna plaited her hair to the best of her abilities, her fingers twitchy and tingling as they now sometimes got when her skin was craving Kristoff’s. She grew frustrated when she felt strands that had escaped their proper place, and decided that ultimately, her efforts were not worth the energy.

Where is he?

She noticed that as the days passed, he stayed out later and later each evening. He was always prompt when it came to ensuring she ate her meals, her concerns over faerie food now seeming entirely foolish when faced with her current situation, but he never seemed as interested in fulfilling her other needs.

It was maddening.

The addiction itched on her skin, at the edges of her thoughts, but she had the good fortune to be able to resist it if she wanted to.

The trouble being, of course, she’d never really wanted to resist Kristoff at all. She’d wanted to touch him, even before magic made it so. She’d been so grateful for his kindness, for his support, for his promises to go against his nature that he’d kept until she…

No. It wasn’t anyone’s fault… I have to believe that if I’m going to get Kristoff to believe it too.

She tried to shake off the memory of running into him, of the accident that changed them both. The accident that was to be, quite literally, the death of her.

She thought again of the pull she was feeling, the way that it made her want to settle herself into his lap and feel his arms strong around her.

What a way to go.

It scared her sometimes, how quickly she’d accepted her fate, but there was little else she could do. Of course, it didn’t mean that the nightmares with haunting spectral women didn’t wake her out of a dead sleep, leaving her sweat covered and shivering alone in the loft. No, she still had a healthy dose of fear over what would become of her in the end, of who would tell her sister of her death, of what would happen to everything and everyone she’d ever loved… of what would become of Kristoff.

She bit her lip and slowly ran her fingers up and down her arms. Her hair rose at the contact, pleasant and strange in its own way, but not at all what she craved.

A voice in the back of her head nagged that his delay in returning to her had everything to do with a lack of interest in her. He was, despite his nature, a good man, and as such he would give her what she needed. She couldn’t help but think though, that he didn’t truly want to touch her.

She’d thought, before, that he’d been interested in her. The way he’d looked at her, the way he’d admitted his want of her before has made her think that maybe it wasn’t just about the addiction. Now though, his disinterest in spending time with her had her frustrated.

She wasn’t so vain as to think that he should be interested in her, nor was she lacking in enough self-respect to beg that he be more attentive. No, she merely wished that things between them were simpler, that he they could both speak their minds and feel what they felt without strings attached.

It made her feel a bit embarrassed to think about, but she had not infrequently daydreamed about what life could have been like if Kristoff were just a man. She couldn’t deny the pleasure she derived from thinking about what it would be like to have fallen in love with him slowly, to have the possibility of a future together… to have the possibility of a future at all.

She huffed, shoving away all the thoughts in her head, for better or for worse, and marched outside after him. She wasn’t going to be left alone with her thoughts, nor would she let the pins and needles in her fingers and toes stand when his touch would steal them away.

***

Kristoff wasn’t necessarily surprised when Anna found him walking in the door when she was walking out of it. He had been aware of his delayed return to her, and he did feel bad about making her wait on literal pins and needles for him to stop feeling bad about himself and return to her.

“I seem to remember you saying that you wanted to touch me not all that long ago. Did I lose my appeal that quickly?”

He wasn’t certain as to how he was just now feeling the absolute fire radiating off of her. He supposed it was the depth of his thoughts that had been shielding him from the palpable anger that Anna was exuding.

He opened his mouth and then promptly shut it. He didn’t have anything he could say. She was right, he had said he wanted to touch her. He’d told her in no uncertain terms once that he had wanted to touch her in ways that would be addictive to her, and now that she was addicted he’d let him anxiousness outweigh his desire. Of course, he didn’t really think that anyone could blame him for that… save of course for Anna.

She huffed and turned on her heel, evidently saying all she had to, leaving him standing dumbstruck in the doorway of the cabin home they were somewhat unequally sharing.

It was only when she climbed up to the loft that he realized what he should have said. The truth.

You could never lose your appeal. Not for me Anna.

***

She probably shouldn’t have yelled at him. In fact she really wished that she hadn’t, laying in bed with pins and needles feeling want from both the addiction and her own personal interests in Kristoff.

Had she been a little less frustrated she imagined that she might have been able to discuss her want with him. Afterall he’d never really balked at anything that she initiated thus far, so perhaps she could have just expressed what it was she wanted or started touching him more intimately and he would have followed her lead.

Half the problem was, of course, she didn’t really know what she wanted. She burned for him in a way that was only too literal. She was burning for him, and someday she knew she was going to burn out. She supposed that she just wanted to enjoy everything that could come with the path they’d accidentally put themselves on, even if it meant moving faster than she had been. Even if it meant opening herself up to him fully in every way.

She thought that she was imagining the sound of his footfalls on the floor, imagining the creak of the ladder up to the loft, but when she felt his presence just to the side of the bed she realized that the reason she’d heard him at all was because he wanted her to. Normally he could move so quietly, like any other creature of the wood, that she would never hear him, even in her imagination.

She felt her fingers, traitorous, twitch at her sides under the blankets. Of course, after hours of being general nuisances to her, they would only up the ante as soon as he was nearby. She tried to ignore them, to pretend she was asleep, but she knew that Kristoff knew she was faking it.

“I’m sorry about how late I stay out Anna.”

She let the dead air between them go uninterrupted on her end, feeling uncharitable and cranky. She had never imagined herself resisting the pull between them, but now she couldn’t help but feel some small satisfaction in both her ability to do so, and in how aggravating it probably was to him.

“I still can’t lie to you, you know. Even though you’re addicted, I can’t lie… Of course, you haven’t lost your appeal. How could you ever not be appealing? How could I ever not be interested in you?”

He huffed and she had to settle for imagining how he looked, raking his fingers through his hair in frustration. Much as what he was saying was making her go weak, much as it was making her heart race in her chest, she still could not give him the satisfaction of an accepted apology while she was so aching and exhausted from the lack of his attention.

“I’m afraid. You know I am. Why else would I ever stay away from you when I’ve wanted you since I saw you barefoot and wild eyed in the woods?”

She had to press her eyes shut to keep from looking over at him. She had to focus on the tingling in her limbs to hush the voice in her head that told her she was being silly, even though she knew that it was right. She was being silly. If he had stayed away from her due to his fear, she was keeping away from him now based sheerly out of stubbornness.

“Now, because I know you can hear me, I’m going to, with your permission, show you. I know I should have sooner.”

She felt the bed depress at her side, the very small mattress giving her little warning before the contact that followed shortly thereafter.

She felt his chest press into her back, his arm draping across her waist in a manner still too chaste for her liking, but somehow heart-poundingly new and exciting because he’d initiated it, not her.

“All you have to do to get me to stop is say no or ask me to leave. That’s it Anna. One word from you and I’m gone until you want me.”

She wouldn’t say a single thing, but she did decide to finally allow her hands their autonomy, allowing one to slide up his arm, pressing his hold even tighter.

She felt him soften at the touch, heard the quiet sigh close to her ear. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, which wasn’t nearly so scandalous as the fact that she’d decided to go to sleep without her nightgown.

Her body was practically sighing with the sensation of so much of his skin being in contact with hers, and so she couldn’t bring herself to be embarrassed about it. She truly couldn’t even bring herself to care.

That is a problem for morning Anna.

She gasped, her whole body going hot and pliant as she felt the rough scrape of hair and then the softness of lips upon her shoulder.

Yes, she had decided. Morning Anna could talk about feelings and fears with Kristoff. Night Anna was, however, fully prepared to feel everything Kristoff had to offer.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Category: M/M

Fandom: Fae Tales - not_poignant

Relationship: Eran Iliakambar/Mosk Manytrees

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, renaissance festival, fluff and angst, flirting, hurt/comfort, first meetings, happy ending, More Tags on Ao3

Summary: Mosk Manytrees starts working at his family's food stall at the Renaissance Festival, and runs into one of the glassblowers, Eran Iliakambar. Eran invites him on a day out.

Walk With Me (8,077 words, complete)

Wrote a Renaissance Festival AU focused on Mosk Manytrees and Eran Iliakambar from @not-poignant‘s Fae Tales series because I wanted to write Eran fanfic and miss Ren Fest. Had a lot of fun with it!

You said I could request stuff so get ready for a mountain of things!!! ❤️ I am a fan of slowly revealed things but I love love love that selkie Taire, dragon Enj AU and I need to know what the others are please please pretty please??? I need more JBM as well so if you wanna combine the two I mean... I won't complain 😉😊 You're a sweetheart and feel free to give ME prompts bc I have no clue what to write now 😂

[I was so pleased you asked for this! Here you go, ~1.8k of j/b/m ❤️]

Joly likesto travel and they are particularly fond of meeting new people. The merrowsthat inhabit the sea around here are rather old-fashioned though. They only goup the surface when there is a storm on the water and they hardly ever approachthe shore. Joly had to ask his new friend Grantaire if there was any convenientriver he could use to swim further inland. Luckily there was and now Joly ishappily swimming upstream. They like the feeling of freshwater on their skin,even if the salt being rinsed from their hair always makes it stand on end inodd ways. Besides, there are certain things to be found on land that cannot begot from the sea. Today, for instance, Joly is in quest of willow bark. When itcomes to remedies against pain there really is no substitute.

Joly istaking their time though, allowing themself to enjoy the scenery as they swimsteadily against the flow of the river. With only their head just above thewater they look no different from a human out for a swim, at least to a casualobserver. Not that Joly has a particular reason to fear being discovered. Hehas learned from Grantaire that most of the humans around here are open mindedand that those that are not have by now learned to look the other way. In anycase there is no one walking near the river today and Joly swims in unhurriedtranquillity until they follow a bend in the river and spot a gorgeous willowtree. Joyfully they give a strong swish of their tail and swim to the grassybank. The drooping branches of the willow nearly reach the water, casting acool shadow across the rippling stream, but the tree itself is out of Joly’sreach. Admiringly they look up at the elegant braches.

“I’ve neverseen a mermaid so interested in a tree.”

Jolysplashes their tail in surprise. The voice came from above them!

“I’msorry,” they say politely. “I can’t see you at the moment so I don’t know whereto look, but yes I’m very interested in this tree!”

“Why?

“It’svery beautiful for a start,” Joly says pleasantly, peering into the tree. Theyare certain whoever is speaking must be hidden there. “But I’m also hoping tocollect some bark for its medicinal purposes.”

“Hmm…” Thevoice is pleasant, but a little wary. “Well, at least you’re nice about it.” Arustling passes through the leaves of the willow and suddenly Joly sees asshape on one of the sturdier, low hanging branches, that stretches out towardsthe river. A moment ago there was nothing there, but now there is a young womandraped across the branch, hair cascading down just like the willow’s leafytwigs. She is dressed in leaves and her slender arms and legs blend inperfectly against the willow bark.

Joly isdelighted. They have never met a woodsprite before.

“Hello,”the woodsprite smiles and she studies them with large, expressive eyes. “Are you a mermaid?” she asks after amoment. “You don’t look like a merrow…”

“No,” Jolysmiles. “I’m a jiaoren, but I must be closely related to both. My name is Joly.”

“Mine’sMusichetta,” she answers and with an elegant movement she slides off the branchand let’s herself drop down between the roots of her tree.

She israther close now and Joly can clearly see how beautiful she is. “Nice to meetyou,” he smiles.

She smilesback, slowly steps away from her tree towards the water’s edge, and extends asmall hand. Joly takes it in his webbed one and shakes it with another smile.As soon as they let go Musichetta returns to her tree. But she drapes herself acrossthe branch again, looking down on Joly curiously. “What do you need the barkfor?” she asks. “Do you need to cure someone?”

Joly shakestheir head. “At the moment I only want to study it. I’ve heard a lot about itseffectiveness against pain and inflammation.”

“You dothat a lot,” she asks interestedly. “Go around studying healing things?”

“Yes,” Jolysays cheerfully. They’re not really used to being asked this many questions,but they’re more than happy to talk. “It’s one of the reasons why I travel.”

“Where doyou come from then?” she asks with another curious glance at his face.

“The SouthSea by China,” he smiles.

Her eyesspark with delight. “Tell you what,” she says. “I will give you some bark frommy tree if you tell me about your travels.”

To talkabout themself to someone genuinely interested in them seems hardly a trade toJoly, but when they laughingly tell her this Musichetta says:

“Who saysdeals should be disagreeable? I’ve never made a single deal that didn’t pleaseme.”

Joly smilesat the sparkle in her eyes and finds a seat for themself on the river bank. “Whatdo you want to know?” they ask.

It turnsout Musichetta wants to know a great deal. Far too much to tell in oneconversation. So Joly comes back the next day, and the next day, and again acouple of day later. It was never really Joly’s intention to stay in this partof the world, but they are seriously considering it now. It’s not justMusichetta, although Joly has to admit they have quite lost their head overher, this place has a lot to recommend itself. Grantaire is very good companyand he has introduced Joly to a fellow selkie called Éponine. Joly has even meta young vampire called Combeferre, who has a lot of very interesting knowledgeto share. All in all Joly is certainly tempted to stay and when the weeks passand Musichetta’s smiles turn to kisses they decide there really isn’t any otherplace they’d rather travel to than upstream to her tree.

They gothere almost every other day, usually when the sun is at its highest in the skyso Musichetta knows to expect them. Today Joly is running late, so they areswimming fast, fully submerged in the water. They could find their way throughthis river blindly by now and they know they are reaching the bend in whichMusichetta’s tree stands without looking.

Just asJoly is about to surface they hear a voice. Cautiously they peer up through theshimmering of the water’s surface. Musichetta sings to herself sometimes, butthis voice does not belong to her. It sounds unhurried and nonthreateningthough, so Joly slowly lets their head rise above the water. They are greetedwith the familiar view of Musichetta, hanging draped across the lowest branchof her willow, but lying beneath it is a stranger. He is lounging stretched outin the grass, leaning back elegantly on his elbows, and looks up at Musichettawith such a look of admiration that Joly feels a pang of jealousy. Thestranger’s looks do not help them one bit. Had he been scowling he would barelyhave been handsome, but he has as attractive a smile as Joly has ever seen andit is unclear to them whether it is the sun or his good humour that gives sucha glow to his dark brown skin. With very conflicted feelings they swim a littlecloser.

“What afine day,” the merry stranger smiles at Musichetta. “It started with me gettinglost, but what a lovely place to be lost in.” His eyes twinkle. “And whatexcellent company.”

“I’m notquite sure what suits you more, your lounging or your idle flattery,”Musichetta remarks challengingly from her branch.

“You haveseen me lounge,” the stranger smiles. “But you have not even heard my idleflattery. So far I have spoken only the truth.”

Jolybristles slightly at that, especially since Musichetta is clearly rathercharmed by him. They don’t exactly blame her, but it does give them a strangedisgruntled feeling they have never really felt before.

“Really,”the stranger continues. “Between, the sun, the grass and your eyes fixed on meI’m beginning to think myself the luckiest creature in this meadow.”

Musichettalaughs with a slight scoff in her voice. Just the sound of her laugh is enoughto make Joly decide that not even the uncomfortable feelings in their midriffare enough of a reason to give up spending the afternoon with Musichetta. Theygive a splash of their tail to announce their presence and swim to theriverbank.

“Joly!”Musichetta exclaims, sitting up on her branch.

Thestranger turns his head, still smiling, and sees Joly. “Well,” he says with a look of unrestrained admiration. “Ifthis isn’t unequivocal proof of my luck today, I don’t know what else couldpossibly convince me.”

Jiaoren donot blush, but Joly would have if they did. “Hello,” they say, still a littlereserved.

“Joly,darling,” Musichetta chimes. “This is Bossuet.”

“Joly,”they nod.

“Pleasureto meet you,” Bossuet says brightly. “Really.”He looks from Musichetta to Joly and sits up a little straighter. “Oh, I’msorry! Am I interrupting a scheduled meeting?”

“You areactually,” Musichetta says, throwing a glance at Joly.

Bossuetjumps to his feet. “And here I am talking away at you both.” He shakes hishead. “Forgive me.” He laughs at them both by turn and Joly is seriouslywondering if it is even possible to feel resentment towards someone thatradiates so much cheerfulness. They likeBossuet. They hardly know him and they like him.

“I will leavethis lovely meadow to you lovely creatures,” Bossuet sighs. “And take myselfelsewhere.”

Jolyglances at Musichetta, who gives them a look that seems to say: we could keephim?

“You canstay,” they say, lifting themself out of the water to sit on the riverbank.

Bossuetlooks delighted. Musichetta smiles.

“You haveto trade something though,” Joly says, slanting their head playfully andshooting a twinkling look up at Musichetta.

“Oh yes,”she agrees. “We’re very big on trades.”

Bossuetpats the pockets of his colourful suit. It’s a fine suit, but badly cared for, itsrumpled and full of grass stains. “I don’t have a lot to give,” he laughs. “Butask whatever you want, if I have it I’ll give it.”

Joly grins.“Do you know any good stories?”

Bossuetgives him a look that feels warmer than the noon sun. “So many.”

“Are any ofthem about yourself?” Joly smiles.

“Only the tragicallycomedic ones,” Bossuet quips.

“Oh dotell,” Musichetta invites, letting her arms dangle down on either side of herbranch.

“Yes,” Jolysmiles warmly. “Please do.”

Wyvern’s Masterlist

This will be a collection of all my non ask related pieces for BNHA! I will try to update this as I go! Image is from Unsplashed  the bad editing was done by me! Please note I write Pro Hero!AU. Meaning all the 1A peeps have graduated U.A and are off doing their own hero thing!

Aizawa Shouta

Venomous - Smut, tw: dubcon

Monochrome - SFW, tw: depression

Skylines - Smut

A Heat to Rival Galaxies - Smut tw:dubcon

Shinsou Hitoshi

Silver Linings - Smut

Hemlock Kiss - Smut

Ambrosia - Smut Tw:dubcon

Midoriya Izuku

A Spoonful of Corruption - Smut, tw:dub/noncon

Bakugou Katsuki

Tease! - Smut

Say My Name - Smut

Summer Sun - Spicy

Todoroki Shouto

Pitch Perfect - Smut

Todoroki Enji

Quid Pro Quo - Smut, tw:dubcon/sexual blackmail

Dabi

Gancanagh - Smut, tw:noncon, DARK FIC

Kirishima Eijirou & Todoroki Shouto

(SERIES) Pocket of Sunshine Part one [Spicy] - Part two (WIP)

Kirishima Eijirou & Bakugou Katsuki

Takeout and Cuddles - Fluff

Aizawa Shouta & Shinsou Hitoshi

Salt Lines - Smut

Bakugou Katsuki & Shinsou Hitoshi

Biohazard (Chapter 1 -smut-) (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3)

I saw the discussion about merfolk!Arden on discord and it really made me think. Do you have an official headcanon what sort of unseelie fae Arden would be?

Nope!

I mean, I don’t really like making ‘official headcanons’ about things anyway. (I’ve always had the saying here that it’s ‘not actually canon until I’ve written it’ and that’s what I generally stick by, lol).

I don’t think I’d really be able to write say, idk, 15 different versions of Gwyn and Augus if I’d forced myself to lock them in a headcanon box early on. I have an AU brain in my head, which means I already have like 15 different versions of Arden, none of them are official, *grins* - whatever I write first is just what I liked more on the day, or during that hour.

So while I do think Arden would be Unseelie, and I do think he’d feed on lust or something similar to that, I don’t really go much further than that partly because I can imagine him as lot of different kinds of fae already. And each kind would lend different abilities etc. which would alter his character in different ways. Tbh I can also see Arden as a Seelie fae. He sure doesn’t like lying to people :D

Currently Fae Tales only has ‘one’ Gancanagh, but I could see Arden as a Gancanagh kind of fae if they were a race and not like a single fellow, I think he’d work well as a siren or merfolk, I actually think he’d make a really interesting Unseelie swan prince, but that’s mostly because I find swan princes really interesting in theory. Because he has a sort of unassuming initial appearance to people who don’t know him, I think he’d be an interesting mouse lad or similar. I think he’d be really great at being some kind of animal shifter, especially if that animal lent him some of his enthused, active qualities, like something from the Viverrine family, like a marten or a sable. It’d also be cool to invent several new kinds of fae for him, to make for a specific combination of traits etc. And you know what? I think he’d make a pretty cool Reader, even if it’d be a more caustic version of himself.

I could keep going, but basically I won’t lock anything down until I write something where he’s a fae. And then I could change that again in another story where he’s a fae. That’s...kind of how AU brain works. It’s fun! But yeah, no official headcanons, sadly.

A Fae’s Cries

Based on a TC Fae AU that was created in @teamdoesminecraft ‘s TC Discord server. Seriously, check out that server, it’s brilliant.

Not my AU idea. To be honest I can’t remember who even came up with the idea anymore. A lot of people contributed to it.

Sorry for the tag Angie, only one I’ll give.

---

The forest was awake with a low moaning and wailing noise, a song that hung heavy with pain and misery. It was not how Ty wanted to experience his morning walk. The irritating noise was scaring off humans. He may not care for humans bothering him, but he was hungry dammit! He continued to walk and tried to drown out the noise before a familiar tiny voice yelled in his ear. “Ty!”

Ty gave the barest flicker of a jump at the loud noise and turned to the small blue pixie in front of him “This better be good, or I’m shoving your tiny ass back in the lantern.” He warned Jason, as per usual, barely bat an eyelid at that “Ty we need your help!” “We? Who’s we?” Ty’s question was quickly answered when he felt an arm wrap around him and pull him down a little. Adam grinned up at Ty with bright gold eyes “Eyy big guy! How’s the weather up there?” Ty should’ve guessed the gancanagh would bother him, the idiot didn’t have anything better to do on most days when he wasn’t sleeping with complete morons. “Ugh, why do you want to bother me now? I’ve told you a hundred times I’m not going to help you seduce anyone by having you ‘save them’ from me. You bring anyone near me, and I will eat them.” He warned. “It’s not that! And you will come around in the idea, mark my words. Surely you’ve heard all the crying!” Adam retorted Ty pushed the smaller fae off him and made him drop back to the ground “Let me guess, that was your doing?” Jason flew in his face “No! Mitch and Jerome found where it’s coming from. We don’t know what it is though.” “Have you checked?” “Well, Uh, we were hoping you would.” “And why would I do that? Can’t Mitch and Jerome do that? They’re already there.” “Yeah, but if it’s something bad then your face could scare it off!” Adam added before he cried out as Ty kicked his shin harshly. “You’re not going to leave me alone until I do this huh?” Ty grumbled, irritation clear in his voice. “Nope!” Both faes grinned, popping the p and making Ty wonder if he could shove both of them in his lantern. “Fine. Where is this stupid noise coming from?” Adam and Jason smiled happily at his agreement, and they both lead the way through the forest to the source of the noise. — The first thing Ty saw was Mitch and Jerome watching from behind trees, staring at a large hollow log in the centre of the trees. Clearly, the log was amplifying the sound of whatever was crying inside. It was undoubtedly louder now than before. Mitch had tried to lower his head to get a view inside the log, but it only made the noise louder, so the dullahan was quick to retrieve his head and hide again. Cowards. “Ty! You came!” Jerome gave a toothy grin at the sight of the grindylow arriving with Adam and Jason. “Whatever. You’ll keep bugging me if I don’t.” Ty grumbled and set his lantern down by the log. He noticed from the corner of his eyes that the other fae were all hidden behind the trees, watching. If this were a prank, Ty would make sure they all regretted it. He looked in the log and saw... a kid? Yeah. Inside the log was a small boy. He couldn’t have been older than ten, sitting curling up in the log crying. He had dishevelled brown hair that hung around his neck and scratches all over his pale skin, no doubt from running in the forest or from being attacked by some forest creature. He had brown eyes that were red from the endless stream of tears and cheeks red from the cold. He was barefoot and wearing an oversized nightshirt. He clung tightly to a worn-out teddy bear like it was his only protection from the big bad world. Ty’s first thought was this must be some human boy that got lost in the woods from his family, or perhaps he was running away. He even considered that maybe this kid had been taken from his home, replaced by a changeling and now was left here to die or be eaten by someone like him. Then the boy noticed him. Fuck, what was Ty supposed to do? Try to seem friendly? Maybe make him stop crying? He gave a small fanged smile to the kid “Uh, Hey kid... uh, you wanna come-“ He was barely through his sentence when the kid screamed. This wasn’t just any scream, Ty had heard plenty of screams in his immortal life. But this scream. It pierced his ears like a hot knife in butter, it was like something had jammed a hot spike into his ears and brain. Ty actually had to recoil out with a howl of pain, covering his ears in an attempt to block out the sound. The rest of the fae were no better, on their knees and covering their ears with cries of pain. It was so bad Jason even flew into a tree accidentally and had to be caught by Adam when he fell. When the kid stopped screaming, he went back to whimpering. The other fae were quiet as they tried to compose themselves and got their bearings before Mitch voices most of their thoughts “What in the ever-living fuck was that?!” Ty stood and cleaned his robes of dirt “It’s a fucking banshee you idiots.” He snapped “No human can scream like that and certainly no other fae can. He’s just a kid, probably doesn’t even know what he is.” Jerome tilted his head “I mean, if he’s only a kid, then we should be able to calm him down right?” Before the other’s could protest, the faoladh when to the log broke part of the log open with his paws to fit his head in and stuck his head in to give a toothy grin and pant similar to a dog would. The reaction was instantaneous. The kid screamed even louder than before and tried to frantically crawl out of the log to get away from the large wolf. Everyone covered their ears again as Ty shouted “Dammit Jerome! Get the fuck away from him!” Mitch and Adam helped to pull Jerome away from the terrified banshee. The kid stopped screaming once he couldn’t see Jerome and crawled out of the log and bolted to Ty. He crawled under the others large purple cloak and clung to his leg, shaking like a leaf. Ty was taken aback by that and looked down at the small kid “Uh...” Jason snickered softly “I think he likes you.” “He screamed in my face!” “Yeah, but you’re not Jerome.” Ty couldn’t argue with that, the kid clearly was more scared of Jerome than of him. “Pick him up already idiot,” Adam told him. Ty glared at Adam at that, he hated being told what to do but nonetheless, reached down and picked the small kid up. The boy sniffled and sneezed before he clung to Ty’s robes tightly, his breathing starting to finally calm down now.  Ty tensely reached a hand and pat his back to help the boy calm down “Uh... what’s your name kid?” “S-Se... Seto.” The boy finally managed to sniffle out. “He speaks!” Adam smiled. Jason kicked Adam’s ear, which felt to Adam more like someone had flicked his ear. The pixie flew up and placed a hand on Seto’s head, the small banshee looking up at Jason with a childlike fascination. He almost touched the pixie before Jason moved to stand on Seto’s hand “He’s burning up. He needs rest and a place to stay.” Ty huffed “Fine. Who’s gonna take him?” Ty realised all eyes were on him “Oh no. No no no no! I can’t look after a kid!” “Dude, you’re the only one he actually likes right now, Jason’s home is too small, and you want him to stay with me?” Adam demanded Ty opened his mouth to argue, but upon finding he didn't know what to argue, he growled in annoyance “Ugh, Fine. But only for a little bit.” He grumbled. At that, Ty grabbed his lantern and began the walk back to him home, for once, allowing the others to follow him back in case the kid did anything else. Thankfully all Seto did was fall asleep in Ty’s arms, still clinging to his teddy bear and Ty’s robes. It was kinda cute. God Ty hoped this didn’t ruin his reputation as the scariest fae in the forest.

Mark and Friends Monster AU

Cause why not?

Mark: Phoenix

He has a Firey personality that warms our hearts

He took a break and then came back with new ideas for his channel. It’s like how a phoenix will die and then be reborn from the ashes.

He legit called himself a phoenix TWICE in the Topbear video that was posted the day after I came up with the idea for a Mark and friends monster AU.

@askthesupernaturalgrumps actually came up with the idea of Mark being a phoenix first and I liked it a lot.

Tyler: Ushabti (A funerary figurine used in Ancient Egypt intended to act as servants or minions of the deceased.)

In this case, he wasn’t built for funeral/afterlife work

Mark crafted Ushabti Tyler to help him with his channel.

Stone-faced Tyler

Mark hired Tyler so he is like a “servant of Mark” (even though Mark at one point called him his “hired boss”).

Is like the Ushabti more in concept than visually.

Ethan: Faun (A type of Satyr)

He calls himself a kid a lot, so it’s like he calling himself a baby goat.

Fauns love to  play the flute and Ethan plays an instrument (not the flute but close enough)

Fauns love to dance and Ethan dances a lot.

Fauns are considered attractive and gentle.Just gonna leave that there.

Fauns usually have whispy little-boy beards, He’ll get his eventually.

Fauns are a bit foolish and Ethan definitely has his moments.

He’s basically a meme, like goats.

Mostly I just thought it would be cute.

Kathryn: Shadow Person

Doesn’t appears very often in videos but instead hangs out in the SHADOWS.

Amy: Alien

I think this one is pretty obvious

Bonus Friends!

Chica: Garmr (A wolf/dog associated with both Hel and Ragnarök. Also described as a blood-stained guardian of Hel’s gate)

She’s a protective good girl

Jack:  Gancanagh (A male fairy in Irish mythology that is known for seducing human women)

I always imagined Jack as a fairy or elf

He’s Irish (I’m so clever)

He is with Wiishu thinking she’s a human

Wiishu: Vampire

She wore fake Vampire teeth once and she looked like a cute vampire

She also thinks she’s with a human (it’s kind of like Mr. and Mrs. Smith)

(I don’t know Wiishu all that well tbh so this one doesn’t have much thought to it, sorry)

I really want to be able to draw this AU at some point but I’m gonna have to improve my drawing skills first. oh well.

NOCTURNE: RENJUN X READER | CHAPTER 2

PAIRING: YANDERE! RENJUN X READER

NOCTURNE: A DREAMY PIECE OF WORK RELATING TO THE NIGHT OR DARKNESS IN GENERAL.

“And what if… It is the villain you fall for? What then?”

Genre/Warnings: minor character death, yandere/manipulative Renjun, cheating, abusive relationship dynamics/marriage. This is the third part of my Dark Fairytale series with Dream’s 00 line. It has been months since I posted the last chapter so I do suggest a quick re-read of the first one for a refresher. This is loosely connected to Haechan’s one shot also linked below: 

> CHAPTER 1

Orphic | Haechan x Reader | Royalty!AU

Nighted | Jaemin x Reader | Vampire!AU

Summary:

Renjun’s nature has always given him assurance over one thing: that regardless of which century or lifetime he lives, he’ll never run out of love and affection from anyone he sets his desires on. As a Gancanagh—a fairy born to seduce and claim mortals—he was designed to be the object of lust and want of everyone, which is why it felt like the universe was finally punishing him when he finally came across the only woman he could ever want, but never have.

The gentle clinking of porcelain and the soft rustling of pages were the only sounds that broke the suffocating silence in the room. You were sitting beside a window overlooking the manor grounds below, a drawing book with a half finished portrait resting on your lap. Your mother sat across from you like a perfect porcelain doll, her eyes the only ones moving as she continued with her silent reading. Every now and then, she would flip a page or take a sip of her tea which have long since turned lukewarm after sitting too long. You didn't mind each other, and you've long since checked out from the company as you stared blankly at the view beyond.

Your manicured gardens glistened under the sun like a gem, but its beauty didn't strike any positive feelings in you as you gazed at it silently. If anything, it caused a bitter taste to bloom at the back of your throat the longer that you looked at it. Silently, you wondered just how much it must have cost again to pay for the ground's monthly upkeep. Its grandness was the exact opposite of what is going on inside your manor and you wondered which of your mother's jewels have been sold off again just so your family could keep up the front of luxury you obviously cannot afford anymore.

"Have you heard from the Huangs again?"

Your train of thought was cut short by the woman's voice across from you. Looking around, you slightly rearranged yourself on your seat and picked up your pencil again as a distraction. She wasn't looking at you, her eyes on the pages of her book still, but she must have noticed what you had been thinking earlier. You cleared your throat softly before offering an answer. 

"I have not, mother. I haven't really come across their paths again," you answered as you continued with the shading of the portrait you've been working on. You felt her gaze finally settle on you at your emotionless reply.

"You are in the same art class as one of their boys, right?"

"The younger one, yes. Renjun Huang."

"Ah, the orphan."

Your hands stilled over her words. You barely noticed the way your fingers grasped the pencil you were holding, your knuckles almost turning white as you pressed the charcoal harder against the paper. The bitter taste on your tongue was back and you tried your best to swallow it without saying anything.

"I heard his older brother visits him every once in a while."

You don't know if it's her dismissive tone that was grating on your nerves or the way she entirely pushed the younger Huang into the background, but it took you everything to relax your jaw so you could give a curt reply.

"He does. I have come across Lord Yun a few weeks back during one of my classes but I have not seen him again since."

This time, it was your mother's turn to fall silent. You already have a hunch of what she was thinking, but you were still taken by surprise when she actually voiced it out.

"I think you should start considering being close friends with his younger brother."

You looked up, disbelief written all over your features.

"Why?"

She raised a well-kept brow as if you just asked a senseless question.

"Because you have more chances of being friends with him. You are closer in age and you see each other more. He can give you the window to get to know Lord Yun better."

"Mother—"

"They might have reached out for an engagement proposal but they are moving too slow. I don't understand why they are taking forever."

"I am not going to force a friendship with someone because of that!"

The look she gave you made the words instantly die in your throat. For the first time in such a long time, you noticed the dark circles under her eyes and the lines that have crept into her face. She is still the stunning beauty that she is, but you also can't deny the emotions she could barely conceal beneath her polished perfection.

Anger. Desperation. Exhaustion.

There was the obvious tiredness of dealing with the fear of falling from grace and the exhaustion of always putting up a fake front. She is desperate.

Desperate enough to sell off her daughter.

"I don't think you have an understanding of what is going on here," she said coldly now, her eyes piercing you with a chill that sank deep in your bones. "You do not have a choice, silly child. None of us do. Your marriage is the only thing that can save our family after your failure of a father gambled off all of his inheritance and mine. That chair you are sitting on, even the silk on your back, all of those will be gone soon if nothing changes."

"And for some reason it is my responsibility to do something when I—"

The sound of porcelain breaking and crashing cut off your words. Your mother stood up so fast from her seat that she accidentally swiped the tea set, causing all of its contents to spill on the floor. You looked up at her in shock, then at the mess on the rug where the dark liquid spread like the color of dried up blood.

"I will not take any words from an ungrateful brat like you," she hissed at you now with venom, her voice soft but chilling. Her hands shook at her sides, now rid of the rings that used to decorate them. "I know you cannot survive a life of poverty just like the rest of us, so unless you can give up everything that you have, I will not accept any talking back from you."

You were frozen in fear and the impact of her words, but you barely had any chance to recover when a knock echoed from outside the door. That seemed to be a wakeup call for your mother as she suddenly turned to stare at the direction of the noise. She let a few seconds pass, gathering herself, before finally calling out to the visitor.

"Come in."

The pair of you watched as a uniformed maid came in with a silver platter in her hands. With quick steps, she crossed the threshold and gave a brief curtsy before presenting what she had been carrying with her thin hands. Resting on the silver tray she was holding was a plain black envelope held closed by a golden wax seal that glimmered under the room’s light. 

"Madam, this was just sent by horse."

Your eyes widened when you finally had a closer look at the emblem. You tried  your best to keep calm, but you still couldn’t help the slight shaking of your fingers as you unconsciously fisted them on the fabric of your skirt. Your mother did a better job at masking her reaction, but the look in her eyes told her that she also realized the same as she reached out for the letter. She tore the cover open with a well manicured nail and didn’t waste any time to pull out the card nestled inside.

The silence that passed was brief but loaded. You watched as she slowly read out the words there before putting it down again. She then looked at you, a glint now brewing in her eyes despite her unreadable expression.

"Air out her best dresses and make a call to our fitters," she said calmly to the maid despite her gaze staying on you. You returned her order with a confused look, to which she only slightly smiled in reply.

"She has a ball to go to."

******* "I can't believe we're here," Seri whispered from your side as she partly hid her face from the folding fan she was holding. You nodded numbly, barely registering her words, despite your mind buzzing with the same sentiments she has. Your eyes gave your surroundings another quick scan, as if you're expecting that everything unfolding in front of you right now will turn out to be a dream in a blink of an eye. 

It didn’t. You really are in the palace ballroom, an expansive space made with a combination of gilded black and white marble. Flocks of people floated around in their puffy dresses and well-pressed suits, half of their faces covered in their choice of tasteful masks. The soft sound of chatter and glasses clinking together made you even more anxious, and you nervously tried to fix your own mask, a simple white and gold lace number that gave justice to the color of your eyes. It provided interest to your otherwise virginal dress, a white number also trimmed with lace and pearls. You hated how innocent and pure it made you look, but your mother insisted, saying it was the perfect choice for the occasion.

"We all know why you are going there. Seeing you in white will surely make Lord Yun give you that ring."

You quickly fished for a flute of sparkling wine from one of the uniformed butlers roving around with their silver carts before your nervousness could get best of you. You thought your nerves should have calmed down by now, but you were still on edge for some reason you really couldn't put your finger on. The only good thing about the night so far was that you also have Seri by your side since  the Huangs' invitation extended to an additional person to join you and your parents’ party. If you're going to be honest, she is the only person keeping you grounded right now from the flood of stimuli overloading your senses.

"It's the King." Your dear friend's hushed whisper broke you from your internal battle with your nerves. Looking around, your gaze landed on the grand staircase situated at the head of the room just in time as a boy around your age emerged at the top of it. The rest of the room fell into a hush as they watched him move with innate grace, his gold trimmed royal suit catching the light from the chandeliers above as he made his way down the steps. Even with his mask covering half of his face, nobody can deny his  charismatic aura as he moved confidently under the watchful gazes of his subjects. 

He was the center of everyone's attention, but he wasn't the only one receiving the admirable stares of the crowd. Your eyes particularly slipped towards the girl silently shadowing his side, her arm linked loosely with the young King's elbow. Unlike the other royal who seems to sparkle with wit and natural charisma, his muse was silent, withdrawn, and maybe even a little cold with the way she carried herself. Clad in deep blue silk, she was the exact opposite of her consort's brightness… like summer and winter coming together. You could assume that she was also very beautiful from the curve of her features that you could make out under her mask, though she possessed the type of perfection that will seem to cut you when you get too close.

"That's King Donghyuck…?"

"King Haechan. His Royal Highness apparently decided to take a different name when he took over the throne."

You and Seri whispered in the softest of voices as the couple finally reached the ballroom floor. Everyone parted like the Red Sea as they started to make way towards the head table on a raised stage at the other end of the ballroom, the guests bowing respectfully as they passed them by. You did the same before they could even reach your spot and you saw Seri mirror your actions in your peripheral vision.

"Who is the girl?" You whispered again without even lifting your head.

"The new Queen. Nobody knows who she is and where she came from, but she was immediately granted the crown when His Highness ascended."

Before you even realized what you were doing, you found yourself raising your eyes just in time as the couple passed by. Immediately, you froze as your gaze locked with the girl who seemed to already be studying you from under her long lashes. You blinked. You weren't sure if it was just your imagination, but you thought you saw a ghost of a smile quirk the corners of her lips before she broke her stare on you. It was the type of smile that looked to be full of secrets... as if she was silently pleased by something only she understands.

"Welcome to the Summer Palace," your attention was broken by the light and lilting voice of the King as he turned to finally address the room. "This celebration had been a long time coming, but I'm glad all of you here were still able to make time to celebrate my recent ascension. Summer has finally come to our lands after years of unforgiving winter and it is rightful for us to show our thankfulness to the heavens with tonight's festivities. I expect everyone here to drink and dance like you've never done before. The night doesn't end until I say so."

The crowd's soft hum of agreement was only barely heard as the deep notes of orchestra music filled the space in perfect timing. Curiously, you looked around and saw the rest of the guests exchanging smiles and coupling together to get ready for the night's first dance. You didn't waste any time to turn to Seri, your hand already circling around her wrist to pull her out of the way.

"I think we should go to a calmer area first. We'll be in the way for the—"

"My Lady, would you care to have a dance?"

You turned on your heel promptly to find the source of the polite voice that called out to you. The boy in question stood just a couple of feet away from where you are, his lone form standing out in the sea of couples already starting to sway with the music. He looked radiant in his white suit and his eyes sparkled with humble shyness, but there is no mistaking the beauty of the light brown gaze behind his mask.

You felt your heart stutter as your lips formed his name. 

"Lord Yun."

******* "You look very beautiful tonight."

Yun’s voice sounded clear despite the classical music filling up the halls of the ballroom. Your eyes fell at a spot on his chest, right on the brooch bearing his family’s crest that he was wearing with his tuxedo. You could feel your cheeks pooling up with heat under his soft gaze and you couldn't be more thankful for the hundredth time that night that you had a mask to cover up your childish blush. Clearing your throat softly, you tried your best to return the compliment with the steadiest voice you can offer.

"As you are, Sir. Thank you very much for extending this invitation to us. It is indeed an experience to be invited to the royal ball."

"Ah… My father was a close confidante of the former king and Renjun himself is a same-age friend of his highness. It was his idea to reach out to close allies of the family. I… hope we didn't surprise you too much when we sent the invitation over," he answered with a slightly sheepish tone as he skillfully guided you to turn in his arms. That made you finally lift your eyes towards his face for the first time since you started to dance, an almost ironic smile pulling at your lips in answer.

"No… my family was very happy to receive it," you replied evenly and with practiced calm. How could they hate it when they were already presented with the golden ticket to the kingdom's highest of social circles, right? And before you even got married, too. 

"I have met them earlier and they were very gracious as usual. I believe they've joined my parents for dinner tonight. Perhaps we can sit with them later… if you wish?"

The way he phrased that question was so careful and calculated that it also urged you to take a couple of seconds before giving your reply. To be honest, you are very much aware that the stage of playing innocent about his agenda has long passed now, but that doesn't mean that you are entirely ready about what comes next. Sending over his intention to be one of the candidates for your hand is one thing, but unlocking the opportunity for your family to join their inner, more exclusive circle has pushed the envelope even more. In the world you live in, courting is more like a game and a dance. Each step is calculated, each sway hiding a meaning of its own.

Unfortunately for you, you've made yourself a participant to that very game the moment you stepped foot into this ball. It may not have been fully your choice, but it is what it is, no matter which angle you try to look at it. Your parents know it, as does his family, and now, the pair of you are expected to continue on with the dance that has already been put into motion.

You didn't like it… but it isn't like you are entirely hateful towards it, too. You've always known that an arranged marriage is what's waiting for you at the end of the line, and looking at your current predicament, you think you could have done worse. The man standing in front of you right now is everything a woman your age and standing could ever wish for in a husband so surely, you are not getting the short end of the stick here. Not once have Yun imposed his presence on you, despite the rank and wealth of his family. Even now, he was still giving you the choice to say no to something if it wasn't within your comforts. He is kind… and that holds a lot of weight for someone who hasn't been at the receiving end of it for so long.

Yes, you may not be in love with him, but he is definitely someone you can learn to love.

"Yes… I would be honored to meet your parents, my Lord."

The music around you shifted, urging the two of you to get closer just as you said those words. Yun pulled you in a little bit closer against him, but left enough space to respect your personal boundaries even as he smiled down on you radiantly. It was you who took the extra step to close the distance a little bit more as your lips tilted to form the first genuine smile you've given in such a long time.

*******

“Don’t you find it incredibly ironic, how fate seems to find its own way to spite us even without the help of black magic?”

Renjun’s gaze didn’t waver from the couple swaying gracefully on the edge of the dance floor despite the new visitor joining his company. He was currently standing next to one of the farthest windows in the room a few feet away from the crowd, his form partly covered by the shadows from the darkness outside. Instead of answering the question, he silently lifted the flute of wine he was holding to his lips with the hope of washing down the bitter taste coating his tongue.

"Shouldn't you be sitting prettily next to your King, your Highness?" He tried to ask calmly after downing the golden liquid from his glass. Light laughter answered his question, the sound grating at his already raw nerves.

A girl in a blue dress took a step closer to where he was, the gems in her silk gown catching some of the slivers of moonlight streaming from the windows. Her eyes were also set on the couple and she leaned her head just a little bit to the side as her perfect lips upturned into an amused smile. It took Renjun everything not to turn towards the her to give her a poisonous look.

"Ah… Renjun. I can't believe that I'll actually witness your turn to pine for someone this soon. It is so amusing, a Gancanagh falling in love with a human. I have to say… of all the curses I have ever given, yours might be my favorite."

His fingers flexed around the stem of the wine glass he was holding as her taunting words filled the charged air between them. He hated the truth behind her jeers, hated the way how he couldn't even manage to mask the waves of jealousy coursing through his veins at the moment. He watched as his brother slightly bent over the woman in his arms, causing her to laugh at whatever it is he just whispered. His sharp eyes didn't miss the way her eyes sparkled with genuine happiness, one emotion that she hadn't granted him ever in the many times they've come face to face.

"I guess you should be thanking me for giving you a source of amusement? Surely your life has gone dull after you let a mortal man claim you as his," he shot back, the venom in his voice now barely concealed by his soft tone. A soft sigh fanned his cheek in answer and he saw the other move to stand closer to him in his peripheral vision.

"I may have lost my freedom, but at least I am with someone who loves me with all of his heart. I don't think we have the same predicament, when the apple of your eye can't even bear to spare you a look. Maybe you should skin your brother alive and adopt his face so she could give you some of her time?"

"She is not in love with him."

"Yet. She is not in love with him… yet."

For the first time that night Renjun finally moved to direct his glare at the woman. Dark red embers glowed from the depths of his brown eyes, giving a glimpse of his true nature hidden beneath his mortal facade. Anyone who would have seen him now would think he is a creature fresh from a nightmare—all angles and darkness—but even the slip of his true form didn't move the sorceress standing in front of him. Instead, she met his silent wrath with a slow smile, her own eyes glowing blue, matching his fire with her ice.

The moment lasted for no more than a few seconds, but it was enough to drop the temperature of the radius of the room where they were currently standing. He was the first one to snap back to his mortal glamor, his appearance shifting to his old self. His lips also tipped at the corners, reflecting the other’s look of amusement. 

"You're right. She should fall in love with my brother as soon as possible," he drawled, his tongue rolling over the word ‘brother’ with malicious grace. The girl in front of him raised her brow, intrigued by his change of tone. "That will only make it sweeter for me once I snatch her from him."

The queen's jaw visibly set at the obvious connotation of his tone. She didn't say anything and Renjun took the chance to take a step closer to her to reach out for a tendril of hair that escaped the intricate braid holding up her crown. Burning black ice instantly coated the tips of his fingers when he touched her, but that didn't stop him from gently caressing her locks between his thumb and pointer finger.

"You might have cursed me, but I think you've forgotten what I can still do. Do you know what happens when a Gancanagh falls in love, my Queen?" He whispered, his voice soft and lilting enough to make the moon outside weep and sigh.

"They stop at nothing to get who they want… Even at the cost of mortal lives."

******* You gave a perfect turn in time with the orchestra's bellowing notes that filled the room. Not too far from you, you could hear Seri's melodious laughter as she also did the same in the arms of her own partner. You didn't know how long you had been dancing, but you didn't really mind the slight ache building at the back of your heels as you felt Yun's hands settle politely on your hip again. You looked at him with a smile and he returned the gesture with a slight bow of his head. 

"Are you tired? Maybe we should sit down for a bit?"

You were just about to answer when the soft sounds of strings filled the ballroom again. Before you could even say anything, you felt a slight tug on your arm that made you take a few steps back. You looked around to see Seri beaming at you, her face glowing and eyes dancing with excitement. It was obvious with just a glance just how much she was enjoying the night.

"It's the mixed dance! We have to go and join!"

Both you and Lord Yun chuckled at the girl's reaction at the same time. Looking at him, he gave you a polite nod as he stepped away and let go of his hold on your hip. Before Seri could even entirely whisk you away, he reached out for your hand and gave it a gentle kiss. The gentle feel of his lips against your gloved hand made your heart stutter the same time an unknown feeling bloomed in your chest.

"I'll see you later, my Lady."

You were thankful for your friend for pulling you towards the opposite side of the ballroom because otherwise, you would have stood there longer just staring after the man even as he melted with the crowd. You were still a little out of it when the music started picking up, your body merely moving on autopilot as the other girls forming the dance line started swaying in beat with the music. The next thing you know, you were once again lost in a sea of skirts blooming like petals with every turn. Around you, people behind masks linked arms with each other before letting go to move on again to another person.

It was so addictive… the high of it all. The music, the sound of laughter, even the melodious tapping of heels almost put you in a trance. You twirled from arm to arm with practiced grace, floating from one gentleman to another at every rise of the musical notes. Smiles and compliments blurred together until they formed a cacophony that only made you want to move more. When the music finally started to swell to a crescendo, your heart matched it with the way it danced in your chest.

One step, two steps, a glide to the right. The strings sang beautifully with their high notes and the low notes from the bass supported their peak with their resounding hums. You tipped your face a little upwards and closed your eyes as you made one last turn to match the harmony, only stopping when you finally felt yourself slip in another person's arms—your last and final partner for the night. You felt fingers settle gently on your hips before pulling you in slowly as the last parting note of the orchestra rang in the air. A small smile quirked your lips and you moved in closer before opening your eyes again.

And then you froze.

His black mask covered the perfection of his features, but there is no mistaking who those dark eyes belonged to, nor the lips that slowly smiled at you.

Renjun dug his nails a tad bit harder against the silk of your dress as you turned into stone in his arms.

"You almost lost your balance there. It's fine…"

"I got you."

CHAPTER 3

-------

A/N: So... I don’t even know if people still remember this story, but here’s the second chapter after MONTHS of waiting. I wasn’t entirely 100 percent satisfied with how I wrote this, but I decided to get this out because otherwise this will just rot in my drafts. Tagging the people here who requested to be notified before! <3

Taglist: @negincho, @jhornytrash, @aaasteroidsky, @huangberryyy, @ashkuuuu​, @cottonniebunnie​, @jaehyunenthusiastsworld, @90sgatsby-jjh, @ryu-naa​, @i-aecrysture, @mirathe2002, @yuxnan​, @strawbunnyjaem, @pukupukupawpau, @terjeno​​​

The Love Talker- Chapter 12

Universe: Gancanagh/ Fae AU Rating: M (It’s dark, it’s spooky, it’s sexy without the sex, but our dubcon vibes end here) Length: 3504 Words

A/N: Are y’all ready for more feelings? I wasn’t.

Master post [Here]

He was frozen on the spot, staring wide-eyed at her as she gasped for air, as her arms shook. She looked so small, so broken, and he was overtaken by the urge to run. His head was telling him to go, to save himself the heartache of watching her reject him, of watching her die slowly from the poison he’d put in her veins. His heart told him that he must stay, that he had to see this through, that he needed to die for her if needs must.

So he stood, not moving, not breathing, watching her. She tried to push up from the ground beneath her, her arms still shaking and weak below her. He saw the trolls in his periphery, heading deeper and deeper into the shadows, away from sight, but not out of hearing distance.

They were providing him with the guise of solitude but doubtlessly had turned their ears toward the clearing, listening to what was about to unfold. He couldn’t blame them of course, but in the moment, watching Anna falling apart, and coming back together he couldn’t help but feel entirely useless and abandoned.

Time to atone.

Time to suffer.

It was best to do it alone.

“Kristoff.”

His name was the first thing he heard beside the rumblings of his dispersing adoptive family. He almost didn’t recognize the sound of it, croaked raw and stuttering from her throat. She was gasping for air after she said it, like it was a great labor to say his name, his real name.

He couldn’t chide her for using it, particularly as they were safe here whether she knew it or not. Or at least she was safe from all but him in the space as it was protected by his family.

He met her eye as she tried again to push herself up off the ground. There was frustration in her expression, mingled with sorrow and something like pleading. She had an exhaustion about her that she was fighting through, demonstrated by the shaking of her arms and the labor in her breathing. It was terrifying to behold, watching Anna, the woman he was coming to think of as his in ways beyond the mystic, looking like anything but herself.

Her hair was wild, her cheeks as red as the wisps of it that the breeze caught and stirred. Tears rolled down her face, between her freckles, along the sides of her nose.

He felt like he was being torn in two, competing urges to run away from and towards her battled at the fringes of his mind.

He could touch her now and do no more harm than he already had. He could wipe away her tears and hold her and tell her how sorry he was, but when he imagined approaching, he imagined her recoiling. He would rather suffer death than experience her pulling away. He would likely have to experience it regardless.

“I’m so sorry.”

***

Air burned her lungs, her stomach roiled, and she thought that she might vomit at any moment. An imaginary weight from above was crushing down on her, not allowing her shaking arms to do any more than just hold herself up. She wanted badly to just let them go out from under her, to just lay on the ground, face first, and wallow in the pain of all her selfhood returning at once, all of the magic that cloaked and soothed the revelation of her curse being drained from her.

A fire raged in her blood, and then, slowly softened to a warmth. She understood it, something deep in her knew that not all the magic had left her veins, that there was still a poison in her blood, that the fire she felt was a tether. She could feel the connection in her very bones, and knew that whatever the trolls had done to her had not removed that too.

As the pain waned, she focused her eyes ahead, pushing all the strength she could into her arms to push herself back up into a somewhat seated position, kneeling, but looking at him from below across the now empty clearing.

She called his name and didn’t recognize her own voice, her throat tight and aching as if she’d just had a severe cold that had come and gone in the matter of moments. She balled her fists at her side as she met his eye and fought to keep her gaze on him. The hot tracks of tears spilling down her cheeks were at the fringes of her thoughts, but she couldn’t be bothered to wipe them away, she refused to waste the strength to do it, not when she needed desperately to speak to him.

There was something like disgust in his expression, in the frowning of his lips and the arching of his brow. It hurt, cutting deeper than the pain and exhaustion in her limbs. She wouldn’t blame him for hating her, for damning them both when he’d tried so hard to ensure it wouldn’t happen.

He needed to know that she didn’t want this, she needed to tell him that there was nothing she wanted more than to take it all back. But she couldn’t.

“I’m so sorry.”

It hurt to say it, there was so little strength left in her, something in the process of regaining her mind had consumed it, and even to push out the words was a chore. Through the tears in her eyes, which filled again and again as she blinked them away, she couldn’t see his reaction to the words, her vision of him obscured by wetness.

“I’m so…”

She let her eyes close, keeping them open felt like a chore.

“Kristoff…”

She felt dizzy, like the air she was pulling into her lungs wasn’t enough to keep her going. It was easier, she thought hazily, just to take a nap for a moment, and then she could apologize properly.

***

He hadn’t known what to say when she apologized to him. The concept that she would hold any of the blame in their current situation was so utterly outlandish to him that he hadn’t prepared any kind of response. Truthfully, he hadn’t prepared a response to anything that she could have said, but it had struck him that she’d fought through what he could only imagine was pain to tell him that she was sorry.

He opened his mouth and shut it again, hearing her call his name into the silence between them, his true name, cut him to his core. She was calling for him and he could say nothing, do nothing for her. He’d never felt so weak in his life, so broken.

Not even the day he’d become what he was, so far off that he could hardly recall it except for the pain, had hurt him so deeply as looking at Anna did. He’d made so many mistakes in his life, hurt so many, and Anna still, on shaking limbs, was trying to stay close to him.

It wasn’t the curse. He wasn’t making her want him like this, he would feel it if it was. There was a singing in his blood, a connection between him that he could feel, but there was no pull in it from his end. The physicality of the compulsion would remain, she would need his touch to survive but the trolls had ensured that she wouldn’t blindly crave it. Her want of his closeness was real.

He watched her eyes drift closed, watched as she seemingly lost balance and fell slowly to her side.

“Anna!”

 There was no response.

His feet finally deigned to allow him movement, and he took off toward her, the trolls who had melted into the wood around them returning to the edges of the clearing, watching with wide eyes as he ran to her side. He heard them talking quietly in their tongue, and he understood the snippets he caught.

Fate. Love. Break the Curse.

It was hopeless. He wanted to tell them that there was no hope of it, but he forced himself to look at Anna instead. She looked pale, spent, and as he hauled her from the cold ground into his arms, he took immediate comfort in the rise and fall of her chest, the beating of her heart that he could all but hear when he focused hard enough on the connection between them.

She was light, but it was difficult to lift her comfortably. The awkward hang of her limbs worried him as he gathered her into his arms and lifted her from the ground, but without the fear of touching her skin to skin, he managed to arrange her in a way that he wasn’t worried about her tumbling from his arms.

“Lets get you home,” he said quietly, low enough that only he could really hear it.

It didn’t escape him, as he began to walk from the space, eyes upon him, that his throat didn’t ache or prevent him from saying that his cabin was her home.

***

Someone was screaming. Anna knew, somewhere in the fringes of her mind, that she was dreaming. The realization of this did not prevent the shrill sound from frightening her. A jolt went down her spine as it echoed through the blackness around her.

Everything was dark, and below her feet she could only see the lichen and tree litter of the forest floor. She was running, her toes numb and aching from cold and the roughness of the terrain.

It's a dream.

She tried to tell herself that everything was fine, that she'd wake soon and that in short minutes she wouldn't even recall the fear that drove her to run. She tried to shake off the concern, but logic had never had much power in her dreams, let alone her nightmares. She was stuck, fleeing from the unknown and further into the dark.

She saw them then, waifish glowing white figures, white as snow against the blackness of the forest around her. They were almost beautiful, their too thin bodies moving lithely as they closed in on her, but when she saw their faces, gaunt and hollow, faces contorted into pained, fearful, half-mad expressions she could only stumble back.

Their screams were piercing, and ice flowed through Anna’s veins at the sound. She tried to run again, but she was surrounded on all sides, screeching and wailing on all sides as the women encroached. She stumbled, her foot catching something unseen as she fell to the ground.

“Please,” she said, managing to find her voice.

“Please, I just… I just want to go home.”

They made no indication that they understood, as they came closer and closer to the place she’d fallen. Their hands stretched out towards her, arms and hands barely recognizable as such, appearing ghostly, like skin hung from bone but with none of the softness that living things usually held.

“Stop.”

Anna shivered and skittered back a bit in the litter of the forest floor, terrified even when they stopped their onslaught, their attention torn from her by another figure breaking through the blackness.

He was tall, handsome, and broad. He radiated light too, but in a livelier way than the pale ghostly women at her sides, like sunshine. In his hand he held a lit pipe, and his hair appeared almost golden beneath the brim of his hat.

Kristoff.

She wanted desperately to run to him, but the waifish women blocked the way and she couldn’t pull herself to her feet. She felt weak, drained, too tired to move.

He looked at her then, stepping forward as the women reached their hands out toward him. Their thin fingers caught desperately against the fabric of his coat as he passed but they didn’t cling to him as he walked toward her, standing in his wake.

“Leave us,” he said to the women, keeping his almost honey-colored eyes on Anna alone.

There was a pity in them that was in many ways more terrifying than the ghosts as they shifted and shimmered and returned to the blackness.

“She’ll join you soon enough.”

***

She jolted awake, her throat aching, and eyes bleary against the bright light around her. She couldn’t breathe in deep enough for her liking, her heart racing as she tried to pant in and out.

“Lay back down.”

She recognized the voice instantly and recoiled away from it, turning to her side and trying to flee, crashing herself into the wooden wall to the side of the bed. She was in his bed, in the loft of his home, and as the realization dawned upon her, she was only slightly less terrified by his presence, seated in a chair at its side.

“Did you…”

Her voice was cracking and rough.

He shushed her in an almost gentle way, but in a way that also expressed some of his frustration. She wasn’t quite sure why he’d brought her to his cabin, but she could recall all that had happened before, and in fearful snippets, what had occurred in her dream. She knew that this had been her fault, that he was still for some reason trying to protect her despite it, but still she couldn’t help but feel a bit distrustful of him again after her dream.

I’m going to die.

“I’m going to get you some water, alright. Don’t move, I’m worried about you falling down the ladder if you try to leave the loft.”

She shook her head, just to be contrary.

“I can manage…”

Her throat was still scratchy, and she couldn’t deny that she needed water so much as she simply wanted to get it herself.

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“Too late for that.”

When she looked away from the wall she’d rolled herself into and back at him, she was surprised by what she saw.

He was uncharacteristically mussed, and not in the way that made him appear to be more attractive. He seemed tired, and though she knew he did not need to sleep often if at all, she could tell that he was drained. It made her heart ache in a way that she could not explain immediately, like she needed to care for him and not the other way around.

There was a sadness in his eyes, and she knew that it was caused by her words.

When he left without another word, the aching deepened. She didn’t want to hurt him, and it wasn’t because of magic. She simply wanted him happy, even if the outcome either way was for her to become one of the horrible wraiths in her dream.

Like the women that have come before me.

***

Her hands shook around the cup when she drank, and he was careful in giving it to her and in taking it back to not brush his fingers against hers. It would do no more harm now than it had already done, but it felt too familiar, too intimate to touch her at all, even to hold her gaze.

He’d never been any good at being a Gancanagh, perhaps because it was what he was made not what he was born. He didn’t recall what he’d been like as a man, and even though his family often told him in stories what he’d been like before the change, he often thought of it like hearing about some long-lost family member who’d died a century before. He supposed though that he hadn’t been around enough human women to have much luck with them. If the idea that Anna could ever love him had been laughable in the valley, it was even more so now as she avoided his eye and shrank away from his touch.

She looked paler than usual, her freckles even appearing faded compared to their usual prominence. He remembered what she looked like when she was flushed, when her eyes had a shimmer of curiosity and joy. He could remember ever way she’d smiled at him, even tentatively before.

She hadn’t had so much life in her since before he touched her, and he knew that he was already sapping the life from her, whether or not he wanted it, he was killing her slowly.

“I’m sorry Anna,” he said quietly as he settled the cup carefully on the floor at his side.

He meant it. He’d never been so sorry for anything in all his life.

“It’s not your fault, it’s mine,” she said, almost reflexively, like she’d trained the words to come out, like she’d been waiting for him to say it.

“All of this is my fault.”

“Yes, you had plans to kill me from the very start, which is why I had to run into the wood for safety. And you were the one who touched me too, meaningfully addicting me just because you thought it would be fun.”

There was a cheekiness to her tone that he appreciated, even envied, though he still felt a dull ache in his chest for their predicament. One of them had to die, and if he could manage it, it wouldn’t be her.

He huffed, and looked up from the floor and back to her face.

Their conversation was already brightening her a bit which was a relief, but he still couldn’t help but fret over the fact that until the curse was lifted, she would continue to weaken. She’d want him soon enough, but in the way an alcoholic needed a stiff drink or an addict needed a fix. He found himself for the first time not looking forward to a subtle touch from her.

He recalled the way it had felt for her to intentionally touch him through the fabric of his clothes, the warmth it had brought him. He doubted he’d feel it again now that every touch was meant to keep her from withdrawing from the poison he’d put in her blood.

“I could have simply taken care of the problem and sent you on your way back to the warmth of your home, but I made a judgement call out of my own selfishness that put us in this situation. I’m the monster here Anna. I won’t have you blaming yourself.”

“And I chose to stay with you. I was selfish too… and I won’t have you holding all the blame either.”

She looked tentative, but he was surprised to see her shift closer to the side of the bed, near where he was seated. Her hand went out from the blankets again, this time settling over his on his lap.

“I know you can’t lie,” she said quietly, her eyes shifting from his face to where she was touching his hand, “So I know you must really believe that this is somehow your fault. I need you to know though… I’m scared, but I’m not angry with you… I don’t blame you, I’m just afraid of what comes next.”

He thought maybe that she might be a little afraid of him too. There was a wavering in her voice and the way her fingers twitched on his hand made him feel as though it were already time to get himself killed to free her. Yet he couldn’t help but allow himself to pretend for a moment that she wanted to touch him, that she really meant that she was only afraid of what would come.

He turned his hand slowly under hers, shifting his palm up, and finding, with surprise, that her fingers fit perfectly between his.

“What comes next is that we look for a way out… I’m going to keep you as safe as I can Anna, but I can’t promise anymore that I’m not going to touch you on purpose… you must know that you…”

“I need it,” she said quietly, her fingers squeezing his lightly.

“I’ll keep it chaste.”

He was surprised by his ability to say the words, feeling in the moment, with her in his bed, touching him even lightly, like it was a lie.

She smiled then, some of her liveliness returning, if only for the mischief.

“If I request otherwise?”

He didn’t think that he could flush really, not much anyway, but his face felt hot as his mind betrayed him and thought of the underthings, he’d brought her, of how it would feel to unbutton her gown.

He cleared his throat, trying to think of something, anything, to say, only to have his thoughts interrupted by her laughter.

The sound of it allowed him to relax a bit more, his fingers squeezing hers in return to the gesture she’d offered earlier.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Maybe… maybe there’s a chance neither of us have to die after all.

There was a traitorously optimistic part of himself that held onto such an impossibility. He’d never been in love before, but he’d also never had Anna before.

AN AU YOU REALLY WAN TO DO/YOUR IDEAL AU

ooc ;; omg, i�� don’t know about ideal, i have like 500 i would like to try out or that i could just make up 

uhhhh, for example, alaric is watching toy story for the umpteenth time, so some kind of mix of the steadfast tin soldier/indian in the cupboard/pinocchio AU where a toy or figure comes to life, falls in love with their owner or vice versa and want to be real??

divination and tarot is right up my alley, and predictions coming true in the face of a non-believer and just FRUSTRATION between two characters, that sounds nice, right?

the story of leanan sidhe, a faerie feeding on artistic talent or a glanconer/gancanagh (kind of like an incubus) where their touch is literally addictive

INKHEART AU, one of the muses IS their fictional self and the other muse either is a silvertongue or just an average modern citizen and !!! that character is fictional wtf wtf OMG YOU’RE REAL - chaos ensues

…i could be here actually listing those 500 AUs for the rest of the night, so. yeah, leaving this here.

The Love Talker- Chapter 11 [December 7th]

Universe: Gancanagh/ Fae AU Rating: M (Again, bumping it up because this is where things start getting dub-con-esque, and includes more dark preoccupations) take care of yourself dear reader) Length: 3894 Words

A/N: In my continued attempts to actually finish things and or at least work on them for this year’s advent, here’s a chapter of the Love Talker for the 5 people who like this fic (including me).  Interested in becoming number six? Read it from the beginning here!

He wrapped her up tightly in the blanket she’d brought, averting his eyes to his best ability. She didn’t fight him as he did so, but instead repeatedly untucked her arms from the fabric to touch him. The need for contact and attention was immediate, and while he knew he needed to provide it, it turned his stomach. She was so cold. He could feel the chill on her skin, and if he didn’t get her back to the cabin soon it was going to get worse. Her hair was soaked, rivulets of water rolling down her face and shoulders, soaking the back of the blanket.

“When we get home Anna, I promise.” He encouraged as she reached out for him.

It was all he could do to coax her to keep the blanket on as he fetched her slippers for the walk back. Her clothes, torn and mangled as they were, sat upon the shore but he didn’t want to tarry in the open for any longer than he needed. It was all he could do to keep himself from running off into the woods after Hans and finishing what he’d started. It would feel so much better than holding the girl he’d failed in his arms as she stared at him with blind adoration.

Regardless of what he wanted, Anna needed him more. He was kicking himself for every decision that had lead him to this moment, to her needing him at all. In particular he was hating the part of him that wanted her to need him. This wasn’t how he’d wanted things to go between them at all.

He wasn’t even certain of what it had been that he’d wanted before. Had it been to help her and then let her go? It wasn’t an option that he hated, but it wasn’t what he’d wanted either. He had wanted her, but not like this. He’d wanted her in impossible ways.

Yes, of course, if you’d not touched her she would have been perfectly content to stay with you for the rest of your life. She never wanted to be kissed or loved as she deserved, clearly.

He recalled the moments before where he’d thought that maybe she’d wanted to touch him. He remembered the brave defiance she’d shown in standing before him and allowing him close. The look in her eye when she hadn’t been afraid of him, but instead promised to trust him.

A trust he’d betrayed.

She let the blanket slip from her shoulders, and he slid it back up, wrapping it tightly again before stooping down to help her slip her shoes on.

“Here,” he said, “slip your foot in… yes, good, okay.”

He’d retrieved warmer clothes for her, but he’d left them in the cabin, dropping them when he didn’t find her there. That was his first objective. Get her home, get her dressed, and then…

He didn’t know what to do after that. He supposed that maybe the trolls might have some advice, some idea of how to undo what he’d done. It was a long shot. They’d never mentioned having any such skill or knowledge before, and while he’d never had much cause to ask, he thought that they cared for him enough to mention it when they saw how much those early years had hurt him. They knew how seeing those women waste away had broken what was left of his spirit.

Surely they’d loved him enough to tell him if there was a way to end his suffering.

“It’s going to be alri…” he said, his throat tight as he did so, choking on the words to the point where he couldn’t finish the phrase, let alone to add the promise he’d meant to include. He couldn’t tell a lie, not aloud, not even if it was mostly directed towards himself.

He swallowed hard, trying to take a deep breath to clear the sensation. His throat ached as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and began walking her home. He wasn’t used to feeling the effects of his curse, not when he’d never had the cause to lie before.

“I hope that it’s going to be alright.”

That much, at least, was true.

***

Her head was full of fog, and she couldn’t see her hands in front of her.

When she’d been young she’d accidentally wandered too far into the woods, to a clearing with fog as thick as the pea soup she’d begrudgingly eaten for dinner. Her Mama and Papa had always warned her about the creatures in the wood, though they’d mostly warned her of wolves. Yet, when she’d come to the foggy place, she’d recalled the tales with fright and had hidden herself away beneath a small but bushy evergreen tree. She’d wrapped her arms around herself and held on tight until her nanny had found her, singing something in the language she’d never learned. Gaelic, she thought, something about a nog, but not for Christmas. Maybe she’d just misheard the word fog, being so young it had been possible.

Her nanny had been fierce in her scolding when she’d found her, but it had turned out for the best later, when she’d started telling Anna nightly tales of the things that lived in the forest that were better at dissuading her from entering than the tales of wolves had been.

She tried to hum what she could remember of the song, to comfort herself, but her throat wouldn’t make the sounds. Her voice was as lost to her as her arms, wrapped tight, then reaching for something, for someone.

“When we get home Anna, I promise.”

The voice was familiar, and her arms fell back to her side of their own accord, wrapped tight again, but itching to reach out.

Kristoff.

Some part of her, deep in her stomach, felt hollow, gutted. The sensation lasted for a moment, but once she registered it as fear, she forgot about it again, the feeling replaced with warmth and butterflies.

Kristoff.

She was safe. He would keep her safe.

She wanted him, but he was walking away. That frustrated her, and she felt her legs shift under her. She was stepping forward, moving towards him, but stopping when she saw him coming back. He was all she could see through the fog.

“Here, slip your foot in.”

Her foot raised and pushed forward into her slipper. And then into the other.

“Yes, good. Okay.”

She felt her body relaxing at the realization that she’d done what he wanted.

She wanted to ask him what else she could do, or tell him she was glad to see him, or do anything at all really, but no sound came out of her throat.

His arm wrapped around her shoulder, firm and comforting. He lead her along, and she could feel her legs moving under her, but she had no control over where she was going, her hands reaching out for him and his moving to keep the blanket she wore from falling.

She heard him say something about everything being alright, and while it felt strange to her that he would say such a thing, she didn’t dwell on it. Of course, everything was alright, she was with him and that was what she wanted.

She leaned to the side and pressed into him closer. It felt good. He gripped her arm a little tighter, pulling her in closer as he continued to lead her along the riverbank and then through the woods. None of the path seemed familiar, but the only thing she cared about was that she was at his side, under his arm, doing what he wanted.

***

He emptied out the bag he’d brought, setting all her things out in front of her though she appeared to be none the wiser that they were there. She just kept staring dreamily at him, standing there with the blanket around her because he’d asked her to keep it on.

“Anna, could you please get dressed for me? We’re going to go for a walk.”

He knew he didn’t have to ask. He could have just told her to do it, and she would. His mouth tasted sour, like bile was on its way up each time he thought about it. He didn’t even know if he could vomit if he wanted to.

Asking didn’t change the fact that she was compelled by the addictive quality of his touch. It just meant that he was doing everything he could to make himself feel better about it.

He turned away from her when she dropped the blanket and strode toward the pile of clothes he’d deposited on the floor for her. He might not be able to control what his curse was doing to her, but he could control himself. He didn’t want to take anything that she wasn’t giving freely, and she’d have to be in her right mind to give him anything in that way. Even looking at her seemed unfair, a breech of the trust he’d already so badly abused.

“Thank you,” he said, speaking to the wall of his cabin, “I’m so sorry… I…”

He didn’t even know if she understood what was happening to her, let alone the reason for his apology. The girls before had sometimes spoken, but mostly when directly asked a question, and even then he thought that maybe they’d only been telling him what he wanted to hear. The ones who were closer to their end, the ones who were gone from their gancanaghs long enough that the sweetness had worn off, had begged and pleaded and screamed, and Kristoff remembered them being almost lucid in their anger. Hans was a bit like that, his drive to find Anna returning in his final days.

He didn’t want that for Anna.

There was no outcome of their situation that he could see any benefit in. He could leave her, like the others had their playthings when they’d tired of them, but he’d rather die first. He could give her what she wanted, keeping her as long as he could, pleading with her to eat and drink before she eventually died from his poisonous touch anyway.

That option, while less cruel, also made him ill to think of. He couldn’t imagine trapping her and giving her the touch she craved without her being sober enough to consent properly.

But trap her he had, and he was going to have to start imagining how to make it work. He’d need to find some solution, or she was going to die.

He felt her arms wrap around him from behind, and he stiffened at the contact. Her fingers spread out against his lower stomach, and he reached down with his own hands to cover them. She hummed happily at the returned touch, and he rubbed his thumbs gently along the side of her palms. He was going to be gentle with her, give her as much as he could, as chastely as he could, to keep her sated without feeling as if he were crossing a line.

“That’s good Anna,” he said, assuming she’d dressed without being able to see her. He’d been looking away for some time, minutes had passed while he was stewing in his thoughts.

Sure enough when he glanced down at her arms he saw the sleeves of a somewhat familiar gown. It relaxed him somewhat, a sharp contrast to the iciness of her hands as he touched them. He stepped carefully, with her holding onto him, toward the fireplace, and carefully coaxed her into letting go.

He turned to face her and tried to find comfort in the fact that she was at least wearing warm clothes. His coat was laying across a chair nearby, and he thought that he’d make her put it on before they left.

He’d have to get her warm first and contend with her soaked hair. What he wouldn’t give for his pipe trick to work in other contexts. If he were able to magic her hair dry he’d feel at least a bit better about her chances of not catching ill.

“Are you feeling alright?” he asked, reaching his hands out as they shook to touch her shoulders, giving her some contact even if it wasn’t the skin to skin she needed.

He knew he was going to have to take this slow for his own sanity. He was grasping at the humanity that still lived inside him, the vague memories of what it was like to be a man and not a monster. His conscious was a remnant of it, but he wanted more. He wanted guidance, to know how to treat her in a way she might have liked had she not been bewitched, had he not poisoned her.

“Yes,” she said sweetly.

“Are you cold?”

She looked at him for a moment as if she were confused, and he saw a moment of clarity flicker to her eye and then vanish as quickly, replaced by fog.

“Do you… do you want me to be?”

He bit back a curse, his hands gripping her as if he could somehow pull her into reality, with him, in the moment.

“What I want,” he said, trying his best to keep his tone level, “Is for you to tell me if you’re cold. I don’t ca…”

His throat tightened again. He’d wanted to say that he didn’t care how she answered, but that was a lie. He cared deeply about how she answered, because he needed to know what she needed, how he could care for her.

“You can tell me the answer either way.”

She looked thoughtful for a moment, but the clarity didn’t return.

“Yes. I’m cold.”

He nodded, glad at least for the answer and brought her close to the fire. It was warm, and he settled down with her before it, feeling the heat he didn’t need and hoping that it was warming her. He found his jacket across the room, laying over a stool as if he’d summoned it there with a thought.

He allowed himself a moment to wonder if he had. He hadn’t really taken it off before he’d given it to her to wear, and he could summon his pipe and a magical flame to light it, and so it was not too far out of the realm of possibility that he had done so. He crossed the room, to her protest as he parted from her side, and quickly returned to settle it around her shoulders.

Her blissed out smile only caused him to bristle, but when she gathered it closer around himself, he took comfort in her warming. He had liked her wearing it before, he’d liked the way she’d looked in it, the much too large shoulders and sleeves covering her like a blanket. Now though, he thought it was the perfect analogy for how there’d never been a chance for them. The moment he’d given her his jacket she’d been his. It had only been a matter of time.

Minutes passed like hours as he stared at the flickering flames of the fire and allowed her to lean back into his chest as they stood before it. He needed her to stand there and warm before they set back off into the cold of the forested mountain. Even though she was better dressed this time, he was worried about her catching cold and falling ill. He couldn’t remember the discomfort of it himself, but he could remember the shaking of barefoot and scantily clad women, moving like wraiths amongst the trees, searching for the fae that addicted them.

If nothing else could be helped, he wouldn’t let Anna be uncomfortable like that. He wouldn’t let her suffer.

“Are you warmer now?” he asked, “I only want the truth.”

He didn’t see her face this time to see if there was any thoughtfulness or recognition in her eye. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to see it or not and decided being unable to tell was the best choice for what was left of his sanity. He couldn’t allow himself to hope too much because he wasn’t certain that he’d survive if he allowed himself to do so and found it shattered.

“Yes,” she replied airily, her voice too high and mewling to be herself.

It hurt in ways he couldn’t explain.

***

Anna liked the walk, or at least she thought she did, and then when she tried to think about it some more, her head told her to stop and enjoy the feeling of an arm linked around hers as she trekked up hills and through trees to places she hadn’t quite recalled seeing before. She felt dreamily familiar with some places, and when she caught the flapping of a strip of cloth in the breeze, just a strip tied to a tree, she had a spark of memory that faded before she could grasp it.

Then the stopped, and Kristoff was letting go of her arm and talking to someone. She tried to recapture his arm, to keep him close, but he stepped away from her and someone… something that was not him came into her vision. She tried to move towards Kristoff, to gain his attention, but through the fog a command cut the air.

“No Kjekk.”

It was his voice, and it sounded strained, upset. She wanted to make it better, but she had to listen, she had to heed the commanding tone.

“Please stay there, for just a moment. I’ll come back to you, I promise. You’re safe, stay still.”

She wasn’t certain of why he’d tell her that she was safe. Of course she was, because even at the hazy distance that he stood from her, he was there. She’d always be alright if he was there. She knew it.

There was more talking, and more of the not-people-things came up to her, surrounding her, speaking in a language that she thought she knew but could understand no more than anything that Kristoff wasn’t directing at her. An uneasiness again filled her, but almost as quickly as it had come it left.

Kristoff.

There was no reason to think, even about him. He’d tell her if he wanted her to think, he already had once, or maybe even twice. She couldn’t remember.

She stared off at him and let her mind empty of everything except her want for him.

Hands, cold and hard grabbed hold of her hands, then her arms, then her shoulders, until a cool palm passed over her head. She could feel the sensations but couldn’t quite place them. She obeyed Kristoff’s command to stay. There was more murmuring, as she was held, not aggressively, not roughly, but held still nevertheless.

Then, with the suddenness that her thoughts were quashed with. They all returned at once, screaming in her head, sensations filling her gut, her heart racing as the hands left her.

The fog lifted.

She was in a clearing, surrounded by stone creatures looking like the one she’d met by accident in the woods before. Trolls. Hundreds of them in the clearing and towards its edge, and backing away from her abruptly. She saw Kristoff too, standing with a few of them, looking at her.

He’d touched her.

The memory seared into her consciousness in a way she swore she could never forget, never stop thinking about.

She was his.

She was addicted.

The clearing seemed to spin around her, cold air hitting her face as she doubled over, eyes darting from Kristoff to the ground as she wretched and choked. She fell to her knees, feeling as though she were about to vomit. This was it.

This was the end.

***

“You have to help,” Kristoff pleaded with the oldest troll, the patriarch who ranked above even his “adopted” parents, “Please, anything to help.”

The old troll looked him over once, and then again. Letting out a sad sigh before reaching out to take his hand. He couldn’t addict them. They were his family and their magic was as strong as his, and yet, he knew that there was little they could do to help. In his heart he knew it, in his head he knew it, and yet he’d still brought her to them. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected other than maybe a miracle, but there were no miracles for those who were as wicked a thing as he was.

“Her head… I could change that, remove the clouds but her heart… Jeg kan ikke.”

He’d known it. He’d wished for more, but he knew that the trolls could not save her from his curse. They could not hold sway over his enraptured no more than he could enrapture their kind. The laws of magic that bound them all were complicated and old, but they were, if nothing else, consistent in their limitations.

“That is all I could ask for.”

“You could wish for more,” the old creature offered, squeezing his hand so hard it may have hurt him once, but not so much it hurt him now, “There’s not much more I could offer, but ekte kjærlighet… that could do much.”

He shook his head. True love. It was worse than a fairytale. Maybe, he thought. Maybe she could have loved him once, before he’d damned her. Even if the trolls could return her will to her, let her avoid that component of his curse, he knew that it would never be. Who could love something like him?

He didn’t even know if it would work, if it would be enough to free her if she did somehow find it in her to love him. No. He needed something more sure.

“If it gets down to it grandfather,” he said, quiet as he could, so quiet it could not reach the ears of his father or mother, “I would die before my curse kills her. It’s the only way I know she could be freed.”

The old troll looked surprised for a moment, then his face returned it it’s usual even expression. Not judging or agreeing, just thinking.

“Spør du for mye av oss.”

You ask too much of us.

He knew it was true, but still, it was better that someone know what he wanted. That someone knew that he’d rather die than let her be punished for his mistakes.

“I do. But if not by the hand of my family, by the hand of a Gan Ceann.”

Even the wise old troll bristled at the idea, and hung his head low, before striding towards Anna and away from his side.

“It will be done,” he announced, “All of it, if need be.”

Kristoff watched as the trolls surrounded her, heard their chants and calls as the old troll stepped up and was lifted aloft by others of his kind. His hand touched Anna’s head, and even from the distance he stood at, even with the rushing away of the trolls in his line of sight, he could see the clarity return to her eyes, and then the illness that she expressed as she fell to the ground, choking and retching as thought and sensation returned to her.

It was done.

She was cursed, and now she knew it.

The Love Talker- Chapter 10

Universe: Gancanagh/ Fae AU Rating: M (Finally bumping it up because this is where things start getting dub-con-esque, and includes more dark preoccupations) take care of yourself dear reader) Length: 4753

A/N: Long chapter. Heed the warnings & tags. This one gets a little more heavy handed with the suicide by sex talk, but I promise there's no graphic violence or death in this chapter. And there isn't going to be. For Anna at least. No promises Hans (you all know he’s been slated for the chopping block since the start, but it won't be graphic either, promise!). Shit is going to hit the fan in this chapter. Sorry <3

TW: dubcon (not much here, but a little more in the chapters to follow, think along the lines of sex pollen but for kissing), suicidal thoughts, self loathing, addiction

Hans had barricaded himself in the Arendelle Family House. Some in town were saying he’d gone mad with grief. No one had seen Anna in a few days, and many thought that maybe she’d gone off into the woods and wound up dead. Others thought more charitably that she’d left the man to go with her sister to the city. In either respect, no one was going near the house. There were sounds of screaming inside, the ravings of a mad man.

Folks were keeping their kids indoors. Rumor had it that someone had sent for a wagon from the asylum to come and take him away, but that had to come from the city. It would undoubtedly take a couple days, and in the meantime the town was gripped with terror. No one knew what the man might be capable of.

Kristoff grinned to himself in the shadows. He knew that he shouldn’t be taking so much pleasure in the fact that by the time a wagon from the asylum arrived, Hans would be dead. Yet, knowing this, he did take pleasure in it. He thought that even if he wasn’t the creature he’d become, he’d still enjoy the knowledge. Killing a killer wasn’t really making a right of a wrong, but it was keeping Hans from murdering more women.

Most importantly it was keeping Anna safe.

He lit his pipe and leaned against a tree in the wooded shadows behind the house. The smoke swirled around him as he puffed on it, sweet on his tongue and in the air. It was a comfort and ritual that calmed his nerves.

He wasn’t nervous about-facing Hans of course as there was nothing that he could do to him that Kristoff couldn’t stop. The perks of having someone addicted was that they couldn’t strike against you, or while they could try, it wouldn’t really do them any good, halting just before landing a punch, falling over themselves making an attempt at what old magic wouldn’t allow them. He was safe from Hans, but still nervous, mostly about traipsing through Anna’s home.

After a short time he extinguished the pipe and shoved it back into the pocket from whence he’d drawn it out. Because there really never was any real fire involved, just the illusion of it, he didn’t need to worry about burning himself. Recalling life before he’d become a monster was difficult, but he always retained the feeling that as a man, he would’ve liked the trick as much as he did now. No holes in your jacket, no need to carry matches, and no need to ever buy or grow your own tobacco. If there was a silver lining to his curse that was it.

The air around him was still. The screaming and raving had ended, but he knew that the man was skill alive. He could sense it. He’d know when he was dead. Or at least he thought he would. He was a bit worse than rusty.

It hadn’t been quiet for very long, but he’d take it as a good sign on any level. Perhaps the man had exhausted himself, or gone to the basement where his screams couldn’t be heard. Kristoff would apologize to Anna later for the fact that the man was tearing her home apart instead of his own, but he had a feeling that she wouldn’t be too upset. She wasn’t the sort of person, from what he could gather, who had much of an interest in things. However, he could tell from the grandeur of her home compared to the others in the village that she’d been raised with plenty of them.

She hadn’t even seemed too worried about her ruined dress, or what was less a dress and more a dressing gown.

The ruined gown was why he’d come to her home. He hadn’t expected for Hans to be there, he’d just come to get Anna some clothes.

She hadn’t asked. He just thought that after she’d agreed to trust him he should give her some kind of good faith gesture in appreciation. He wasn’t sure that he’d trust himself if he were her, so procuring some things to bring her some greater comfort seemed prudent. He also couldn’t deny that his interest in her, although he knew nothing could come of it, stretched to wanting to know where she’d come from before she’d made the mistake of stumbling across him in the wood.

He walked through the back door, not particularly caring if he ran into the mad man or not.

It had been a long time since he’d been in a home other than the cabin he kept, but when the back door opened up into the kitchen, he knew to keep walking into the space. Past the stove and pantry was a dining area with finely carved chairs and a table longer than he thought Anna might ever need herself. He let his hand rest upon the top of one, trying to imagine her sitting in it, carefree, eating her dinner in quiet solitude. Maybe, he imagined, she played host to others at times. She seemed the generous sort.

Adjoined to the dining room, through an entry way painted white with rosemaling that felt familiar to him, was a common area and no sign of Hans. He found instead, through the doorway of that room, an open front hall with a staircase leading up to where he assumed her bedroom would be.

He didn’t pass the mad man in the upstairs hall where he found bedrooms and a study, all with the doors open. There were broken bits of furniture here and there, papers strewn about and clothes and other personal effects intermingled. He wasn’t sure of what was Annas and what belonged to the rest of her family, but when he saw a hairbrush, he picked it up and stuffed it into the satchel he’d brought with him. He smiled to himself thinking about Anna’s messy braids and the mussed waves they’d revealed.

He’d like to brush them out for her. He could imagine her back resting against his chest lightly as he brushed and fussed with her hair, wrapping it around his fingers, humming a tune in her ear. He liked to work with his hands, something he thought may be a leftover from his life before, and to replait her hair seemed a simple task. It was an impossible dream, too much contact, just one slip would damn them both, and yet he thought of it fondly.

In another life, perhaps.

He walked from room to room, without any sign of the man he’d cursed. He didn’t know what to make of it. Everyone he’d heard talking had said that he was there. He’d heard him screaming and crashing just shortly before entering.

Perhaps, he thought, he was in a room he hadn’t found yet. Maybe he’d gone to the basement or entered a room after he’d left it. It didn’t really matter. He couldn’t hurt him.

When he passed by one of the bedrooms, he stopped. It was Anna’s room. He wasn’t sure why he was certain of this, but he was.

It was the biggest mess of all. It had thoroughly tossed, and there were clothes and bits of this and that scattered about the floor. A mirror had been smashed, and Kristoff did his best to shove the bits of glass into a small pile with his foot on the wooden floor as he walked through the space. There was a rosemalled armoire with its doors wide open where the mirror glass was concentrated. There was a frame within still hanging on to a few pieces of jagged glass. He saw himself in the fragments, frowning. He hadn’t looked at himself in anything but water in many years, and he found himself unchanged as he’d ever been. He wasn’t wearing his jacket. That and a bit of mussing to his hair was all that differentiated him from any other day. He combed his fingers through his hair and hoped that Anna wouldn’t be too upset about what had happened to her mirror. It looked as though it might have been an heirloom.

A few items of clothing were still within the cabinet, and while it felt odd to snoop through her things, he searched for anything that seemed sufficiently warm for the cool autumn weather in the area of the mountains she currently resided in. He wouldn’t make her stay inside alone. That would be torture for Anna, that much he could tell simply from the spirit she had about her. She hadn’t been built to be cooped up, she was animated and adventurous and full of life, so he chose clothes he thought might be warm enough for her to walk about in.

He knew extremely little about women’s clothing, more proof that he was terrible at being a gancanagh. The last time he’d… partaken… fashions had been different. He tried not to think about it too terribly much as he lifted up some garments from the floor. Still in the armoire there was a heavy cotton skirt, and one sprawled nearby on the floor that seemed less full, but that was made of wool. He crammed them into the bag and added a few blouses. He thought maybe she’d laugh at the assortment he brought to her, as he imagined that none of the items matched.

He found that the drawers beneath the main portion of the cabinet, had been mostly untouched and upon the revelation that they contained underthings, he flushed and nevertheless added them to the bag with the rest.

He took a look around the room and imagined what Anna had been like there. A writing desk had been razed, ink wells broken, and papers strewn about, but he found a book covered in dried ink and opened it to find the mess contained to the cover and a bit to the page edges. Written in neat hand upon the pages were dates and short entries of daily events. He wanted to read it but thought better of it and tucked it into the bag. She deserved her privacy, and he supposed she’d like to have the book with her if she’d spent so much time writing in it.

Her supplies for writing were destroyed, littering the floor around him. He thought maybe he’d find some way to procure more for her, but shook his head at the thought. She’d return soon enough and perhaps it would be better for her to not chronicle her time with him. Better that she think of it like a and dream after she returned.

Surveying the room again and finding nothing that he thought she’d require, and nothing that jumped out to him as particularly important, he lingered a short while longer and exited. There was no evidence that Hans had returned to the upper floor. Kristoff heard nothing, saw no change in the ruined environment, and could not imagine where the man might have gone. Perhaps, he thought, he’d already expired without his notice. He’d never intentionally done something like this before, so he wasn’t exactly certain about how long someone could last away from the gancanagh that touched them. He wasn’t certain about much of his own nature, and it was no accident on his part.

He’d never wanted to be gancanagh.

He huffed and strapped the satchel closed, deciding it best to at least locate a body if there was one to be found. Maybe, he thought, his sense of life and death in those afflicted by his curse wasn’t as acute as he’d always believed. If there was a body, he’d tip off someone in the village to take care of it.

Another of the “benefits” of being a gancanagh was that so long as no one knew his name, so long that they weren’t prepared for him, they couldn’t do anything to hurt him. Another was that he was quite persuasive, so it would be no trouble to talk someone into investigating the home. Perhaps, he thought, he might even be able to plant the evidence of his plan to kill Anna to ensure that when she returned to the village, she’d have little to explain. He didn’t want her to have to worry about such things.

He didn’t want her to have to worry about anything for as long as she lived.

Which is why she needs to get away from me as quickly as possible.

Quickly walking through each room he found no trace of the man, and after delving through the downstairs rooms and basement, he found no evidence that Hans was still in the building, dead or alive.

He thought, walking through the detritus that had once been Anna’s life, that he should have just told the man to walk off a cliff or something, take care of business and save himself the annoyance of needing to locate him. But no, he’d seen the names in the book Anna brought him, the women who he’d killed for money. He needed him to suffer for that.

He imagined there were many that would hold the same opinion of him.

He sometimes, in his darkest moments, thought that maybe he should hold himself to the same standard.

He could still remember the way they looked, all the women he’d spent time with before. He hadn’t been the one to ensnare any of them, but it hadn’t meant that what he’d done to them was right. He’d been young, so new to a life that he now couldn’t imagine ever being without, and he’d spent time with his own kind. The trolls had warned him against it, but it had seemed logical, surrounding himself with the only others who could teach him about what he was.

They’d ensnared so many women. And he’d thought it was necessary because he was told that it was. He’d not known about what happened to them at first.

They, the other gancanagh, would bring them out of bars, out of towns, and he’d been foolish about the consequences. He thought they’d come for a night of debauchery in the forest, maybe to stay a week or two, but always to return to their homes after. To be charmed and kissed and then to return to less doting husbands with an excuse and nothing more.

“Their youth feeds us, keeps us well,” they’d said, “they like the interruption, to have someone’s interest, you can give them your affection and they’ll take it insatiably.”

He’d never been with women before, and he never truly was with them either. He’d touch them and hold them and kiss them because they begged for it, and they’d dance so lithely around. It was only much later that he saw what became of the addicted mortals they left behind.

Half mad women burning down their homes while still inside, waifish shapes wandering the woods, empty eyes and gaunt cheeks, so addicted to their “merry band” that they cared neither for food nor water, only for the touch of the fae that addicted them.

He hadn’t addicted them, but he fed into the addiction. He hadn’t known that they weren’t in their right minds, that they couldn’t say no, but he should have. He’d kissed them and danced and had seen right past the spell they were under because he didn’t want to see it. Then when he did see it, he thought he could help. He raged when the others took women when he didn’t himself. He would find the women they left in the woods, try to satiate them while they dwindled away, but he could only prolong the inevitable for so long. They all died eventually, whether from madness or malnourishment or from their bodies giving out from the magic surging and waning in their veins.

He’d left the other gancanagh after a time, unable to stop them, but still human enough to know that he didn’t want to do what they did. He saw so much gancanagh in Hans. He’d taken women and used them up, leaving bodies in his wake. That he could use his curse to return the favor was the best use of it he’d found in a long time.

Finding the man gone, Kristoff did his best to shake off his thoughts. He needed to collect himself because he needed to know where Hans had gone and whether it was safe for Anna to return.

He did his best to pick up what he could on his way out and then slipped out the back door and walked through the woods until he found a path into town. He supposed it would be best to simply ask a townsperson whether or not they’d seen Hans of late, as he’d be happy enough to learn that the man had died in the streets, or had been taken away, or was, at least locked back in his own home.

He needed to know if it was safe for Anna to return.

She needed to go home, because while she wasn’t safe with Hans, she wasn’t safe with him either. Every moment he was with Anna, every moment he wanted to reach out and touch her, reach out and give her the sort of gentle intimacy he saw she craved. It was the sort of affection he’d love to give her if he was anything but what he was because as it stood he knew that he would be the death of her. He couldn’t justify killing her would-be-killer if he turned around and addicted her.

He walked into town as confidently as he could, holding his head high, and generally exuding as much of the attractive air his being would allow. When he chanced upon a young lady, a bit older than Anna, and yet still a maid, she was instantly enraptured. That he felt no need or interest in reaching out to touch her was unsurprising. He’d never had much trouble in fighting his nature before Anna, and now when the only woman he wanted was her, the young lady was no temptation. Still though, the charm was easy enough to turn on despite his general disinterest in her, and people in general.

“Hello Miss! Might I inquire as to where I might find a man by the name of Hans?”

***

The water was cold, and she shivered as she submerged herself in it. What she wouldn’t do for a tub and some warm water, and yet, she was simply happy to wash away some of the dirt and grime from her skin. She supposed that it was a good idea to do so given the time she’d spent in the woods, and with Kristoff off for the day, a dip into the river hadn’t seemed like the worst idea she’d ever had.

Sven was ashore with her clothes and a blanket. The creature brought her infinite comfort despite the fact that she hadn’t wandered far from the cabin. At least she had the comfort of not being lost, and as far as she could tell, she might still be on the land that she presumed to be protected by her gancanagh.

She flushed at the thought and not from the cold. To call him her gancanagh as if anyone could have a gancanagh as their own. It was a foolish thought, she was much more his than he was hers, though she did like the idea of it in either respect. It was proof that she might be going a bit mad.

Damn yourself Anna.

She splashed cold water on her face and gasped. There was time before winter was to arrive, but she may as well be bathing in ice. She leaned back best she could into the water, soaking her hair and running her fingers through it in an attempt to at least knock away most of the dust and dirt.

She recalled the look in his eye when he’d asked her to trust him the night before, the way they’d been so dark and intently focused on her own. She let her fingers slip to her wrist, where he’d first touched her through the fabric of her shirt cuff. The skin there felt hot as she focused on it, despite the chill of the water. She’d almost shown him then and there how prepared she was to trust him, how willing she was to curl her fingers forward and touch him.

How willing she was to addict herself to him.

Asking him to touch her had been unwise enough.

She was a damn fool. She always had been.

As a child she’d believed in fairy tales, and as she’d aged she’d never let herself grow out of it. That was why she’d accepted Hans’s proposal so easily, because she’d longed for a happily ever after so strongly, she’d been unable to see through the façade it had all been. And now, so acutely aware of the danger she was in, she was still willing to believe in the ending she’d wanted since she was a child.

Of course she knew that getting herself addicted to a gancanagh could allow nothing but a swift death, but it would be one in which she’d feel good the whole time, and she thought maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

It had been years since she felt wanted, and even if it killed her, she thought that being wanted by Kristoff might be the best way she could go. Particularly because at least it would be her choice to addict herself, and it was a choice with an ending she could choose. It was a way to fade away, and she felt the tears pooling in her eyes as she had to shake herself from the thought. It wasn’t an option.

She focused herself again on washing the dirt from her skin, letting the icy water shake her from her dark fantasies. She didn’t want to die. She wouldn’t leave her sister like that, even if she’d left her almost as surely.

She pulled herself from the water when she began to lose feeling in her toes, the cool air feeling much icier than the water as she removed herself from it and moved to the place she’d left a blanket at Sven’s side.

The deer quickly moved, surprising her as it took off behind her and toward something that surprised and terrified her in equal measure.

A man with torn clothing, mud and sticks in his hair such that it was almost impossible to identify him at first.

Hans.

***

Kristoff, once again, found himself running through the woods, shouting “Kjekk!” at the top of his lungs. He wouldn’t endanger her by calling her true name, even if he was still on the safety of his protected lands. She’d left the cabin again, and while it was in her rights to do so, he was terrified to see her gone. He’d sent himself to the building as soon as the young woman in town had told him that Hans had set off into the woods like a mad beast over an hour before.

Kristoff hadn’t thought that he’d been in her home nearly as long as he had, but he’d evidently entered the back of the house not long after Hans had left through the front. He’d hoped, upon realizing that the man had entered the wood, that he’d gone anywhere but towards the mountains where Anna resided, but he had no faith in his luck. He knew that the most desperate of the addicted were sometimes able to feel their way to the home of the gancanagh that addicted them if they didn’t travel far enough away, but he hadn’t even thought it was a possibility with Hans.

“Kjekk!” he screamed, running through the wood, only to hear a shriek coming from the direction of the river, causing his heart, or what was left of it, to race.

He sprinted in the direction of her voice, hearing with it the sound of laughter that was anything but sane.

He’d done it. He’d managed to undo everything he was hoping to accomplish by taking her to his home and addicting Hans.

He’d found her, and there was nothing he could do about it.

***

Anna watched in terror as Sven ran straight for the madman who she’d once imagined herself marrying. The beast ducked his head down, charging him with his antlers, clearly ready to gore the man to defend Anna.

She screamed out, terrified for everyone involved, herself included. She knew Hans probably deserved to be killed as violently as he’d lived, but in the moment she wanted anything but for Sven to do it. The beast was kind and gentle and deserved better than to have to attack to defend her. She didn’t want anyone to have to defend her. She wanted to go back in time and refuse Hans and to run off to the city with her sister or join a nunnery, or to be in any situation other than the one she’d managed to get herself into.

Frozen on the spot, she stared numbly as the scene played out in front of her. She felt as if ice were flowing through her veins, and then, she warmed, hearing Kristoff’s voice from behind her.

She didn’t decide to run to him so much as she operated on instinct to do so. Being with him meant being safe, it meant that Sven might not need to kill the man that was fully trying to kill her.

His eyes went wide as he broke though the copse of small trees along the bank she was running down, and by the time she thought about what she was doing, it was too late. She threw herself, bare as she was, into him, his forearm grazing her side in the process.

He’d promised her that he wouldn’t touch her, and it was a promise he’d kept.

She’d touched him. She’d damned them both.

***

He felt it instantly. The sensation of her chill, bare skin against his. He’d barely registered the fact that she was naked as he exited the woods and took in what was going on. Sven was charging Hans, Hans had the good sense to run away, returning to the wood from whence he’d come, cursing up a storm and looking every bit like the mad man he was.

“No,” he breathed, “Anna…”

But it was too late, it was already done.

He looked down to see her eyes, her beautiful expressive blue eyes, glazing over with a vacant unknowing that he’d seen too many times before. It was the first step, the beginning, what happened before victims starved or went mad. It was the pretty stage, the bit where they went all soft and pleading and wanting.

He stumbled back, as if he could move away from her and undo what he’d done to her so simply. But there was nothing simple about what was going on, layers upon layers of curses and fae law meant that there was no easy out for either of them.

Sven, in Kristoff’s periphery, had stopped charging, and Hans had managed to take off far enough in the woods quickly enough that he was no longer their problem at the time being.

Anna clung to him, even as he tried to move away from her. She was bare and shaking and holding him around the chest.

She’d been bathing in the river, he realized. None of this was her fault. She hadn’t asked for Hans to interrupt her bath, she’d taken Sven with her, followed his every instruction to not move far from the cabin, and still she’d run into trouble because of him. He should have killed Hans when he had the chance. He should have sent her home.

Her hands were wandering across his back, little icy fingers that he could feel through his shirt. They might as well be stabbing him.

He’d wanted her, but not like this.

Carefully, trying his best not to look down at her, he wrapped his arms around her in return. He knew that she needed this, needed his touch, but it made him want to vomit.

“Come on Anna,” he whispered, pleading gently, “Lets get you covered up. It’s very cold.”

She complied. She had no choice.

The Love Talker- Chapter 9

Universe: Gancanagh/ Fae AU Rating: T (currently, expect M in time) Length: 2164 Words

A/N: This is dark fic. If you’ve made it this far you know what I’m talking about. Here’s some softness because there’s some more hurt coming soon. I have no idea how many more updates I’ll get out before I take another multi-month hiatus. Most of you know how I am at this point, but I can at least promise one chapter after this one!

[Master Post]

Trust, five letters as it had, may as well be a four letter word for Anna. It should have been an insult for him to ask her.

He’d been the one to call her too trusting, and now he was asking her to trust him.

She’d trusted her parents when they’d said they’d come home.

She’d trusted Elsa when she said that she was moving for Anna’s good and not her own.

She’d trusted Hans when he’d said… anything really.

Now, more than anything, she wanted to trust Kristoff.

“Show me,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper as she stared up into his dark eyes.

They were so close she could feel his breath. She could see the tension in his jaw, and her fingers twitched as he held her wrist for want of touching him. She could imagine it, how it would feel to run the pads of her fingers down the rough stubble on his cheeks, how he would relax under her touch.

“Show me why I should trust you.”

She felt his sigh more than she heard it, the hot puff of air that sent the messy tendrils of her hair aflutter, brushing gently against her neck. She’d like to know what it would feel like to have his lips there. A foolish dream that she’d nearly be willing to give her life for.

His hand loosened on her cuff, shifting up her forearm slightly.

“I’ve made you more promises than I’ve made to anyone in all my life Anna. I can’t lie to you, you know that. I’ve done my best to avoid half truths or difficult bargains with you since I learned your name. I gave you my true name. What else could I do?”

“Kristoff,” she said, knowing that she was testing him by saying the name, feeling bolder than her situation allowed her to be safely, “I said show me.”

Her hand went to her sleeve, not far below where his hand was resting on her arm. He didn’t shift, and so she peeled back the sleeve closer to his hand, daring him to touch when he’d said he wouldn’t. She wasn’t consenting explicitly, but their agreement, the bond that held him, hadn’t forbade him from taking an action as an offer. She didn’t know what she’d do if he took his chance and tried to touch her. She’d likely be unable to tug her sleeve down in time.

She knew she was playing a dangerous game.

His hand shifted higher on her arm, avoiding the exposed skin. She pulled he fabric up again, and his hand moved away with it. He didn’t stop touching her, his touch firm but not rough on her as they continued their dance, shifting touches and fabric until his hand rested at the very top of her arm, spanning the thin band of fabric between where her sleeve was rolled and the neckline of her gown.

“Is this proof?”

Anna bit her lip. He’d proven a willingness to keep his promise in the spirit in which it was given and to the letter of the law between them. He hadn’t crossed a line, even when it was possible for him to do so.

“What would you do if I asked you to touch me? What would you do if I asked right now?”

They hadn’t moved apart at all in the time that had passed, and she could feel the tension in his body as she asked. He was like a tightly coiled spring, ready to burst.

He had to tell her the truth.

“I would put my hands on your waist.”

She wasn’t sure of what to make of the answer. Her waist was covered fully by the fabric of her dress. She thought she might ask him to do it, but then faltered. By asking him what he would do “right now” meant that now that the moment had passed and the question had been answered, he could act differently. It wouldn’t be a breach of the agreement.

He’d asked her to trust him.

And though she knew it made her a fool, she did.

“Touch me Kristoff.”

***

It was all he could do to keep his hands from trembling when she said the words. He knew she didn’t want him to addict her, but also knowing that he could if he wanted to, was enough to make him think about giving in.

She was staring him in the eye, daring him, he thought. She could be impertinent at times, taking advantage of the good nature he’d shown her. She must know, as he did, that in saying such a thing, in the wording of her question and her command using his name, he was forced to action. She’d left the action’s course up to his decision. She was foolhardy to do it, but he understood why she had. Trust was to be earned, and if he was going to be trusted, it was going to be through a trial of fire.

He did shudder at the thought that she was reckless enough to offer a trial that could end so disastrously for her, for them both, but if it weren’t so dangerous, it wouldn’t be a true test. It would be easier to pass up on the possibility of touching her if his self-control wasn’t being gnawed at on all edges.

He could feel the heat of her skin, not only from the hand on her clothed shoulder, but also radiating from her due to their proximity. It would be so simple, to reach out and touch her hand, to lean forward and kiss her, to bind her to him until her inevitable death.

The thought turned his stomach as much as it made his baser instincts rise.

He reached out his hand and slowly, carefully, placed one hand on her waist, using the other to slide the fabric of her sleeve back down over her arm before settling it too on her waist. It was the closest he could get to an embrace without worrying about an accidental brush of skin.

“I’m not going to intentionally addict you Anna,” he swore, “Not unless you ask me in those terms. I can’t promise an accident won’t happen, but I can promise you I’m being my most cautious.”

He felt her relax, and he was surprised when she raised her hands up to rest on his shoulders, almost as if they were about to dance. He’d give anything for music, to sway with her in his arms, to revel in the closeness a bit longer.

He knew that he was falling for her, not in the easy fly by night way his kind normally fell for mortal women, but in a way that cut him much deeper. She was beautiful, smart, and so brave that it terrified him. He could imagine himself, another version of himself, making a life with her where he knew that he could only make death.

“I trust you Kristoff.”

The admission was soft, and when he gently slipped a hand across her back, she leaned into it, sighing. That she found comfort in his touch made his heart ache with the need to show her more affection.

She trusted him.

If only he could trust himself so easily.

***

He watched her eating. It should have made her uncomfortable, but the pleased and relieved look on his face as she ate the food he offered made her feel at ease. She would be lying if she said that his presence alone didn’t do the same. She’d already been more than inclined to let her guard down around him, and his most recent display of control over his nature allowed her to completely relax in his company.

She bit into a particularly delicious bit of bread and cheese he’d managed to procure for her, and hummed her satisfaction.

That he glanced away then wasn’t lost on her. She still wasn’t certain as to whether or not he could blush, but she wasn’t so innocent to think that she had no effect on him at all. Or at least some part of her hoped that she was affecting him, because he certainly was her.

She couldn’t quite determine what bits of what she liked about him were fae and which were just him, but at any rate she was enjoying trying to figure it out. His looks, she thought, must be fae. No man she’d ever met was so well suited to large features as he was. He was tall and broad and he had a large nose that would be unattractive on a lesser man, but in his overall appearance everything was carried off rather well.

His personality, she thought, was not magically altered or affected in any way. He was sincere and prudent, and at times grumpy, and she thought that there was no magic in the charm it had over her. She simply liked him for who he was. No one was ever so frank and open with her.

“Kristoff?” she asked, swallowing the last of her meal, still not entirely certain she hadn’t just eaten faerie food for how good it had all tasted.

“Yes?” he answered, looking back in her direction but looking a little worse for wear.

“Did you want to touch me?”

He shot her a confused look in return, as if he wasn’t sure of what she was asking. It was a fair reaction, particularly because she realized she was asking two separate questions.

“Well, I more or less forced you to touch me. That was unfair of me, to use your name, to back you into a corner like that. I should have asked if you wanted to touch me.”

He shook his head.

“Anna… don’t worry about that. I wanted to touch you. I… always want to touch you.”

She knew that he must mean it. She would think that any other man saying they always wanted to touch her would have been a stretch, but he couldn’t say it, or at least he couldn’t use the word “always” if he didn’t mean it.

It made her realize that she needed to ask the second question as well, much as she didn’t want to upset him with it if she could avoid it.

“Do you always want to touch me… you know… not on my clothes.”

He huffed, “Are you asking if I always want to touch you in an addictive way? Be clear Anna.”

She smiled, he was grumping about it, but not in a way that seemed insulted or angry, just in a way that showed his annoyance at her lack of proper asking. He always seemed most bothered when she wasn’t taking all the steps she could to protect herself from him.

“Yes. I want to know if you always want to touch me in an addictive way.”

“Yes.”

The answer was quick, and she nearly choked on the water she sipped to wash down the end of her meal. She had maybe expected the answer, but it being so direct with no wiggle room, with no clever wording was surprising.

There was a glint in his eye as she met it, a reminder that as much as she enjoyed his company, and as much as she was ready to trust him, there was still something wild in him, something ravenous. He was fae, he was wild, and he could kill her.

Her heart raced, and she couldn’t tell him that it wasn’t out of fear.

***

He didn’t need sleep, but his day with Anna had left him feeling drained in a way he hadn’t been in many years. It was the want, he knew that.

She was fast asleep in the loft, and he allowed himself to climb up the ladder and check on her in the night. A small reward for his restraint, something to tide him over before he left as he intended to in the morning.

She slept with a smile on her lips, good dreams he thought. Her hair was loose, a wavy mess on the pillow behind her from the braids she’d had it in. He carefully reached out to some messy strands closest to him and smoothed them on the pillow. It was the most he was willing to touch her, worried both about slipping up and about her waking.

He wanted nothing more than to press a kiss to her forehead as she slept, to let out some of the need in his chest. She was going to be the death of him, and yet he was so grateful for every moment she was with him.

“Sleep well Anna,” he said quietly before climbing back down and out the front door of the cabin.

The cold night air greeted him, and he lit his pipe, thinking about how it had felt to hold onto her, if only for a short while.

The Love Talker- Master Post

Summary: Anna is an heiress living in the small village she was raised in while her sister runs their family business in a crowded city hundreds of miles away. When Anna realizes that her fiance is not the man she thought he was, she escapes into the woods surrounding her home, running for her life. She places all her hope on getting to the next town over before her fiance can find her, but fails to realize the tales she’d been told as a child about the dark creatures who lived in the woods, were not simply tales. She struggles to recall the tales that may save her life, and comes face to face with one of the most dangerous creatures of legend. The gancanagh.

Gancanagh (/ɡænˈkænə/) (from Irish gean cánach, meaning "love talker"): a male solitary fae whose touch is addictive to humans due to a contact poison/drug secreted through their skin. Humans touched by these fae often lose their minds and die from withdrawal after a single touch if the faerie does not continue to provide them with their affections.

Rating: T (Will become more mature over time) Universe: Fae/ Gancangh AU TW: Curses, Suicide, Murder, Slight Dub Con, Addiction

Chapter Links:

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[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11] [Chapter 12] [Chapter 13]-TBA