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meowmeowmeowmeow4x · 22 days

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Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 24

MEGA WARNING FOR VLAD BEING A CREEP, HUMAN EXPERIMENTATION, NEEDLES, NUDITY, MORE CREEPINESS AND DANNY GETTING SHOT

big thanks to @impyssadobsessions as well as @faerplay for their help with the first scene owo

MASTAPOST

Hazy fog closes around his mind. Danny turns in fits in his sleeping position. The water is cold, the ocean is eerily quiet. His mind is dragged back to a cold room at the bottom of the ocean, even as he claws the ground, unable to remain in the present.

Danny struggles, but his hands are stuck. His legs are tied together. He screams. Nothing comes out. He begs for help. Nobody hears. He cries for his parents to come save him. Nobody comes. Danny is trapped there for a thousand years and will never see the light of day again.

Nobody comes to save him when kind eyes and tender hands enter the room. The voice is sweet, and light, like a fairy god-uncle come to save him. Nobody comes to save him when the hands burned his skin with their touch. Danny’s fins rattle, shooting up straight like goosebumps.

Nobody protects him. Nothing protects him. His bare skin shivers in the cold air of the lab. His skin burns hot. Hot from shame, from disgust and violation. The kind eyes are not kind at all – they stare in hunger as bare and uncovered as his own body. It burns when needles plunge into his skin. It burns when the sigils are carved into his back, only to heal and then be carved again. It burns when the hands caress his cheek and the voice tells him it will be alright.

The voice is lying. It will always be lying.

Danny begs for the scene to go away. He has seen this all before. The room shifts. Red hair sways in the wind. Gunshots fire. Danny runs, but he cannot. He has no legs. He crawls back underneath glaring hatred. The eyes zeroed in on his heart grow. They grow and multiply and there are hundreds now. Hundreds of faces. Some in white suits. Some in brilliant Amani. Some in jumpsuits. Some in child-sized hoodies and jeans.

Danny’s vision shifts between the waking and the dreaming world. Details blend into each other like melting portraits. His lateral line senses Damian a million miles away and also right behind him and inside his guts with a sword. His ears register fictional water rushing, and very real vitriolic words spat out by fifty voices overlapping.

Danny’s eyes were thick with pearlescent slime when the real became fake again and the fake was revealed as the truth. The voices faded away into the background. The quiet of the ocean came back. Nothing like the clinical silence that drove him to tears in…

Danny jumped back. His scales shivered like rats under a microscope. He rubbed his body all over, the brushed it, then ground against his scales. Anything to get rid of the phantom fingers on his body, to get rid of the ghost touches that lingered even months later.

‘You need to ground yourself. Something to anchor your mind to the here and now. Let’s try a grounding exercise together, ok?’ Jazz said, once, when she caught him stumbling around the house at three am, skin matted in cold sweat and eyes wild like a cornered rat.

He saw himself. He saw his white scales and the bones underneath and the millions of nerves and blood vessels that you could only see if you squinted just close enough. And he saw Sam, smiling as she told him it was the most beautiful sight she’d seen in her entire life.

The supplies that he and Damian plundered from the Atlanteans, a chaotic and exciting fight that left him smiling on the inside even as he questioned the kid’s sanity.

He saw Damian inside his makeshift sleeping bag, the boy who had gone through so much pain, and will be forever changed, like Danny. He would not be able to shift like Danny’s half-human body could, nor talk or hide his siren traits perfectly and blend in plain sight. And the tears started again, so Danny forced himself to move on.

He couldn’t say if the grounding technique solved anything. Jazz told him as much. At least he felt alone again. Better than feeling the company of the evillest man he’d ever met.

Danny wiped away the last of the tears. The pearls that beaded up on the floor were swept away into the open ocean, never to be seen again. Better that Damian didn’t have more things to worry about than his failed rescuer failing even further.

The younger siren woke up soon after, shivering violently. He hoped Damian had better dreams. Danny passed another satchel for warmth, but Damian refused to even look at him, or take the thing. They had breakfast together in silence, as Damian rubbed his scales to stave off the cold.

They departed without a hitch. Danny’s cheeks continued to burn white hot, this time with guilt.

Jazz Fenton chanted in her head. ‘Go faster little brother. Please. Don’t stop.’

But it was futile. The radar showed him going too slow. The SAV would catch up to him today. Then they would capture him, and then-

Jazz pulled out all the stops. Every coping technique she could apply, she applied. She clutched Bearbert to her chest like a lifeline, like he was Danny’s lifeline. She took deep breaths and counted to them. She counted things she could see, hear, touch, smell and taste.

There had to be a way out of this.

Jazz turned around only to bump into the massive body of Bruce Wayne. If she didn’t know better she would’ve thought that she’d run into a brick wall.

A hand grabbed hers just as she lost her balance. “Steady there, Jasmine!” Bruce Wayne said.

Shit. The one person she didn’t want to talk to right now.

Jazz schooled her features into polite embarrassment. “Oh, s-sorry Mr Wayne! I didn’t realise you were there!”

For such a large guy, Bruce Wayne was stupidly stealthy. The man waved off her concerns. “There’s no trouble, Jasmine. You look worried. Is something wrong?”

Everything was wrong. Jazz went for a half-truth, something that can misdirect him away from her true feelings. “We’re so close to catching up to Phantom. I just… I want my brother back.”

She did not avert her eyes, but she did maintain eye contact up until the last word, upon which she turned away, and looked out into the window. Excessive eye contact was a tell for liars. Avoidance would make her suspicious. She had to maintain a balance.

Bruce Wayne leaned out the window beside her, and she almost screamed. Goddammit! Take a hint and fuck off already!

He took a deep long sigh. “So do I.”

Jazz counted the seconds until it was polite enough to leave. However, part of her was curious. “What was your disagreement with mom and dad about last night?” She said carefully.

Bruce Wayne rubbed the back of his neck. She had a gut feeling it was fake, but couldn’t prove it. “Well, as your mother said, we were just having a… discussion about Phantom’s fate.”

Jazz tightly grasped her tone and timbre, not letting her voice betray anything. “And what do you think we should do with him?”

The man sighed. “In all honesty, I don’t know. He needs to face justice for his actions, but how that will be conducted, I don’t know.”

Jazz’s chest heaved. For all his talk, Bruce Wayne was only less blood thirsty than her parents. That he was sympathetic to the sirens had no evidence. She was foolish to even think so last night.

But maybe he can be swayed, just as he swayed her parents?

“It’s not like you can put him in jail.” Jazz muttered.

“There are plenty of metahumans and other supernatural species in prisons. I should know. I helped fund their rehab programs.” Bruce Wayne’s tone was also even, like he was testing her.

“The GiW doesn’t have jurisdiction over metahumans and other supernatural creatures.”

“You’re afraid for him.”

Jazz’s heart rate spiked. No, no, she had to keep a handle on the situation. Do not catastrophise. Do not catastrophise. “You believe in rehabilitation, don’t you?”

“It’s all I ever dream of, for my city.”

“Is vivisection included in your plans for bringing criminals back into society?”

Bruce Wayne’s expression hardened by a fraction, something she only noticed from intensely studying his face as she spoke. “It isn’t.”

“What do us normal people do when the bodies trusted to dispense justice misuse their powers?” Jazz’s voice sharpened. “After capturing Phantom, and getting Danny and Damian back, what kind of justice can be dispensed that doesn’t involve humans performing the most inhuman punishments imaginable?”

Bruce Wayne’s eyes narrowed. Jazz felt seen through. Shit. She spoke too much.

“You don’t agree with your parents on sirens, do you?”

Jazz straightened her back, using her father’s genes to stand only a head shorter than the towering man. She stared straight up at his eyes, unwavering. “That was always clear. The real question is: do you?”

Bruce Wayne said nothing.

The day passed by without Danny even noticing. The sun began to sink into the horizon. It was probably about four pm or something now. Thankfully, the ocean’s surface wasn’t as populated with obstacles as your average road, or else Danny would’ve crashed many times already. He fought to keep his eyes open. After all that had happened, he felt so, so tired.

He looked to the moon for guidance. Apparently lots of more isolated tribes worshipped the moon. He could see why. It was vital for its role in creating the tides.

He always dreamed of walking on the moon. Fat chance of that happening now. Would it even listen to him if he prayed?

Danny nudged Damian with his shoulder. “You know, I’ve been told there are lots of sirens that worship the moon. Ain’t that neat?”

Damian buried his face into the crook of his green-scaled arm.

“Maybe we should say a prayer. I’m not a very religious guy, but maybe someone will listen?”

Danny tried a few more times to get a response out of Damian, but he was stone-walled out each time.

“D-Damian. Please. I know what’s happening to you is horrible, and I’m sorry I haven’t been helping as much as I should. But I genuinely didn’t know about your voice. You have to believe me. I-I-I was raised alone. I’ve barely known any other sirens in my life.”

Damian sniffed. Was he crying?

“Damian?”

Engines sounded in the distance. Danny’s blood went coat.

He turned around, and his worst fears were confirmed. His heart rate spiked. On the horizon, two jets skis closed in. Their speed and power blasted water into the air in their wake. He could recognise his mother’s red hair anywhere, but his heart spiked when he spotted Bruce Wayne on the other speeder.

“Father.” Damian whispered.

Danny went full throttle. He pulled Damian to his chest, ignoring the boy writhing to get out of his grasp. No. He couldn’t let his parents get their hands on Damian. How could he have been so careless?! Of course Bruce Wayne would talk to the ‘siren experts’ in town.

Hydroplasm rays pierced the surface of the water. Danny swerved to the side as one sailed where his head had just been. He jumped out of the water as another two almost hit their mark. Shit. All this dodging was slowing him down, and his pursuers got ever closer.

“What are you doing?! My father is right there!” Damian shouted, the loudest he’d been in over 24 hours. “Release me right this moment!”

“He’s with the Fentons!” Danny yelled back. A shot struck him in the back. Danny screamed. Tears formed in his eyes. “He won’t recognise you!”

“I must try! I can communicate with him in writing!” Damian redoubled his efforts to escape Danny’s hold.

“Are you insane!? The Fentons will put you on a dissection table before you can try such a thing.”

“Father would never allow it!”

“They’ll kill you!”

“Phantom!” Came Bruce Wayne’s voice booming through a megaphone. “Stand down now, and we can do this the easy way!”

“See?! My father is not a violent man!”

“It’s not your father I’m worried about!” It just came slipping out.

His mom’s voice came next. “You get back here Phantom and you will tell me what you did to my baby boy Danny or I will rip you apart. Molecule by fucking molecule!”

Danny’s blood froze again. Damian ripped himself out of Danny’s arms. The boy emerged from the water, arms raised in a sign of surrender. “Damian!” He shouted. Shit. Shit shit shit. His mother aimed a gun right at Damian’s heart. Damian’s eyes widened. He turned around in an instant. Danny never swam faster in his life.

Seconds dragged into minutes. His mom pulled the trigger. Bruce Wayne yelled. “Maddie! Stop!”

Danny snatched Damian away. A weighted net launched at dizzying speeds. Danny just barely avoided its trajectory. One of the weights slammed into his tailfin and pain shot up.

The distraction rewarded him with a shot to the arm. With one arm clutching Damian and the other in pain, he could barely swim. The speedboats surrounded them. Danny’s breath hitched. He tried to flip himself and descend, but he only managed half a meter before another net ensnared his body.

He felt a prick on his neck, and Danny’s vision went dark. The last thing he saw was his beloved mother’s cold, calculating eyes.

His skin burnt. He felt naked again.

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fortune-fool02 · 9 months

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Connection

Leon Kennedy x female reader

Summary: A connection is more than a word.

Warning: Angst. Mentions of struggling to connect, mentions of isolation and loneliness. Comfort at the end.

I wrote this at a bit of a point in my head where it was not the best. Thank you for reading though I'm sorry if it's not the best. I just needed to write this.

I might delete it later on or something.

Please enjoy.

Humans are social creatures. That fact alone was a common one that many understood easily. People had friends, others to share an experience with. Able to form and create bonds over simple conversations and events such as going to a party or even just hanging out somewhere.

From such activities, that person would become fond of their presence. Seek them out subconsciously, a stray text here and there throughout the day or few days. A way to speak even when they weren't together.

It was these things that allowed bonds to form. For connections to strengthen between individuals. How friendships and relationships of all shapes were forged.

Though, for some, such things were dreams. Fantasies equal to distant lands riddled with fairy-tales and promises of something greater. A brighter world. [Name] was one of those who struggled to connect. Ever since she could remember, those around her always seemed to not notice her, despite her best attempts to have them see her. To have them remember her, and feel some form of authentic connection in return. And yet, every attempt failed.

She would watch as the people around her would plan out events with such passion and enthusiasm but never once would turn their head to her, "Hey, do you want to come?" Words she longed to hear leave their lips. Instead, in their place, [Name] was always given a "Sorry, there's not enough room.", "Oh, it's more of our thing.", "Don't worry, we'll invite you next time."

Next time never came around. It was never her turn for anything. Was she doing something wrong?The reflection that would stare back at her would develop flaws, each one carving itself into her flesh, staining her vision until this make-believe thought was as real as stone for her.

At times, it would infuriate her. Other people would form connections and bonds so easily, thick and strong, and yet, she struggled for someone to even remember her name. To have someone send her a text message, asking how she was, rather than her always being the one asking was something that she craved.

For someone to look at her and see her. To wish to get to know her, to care enough. [Name] wanted that. She wanted to be cared for, to be wanted and craved. To be someone's 'special someone'. In truth, no, in her eyes, there was more chance of getting blood from a stone or proving true Divinity exists than such a possibility happening to her.

It would be easier to count rapid passing cars in a motorway than to recall just how many times she had shed tears over this reality. A crater in place of where her heart would be. A hollow point of the soul. Why try to chase after the Sun and blind yourself?

Then there was a shift in this endless, vast existence that she called her own, like a tiny wave in the ocean. A man had relocated to her town. A man of dark hair with thin strands of blonde occasionally peer through, and blue eyes that would put the morning sky to shame.

A man who noticed her. Who took note of her existence and wished to explore her further than just that. Leon almost seemed too good that [Name] was certain there was a motive behind his kindness. She didn't want to get attached. She didn't want to get her hopes up again.

And yet, he didn't let her down. If he said he was going to be there at seven, he would arrive at five minutes to. He would call her. He would text her. Hell, he even remembered her birthday. Something that almost brought her to tears when she awoke that morning to see a 'Happy Birthday' message from him.

For the first time, [Name] felt as if she could be seen by someone. That she was not just some background character in her own life. Leon stood at her front door, a warm smile on his lips and a sparkle in his eyes that would light up the second he saw her. To know that this sparkle and smile was only for her...

It didn't just stop there. Leon would find ways to make her smile. Little gifts that he tailored to her liking, remembering things spoken in past conversations. He would remember important days for her. He would recall events and her preferences.

Leon would remember things that [Name] didn't even recall telling him. For once in her life, she was not the one chasing after those to connect to. Those that she tried so hard to keep around only to be left alone and cold.

Now, he was here beside her. His arms wrapped around her body to chase away that bitter coldness. To reignite that flame in her body that had long since died out.

Leon was here for her. And now, she finally had that distant dream of hers. [Name] finally meant something to someone.

She meant the world and more to Leon.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon resident evil #resident evil leon #infinite darkness leon #leon kennedy re6 #leon kennedy re2 #leon kennedy vendetta #leon kennedy x reader #rookie leon kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader

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hauntedestheart · 1 year

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Royal Privilege Pt. 2 (Male Possession)

PART ONE

Having successfully gotten away with stealing the body of a royal prince, Bartelby kept his head down and followed the maid towards the prince's chambers. He had to restrain himself from gaping at the finery around him (it would be unbecoming of a prince) until he was alone in his new rooms, when he finally allowed himself to cackle with glee.

Impossibly, food was already waiting for him when he arrived– but that was just the life of a royal, he supposed. He had merely to ask and it would be given.

An array of delicacies laid spread out on a table before him: fruits, roast meats, sweet sugar spun delicacies that he had seen during festivals but never been able to afford. And here it was being given to him for free.

Suddenly starving, Bartelby fell upon the feast like a wild animal. He was almost afraid that the food would be too rich for him to stomach, but of course his new body was used to it. But each new flavor was still a delight for his mind and he savored every bite– he almost cried when he tasted chocolate for the first time.

A large bottle of bubbling yellow liquid had been provided as well and he recognized it as champagne, which peasants had whispered about as one of the finest spirits ever brewed. Bartelby drank greedily straight from the bottle, feeling his head grow light and his body loose.

His belly fuller than it had ever been before and his basic needs satisfied, Bartelby turned his attention to other matters.

Bartelby approached the mirror that hung on one of the walls of the room, and the face of prince Nicholas stared back at him from its shiny surface. He leaned in close and gazed into those blue eyes– the eyes of a prince hiding the soul of a peasant. Rags to riches like a fairy tale; now he was Prince Charming.

Curious of his new body, Bartelby began to divest himself of his clothes, and beneath the finery he found something even better than riches.

He had assumed, naturally, that thanks to their life of luxury all royals would be fat and lazy– but of course that wouldn't be the case for a seventh-in-line prince like Nicholas. A seventh-in-line prince like Nicholas was so far removed from the line of succession that he was essentially breeding stock, destined to be married off to some foreign royal to forge a diplomatic alliance. His only job was to be pretty– but my, he did that exceptionally well.

"You probably haven't been missing many meals," he whispered to himself as he pressed his hand to the prince's firm midsection. The muscles there were individually sculpted, different than the kind of raw strength the men developed toiling in the fields, but as he explored the grooves with his fingers he found they held their own appeal.

He flexed one of his arms, watching as the muscles bulged up appealingly. Prince Nicholas had probably never lifted a shovel or even swung a sword in his life, but his family had most likely assigned him private tutors whose job it was to ensure that he would have big, firm arms like these that he could use to catch the princesses who swooned before him.

These were show muscles, Bartelby realized with disgust. Pretty to look at, but they would be useless for any real work.

Then he laughed and shook his head– none of that mattered, he'd never be going near a field ever again! He had to stop thinking like a peasant and start thinking like a royal. His new body was beautiful, like a marble sculpture. He was a walking work of art.

Bartelby's hands drifted over his skin and he marveled at how soft and smooth his body was now– other than the strange blow to the shoulder (the only reminder his previous life) there wasn't a blemish on prince Nicholas. This was the skin of a man who grew up sheltered from the blistering sun, the skin of a man who bathed.

He'd get to bathe now! In a proper tub of warm water, with soap, and perhaps even fragrant oils.

As Bartelby's eyes devoured the handsome man in the mirror he felt a stirring in his britches and could resist no longer. Without further ceremony he lowered his trousers, letting his scepter and royal jewels spill out to hang majestically before him.

"Well," he said, his mouth quirking up into a smile. "This must be that divine right of kings I'm always hearing about."

Nicholas's manhood was thick and long, sitting atop two huge balls as if they were a throne. Curiously it lacked the folds of skin that had surrounded Bartelby's old cock, but as its mushroom crown pulsed and flushed dark pink, he couldn't bring himself to care. This was a cock befitting of a prince.

Bartelby seized upon his cock and began tugging at it, eager to stake claim over his new body, but then he cursed– even as soft as his new hand was, he still wanted something to wet his cock and ease the motion.

His eyes searched the room and settled on the champagne bottle that stood upon the table. He licked his lips.

Seizing the bottle in one hand he raised it high and poured the champagne upon himself, licking a few drops into his mouth but feeling the rest of liquid spill over the crevices of his muscles and trickle down to his cock. His hand slick with the golden spirit, he began to pump on his new treasure.

In his old, frail body, weak from hunger and tired from overwork, his manhood had been a sad snail of a thing between his legs that could barely muster up a few droplets of cum before his reserves were exhausted. Now it poured from him like a fountain, his healthy, virile balls churning as they ejaculated load after load which flew up as far as his face.

He panted and stared down at his muscular torso, his broad chest heaving with each breath. He was still drenched and the light reflected off the sweat and semen as if someone had poured diamonds over him; even his mess was beautiful.

People around the village always joked that sex was the one place where peasant and royal were equal, and Bartelby now knew that wasn't true because the orgasm he'd just received felt like a gift from heaven.

Just another pleasure in a life that would be full of them

Drunk on champagne and power, he barely managed to stumble over to the prince's bed and collapse atop it. He groaned anew as his naked body embraced the bed– silk sheets and a mattress stuffed with feathers, the softest things he'd ever felt. He drifted off to sleep in moments.

He awoke in the morning to knocking at his door.

For a moment, Bartelby was scared that it had all been a dream, but when he opened his eyes and saw the finery around him he knew his mind could never have conjured this up.

His new cock bid him a good morning, eager to please its new master, and he grinned down at the sight of the sizable bump beneath the covers. He rolled over and pressed it into the bed and groaned in pleasure as he felt his manhood grind into the silk. He thrust lazily as he chased that leisurely pleasure, feeling his muscular arse flexing behind him as he humped the mattress.

The knocking came again, irritating Bartelby enough to stir from his slumber to see what the fuss was, but he was a prince now. He would take his time.

He rose from his bed and strutted over to the closet he'd seen at the other side of the room, his mouth gaping at the sheer number of garments it contained. He selected a green silk robe and began to decide on a shirt as well before he paused and left his chest bare. No sense in hiding his blessings. For his lower half he donned only modest undergarments that bulged with his still hard cock.

Bartelby flung the door open and instantly recognized the man before him: it was the servant who had turned him away at the gates.

For a moment, anger flared up within Bartelby, but it flickered out just as quickly. Why should he be angry? The man had done him a service by turning him away, it had lead him to this new life. And besides, as the prince, a servant like this was insignificant. Bartelby was now above him in all ways– wealth, status, and even height.

He peered down at the man before him and realized with amusement that the servant was frozen with his mouth hanging open dumbly, his wide eyes running Bartelby up and down as if he didn't believe what he was seeing.

Did Prince Nicholas often answer the door open unclothed, Bartelby wondered? Would he allow his servants precious glimpses of this magnificent body? Whatever the answer, Bartelby enjoyed the attention.

"Well?" He asked the servant, draping himself against the doorframe alluringly.

"Apologies, your highness," the butler managed to blather out, still struck dumb by the sight of the nearly naked prince. He cast his eyes to the floor and regained some composure. "But I was told to remind you that your father requests your attendance at dinner tonight."

There was silence for a moment as Bartelby scrutinized the servant before him. With his strong jaw, thick hair, and broad shoulders, he was a rather attractive fellow– surely all of the maids in the castle were swooning over him. But, Bartelby wondered as he glanced at the way the man shuffled before him, did he desire them back?

"And now," the butler gave a bow, and then began to back away nervously. "I must away to-"

"No no, stay," Bartelby commanded, and the man froze in place instantly. Bartelby gestured for the man to step into his chambers, and to his delight, the man complied.

Bartelby nearly shivered with the display of power, and he now understood what had driven this servant to be so cruel to him at the gates– the pleasure of subordination, of having someone else be the weak one. It was intoxicating.

He could have his servant thrown in the dungeon, whipped, tossed out into the street and torn limb from limb by wild horses– but Bartelby wasn't a cruel man. No, he instead he had his mind on something he thought they might both enjoy.

He bent down and dropped his loincloth, letting his massive new cock spring forth and hang between the two men. The butler gasped, and Bartelby grinned.

"My cock is hard," Bartelby announced, sweeping one hand down the flesh that jutted out before him and shaking it. He shivered for a moment when he felt the heft of it, much greater than his old cock, and a strangled whine escaped the throat of his servant. "As you can so clearly see."

In his old life as a peasant, Bartelby would have never dared to be so forwards– people in his village were not open minded and he could have been stoned for acting upon his desires for other men. But who would tell him what to do now that he was a prince? He was free to do as he pleased, and what he wanted to do was to sample that which had been forbidden to him for so long.

And now he had something to offer as well, a beautiful body with delicious muscles and a generous cock that would satisfy any man.

Bartelby watched the way that the butler's eyes searched him up and down, traced the hard lines of his physique, lingered on the obscenity bursting forth from his groin, and he knew that this man wanted the same thing too.

"You are my servant, are you not?" Bartelby continued, and his butler nodded weakly. Bartelby smiled. "Well as my servant, I command you to do something about this. Personally. Have I made myself clear?

The servant's eyes went wide, and he licked his lips. "As you wish, my lord."

His loyal subject kneeled before him to kiss the royal scepter, and Bartelby groaned in ecstasy.

It's good to be the prince.

#male possession #male body swap #feels like this is the dirtiest thing I've written yet because there's something kinda dark about it too

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leggerefiore · 8 months

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cw: fluff, short, Volo in modern world (but not modern Volo)

pairing: Volo/Reader

He had barely changed since being forced here into the future from his place in Hisui.

Just as Volo had promised you, his ambitions to unravel all of Hisui's – Now, Modern Sinnoh – mysteries remained unchanged. A goal of forcing Arceus out before him to claim its power as his own would never leave him, not entirely.

No one but you (and Giratina) seemed aware of his more malicious intent. He easily fell back into his friendly persona that nearly masked his real self. Those piercing, stormy eyes of madness that had stared you down as he planned to use Giratina to end your life for daring to oppose him we no where to be seen among the people who spoke to him.

Well, perhaps that was him losing himself in that moment, as before he had truly been kind to you. Granted, most of it had been for his benefit, but still, you felt a certain closeness that no other in the wild lands of Hisui had to him.

You clutched a gift bag in your hands carefully. It was foolish to meet him alone, but you desperately needed to speak with him once again. Like most people considered an antagonistic type, and just as he was back in his time, it was difficult to find him. His avoidance of public spaces heavily apparent to anyone.

But, you knew him well.

Better than anyone else on this artificial island could ever hope to.

His hand on your shoulder from behind no longer scared you. It was expected. “Are you simply stupid or do you have a death wish?” he whispered, using his towering height to loom over you. You took in a shaky breath. He was terrifying. A madman with the will to bring about his perfect world, no matter the cost of life or pain involved. Yet, Volo was still not some inhuman monster. His friendly mask was not entirely a separate person. Rather, a glimpse into what he could have been.

You turned around to face him, stunned to see him still donning his merchant attire. The bag in your hands was gripped tighter. You stood up straight. “Neither,” you smiled at him, “Well, maybe a little dumb, but I got you a gift.” The bag was held out to him. It had a familiar red, blue, and white pattern on it. His expression was instantly filled with suspicion, yet he still took it from your hands.

Volo carefully pulled away the gift paper as he reached his hand into the bag. Out came a plush toy. The Togepi plush sat cutely in his hand as it stared up at him with a cute face. The blond bit his tongue. “I thought you might like it,” you told him sweetly, “A welcoming gift to this modern era. There's a lot more merchandise themed around Togepi and its evolution line, too.”

Volo shot a harsh look at you before tucking the plush toy into his bag. “Is that really the only reason you sought me out?” he hissed at you, clearly not wanting to admit he liked the gift out loud. You shrugged. His fondness for the Spike Ball pokemon was something that was shamelessly apparent. All the work to go through in evolving it simply meant he had to care for the fairy types.

“... I also wanted to talk,” you stepped closer to him, only a few centimetres away from the blond, “I… I know we may never see eye to eye, but I did truly mean it when I said I loved you.” Volo closed his eyes. It was obvious he was in some form of torment. Yet, before you had time to question his emotional state, cool hands came to cup your cheeks. Volo's grey eyes meeting yours with a strange grin on his lips.

“And I, too, genuinely meant it when I returned the words,” you felt breathless as his face hovered close to yours, “You really were foolish to come here.” His lips met yours for a kiss that held too many conflicting emotions.

“I'm never letting you go again,” he threatened when the affection broke.

It was hard to tell who was the real fool between you both.

#pokemon x reader #volo x reader #pokemon volo x reader #volo/reader

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cherry-pop-elf · 4 months

Text

Unleashed

Bill Weasley x Reader

You decided to be a good partner and see your boyfriend Bill. You heard he was on vacation from Gringotts, and knew he would be at the beach side house. There was just one problem. The Goblins give him those vacations for more than just keeping his mental health strong. He had one at the end of every month, and the day you arrived was when the moon was out

18+, Dubious Consent ((Not really but respect people who aren’t into that!)) Breeding, Gender Neutral Anatomy Scratching, Biting, blood play, overstimulation uncanny valley, werewolf stuff in general, after care, disabled talk, crying, fluff

Commissions Open

“Oh Billy~!” You sung, as you stepped out of the fire place. You were so excited. Your boyfriend was on vacation, and that meant you could hound him with kisses and cuddles. As a Curse Breaker, he needed to make sure his mental health was strong and in check. Unless the curses consume him. That meant the Goblins made sure he got plenty of vacation days. Even a week off at the end of every month!

“Come on out you big ole dog. I know you are here.” You giggle, as you set your bag on the couch. Now where did your boyfriend go? You would hurry to the porch of the house. Leaning over the railing, and admiring the beautiful view. It was just stunning. The salt air against your skin, the cool water under the stars, oh it was like out of a fairy tale. Made you understand why he loved the beach so much.

“Oh to live here.” You sighed, as you looked to the sky. Admiring the clouds, as they rolled by. As they moved, you furrowed your brow. Was the moon full? You squinted, as you leaned over the railing more. Trying so hard to get a better view. As you did, there would suddenly be a warm presence behind you.

“There’s my Habibi.” You would hear, growled into your ear, as hands would grab at the railing. You were pinned against it, as you saw the clouds shift. The moon was full, and glimmering so vividly. Right against the water, and causing the world to be casted in a nearly blue glow. It’s a full moon, and your boyfriend had you pinned.

“Way to go, dumbass-“ You muttered to yourself. William wasn’t a real werewolf. Given his curse breaking job, he held an almost immunity of sorts. He wasn’t like his uncle Lupin. He didn’t have a proper transformation. He did have little habits, like eating raw meat. Just small things. He did get paranoid though. Always avoiding everyone when the moon was full. Seems like tonight will be a night to test some theories.

“You smell so good-“ He sighed, as he would nuzzle his scared up nose into your neck. His body grinding into yours, as he kept you trapped. You swore his skin seemed paler than normal, from looking at his hands. You did your best to turn your head, and his normally straight hair was in thick waves. As if fur that was dense around him. The way his eyes stared into you. Well, eye.

After his attack from Greyback, he lost a large amount of his face. Leaving his teeth exposed, and missing an eye. One that Uncle Moody replaced with one of his old ones. So the two brown eyes never quite matched. You didn’t find him ugly for having one eye, missing an eye lip, exposed teeth, or even how the scars cut into his hair line. You weren’t there just for his looks. He’s your Bill. Seems tonight you’ll be his trophy.

“You taste so good-“ He added on, as he ran his tongue across your neck. The way his working eye’s pupil was blown out. As if on some kind of drug, and you were the supplier. His body was just burning up so badly, as he held you tightly. That’s when it registered he was naked. You’ve seen such many times before, but now felt so different. Despite being the werewolf, this was still a vulnerable position he was in.

“You in there, Billy?” You asked, but not in fear. He was clearly showing signs you were mated, and he couldn’t infect you from the fact he wasn’t properly turned. You were never in real danger, and you knew this was beyond his control anyhow. You knew this would be something you would deal with. Every time the full moon was close, he always got more primal anyway. You were prepared, and never afraid. Seemed like he could smell your lack of fear, and that had him excited.

“Hm-?” He hardly recognized you were talking at all, as he was just grinding his crotch on your ass. Like the dog in heat that he was. “That answered that-“ You muttered, as you looked around. It was in a private area, sure, but you much rather no risk someone thinking you were being assaulted.

“Come here boy-! Come on-!” You whistled, as you quickly ducked under his arms. Just narrowly slipping out, and leaving him confused on where you went. He was quick to turn around, and watched as you started to take your top off. A means to lure him back into the house. Seemed to work beautifully, as he was quick to hurry back inside. Nearly tackling you down.

“WOAH WOAH-!” Hardly had another thought, before he was tearing your clothes off like paper. Did his nails get longer? You swore you could feel thin lines over your body already. Had a sting, but you knew he wasn’t trying to actually hurt you. It was just caught in the cross fire.

“Oh you are fiesty-“ You admit, as he was just devouring you. His tongue tracing over your chest, and drinking you in. You wondered if he was only acting like this because you were a couple. That because his mate showed up he went feral. You won’t lie, that made you feel really special. That even the wolf in his head was madly in love with you. Had you blushing more then the way his tongue felt so rough on your skin.

“I need you, so badly-“ He was panting already, as he was spreading your legs wide. You covered your mouth, as you looked up to him. You swore he looked like a god. The way the moon was casting around him, like some kind of wisp outline. The way the stars sparkled through his burning hair. Looking like the gods he’s talked about, when he used to live in Egypt. You were falling in love all over again.

“All mine. You are all mine.” He repeated, as his nails dug into your ankles. As if to mark you from head to toe. You were soon feeling the burn in your thighs, as he forced your legs towards you. Maybe taking up yoga with Luna was a smart idea, because wow was this pulling muscles you didn’t even know you had.

“All yours. I’m all yours, big boy.” You nodded, as that made your boyfriend give an eerie sight. With only half his face working, it made all his features so much more strange. How his smile was curled so high, and teeth so sharp. The way his working pupil was staring through you, as drool was dripping out of his exposed teeth. He was starving for you, and it was almost easy to forget there was a human inside of that devilish grin.

“And never forget it, Habibi.” He warned, before you suddenly felt his cock slam inside of you. It burned, and stretched you wide. Your head was spinning, as he was already snapping his hips into yours. Not leaving any room to breathe, as he had to make sure he breed you. If there wasn’t a way to knock you up, he’s gonna try anyway. The wolf in him didn’t care if it was possible or not. He just had to claim.

“Oh William-!” You moaned, as your fingers pulled at the carpet under you. Feeling how your legs were soon resting on his shoulders, as his own hands were tearing at the fur on the ground. Leaving deep lashes, as if the human in him was trying to make sure you weren’t in its war path. Bill was still in there, and you knew he was fighting. Maybe he shouldn’t.

“B-Billy….It’s ok-“ You begin, as you reached a hand up to his face. “I like this….I l-like it a lot.” You smiled, as you swore you saw something flicker in his working eye. Something human again. “Let it happen. Let go. I’ll be ok.” You hushed, as you traced his scars with your thumb. To try and let him finally let go. He’s constantly been holding back. He’s never been allowed to not be ok. He’s the eldest brother. He’s had to much weight on his shoulders. He deserves to let loose.

“Habibi….” His voice trailed, before you forced him to kiss you. To truly let him know you’ll be ok. Time seems to freeze, before he let himself go. He returned the kiss, before his claws were firm on your thighs. Sinking into the flesh, and leaving red lines. You whined, but were quickly cut off by the sharp smack of your hips.

“Fuck fuck fuck-“ You couldn’t stop yourself from whimpering, as he was soon sinking his teeth into your neck. You weren’t dreaming it, his teeth did get sharper. He was truly treating you like a chew toy, and you didn’t mind. Your Billy was always so anxious about hurting you, but now he finally had an excuse to let go. You love his gentle side, but getting frisky is always adored.

“Oh William-“ You moaned his name, as he was fucking you into the floor. You swore he would break through, with how rough he was being. Might break your back, but you didn’t care. You were loving the mixture of pain and pleasure. How he would rub your nerves just right, whenever he bit into you to deep. As if his human half was fighting his wolf half.

“AH-! WILLIAM-!” Your head was thrown back, as you were quick to climax. Your body shaking, but he wasn’t stopping. He wasn’t going to stop until he was satisfied. How long would it take for him to feel release? You didn’t know. You just knew you were sobbing, as your body was trembling at the next climax already building up.

You didn’t know how many times you came, but it was all becoming a blur. Was just blood, sweat, and tears. And you were loving it. Just nothing but meat to satisfy. The bliss of turning your brain off, and just be nothing but owned by your lover. To be covered in markings, and showing anyone who saw you that you were off the market.

What finally brought you back to reality was the howl. He out right howled. You could feel your insides being pumped so full of his seed. You swore you came again from it. His voice was just echoing, as he had claimed you. Inside, and out. Was such a wonderful warmth. You felt so satisfied with it. Was making you fall asleep so peacefully. All to the nursing licks of your boyfriend.

You swore you hadn’t slept that good in ages. It was a hard sleep. A good long one, that had you feeling refreshed. If not for all the pains and aches in your body. That was what woke you up, compared to the summer sun light. Creeping in through the bedroom curtains. Seemed like someone tried to keep them closed, but it slipped through.

You, slowly, sat up. As you did, you could feel bandages all over you. Along with a sweet smell of flowers on the bedside table. You looked over, and saw that poor Bill was pampering you. Feeling so guilty from last night. Flowers, chocolates, sweets, little things that you enjoyed. Along with a little note.

“Sorry: William”

You chuckled, as you set the note aside. With the covers off, you looked yourself over. Every wound was patched, and you were covered in bruises and hickies. Made you a little giddy, you couldn’t lie. So many people would kill to have a werewolf boyfriend. You felt so smug, and wanted to proudly show them off. But first, William needed to be cared for.

After every full moon, he would suffer extreme muscle fatigue. His bones were literally breaking and re breaking after all. Your muscles don’t feel so good after that. Along with other issues. Chronic pain, exhaustion, and just over all trouble walking. It normally passes after a day or two. Hence why the goblins give him that week break. So he can recover. You even went as far as to pick up books about werewolves, and spoke to Uncle Lupin. You may not feel his pain, but you damn well will try and help.

“Willy-?” You called, as you were safe in a bath robe. There you found him. Barely awake, on the couch. His hair a mangled mess, and his body visibly throbbing. The muscle spasms were kicking in. Kicking in bad. You tsked, as you accioed a comb. Soon you were on the couch with him. Forcing him to sit up, and you would nurse at his hair.

“I-“ But you cut him off. “I already know what you are going to say, Mr. This is a disability. One that I know 100% about when I was going to date you. I knew what I was signing up for. I also could have very well floo my way out, or even attacked you with chains. Since you aren’t a full werewolf. We’ve been over this.” You kissed his cheek, as you would brush through his hair. A means to let him have some mercy.

“I love you. Disability or not. You just need a little extra help, now and again. That’s ok.” You reassured, as you began to braid his hair. That way it didn’t get tangled for a while. “Besides, I had fun.” You tease, as you laid on the couch. Forcing his head on your chest, as his legs would kick from the muscle spasms.

“What did I do to deserve you?” He asked, as he looked up. That big, beautiful, brown eye. So full of love. “By being you~” You reassured him, as you would rub over his shoulder. He was soon cuddling into you, as you both shared a lazy morning.

Least now you both knew what to do together next full moon. Have a few potions, a med kit, with a bottle of wine. That’s a date night for you two. Unconventional? Yes. Just right for you two? Damn right. He’s a Weasley. You really expected things to be normal? Normals boring anyway.

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fairy-verse · 5 months

Note

I just realized out of Murder Time Trio...has anyone asked about Murder/Dust Sans yet? If not perhaps what is their season and role..?

There once was a fairy of summer so pretty, with a radiant ecto body of blue and lilac and eye lights so tender, his gaze could render the brightest of flowers dull and weak, and yet none of it mattered as he fluttered too close to the borders of Nightmare’s domain, blinded by his playful hunt for brown rabbits that hopped along the grassy floor. Captured and bound he’d been and forced into a small cage with other fairies, some of the seasons, others not. Within there, he met Papy, a faerling just shy of reaching his full growth, yet ever the small one despite his size. He cowered and shook from fear, but the summer fairy so fair took him and cared for him, promised him they’d be safe.

He would protect him.

Alas, he could not keep it. Days turned to months turned into years and torture unimaginable chipped and chipped at his mind, until one day there was a loud crack within his skull, and he laughed and laughed as the poison forced into him ran its course, twisting his magic and making him feral and tense; ready to kill everything that moved.

He only did it to save them. They were all so broken and their light had gone out. They wouldn’t have survived a day out in the free anymore. They wouldn’t have… surely… but killing his adopted little brother had been the most terrible of all. He reached the day when he came of age, and yet he wasn’t given a chance to even attempt a celebration as the summer fairy’s once fair hands sliced across his throat, severing his skull from his neck.

Papy cried as he died, and the summer fairy once fair and kind cried with him, even as he smiled.

Dull and lost he wandered for many moons after, not knowing how he’d been freed; let go? It’d all been for naught or had it… he could scarcely remember anything anymore, dazed and broken as he was. He’d found his way home, to the valley of warmth and comfort, but fairies fled at the sight of him, fearing his crackling and unstable magic. He left, not even given a moment to attempt and regain his mind.

What did his firstborn look like again?

It was so cold. His wings were frozen, and his legs were numb and with each step taken, he leaned ever more forward, at the brink of unconsciousness. He knew not when the first days of winter arrived, but it mattered little. Death by the cold was a just fate for him; for what he’d done. He would gladly have accepted it even as the world tumbled, and he fell upon a soft bed of glittering white. The snow was cold for a moment, but only for a moment before too soon, it turned comfy and pleasant, and hands were upon him; gentle and careful, and warm.

First, there’d been a flower, kind of face, and soothing of hand, but he’d not been fully present at the moment to take her in. She passed and a new face took her place. This one must once have been soft, it bore memories of softness, but the jagged hole that took up the top of his skull made him rugged, yet even so his touch was that pleasant heat he longed for.

“pretty… summer fairy?”

Oh, this fairy of winter called him pretty, yet it was the fairy of summer who had never seen anyone more beautiful.

He couldn’t remember the face of his firstborn.

“.. dust,” he croaked, weak from desiring winter sleep, yet he refused to close his sockets again, willing them open. “…’m dust…” He’d forgotten his real name.

“dust…” the winter fairy said his name in that deep, pleasant voice of his. Dust loved hearing it. No one had spoken to him in… in…

“i’m…” the winter fairy hesitated. “… i’m axe.”

Dust was held close to a warm, soft body, and he involuntarily nuzzled closer to it as a shiver passed through him; the last of the cold leaving his bones. Such luxuries were spoiled on him, yet he couldn’t force himself to move away; to part from Axe who was so, so warm and good.

A clawed hand stroked Dust’s face and all willpower ebbed out of him as he relaxed, falling asleep before he could even notice it, yet not before he heard Axe speak up again.

“sleep... pretty summer fairy. sleep.”

#aufairyverse #utmv #ask for the fairy #fairy!dust #dust sans #fairy!horror #horror sans #edit: i changed my mind and will call Horror for... well... Horror instead of Axe #it was on the fence about it when I first wrote this #but I think Horror will do

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bunni-v1 · 2 months

Text

Cureé

Chapter 3: Respite Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Tw: Lilia is unsettling; reader is non-binary but is called "princess"

Info: Epel x Reader; Trey x Reader; Lilia and Reader; GN!Reader

🍓I'm back. Not really lol. But I finally finished the third chapter! Yay!! I promise I haven't given up on this account, I'm just ungodly busy...

Taglist: @kitsun369 @bloomstruck @squidsailing @roseinbloom02 @savanaclaw1996 (please tell me if you want to be added/removed!)

It was a quarter to one in the morning, and you lay restless in your bed. For nearly three hours you have been unable to sleep, tossing and turning with unanswered questions circling your head. No one whom you’d talked to had been any help in discovering the truth, and those who could help had not visited you in weeks. You were getting restless.

You sat up from your bed, accepting the fact that this would be another night without sleep. Grabbing your pretty purple silk robe – a gift from your brother this year – and slipping it on, you decided you would just have to go on another walk to clear your head. You peeked out of a crack in your door, smiling as you saw Ace and Deuce sleeping peacefully next to it. They were horrible at their job, but you adored them either way.

You began your stroll across the floors of the palace. Walks were the only way for you to clear your head now – since hunting was off the table, you had to make do with what you could. How you missed hunting, but you were too afraid of the forest to even try anymore.

Truthfully, you missed your life before seeing that horrible monster from the deepest parts of the forest. Sure, you were blindsided and forced into the strict rules your brother set, but at least you were constantly struck with stress and night terrors of that thing. At least you still had your best friend by your side.

You hadn’t seen Epel since that monster had appeared and torn your worldview apart. You worried that Vil had killed him without informing you, or at the least stripped him of his position. Sevens, if he’d done either, you might cause an uprising yourself.

You ran your fingers through your hair, letting out a frustrated sigh. Things had grown so intense, and yet nothing was happening, which only made you more frustrated the longer you thought. Why couldn’t things be as simple as the fairy tales you read as a child? Where was your prince charming to sweep you off your feet, and slay the evil beast so you both could bring peace to your beloved kingdom?

“Princess?” A familiar voice called behind you.

Your heart shot up into your throat, half startled and half excited. You turned quickly, locking eyes with familiar blue ones.

“Epel,” you sighed, “thank the sevens you’re okay!”

He rushed across the corridor, wrapping you up in a tight hug. He rarely allowed you to touch him, especially not in such an intimate way. It melted your heart to see that he had missed you as much as you had missed him.

“‘M sorry fer disappearing on ya,” he mumbled into your neck, “I woulda ‘f I coulda.”

You squeezed him tighter, “Don’t apologize, I know you would never abandon me.”

He pulled back, just enough that you could see each other, but his grip on your arms was firm – as if he was afraid you might disappear again if he let you go.

“I thought ya were real hurt by that… thing… yer brother wouldn’ even tell me if ya were okay ‘r not.”

“Same thing here. He won’t even talk about you anymore, I thought for sure he’d beheaded you.”

He lifted one of his hands, slapping his face, “Seems like it’s all here.”

You laughed, patting his cheek, “Appears so… I won’t have to kill him – over this, at least.”

You took a moment to take in his appearance. His hair was a bit longer than when you last saw him, and it curled out more at the ends – you thought it was kind of cute. His face was still clear of any blemishes, but you could see in his eyes that he was tired.

“How are things,” you questioned gingerly. His eyes darted away from yours, a scowl marring his pretty features, “Epel…?”

He hesitated, “They’re… not great. Vil’s threatenin’ ta strip me of my title and status if I pull a stunt like that again. I don’ know what that’d mean fer ma granny ‘nd me, but nothin’ good fer sure.”

You frowned, taking his hands into yours, “I would never let that happen,” you assured, “I need you around, and that’s enough for Vil to keep you.”

He gave you a shaky smile, not confident in your conviction. You weren’t either. Still, you weren’t going to let anything bad happen to Epel.

An awkward silence filled the halls. Both of you were tense, still shaken up by what had been happening since you’d been separated. Too much time had passed since then and now, and you both had your plates full of responsibility and trauma you had yet to face.

“Can we–?”

“We should–!”

You both spoke at the same time, laughing at the situation you’d found yourselves in. This tenseness wasn’t natural for the two of you, who could tell each other anything, and the laughter bubbled up faster than you could stop it.

“Yes.” You agreed together.

The two of you made it back to your room without bumping into anyone who may scold you – though Epel did nearly wake up Ace trying to pose him. He laid on your bed and you sprawled yourself out across his torso and spoke of all the things that had happened since you’d last seen each other. It felt good to talk to someone who really knew you.

You learned Epel’s workload had nearly doubled, likely as punishment for endangering you, and he had been too busy to even think of visiting you. In turn, you told him all about your suitors – which he found hilarious. His favorite was the dashing mystery man who still had not come for his hat.

“Maybe he fergot about ya’!” He teased.

“Oh– Shut up, you’re being mean!”

It was like old times – something you missed more than anything in the world recently. Still, you could not act like your present did not exist, even if you wished it didn’t.

“That… thing in the forest,” you started, and Epel nodded nervously.

“You’ve done yer own research on it, ahm assumin’.”

“Yes… but nothing has been very helpful, there’s no record in any of the books I’ve read. Both inside the castle and out, it’s like these things don’t exist.”

“I’ve run into the same issue, fer the most part…” he trailed off, a nervous look overtaking his features.

“What’s wrong Epel,” you queered.

He bit his lip, refusing to look you in the eye.

“Epel, you know you can tell me anything…” you assure, placing a hand on his forearm.

“Princess, y’know how Vil tells ya that magic is dangerous and yer not allowed ta practice it cause it could hurt ya? How no one in the castle ‘s allowed ta practice it ‘cept a few people?”

You frowned.

“Ahm one’ve them people. ‘Nd I wanted ta tell ya, but… I- I dunno I was worried you might… I-” The words wouldn’t come for him. He didn’t have a real reason, but he didn’t need one.

You squeezed his arm, giving a tense smile, “I understand Epel, it’s not like you practicing magic changes who you are… right?”

He shook his head, “I still shoulda told ya, yer my best friend… we don’t keep secrets-”

“Anymore. We don’t keep secrets anymore,” you corrected lightly, “besides, you being a magician is the least of my concerns right now.”

He let out a sigh, relaxing into your sheets as if the weight of the world had just fallen off his shoulders.

“Sevens, that felt damn good,” he groaned, “hidin’ that from ya was the worst feelin’ in the world.”

You laughed, rolling off his torso and onto your back. You understood exactly how he felt – the amount of things you had to hide from your brother was unnatural.

He turned to you, “What about you? ‘M sure ya got a lot goin’ on in yer head.”

“Where do I even begin?” you cried out. “This… monster… thing has been haunting me. I- I can’t find anything on it. It’s like… I don’t know… it’s purposefully being hidden from me.”

He nodded in agreement, “Yer probably right, ‘nd ‘m not just sayin’ that.”

“What do you mean…?”

“Yer brother has always been up to some suspicious stuff, y’know. He’s real secretive of his magic studies, and recently he and some’ve them suitors ‘f yours have been havin’ sneaky secret meetings.”

“Really? Which ones– I mean, and what about? You don’t think it could be linked to… you know… what happened to us…?”

“I think it’s the blue guy with the wild hair, ‘nd that fae prince ya stood up at yer party – well, usually it’s his envoy. The one with the big creepy eyes?”

“General Vanrouge?”

“Yeah, him, and some silvery-haired guy” He exclaimed, “I can never really make out what they’re sayin’ though, but ’m sure it’s got something to do with that ink monster.”

You bit your lip. At least your worries weren’t unfounded, but now the threat felt more real than ever before. Worse yet, you were essentially powerless against it. You had no real idea of what this thing was, no idea of how it came about, and no magical power. All you had was the hope that the mysterious man would come back as he promised you.

“Hey,” Epel soothed, “don’t worry, we’re gonna figure this thing out, kay? Yer not alone, I’ll do mah best to find out what I can.”

You nodded. Worrying like this wasn’t going to solve anything, you would just have to work harder to find a solution.

“Thank you Epel.”

“‘F course, princess.”

·┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆·

After you let Epel slip away, you decided you needed time to relax. You hadn’t realized just how tense everything had made you, but your whole body was aching and your head was thrumming. Tea. Sevens, you needed a nice herbal tea and maybe some pastries. Palace staff wouldn’t be awake at this hour, so you would have to make it yourself.

Re-tying your robe around your waist, and placing the hunter's hat on your head, you cracked your door open to see who was at your door. Pleasantly surprised to find Trey, Riddle Roseheart’s personal guard, outside. It was odd to see him without his other half, Cater, and especially odd that he would be guarding your door. His eyes twinkled with mischief as he spotted you.

“Sneaking out, Your Majesty?” he said with a teasing air about him. The guards from the Rosedome were so much more fun than your own.

“No. Not with you here at least,” you replied, stepping outside of your room, “I was hoping to grab some tea, what a surprise it is to find you here, and not my dearly beloved Ace and Deuce.”

He smiled, “We – and all the other kingdom’s guards for that matter – have had to adhere to the rules of your head guard to stay here, so we’re on a regular rotation at night. I’m your guy until six.”

He gave you a wink, which made your heart flutter more than you wanted it to. Damn your brother and his sheltering you, it makes you so weak to simple affections.

You composed yourself internally and nodded, “That’s fine, I don’t mind who stands outside of my door so long as they are pleasant to talk to.”

He hummed, “It’s quite late for the princess to be up, don’t you think?”

“My head is full of too many thoughts, that’s why I wanted tea – and maybe some pastries, if I can make them.”

“Pastries would be nice, wouldn’t they?”

“Are you asking to accompany me, Sir Clover?”

“Only from a distance, if the princess would allow it.”

You smiled and nodded. Yes, Rosedome guards were far more entertaining than your own. Trey was required to follow you around regardless, but he made a little game of asserting that. You wished your palace guards could banter with you as easily as he did, not give you simple yes or no. Truly no fun.

You continued your light back and forth with your new friend as you made your way to the kitchen. He mostly spoke about his family and the several younger siblings he helped raise – which would explain the brotherly vibes that he gave off. He was also Riddle’s childhood friend, which you were surprised to find out.

His mother was so controlling that she wouldn’t even allow the two of you to talk whenever she visited with him. To find out that he had actual friends was a shocker, and a bit heartbreaking. Why weren’t you allowed to be friends with Riddle Rosehearts?

“What was he like as a child? Has he always had such a temper?” you wondered aloud.

“No,” Trey laughed, “Sevens, he was such a timid kid – he didn’t even know how to ask for his turn on the swing.”

“Really? Goodness, what a funny thought. Timid Riddle Rosehearts!”

“Isn’t it? I can hardly imagine him anything but angry now,” he sighed.

You frowned a little. His mother must’ve done quite a number on him, to change him from sweet to monstrous. You’ve seen that sweet side of him in the library. You hoped you could see more of it.

“You said you wanted to make pastries?” Trey asked suddenly, holding the door of the kitchen open for you.

You nodded, ‘“If possible, I don’t usually bake, so it might not be easy.”

“My family owns a bakery, so I can help you out.”

“Oh! Wouldn’t that be asking too much, though? You’re not here to bake for me.” You worried.

“I love to bake, so don’t worry.”

You glided across the kitchen floor, quickly finding the cabinet full of your favorite teas. You had helped the kitchen staff stock it yourself, to ensure that you could always sneak a pot if you had sleepless nights like this one. Trey looked around the kitchen in wonder and delight – the Rosedom must not have such a magnificent kitchen like this.

The pretty cream-colored walls contrasted with the black-marbled floors, making the room appear larger than it truly was. The stove was impressive, with room to cook several meals at once, made of black stone mined from the Sunset Savannah. The counters were made of dark oak wood, shining in the reflection of the lamplight. Better yet, this wasn’t even the main kitchen – this one belonged to you and your brother to use as you need.

Trey whistled, taking everything in as you began to boil water for your tea.

“Impressed?”

“Very. My parents would kill to have something like this,” he responded absently.

You hummed, “I love this kitchen, though I don’t really know how to use anything other than the kettle.”

“Riddle’s the same way,” he laughed, “if I tell him what to do he can cook it up easily, but he can’t do it himself.”

You smiled at the affection in his voice, “My mom used to make these lovely raspberry tarts. They were so warm and sweet, and I used to eat a whole plateful by myself. I’ve tried to follow her recipe, but they always come out sunken in or burnt.”

“Why don’t we make those then?”

“Oh, could we,” you say breathlessly, “I would love to try again – I miss her baking so much.”

“Of course, and I’ll make sure we won’t burn them, it might take the rest of the night, though.”

“That's fine! I wasn’t planning on sleeping anyway.”

He laughs heartily, “Let's get started then!”

·┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆·

Baking was much harder than you expected. You weren’t getting the expected results because you weren’t reading the measurements your mother wrote right. Instead of teaspoons, you were putting tablespoons, and several other mistakes like that. It was embarrassing, but Trey was gentle and patient with you.

You had also been overcooking your tarts, which is why they never came out that delicious golden brown you loved. When Trey pulled them out of the oven, you practically salivated at the sight. They looked and smelled exactly like your mom used to make, it was like a dream come true. You would’ve dug in if they weren’t so hot, steam was still floating off their tops.

Trey set them on the counter, stepping back and smiling proudly at his work. They looked delicious, but the two of you had definitely made too many. Even though you loved those tarts, you could never eat all of them – not even with Trey’s help.

“We made too many…” you pouted.

“That’s not a bad thing, Your Majesty,” he chuckled, patting your head carefully.

“I don’t know what to do with them, I don’t want them to go bad!”

He hummed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, “Well, if you don’t want to waste them I know someone who would be more than happy to take some off your hands.”

“Please! I would love to share them. My mother's cooking is something everyone should get to experience.”

“I’ll be sure to get them to him,” he laughed, “you should get to bed. It’s late, and I’m sure you have plenty to do tomorrow.”

You sigh, picking up one of the tarts and taking a bite out of it. It was gooey and soft and perfect, just like your mom used to make. You were tired, though. Incredibly so.

“I’ll get these all packed up,” Trey said, moving to hand you a cup of your favorite herbal tea, “you get back to bed, I don’t want you falling asleep on the kitchen floor.”

You give him a grateful look, taking in a whiff of the sweet scent of tea. You moved back to your room slowly – partially because you were tired, mostly because you enjoyed the quietness of the halls at night. You loved to have the freedom to walk the halls without whispers or being bothered by staff. It was just you, a normal person – as normal as a princess could be.

You took a sip of your tea, closing your eyes and delighting in the taste. Opening your eyes again, you jumped, spilling some tea in the process.

In front of you now stood General Lilia Vanrogue of the Valley of Thorns. On the ceiling. Part of Prince Malleus’ personal entourage. He was unique-looking, with black and pink hair and bright ruby-red eyes as big as a doll. He was the picture-perfect representation of the unsettling, and he was staring you down.

His head cocked to the side, and a mischievous smile crossed his features. Your blood ran cold at the sight. What was he going to do to you? Was he going to attack you? Drink your blood for power? (He was Fae, not a vampire, you dunce.)

“I like your hat,” he spoke in a voice deeper than the seas.

It startled you, expecting a much smaller voice – but you supposed Fae didn’t subscribe to normal convention. You didn’t realize what he was saying until a few seconds after he spoke, and only then did you nervously adjust the hat on your head.

“Ah, thank you, General Vanrouge,” you managed to squeak out.

He hummed, taking a spot on the floor with you now, “There’s no need for such formalities when we are alone. Lilia will do fine.”

You swallowed, tapping your fingers along your glass, “Well, thank you then, Lilia.”

You stood in silence as he observed you, at least that is what you think he was doing. His eyes never really left your own, and he didn’t make any indication of thought or sizing you up. He just… matched you.

Then, again, “I’ve been wanting to speak with you, but you’re very slippery.”

“Uh, thank you, I think…”

Suddenly, he bowed, deeply and respectfully. It took you off guard, especially since you knew he owed you no real respect – not after how you blew up at his Prince.

“I apologize for Prince Malleus’ behavior at your birthday party,” he said, “he is not used to socializing with others, especially not people he is trying to court.”

You didn’t know what to say. It was… nice to have an apology but… he wasn’t the one you wanted it from.

“Uhm, it’s alright. I shouldn’t have caused such a scene,” you stuttered out, “and you don’t need to bow.”

He stood upright, fixing you with a smile, “I do not blame you for your reaction, I would’ve done the same in your position.”

He looked up to the moon in the sky, lips twisting into a little frown, “It’s getting late, you should get to sleep.”

You didn’t respond, instead just nodding at him. When he didn’t move you frowned, face twisting in confusion. He raised an eyebrow, and you realized he was waiting for you to go first. You skittered away quickly after that, feeling his eyes pierce the back of your skull until you rounded the corner.

Fae were terrifying.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #x reader #bunni's treats 🧁#epel felmier #epel felmier x reader #trey clover #trey clover x reader #lilia twst #lilia vanrouge

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mayullla · 2 years

Text

Title: Flowers and Shells

[ - Cottage (Fem!reader) + Lily (Platonic yandere) + Ayato (Genshin Impact) + Chocolate brownie (Mermaid/siren au) - ] - Anon's Ask

Summary: Fairytale au: The little mermaid; Ayato lost his sister who chose to die instead of hurt her true love, in anger Ayato wanted revenge and found you.

Additional warnings/tags: child!reader, manipulation, kidnapping, dark/obsessive themes, unhealthy coping mechanisms, tell me if there is anything I missed

[ - Fairytale Picnic Event - closed ]

“Gasp mister you are so pretty!!” That was the first thing you said to that man in the water with a fishtail that looked as pretty as the jewel stones you saw the adults wear. He was also very pretty, with hair that reminded you of a clear blue sky and his eyes reminding you of a particular blue jewel.

Young, your guardian had told you many stories. Some stories of the fairies and magic but you always found the books that talked about mermaids the most fascinating. You would always beg your nanny to read you the little mermaid before you sleep as if you would never be able to sleep without even hearing the first page of the story.

Your nanny told you that mermaids were real and even if the people around you didn't believe it. You believed it!

“Hello, child.” The man smiled, chuckling as you watched his tail move under the water. “Careful now you could get fall if you lean too far into the water.”

You didn't listen, you continued to look at him in awe and fascination.

“Pretttyyy~”

"What is your name merman!" You asked at one point playing with the shells and pearls that Ayato had in his pouch. He hummed as he played with your hair adding the shells one by one so prettily placed.

"My name is Ayato, young one."

"A pretty name!" You said laughing cheerfully at him. He became your friend, when you were lonely you would go to the cave where you first meet him and wait for a little. Ayato would always come after a few minutes holding something from the ocean your small hands could not reach.

He was your friend, but he wanted your neck.

Ayato wanted revenge, he wanted revenge toward the humans that took his little sister away from the waters.

Ayaka was a child of pure heart, with such a loving and caring personality she was a treasure to the ocean kingdom loved by everyone. Yet even so Ayaka craved the world outside her reach, the place of land.

She fell in love with a boy from the outside world, a boy that she saved from a shipwreck from the storms and waves. She sacrificed her own voice in exchange for legs to be with the man she loved above ground yet that man choose to marry another instead, breaking her heart.

After Ayato found out he tried to help his sister, telling her to crave out the boy’s heart with a magical knife and splatter the blood on her legs to become a mermaid again.

To return to the sea.

However Ayaka’s kindness and loves knows no bounds when she instead sacrificed her own life so that the boy she loved would be happy with his lover, she turned into nothing but bubbles as the sun begins to rise. Leaving instead sorrow and blind anger in her brother's heart.

He wanted revenge, he wanted to give the same pain and heartache to the man who took his sister away from him. Even after years he waited, he had his people, the more stealthy of his subordinates head to the surface and gather intel and from there he found you.

You were a daughter of that man too young and naive to understand what was going on, but cheerful and curious when you meet him.

There were many times, many times that you were so close to your own death. You were just a young girl after all, younger than Ayaka when she died Ayato could easily grab you and drown you in the water. He chooses not to tho, for his aim was your dear father.

He wanted him to suffer even more.

Yet here he was holding you in his arms as you brought a basket full of flowers to make a flower crown, they were flowers that Ayato have never seen fresh only in books did he see them or the old flowers that somehow managed to get into the water one way or another by the time it was in his hands they were brown and rotting.

“This is for Ayato! I made it just for you!” you said cheerfully, holding out to him a flower crown pretty in your hands. "Thank you." He smiled as he glanced at the flower.

He was sure that if he would take this flower with him, it would not survive the waters and instead wither. It was weak, a delicate beauty yet so weak. It was funny how it reminded him of you.

Yet he let you place the flower crown on his head. His hair crowed with beautiful flowers while your hair had a crown made of coral and shells.

"We match now!"

Ayato chuckled at your cuteness patting your head in affection. He could not help himself as time passed you started to carve a part of his heart. He had grown so protective of you as he once was towards Ayaka. Your innocence reminded him so much of her... he could not help it.

He wanted her back so much that sometimes he could not live. He hated when you have to leave when his mind made up scenarios where could not reach you anymore, where you were taken away from him. He was scared he would lose someone again when he is already all alone in this world.

He wondered if the ocean queen was willing to help him out a bit. So faithful to her following most of her orders. He protected the waters from dangers and avoided many.

The queen had made a few puppets in the past and placed life within them. Surely something like bringing a child from land to the waters would be simple if not Ayato knew a few who could be of help. A few secrets and a few words would be enough.

He could make a deal with the sorcerer who Ayaka made a deal with to change her tail to legs.

Ayato would take something your father so cherished just like he took Ayaka away from the world. Ayato's hands tightened around your small wrist, flinching in pain you looked up confused.

"What is the matter Ayato?" You asked yet Ayato just shook his head.

Placing you on his lap he let you play with his arm, you were always so fond of the iridescent scales of his so he always let you touch them when he wants to keep you in his arms.

He will take you that your father treasures most.

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separatist-apologist · 9 months

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Love Is A Lie

Summary: After her mothers death, Arina goes from the well-loved daughter of a nobleman to a servant in his home. She dreams of escaping to the coast and making her own way, and when she learns of a ball the King of Avalon is hosting to pick a wife, Arina sees her chance. With a little help from a fairy godmother, Arina agrees to exchange a favor for one night with the King.

But Eris Vanserra has other plans when they meet, and Arina isn't sure she's ready for the consequences of one night dancing at a ball.

Part Two of OUAT series

Read on AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Arina was a liar. A fraud. A fool, too, to think any gift came without a price, and a bigger fool still to believe someone asking for an unnamed favor would ask for something harmless. She’d been so desperate that night in the woods, with her torn dress and ruined dreams, that she’d never thought to draw parameters around what her fairy godmother was asking.

And now, on her wedding day, Arina was paying for it.

Standing in her white gown, Arina let herself recall the week before. Eris thought the tea party had ended in disaster, catching her leaving the woods crying. If he’d looked closer, he’d have seen the glint of steel in her hand, hidden behind her back when she’d wrapped her arms around herself and dropped in one of Elain’s towering lavender plants.

The tea party had been lovely, and she’d made friends. Everyone had been nice, which made lying to Eris all the more terrible because she knew he had words with his lords about their daughters and wives.

The problem had been her.

“How are you settling into palace life?”

Arina, headed to the woods to see of the rumors of an apple grove were real, spun on her heel. Grinning, she said, “It’s you.”

The old woman smiled back, pushing the silvery blue of her hood from her lined face. Glittering black eyes roamed her body.

“You certainly look better than when I last saw you.”

Walking to her, Arina took her hands which were strangely smooth and youthful. “Yes. Everything has turned out so much differently than I hoped.”

The woman smiled, squeezing Arina’s hands in return. Blood red nails pricked at her skin, just sharp enough for Arina to draw back.

“Things worked out exactly as I expected,” she said, offering a smile of gleaming, sharp teeth. “Do you remember what you promised me?”

Unease settled in Arina’s stomach. “A favor?”

“Just something small. Something that should be no problem at all for a girl who simply wants freedom. You do still want that, don’t you?”

Biting her lip, Arina imagined that small life she’d once begged for. A house on the coast, working as a seamstress seemed silly in the wake of what Eris was offering her. Affection had been so out of her reach for so long that now that she had it, Arina wanted to grasp it with everything she had.

“Of course,” she replied.

The woman reached into her robes, revealing a sharp, silver dagger with a glimmering blue hilt. Arina reared back, stumbling to a leaf strewn ground beneath her. “What…”

“This isn’t for you, girl. It’s for your husband. All you need to do is cut his throat and you’re free.”

Heart pounding, Arina couldn’t think of a single word that would explain how she was feeling. Kill Eris? The first person who had ever been truly kind to her? The man she suspected was in love with her? “I can’t…”

“You can, and you will,” the woman replied, crouching in front of Arina with the dagger in hand. Pushing it into Arina’s fingers, the woman added, “You will kill him, or I will come to collect the magic I gave you. And pretty girl?” Gripping Arina’s chin, she forced Arina to look at her. The shape of her face contorted for a moment, turning to something grotesque and monstrous—something Arina suspected was supposed to be youthful and beautiful—before returning to the friendly older woman. “I promise if I have to come back for you, you will not like what you find.”

And then it was over. The woman was gone and the singing birds returned, leaving only the dagger as a reminder she’d ever existed at all. Arina had gone back for it once Eris left her, hiding it in a sock drawer when she couldn’t figure out what else to do with it. How would she ever explain any of this to Eris?

She wanted to. For the rest of the week, Arina had taken to hiding in the library until he was already asleep, and slipped out every morning before he woke. In between, she imagined waking him and telling Eris everything.

And Arina knew exactly what would happen. He’d realize all his feelings were the result of a spell, cast her out, and Arina would be subjected to the magical whims of a sorceress anyway. No, she told herself. She could figure this out all on her own. Eris had gifted her an entire library—surely she wasn’t the first person who’d run into this kind of dilemma.

There had been no time limit set. Only a promise she had to kill him. That could take months. Years, if Arina was clever. And by then, well…who knew what might happen? It was the only thing that convinced her to put on the layers and layers of silvery white tulle and walk toward the grand hall where the ceremony was taking place.

How quickly things had changed—a month ago, Arina simply would have fled. Now she stepped through those gilded doors, looking only at Eris. That was simply practical—hundreds of people were looking at her. If she let herself think about it, Arina would turn anyway and leave him jilted and embarrassed.

Eris’s eyes glittered, hands folded in front of him. He looked regal in that golden crown and his buttoned up white jacket. A golden chain held a blood red cape against his shoulders while his boots caught the streaming sunlight pouring through multi-colored, stained glass windows above. More than anything, Eris looked relieved.

Like he hadn’t truly thought he’d get this far. Arina, too. Heart hammering, she wondered if it was cruel to keep this going. That didn’t stop her from reaching for his steady, warm hand.

“Hi,” he whispered when he saw her, his face otherwise expressionless. “You’re here.”

“I’m here,” she agreed solemnly, kneeling before the priestess about to swear them husband and wife. I am your destruction, and I think that I might love you, too.

Arina had no idea what anyone said for that next hour. Eris never took his eyes off her, and neither did she. Some part of her—the better part—writhed beneath her skin, demanding she tell him the truth. Maybe it was cowardly to let him slide that golden band against her finger, admiring the ruby red stone laid against sparkling white diamonds.

The world came rushing back in a cacophony of cheering and applause right as Eris reached for her face. A matching gold band laid on his own hand, marking him just as surely as she was.

“Hello, wife,” he murmured just before he kissed her.

Arina reached for his shoulders, kissing him back like no one else could see them. This moment was fleeting—he was going to imprison her when he learned the truth. Or he’d die, and Arina would spend the rest of her life mourning him.

Pulling away, Arina gasped a little, knees wobbling from the grief threatening to overwhelm her. Eris grasped her arms, brow furrowing. “Are you well?”

“Yes, I…” I’m supposed to kill you, but I’m selfish. “I’m just happy.”

His face lit up like a starry sky. Gods, he was so easy to please. How he’d ever cultivated a reputation as an unfeeling, cruel man, Arina had no idea. She could have told him she loved him and brought Eris entirely to his knees.

Eris did all the work. He walked her out of the hall, and he made all the small talk on the throne when people came up to offer gifts and their congratulations. Eris made the toast, smile on his handsome face, and Eris led Arina through every dance, every meal, every little ritual she was too numb to care about.

If Eris noticed, he didn’t say a word. He merely let her go on with that plastered grin and her clumsy steps until they were alone again in his bedroom. He closed the door gently while Arina’s eyes went straight to the dresser. She couldn’t stop thinking about the weapon—couldn’t stop her mind from replaying what she was supposed to do. She didn’t want to think about it, and yet couldn’t stop herself. Arina could imagine walking across the room, grabbing the dagger and hiding it in her skirts.

She’d let him kiss her, guard lowered, and then cut his throat. And while he bled out all over the floor, Eris would know he’d been fooled. That whatever he felt for her had never been reciprocated and she—

“Arina?” Eris murmured, pulling her back against his chest. “What are you thinking about?”

“You,” she replied breathlessly, banishing the image of his bloodstained jacket from her mind.

“What about me?” Eris’s voice was teasing, his lips grazing her neck. She knew what he wanted her to say, what he wanted for the evening. Arina wanted to give it to him, too. One good memory before everything fell apart.

Turning in his arms, Arina asked, “Tell me something true, Eris. Something no one else knows.”

His expression softened. Reaching for her face, Eris said, “I love you. But I think you knew that.”

She did.

ERIS:

“Something is wrong with my wife.”

Elain looked up from the window she was sitting in, book in her lap. “Already? It’s been a day, Eris.”

He couldn’t explain it. Arina smiled, she danced, she ate. She kissed him, and let him unbutton her out of her dress, and then with impossibly sad eyes, asked if he’d just hold her. There had been no sex at all, which hadn’t been the problem. It was the soft weeping that had occurred when she thought he’d fallen asleep. Arina had cried for hours, tucked against his chest which made Eris think he wasn’t the problem this time.

It was something else she was too afraid to tell him, which only made things worse. He’d considered confronting her about it—had wrangled with the decision long after Arina herself went silent, falling into an uneasy sleep. He wanted to solve her problem, whatever it was, and didn’t know where to even start.

“I don’t think I’m the problem. I—” Eris paused, glancing toward the open door of the lounge Elain was currently tucked away in. Crossing the room, he closed the door before coming back to Elain. “She has been strange ever since that tea party. Did one of the ladies say something to her?”

Biting her bottom lip, Elain shook her head. “No. They had nothing but kind things to say about her, and were surprised to learn you’d reprimanded their fathers and husbands. They seem to like her, Eris.”

“Her father, maybe?” Eris questioned, pacing the floor until Elain rose to her feet.

“Have you tried asking her, Eris?” Elain, ever practical, asked. He glanced at her sharply, and to her credit, Elain didn’t back down. A lot of his own advisors would have withered beneath that stare. “Have you considered going through her things?”

Eris raised his brows. “What do you mean?”

Elain shrugged. “Have you gone through the things she brought with her? Maybe she has a diary, in lieu of just asking, since you seem to be allergic to honest communication.”

“I like that plan,” Eris said, ignoring Elain’s barb. It wasn’t him who was bad at communication given he’d told her he was in love with her—which she surely knew—and Arina waiting for him to fall asleep so she could cry.

Didn’t he know the lengths he would go for her? Had he not proven himself?

“With me,” Eris added when Elain tried to return to her book. “This was your plan.”

“If you try and pin the blame on me, I’ll tell Lucien,” Elain warned, as if that threat scared him in any meaningful way. Elain was far too nosy, and far too willing to enable all Eris’s worst impulses not to join him. She was a princess—she could have told him no.

Arina was in the library and Eris didn’t expect to see her anytime before midnight. She’d been holed up there for a week, pouring through books and sneaking into bed when she thought he was asleep. He’d thought it was merely pre-wedding jitters.

Now he was beginning to think it was something sinister. Perhaps someone had threatened her, had made her feel unsafe. Perhaps her father had managed to get a note and was making demands, having just realized a daughter for a queen benefitted him quite greatly?

“She’s taking an interest in your life, at least,” Elain said, holding up a book with gilded edges. “A Treatise On Avalon Rules from the Middle to Gilded Ages.”

“A great book if she wants nine hundred pages of sons killing fathers,” Eris said dryly. “Maybe she’s thinking of our future offspring.”

Eris certainly was.

“Maybe,” Elain murmured, pulling open one of the drawers on the far end of the wall. Eris rifled through a trunk at the end of the bed. There was another book on breaking magical curses—something Elain could have used six months earlier—and another of fairy tales that a child might appreciate, interspersed among heavy quilts she’d dragged from other places in the palace and sewing supplies he’d never seen.

“Eris,” Elain murmured, drawing his attention behind him. Striding toward the drawer, hidden among her under things and a pretty strand of pearls he’d gifted her, lay a glinting, silver dagger. He reached for it while Elain studied the hilt curiously.

“I know those gems,” she said after a moment. “It seems like it should be sapphire, but it’s not—dragon's diamonds.”

“From Ellesmere?” he asked, thinking of where dragon’s diamonds were typically mined.

“They’re traded all over the continent. She could have purchased it anywhere.”

Eris shook his head. “Not purchased.” Arina had nothing when she’d arrived, which certainly included bejeweled weapons. Her father, though… her father, who Eris had humiliated and was currently undermining, might see his daughter alone on the throne as preferable. He’d certainly have far more control with Eris out of the way.

“Eris—”

“Get out,” he ordered, striding past Elain for the doors of his bedchamber. He hated that Elain was right—that he should have asked. Now all he had were his suspicions, and his fears that the entire time he’d been falling in love with her, she’d been conspiring with the father who hurt her to kill him.

“Bring me my wife!” he ordered one of the guards, watching Elain roll her eyes with a heavy sigh. She left, though, and so, too, did the guards, returning with Arina in tow looking far too nervous for his liking.

Eris locked the door behind them, well aware the dagger was still sitting on the dresser top. And of course her eyes found it—he’d seen her looking that way, hadn’t he?

“Eris,” she whispered.

“Plotting to kill me?” he asked, his heart beating so fast it was nearly all he could hear. Arina was so, so taut, fingers bunched to fists at her sides. “No point in denying it. What were you offered, then?”

He saw her eyes flutter shut as her body began to tremble. Eris was desperate for her to explain this away—to offer any explanation that was plausible enough he could forgive her. Arina said nothing, bloodless lips pressed together as she waited for his judgment.

“Tell me what he offered you,” Eris growled, reaching for her shoulders. Eris spun her around, hating her almost as much as he loved her. She was supposed to be more than just his wife—Arina was supposed to be his friend. The betrayal hit him hard, filled him with cold fury he could only barely contain.

“Say something.”

Arina only shook her head back and forth, limp when he shook her.

“Fine,” he breathed, hoping so desperately to call her bluff. “You don’t want to tell me? Then you can go to the dungeons—”

“Eris!” she pleaded, stumbling when he curled his fingers around her upper arm and yanked her toward the door.

“Tell me what your father offered you!” he roared, releasing her before he did something he’d regret. Something he couldn’t take back.

“My father?” Arina asked in such a small, sad voice. Striding to the knife, Eris brought it back to her and held it in front of her face.

“I know you didn’t purchase this. He gave it to you, right? Told you if you killed me—”

“Eris—”

“That you’d have the freedom you want? That you could rule unimpeded, could run away and—”

“Eris, please—”

“Finally be free of us all? He’ll take your place? Because that baby living in Elain is my current heir, and if you’re hoping to be Queen without me, you’ll have to kill her, too,” Eris snarled, watching Arina fall to her knees, crying without restraint. Eris was so close. Maybe she didn’t love him, but she certainly loved Elain. Had she not thought her plan through at all? Hadn’t considered that Eris had been planning the Vansera succession long before he ever knew she existed? The minute Elain fell pregnant, Eris adjusted his will to make the child his undisputed heir, should he die without his own.

It was a secret not even Elain and Lucien knew. Lucien likely would have killed him, but he knew Elain and Lucien would rule fairly and keep the squabbling and power struggling to a minimum.

Crouching in front of his wife, Eris gripped her chin and made her look at him. “Are you going to kill Elain, too?”

“No,” she gasped, her shoulders rising and falling rapidly. “Eris, you don’t understand—”

“I think I understand quite well,” he lied, pushing beneath her skin to get the reaction he wanted. “You want power—”

“I don’t,” she said, hanging her head. “I never wanted any of this. I just…”

Arina took a gulp of air, wiping her eyes on her shoulder while Eris waited. “You just what?”

“If I tell you, you’ll hate me,” she whispered, pulling her face gently from his grasp.

“Hate you? Arina, you’re trying to kill me. I think it’s you who hate me.”

She shook her head back and forth, pretty blonde curls falling around her face. “I don’t hate you. That’s the problem—”

“So, what? You’re having second thoughts?” he snarled, rising to his feet angrily.

“If I tell you…” she tried again, dissolving into the saddest sobs he’d ever heard. Eris only had one last card to play. One final, desperate attempt before he hauled her to her feet and put her in the dungeons for real.

“If you don’t tell me, I’m going to be forced to interrogate you,” Eris said, standing in front of her. Arina inclined her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I won’t be able to help you down there. Do you understand what I’m saying to you? Tell me,” he pleaded, dropping to his knees again. “Please, Arina. Tell me.”

“I’m in love with you,” she whispered, eyes bright with tears. Swallowing, she added, “And you’re not—”

“How could you fucking say that—”

“It’s a spell, Eris,” she said, throwing her hands up in her lap miserably. “You don’t love me, you just think you do—”

“Of course it’s a goddamn spell!” he roared, hauling them both back to their feet. “What else is love, if not magic, Arina?”

She was shaking her head back and forth, like he was somehow misunderstanding. He wasn’t—there was no magic, no spell, no curse that could imitate love. Lust, certainly—but that wasn’t what this was and Eris knew it in his bones. He wanted her past reason, beyond logic, and not because she was beautiful, not because she made his heart race. He didn’t want to possess her, didn’t want to own her.

And though Eris was certain it was going to break his heart to admit, he added, “You’re my friend, Arina.”

He didn’t give her a chance to protest that, either. Eris kissed her roughly, with the pent up need roaring through his blood. He expected her to shove him away or maybe slam that dagger into his chest. The gods knew that he deserved it. Eris had never pretended to live a moral, upstanding life. Even Elain had to turn away at times when confronted with some of the things he’d done.

He’d killed his own father.

Maybe it was what he deserved, to find the same fate at the hands of the only woman he’d ever loved.

Fisting her hands in his jacket, Arina pulled him closer. She was kissing him, too, with the same fervor he felt. Fuck it, he decided, walking her backwards until she hit the edge of the bed. Maybe he just didn’t care. Not then—and when he was finished, probably not then, either. There was no need to be nice about it, though.

“Does this feel like a spell to you?” he growled, grinding his cock against her hip bone.

“You’re so stupid,” she replied, yanking at the buttons on his tunic. “You don’t understand!”

“Then make me understand, Arina,” he replied, ripping the seams of her dress so it fell in tatters around her feet. There was nothing but her, stuck in her stupid underthings that he hated.

She kissed him, fingers yanking at his hair and for the first time, he thought they were being honest with each other. Not in the way he’d hoped, of course, but Eris didn’t quite care so long as she told him everything.

And the mess she was in was fixable.

They were all tongue and teeth, falling to the mattress until he was naked, too. “Please,” he begged her, running his hands over her body. “Tell me.”

Arina arched when those same fingers found her breasts, tugging at her nipples just a shade too hard to be considered sensual. She gasped, rolling her pretty cunt against his thigh so he could feel the slickness gathering.

Dragging her nails down his back, Arina whispered, “Tell me you love me again.”

Positioning himself just between her legs, Eris let himself say it. “I love you.”

She arched as he thrust into her. It wasn’t nice—nothing about this act was—and it didn’t matter. Arina wound her arms around his neck, pulling him close enough he could feel her thudding heart against his chest.

“Are you telling me goodbye?” she asked him.

“I’m begging you,” he groaned, half mindless from the tight, wet heat of her body. “Begging you to just tell me so I can end this.”

Arina moaned, lips against his neck and Eris was pretty certain this was as close to heaven as he’d ever get. For a minute, Eris didn’t care. Not when he dragged himself halfway out of her cunt, reveling in the way she gripped him. Certainly not when she arched up to meet him again, tightening with pleasure even when he was just a little too brutal, even for his own liking.

Was he punishing her or himself? Letting himself know what it was like to have her, even as he ought to condemn her to death. Could he send her to the dungeons leaking his come?

��No,” he breathed, kissing her with ragged desperation. “I’ll keep you safe.”

She clenched around him again, rising to meet him again and again. Arina was shaking, clawing at his back. Even when Eris wrapped his hand around her throat, squeezing until her eyes popped open, Arina continued on.

“Come for me,” he ordered.

And fuck, but no one woman had ever detonated around him the way she did. Eris could feel it—the way her cunt tightened, sucking him deeper until he was half mad with desire. Release gathered along his spine, made worse with each new pulse of her heartbeat pounding frantically against the skin of his aching cock.

Normally he’d try and drag it out. But Eris needed answers before he fucked her again. Shoving himself in as deep as he could get, Eris let himself go with a breathless groan. “Tell. Me.”

“It was a witch,” she panted, tightening her legs around his waist to keep him inside her. Eris was dizzy, was mad and desperate and so, so in love he didn’t think he could have sent her away even if she’d admitted to plotting and organizing the entire thing herself.

He’d merely tie her to his bed until she thought of only him.

“A witch?” he asked, dizzy and spent. Still, he released his grip on her throat but didn’t pull himself from her body, even when her legs fell limp to the bed.

“You weren’t supposed to want me,” she said, turning her head away from him. How could she possibly think otherwise?

“Tell me,” he asked, withdrawing so he could flop to the bed beside her. Arina wiggled beneath the blankets while Eris, stupid as ever, pulled her against his body. “Tell me everything.”

And she did. Arina wove a tale that both infuriated him as much as it broke his heart. Eris listened silently, unprepared for what he was hearing.

“You made a deal for an unspecified favor?” he asked with disbelief. “She could have demanded anything from you.”

“I was desperate,” Arina replied, twisting to look up at him. “I thought if I just got in front of you…”

“I’d let you go,” he finished, putting it all together. Why she’d run from him that night, why she’d been so determined not to marry him. “This whole time–?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “No…just…last week. She appeared and called in her end of the deal.”

Eris laughed, then, surprising his terrified wife still trembling in his arms. “That stupid cunt,” he said, a grin on his face.

“Eris?”

“Do you trust me?” he asked, twisting in bed so quickly they knocked foreheads.

“Yes,” she replied without hesitation.

Eris kissed her. “Good. I have a plan.”

#eris vanserra #were in it now

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neverchecking · 10 months

Note

Hi! I'm new following you... Looks pretty interesting... But I'm a bit confused of the nicknames of the characters... Like "sun" or "sage"

Did you have a list of who is each one? Please? Qwq

Well, first off, Hi! Hello! My name is Cinder and I write Yandere! Linked Universe!

If you're not familiar with Linked Universe I would highly recommend checking out the comic for it -> Here!

Anyway, as a fandom, we needed a way to easily differentiate between each Link bc writing 'The hero of so-and-so' every time would suck. So, they each go by Monikers that represent their hero title! The Zeldas are kind of the same. When we wanna differentiate between each games Zelda we use a specific name to do so. Here's a breakdown of each Link and their Zelda!

Name: Sky

His Zelda: Sun

His Games/appearances: Skyword Sword

Cool fact: When not including First, is often seen as the first hero of Hyrule and the first Wielder of Fi; A.K.A The Master Sword. Has a soul connection with a creature called a Loftwing, who I have dubbed as Crimson on this blog. Is mostly seen in a relationship with Sun because of their interactions in Skyword Sword, but I don't think it's ever been confirmed. Is Hella cute though.

Name: Four

His Zelda: Dot

His Games/appearances: Minish Cap, Four Swords, Four Swords Adventures

Cool fact: Four has the ability to split into four versions of himself, each reflecting an aspect of his personality (Red; protective, Blue; soft hearted, Green; still have no clue, and Vio; the brain cell). There was another part named Shadow who was, as you guessed, a shadow but he died. From my inference he was closest with Vio, but I'm embarrassingly unfamiliar with it. Four also has the ability to shrink to the size of a Minish/Picori; a race of mouse sized beings known for hiding trinkets and rupees in grass for said hero! Had a talking hat name Enzlo who ended up being a Minish in disguise. Did not get to keep talking hat.

Name: Time

His Zelda: Lullaby/Sheik

His Games/appearances: Ocarina of Time, Majora's mask

Cool fact: Has masks. Lots of em. One in particular linking him to a war god dubbed the Fierce Deity. Had an ocarina that turned back time, but he broke the timeline (Like a ding dong). Timeline A; where he survived and defeated Ganon. And Timeline B: A.K.A the downfall timeline, where he died (like a noob). Often seen as the oldest of the group but we have no idea how old he actually is. Was raised by a tree and has issues with the moon. Got trust issues from a mask. In Linked Universe Lore, he is married to a farm girl name Malon- who wrote Epona's song.

Name: Legend

His Zelda: Fable

His Games/appearances: A Link to the Past, Oracle of Seasons, Oracle of Ages, Link's awakening, Link Between Worlds, Triforce Heroes

Cool fact: Has a lover named Marin. She was not in fact real. Gave him trust issues. Also known as the Veteran for the sheer amount of adventures he's been on. Known as a hoarder, especially with rings that grant him special abilities and has a funky counterpart named Ravio (A merchant who reigns from Lorule, a mirror verse of Hyrule. his Zelda is Hilda, but he's not a Link so he doesn't get a paragraph. He does have a cool bird though named Sheerow and wears a funky hood. He's just a funky dude.) Legend is part of the Downfall Timeline, coming directly after that version of time, fell.

Name: Hyrule

His Zelda: Dawn, Aurora (He has two, though I'm not sure on the why/how/basically anything about them.)

His Games/appearances: Legend of Zelda, Zelda II

Cool fact: Is half fairy! It grants him the ability to use magic, especially healing spells and a lightning spell called 'Thunder', and he can turn into the size of a fairy with wings. Comes directly after Legend. Hyrule is also part of the Downfall Timeline, and is most often paired with Legend because of it. His Hyrule is particularly hostile with poisoned water and barren lands. Also gives him trust issues.

Name: Twilight

His Zelda: Dusk

His Games/appearances: Twilight Princess

Cool fact: Fell in love once. Fucked him up. Nah, I kid. No I don't. Twilight was raised in a village called Ordon as a rancher before his journey. On said journey, he was faced with something called the Twilight Realm which turned him into a wolf (A.K.A. Wolfie). There he met the Spoiler Twilight Princess named Midna. While in game there were no confirmations on their relationship, in the Manga they did smooch. made me cry. Anyway, after their adventure together Midna goes back to her world, destroying the only thing that links hers and Twilights together as she did, offically ghosting him. Gave him turst issues. He wears a twilight shard around his neck that allows him to shift between forms as he pleases. He is Time's descendant and had Time as guide to him in his adventure in the form of the Hero's Shade. Twilight is part of Timeline A. The one that did not fall.

Name: Wind

His Zelda: Tetra

His Games/appearances: Wind Waker, Phantom Hourglass (Depending on who you ask, he's also Spirit Tracks Link, but I do not think so)

Cool fact: Is a pirate! Had a pirate ship dad! Had a little sister, Aryll, that was taken by birds. Gave him trust issues. Lived with his grandmother and Aryll before Tetra who is, spoiler, Zelda, shows up and helps him find his sister. Tetra is so cool man, she's a pirate captain. Anyway, most often seen as the youngest Link. In his game, he wasn't even a hero lmao. Just some guy who's sister got taken and he went and found the triforce before merking Ganon RIGHT BETWEEN THE EYES. He was just feeling a little silly. Wind, I believe, is part of some third timeline stemming from Time's adventure or in the Downfall Timeline as his Hyrule flooded, leaving most to live on high mountains to avoid drowning.

Name: Warriors

His Zelda: Artemis (my love <3)

His Games/appearances: Hyrule Warriors

Cool fact: He's got a scarf. Had a wizardess who was supposed to watch time and space fall in love with him. Gave him trust issues. Has scars from when he drew the Master sword; which dominoed into something called The War of Eras. Companions and other heroes were pulled to his time to assist in the war, including, but not limited too; Time (Known as Mask in this regards), Wind, Midna, Marin, Ravio, Linkle (A female Link who was originally Wars' sister but, that idea was scrapped), and probably more that I'm missing idk I haven't finished the game. Is Captain of his knight squadron and famously despises Traitors. His own Zelda turned into Sheik to assist in the battle, but she's perfect just the way she is <3 Does not fall explicitly into either time line.

Now, this is where things kind of get tricky. Wild can either be one hero on three adventures or three different guys who arise during their subsequent time. For this blog, we see them as three different people.

Name: Calamity

His Zelda: Fauna

His Games/appearances: Age of Calamity

Cool fact: While his game is not seen as canon to the timeline, we include him because he's cool. Was part of a timeline where his Zelda unlocked his sealing powers earlier and saved them in time to fight the Calamity. He did not die, did not sleep for a hundred years, and kept his memory. Also a knight, also has trust issues, eats rocks. Does not fall explicitly into either time line.

Name: Wild

His Zelda: Flora

His Games/appearances: Breath of the Wild

Cool fact: Is the version of Calamity that's canon. His Zelda failed to awaken her powers in time, he, along with the Champions, died, took a hundred year nap, got trust issues, got memory issues, did not know wtf a stick was at the start of his adventure. Has a cool tablet called a Sheikah slate that lets him use runes (Magnet, ice, bombs, freeze time). In Linked Universe, he has scars lacing his one side. Is said to have had Wolfie as a guide during his adventure. Does not fall explicitly into either time line, but if I had to guess I would put it as Timeline A.

Name: Sage

His Zelda: Natura

His Games/appearances: Tears of the Kingdom

Cool fact: So, Sage was actually cultivated here! He is the Link from the newest Zelda Game, characterized by his anger and grudges held against Hylia. Does not have the scars, because of Rauru, but does have Fangs. Falls directly after Wild, as they are technically the same guy. When referring to the 'triplets' we are referring to Sage, Wild and Calamity.

Anyway, hope this helped! If you have anymore questions, lmk!

#cinder rambles #Cinder's Links

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 2 years

Text

The Boy with the Thorn in his Side

Part 2

Steven Grant X F!Reader Rating: T Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?

Warnings: SELF-INDULGENT WARNING, creepy dude following reader, lovey dovey syndrome, fluff, pinning, TYPOS, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

A/N: ahhhhahahaha, sorry I couldn't get this out of my mind. Set in ep 1 when Steven has just realised he has missed his date. No y/n.

Summary: Steven Grant’s day is going poorly to say the least. He’s lost days, missed his date and now a stranger has sat down opposite him who seems to know him? It would be nice if our favourite Gift-Shopist could catch a break.

Word Count: 3747

Taglist: @pleasurebuttonwrites

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“It doesn’t change the fact that today is Sunday, which means lose my number. Cheers.”

“But-”

The line went dead.

Steven stared at his phone. This was, this didn’t- The date on the screen said Friday. He couldn’t have lost two whole days. He-

“Hi!”

Your voice snapped his attention back to the seat in front of him as you sat down hurriedly.

“Sorry I’m late! It’s so good to see you!” You were speaking a fraction too loud and Steven had never seen you before in his life.

A frown began to form on his features, knitting his eyebrows together. He wasn’t sure if he could take one more thing today, first Gus, then two missing days and now whatever the hell this was.

“I’m sorry b-”

“There’s a guy,” you had turned your head to the side and placed your hand on your cheek to hide your mouth while you pretended to look at the menu. Your voice a whisper and it was only now that Steven could hear the wobble in it, see the slight shake in your fingers.

“He, I don’t know, I think he was- is following me. Since- it doesn’t matter, he- I just cut through the alley and this was the first place I saw that was open, and I mean, I could be really misunderstanding everything and just overreacting and, I’m so sorry, I saw the empty seat and I just thought that, maybe he would, you know, if I was with someone, I didn’t want to cause a scene and,” the words just tumbled out and bled together in a mess.

Your heartbeat thumped so hard in your chest that it was making you lightheaded.

Steven’s frown deepened as he looked over your shoulder to the alleyway you had just rushed through.

This was so stupid. No one was following you, and you’ve just made a massive fool out of-

“Blue jacket? Stupid white trainers?”

A small panicked smile sprung to your lips without your control and you nodded furiously.

You didn’t want to look behind and check. You really didn’t. But it seemed your body had other ideas.

One quick glance told you that you had been right. The guy was just standing there on the opposite side of the road. Looking directly at you.

Tightness gripped at your throat.

Moral disgust suddenly overwhelmed all other thoughts in Steven’s brain. This was not on. He straightened his back without thinking, hands on the table as if he intended to stand.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing mate?” His voice sounded stern, intimidating even. “Just going around following people, yeah?”

Relief, mixed with the anxiety flooded your veins. You weren’t alone.

“That’s not on, is it?” Steven continued.

You risked another glance and saw the man who had been following you beginning to walk away and disappearing down a side street.

“Not even going to apologise?” Steven shouted after him before turning to you. “What an,” His tone was still a little worked up, but kind, soft on the edges. “Absolute wanker.”

You let out a nervous laugh, your heart started to calm.

“Are you alright?” It was only now that you truly took in the man before you with his attentive brown eyes and dark curls. He looked like an illustration, some fairy tale prince that surely couldn’t exist in the real world.

You almost forgot how to speak. “Yeah, thank you.”

“He should, he should be bloody arrested.” Steven gestured to where the man had been standing. “Do you want me to, I could call?”

“No,” You said, a little too fast. “Thank you, I just, what are the police gonna do? ‘Oh no this guy was walking near you.’” You swallowed and looked down at the table for a moment.

“I mean they should do something? Creep bloke following you in the dark?” Steven leaned forward a little, his voice kind.

“Yeah, it’s just, you know.” You closed your eyes; it was easier to speak without seeing. “Nothing actually happened. I had something similar happen before and, it was just all, ages to speak to someone and then, we can’t really do anything, why are you wasting our time.”

“That’s just awful. I, sorry, I didn’t mean you had to call the police or anything, not trying to tell you what to do.” He sounded so sincere, so honest. It bordered on painful.

“No, it’s alright, I know what you mean. I’ll probably report it to 101 or something later. Just in case.”

There was a pause before he spoke again.

“I’m Steven by the way.” He gave you a little wave that brought a smile back to your face.

You told him your name and shook his hand when he held it out to you over the table. It was a purposefully over the top movement on his part that made your smile break into a grin.

“I see your guest has arrived at last,” the Waiter’s sudden appearance made you jump slightly. “Would you like to order?” His tone was friendly, but you could hear an element below that, something that bordered on irritation.

You and Steven spoke at the same time.

“Oh, I-”

“Erm,”

“I’ll give you five minutes, but just to let you know the kitchen is closing shortly.” He gave you both a stiff smile before turning and walking quickly away.

“I’m so sorry,” It was only now that you clocked the roses, the chocolates. You were totally gate crashing a date. A wave of embarrassment flushed along your face and neck. “You’re waiting for someone and I have just got right in the way.”

“No, actually, erm,” Steven looked down at the table, smoothing over the edge with his finger tips. He bit his bottom lip and you frowned. He couldn’t have been stood up, could he?

“I mixed up the dates.” Steven let out a breath of a laugh and looked up to you. It was a half truth, but saying ‘I’m missing two days’ to someone he has just met didn’t feel like an excellent idea. Wouldn’t exactly seem normal would it? Would probably make you think you’d be safer with creepy-stalker-stupid-trainers. “I thought we were meeting today, turns out I’m about 49 and a half hours late.”

“Shit.”

His shoulders slumped, defeated. You must think he was a loser. “Yeah.”

“No, I mean, I’m so sorry.” You looked so sincere, so genuinely sympathetic. “ That’s awful.”

Steven snapped his mouth shut with an audible pop. That, that wasn’t the reaction he was expecting.

“First date?”

He nodded, his mouth dry.

“You could always try again?”

“I think I’ve blown it actually.” He waved his phone. “Been told to lose her number.”

“Shit.”You repeated, unable to stop the frown pulling at your features. That seemed so unfair. Okay, so it was a kinda big mistake and his date had probably thought they were stood up, but he seemed so kind. Not the sort to play games. “Have you been waiting long?”

“Well, not long, just a little bit.” He looked down again, shrugging a little as he fiddled with his fingers. It was an obvious lie.

The Waiter appeared again at your side, having somehow mastered the ability to sneak up silently on unsuspecting patrons. “Have you had a-”

“Sorry,” you turned to him, all smiles and a surge of confidence, “literally two more minutes.”

He nodded briskly and walked away.

You watched him move away a safe distance before you leaned across a little closer to Steven. “He’s a bit pushy isn’t he?”

He chuckled, the expression lighting up his whole face. “I think he’s bloody fed up with me.”

You shook your head.

“Been wasting his time.”

“No-” A loud growl from your stomach cut you off, your hunger hitting you now the fear had passed. “Wow,” You laughed, “I’m so sorry; my stomach obviously wants to talk to you instead.”

“No, I should be apologising, I didn’t, would you like something to eat, my treat, I mean-“

Okay that was not the reaction you were expecting.

Steven must have seen something in your face as he quickly tried to cover his words with more words. “Not that, sorry, I didn’t mean you had to eat anything or stay here, you’ve probably got places to be and-”

“Steven,” you put your hand in the middle of the table. He looked so lost. Oh, what the hell. You shook your head a little just to clear your mind and smiled warmly. “I would love to eat with you.”

The wide smile that broke out on his face nearly cracked your heart in two. Being under his gaze seemed so different, like you were the most interesting person in the world, like he wasn’t fighting the urge to check his phone. It was strange. It was... nice. “And I should be treating you; you’re my hero of the hour.”

“No, I just,” he shook his head dismissively. “Anyone would have, I only told him to get on his bike.”

“That’s more than most people would have.” A looked at him for a moment longer before adding. “Steven the Saviour.”

His smile broadened, a hint of red colouring his cheeks. There was the smallest second when your eyes met fully, a beat in time where everything seemed to stop, to hang still in the air.

Steven looked away first, the crimson on his cheeks growing just a hint darker as he bit his bottom lip and scrutinised the menu.

You quickly mirrored his action, trying to ignore the buzz of electricity that ran along your spine and shook your fingers ever so slightly. You swallowed while scanning the paper: steak, meat, what you assumed was another cut of beef that you had never heard of before and-

“Erm,” Steven’s voice made you look up. He was holding the menu a little away from himself and squinting. Short-sighted. There was something else to his expression as well, something that yoy had the feeling you would recognise instantly if you knew him better. A slight disgust? “Apparently this is the best steak in town.”

You nodded and blurted out, “is this the worst time to say I’m a vegetarian?”

He looked up at you with the purest sense of relief, the tension in his shoulders dissolving. “Oh my god,” he gestured to himself with the menu. “I’m vegan.”

You both laughed.

The admission warmed your chest like a hot chocolate on a cold winter night. He had obviously booked a tablet here because he thought his date would like it despite his lack of food options.

“Okay,” you placed your open menu down, “I’m thinking lots of sides.”

“Lots of sides!” Steven’s excitement was infectious.

There was a brief, but detailed discussion of what sides to order, and while the options with a ‘V’ and ‘Ve’ next to them were not extensive, there certainly were more choices than expected.

The Waiter was obviously a little exhausted when you both excitedly ordered, but he tried to hide it well.

You had explained when asked, that you had originally been in central to meet an old friend, but their son was unwell and they didn’t want to leave him with their parents, so they had cancelled at the last minute.

The food came out surprisingly quickly, and you both talked animatedly about your work life; Steven’s enthusiasm about Ancient Egypt was heartwarming and a complete juxtaposition to your own dry humour about your job. You did make him laugh though.

Your banquet of sides was long finished, and you sat with your elbows on the table, your chin resting in your hands listening enraptured as Steven spoke.

He paused mid sentence, “I’m talking your ear off, aren’t I?”

It was only then that you released you had been staring at him intently. You sat up, putting your hands under the table and shaking away the metaphorical hearts spinning around your head. “No,” You spoke a little too quickly, your mouth dry. “Continue.”

This couldn’t be happening; this couldn’t be the best date you’ve ever been on. This whole meeting was circumstantial, an accident. He was just being polite. It shouldn’t feel like Cupid had shot an arrow through your chest. You took a quick slip of your drink, mainly melted ice now, to try to refocus yourself.

Steven grinned. “I feel like I haven’t let you get a word in edgeways.”

“Stop,” you put your glass down carefully,” I’m not going to let you leave me hanging, you have to finish telling me about ancient Egyptian agriculture.”

“Well,” he shifted a little in his seat, bashful all of a sudden, “you know I was kind of finished anyway.”

“Okay,” you bit at your bottom lip, you didn’t want him to stop talking, you never wanted him to stop talking. You’d gladly listen to his voice for the rest of time. “Actually,” a random thought popped into your brain, “have you seen that program, ahh, it was on ages ago, but I just saw it on iPlayer about Ancient medicine? There was a whole episode about the Egyptians and how they set bones and they found remains were a labourer's bone was better healed than a nobleman, because the labour would need to use their arm more and therefore needed better care. Which is amazing. But they were talking about, erm, hmmm, what is the name? The something Smith papyrus?” Oh this was stupid, why were you still talking, you should-

“Oh, the Edwin Smith papyrus!” Steven exclaimed.

“Yes!” Relief flushed through your veins.

“Dates back to around 1,300BC, which is mind blowing. Actually the date is a bit of a hot topic, buuuut historians are very sure that the information is older, because this text was most likely transcribed from another text. So it probably dates back either further. And this is just the only copy that has survived that we know about. It’s actually not even complete, the scribe never finished it, literally stops in the middle of a sentence!”

You grinned at his passion; it was calming but exhilarating at the same time.

“I am literally talking too much again.”

“No, please,” you stressed the word, “I am having the best time.”

Steven smiled. “Me too.”

“So sorry to interrupt,” you managed not to jump at the waiter’s sudden presence this time, “but the restaurant is closing.” He smiled politely and placed the bill in the middle of the table before waiting.

“Wow,” it had only seemed like you hadn’t been there for very long, a quick glance at your watch told you otherwise. “I didn’t realise the time.”

“Bunch of dirty stop outs aren’t we?”

You laughed and went for your bag as Steven grabbed his wallet.

“Here.”

“No, let me.” You hurriedly searched for your purse.

“I’ve got it, I’ve got it.” Steven said, quickly using the card machine that the waiter handed him before you could get a chance. The waiter handed him his receipt and bided you both a ‘good evening’.

“Steven…” You were touched. “Thank you.”

“Ah,” he waved a dismissive hand. “It’s nothing. Really.”

“Let me at least send you some money towards it.” You rummaged in your bag again, why was there so much stuff in there?

“Nah,” he shook his head.

“Alright,” you paused, chewing your bottom lip before you added, “you’ve got to let me get the next one though okay?”

Steven broke out into an even bigger grin, which should have been impossible and nodded once. “Okay.”

“Okay.” You repeated, hardly any sound leaving your mouth.

There was a long moment where both of you just looked at the other, captured in each other aura, trying to retain the fine details to perfect memory.

The waiter cleared his throat while tidying another table.

“We should,” Steven motioned with his hands and began to stand.

“Yeah.” You chuckled a little before nodding.

He quickly put a note down, pining it to the table with the central glass candle holder to ensure a rogue gust of wind didn’t blow it off. The sight warmed your heart.

“At the very least I should be the one leaving a tip.”

“No, no, no, I mean, he did put up with me for a while beforehand.” Steven shrugged while picking up the flowers and chocolates. “Which way are you heading?”

“Oh I can get the bus,” you paused, trying to remember your sense of direction before pointing behind Steven, “that stop,”

“By the M&S?” He looked hopeful, looking at you from under his lashes, his eyes large and doe like.

“Yeah.”

“Me too, if you don’t mind if I walk with-”

“No,” you cut him off a little too quickly, your excitement jumping to your throat, “please, I would, please.”

Steven waited for you to start moving before he fell in step with you. “Do you live far?” He pulled a face. “If that’s not terribly weird to ask.”

You laughed again. “No, not too far, near Greenwich.” Greenwich wasn’t really where your shared flat was, but everyone usually seemed to know where it was and it was easier than going into a whole description. “About thirty minutes at this time.”

“South of the river?” Steven tried his best to hide the disappointment from his voice; you were going in the opposite direction.

“I’m guessing you're on this side.”

“Yeah.” He paused. “But, I’ll wait with you. Till your bus comes, erm, I mean, only if you want.”

“I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

“Really, no inconvenience at all. Unless you don’t want me to, which is no problem. You can say the word.” He covered up his anxiety with cheeriness, punctuating the end of his sentence with a thumbs up.

You laughed again, unable to stop smiling. Oh god, you were besotted with him. “I would love for you to wait at the bus stop with me.” As you spoke, you gently nudged you shoulder against his arm as you walked.

He looked down for a few seconds beaming, “yeah good, yeah!”

You both turned the corner onto the main road and your heart sank. Your bus was just coming.

Steven clocks your expression. “Your bus?”

“Yeah,” you said uncertainty.

Steven did seem to hear your apprehension and jogged the few metres to the stop, his arm outstretched.

The bus pulled in and opened its doors.

A sudden jolt of panic gripped your heart. Okay, so it was late, on a Sunday and the next bus probably wouldn’t be coming for ages, but it all seemed so much better than the alternative of never seeing him again. You didn’t even have his number.

“Thanks.” You said and paused by the door. Maybe he wanted you to get on, maybe he was just trying to be polite, an easy way not to see you again.

Steven’s smile had faded; the realisation that he had no way to contact you outside of this moment dawned. He gazed at you, blinking quickly, all the words having fallen out of his head.

“Is someone getting on?” The driver asked.

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” The social pressure to get on, to move was suffocating. But still you didn’t move, didn’t take your eyes off Steven.

“Here.” His voice was quiet, hardly more than a whisper as he pressed the flowers and chocolates into your arms.

“Steven-”

“I can’t eat them, cow’s milk.”

“I-”

“I’ve got a time schedule to keep.” The driver sighed.

The pressure was too much, the spell of Steven’s eyes was broken and you placed one foot on the bus. “Sorry.” You nodded to the driver and then quickly turned back to Steven, still half on the bus.

Don’t get on, ask him to get on. Give him your number.

The driver didn’t miss a beat. “Miss-”

You rushed forward, your heart beating so hard it made you lightheaded, and gave Steven a quick kiss on his cheek before fully getting on the bus.

It started moving even before you could even tap your oyster. Your heart sank and stayed on the pavement outside.

You give him a wave through the window, your cheeks burning. You shouldn’t have kissed him, that was inappropriate. You should have kissed his lips. You should have stayed. Why didn’t you give him your number?

Steven gives you a small wave back, a little dumbfounded. All words still seemingly gone. His heart was beating too fast. He should have got on the bus with you, though that’s a bit creepy isn’t it? A bit like he was trying to follow you home. He wouldn’t want to give you the wrong idea.

He watched the road until the bus disappeared, and then a little longer after that still, gently touching his cheek were your lips pressed against his skin.

#steven grant #moon knight #fanfic #my writing #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #no y/n #steven grant/reader #steven grant/you #f!reader #steven grant x f!reader #steven grant / f!reader

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windblume-wishes · 1 year

Text

𝔻𝕖𝕦𝕔𝕖 𝕚𝕤 ℙ𝕚𝕟𝕠𝕔𝕔𝕙𝕚𝕠 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕠𝕣𝕪

𝙳𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚛: 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚘𝚛𝚢, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚝. 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎!!

Ever since I played “Wish Upon A Star - Dance and Wishes” I began to notice the similarities between Deuce and Pinocchio. It was almost as if Yana had planned this out for a reason- while many would be quick to put Ortho Shroud in Pinocchio’s spot for that event it becomes much clearer when you look at Deuce and how his character was written.

It is no secret that Deuce used to be a delinquent in middle school. He would later vow to clean up his act at Night Raven after he heard his mother secretly cry in a phone call to his grandmother. Deuce likely skipped school a lot, it is also clear that he did not pay attention in school, resulting in him taking a lot of time to solve simple math problems such as basic Algebra.

Now how does this tie into him being Pinocchio? Simple, when Pinocchio was told to go to school he wound up with the wrong crowd, being lead astray and got into trouble along the way. Pinocchio even ended up on “Pleasure Island”, an Island where delinquent and disobedient boys went to have all the fun in the world and misbehave at their own leisure. Deuce’s group of ruffians was his Pleasure Island, a place he could go off the hinges and misbehave to his hearts content. While he did not turn into a donkey, he certainly made one out of himself with his behaviour.

Like Pinocchio, Deuce cares deeply for his loved one, while he may not have a father like Pinocchio, he had his mum. Deuce only realized that he did wrong when his mum was in tears over his actions and Pinocchio realized the full weight of his behaviour and actions when he returned home to an empty house.

In Deuce’s SSR Stargazer card, he is seen talking to Silver about his past. Silver even makes a point that fighting is not good. Deuce agrees and vows he will do better- he wants to be better. I’m a way, Silver was acting like Jiminy Cricket to Deuce. He was there to listen and his words had an impact on Deuce later in the story. Deuce even stops himself from fighting the Octavinelle boys who were about to cause trouble.

While Deuce may come across as childish with his eagerness and devotion to the Wishing Stars event, he was pure with his intentions, even going as far as defending the event and tying his hardest to emphasize it’s importance. Deuce has shown many “childish” qualities in regards to his extent of knowledge in specific departments- even going his whole life believing all eggs had baby chicks within them. When you take what he believed for so long and add it to the fact he missed school it shows truly how much like the wooden puppet he was. Deuce values his wishes and is working his hardest to make them come true, he knows he cannot just leave it to the stars like what Silver had said, he has to apply himself no matter how hard it may be.

The requirements given by the Blue Fairy to Pinocchio to become a real boy were to be honest, brave, and true. Deuce is working hard by trying to be more honest in his own ways. In the Heartslabyul chapter, he scolds Ace for not apologizing to Riddle for eating the tart, trying to encourage honesty. Deuce was brave when knowing when to stand up for another, he stood up to Vil for Epel (despite getting beaten in the fight with Ace and Grim), he knew he had to at least try. In many ways one can say Deuce has been true to himself, standing up for what he believes in and trying to go above and beyond to get a job done- such as collecting wishing stars from a stubborn school.

Deuce HAS been Honest, Brave, and True- the qualities specified by the Blue Fairy to become a “real boy”.

At the end of the event, Deuce received a call from his mother saying how proud of him she was, bringing him to tears of joy. His mum was finally proud of him for being a part of something important. Throughout the event he displayed being honest, brave, and true which added more to him being the true Pinocchio of the story.

What are your thoughts, Travelers? Any thoughts or things you would like to add~?

- Windblume

May you too wish upon a star that helps guide you, travelers!

#windblume theorizes #twst theory #twst character study #character study #character analysis #deuce spade #twst deuce #twisted wonderland theory #twisted wonderland #disney twst #Disney #pinocchio #disney pinocchio #walt disney #disney twisted wonderland

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pickledpascal · 6 months

Text

Staring Into the Blue

Pairing: Beau Arlen and Surrogate Daughter OC (Andi)

Warnings: self-worth issues, emotional hurt/comfort, andi has daddy issues and is hating life a little

A/N: i made this when i was half delirious/asleep and started thinking of my own relationship with my parents sooooo yeah... have fun with this one lol

Word Count: 2.2k

Jensen Ackles Masterlist

Beau was new to this whole thing. As was Andi.

Andi was a nineteen-year-old girl who, for all intents and purposes, was Beau’s surrogate daughter. Emily still had a place in his heart, and always would, but Andi was… a special case.

They had met when she was eighteen, freshly in college, and had one too many drinks one night which landed her in detainment, and ultimately had a talk with the sheriff. Being intoxicated, Beau’s initial rant about her needing to take better care of herself and how underage drinking was bad was undermined by Andi spilling her guts to him. Metaphorically speaking.

Andi didn't have parents. At least, not ones who cared about her all that much. As soon as she turned eighteen, they promptly threw her out of the house. Sure they had helped her get into college but they didn't care what happened after. Glad to get her out.

So Beau took her in. Gave her a home. Loved her.

It was all so much for Andi. And made her think about her real parents. How happy they were without her. How happy they were not acknowledging they kicked their child out of their house to fend for herself just to be picked up and loved by a stranger. Beau didn't know her parents—he wasn't her honorary uncle or even a real uncle. He was the sheriff of Helena and a pretty good one at that.

It took a while but Beau convinced Andi to live with him instead of the housing on campus. A month or so into Andi’s hopefully permanent stay at Beau’s house—he upgraded from the airstream but it was parked in his yard—it was nearly midnight when he woke up to soft music filtering into his room. Beau ran a hand through his hair and screwed his eyes shut for a moment before he sat up. That had to be Andi. And he felt compelled to check in on her.

Beau left his room and made his way to Andi’s, the music getting louder with each step he took. Which made him more and more concerned.

I waited ages to see you there

I search the party of better bodies

Just to learn that you never cared

You're on your own, kid

You always have been

Just outside her door, Beau heard the faint noise of sniffling. Andi had been crying. His heart sunk in his chest. He knocked on the door. No answer. Beau pursed his lips as he turned the door handle. The sight behind it made his heart ache.

Under the low light of Andi’s blue fairy lights was her, sobbing on the floor as she hugged her knees to her chest. Her glasses were abandoned on her bed with teardrop marks on the lenses.

I see the great escape

So long, Daisy May

I picked the petals, he loves me not

Something different bloomed

Writing in my room

I play my songs in the parking lot

I'll run away

Beau rushed to be by her side, cradling her head as it lay on his chest. He set his chin on top of her head, rubbing her shoulder to try and soothe her. It seemed the tears rushed faster as he did. “I gotcha, I gotcha. It's okay.” He shushed softly.

Andi clung onto Beau like a lifeline, crying into his chest and getting tears on his shirt. He didn't care. He wanted Andi to be okay. And if that meant he had to hold onto her like this then he didn't care.

He petted her hair and pressed a kiss against her forehead. “It's alright. I'm here.” Beau resisted the urge to cry too. He had never seen Andi like this before, even when they met. “Please tell me what's wrong.” Beau insisted softly, pulling Andi away from him for a moment. Her skin felt cold. He didn't like this.

Andi sniffled, rubbing her eyes. “I…” She wanted to. She really did, but it was hard.

“You know me, sweetheart, I'm not gonna judge. Okay?” Beau cupped Andi’s cheek. He could sense she was hesitant. Their relationship was fresh but Andi trusted him enough with other stuff. Enough to live with him.

A new wave of tears rolled down Andi’s cheeks. “I know.” Her voice was small. Her eyes screwed shut as a sad smile crossed her face. “God, I wish my real parents were like you.” She admitted with a harbored breath. “My dad especially. I-I don't understand what I did wrong. What I did to deserve what they did to me. Was I not enough? Was it because I was a girl? He and my brothers were fine. He-He never–” A choked sob escaped her.

Beau frowned, pulling her back into his chest. He closed his eyes as he drew in a deep breath.

“He never told me loved me.” Andi cried into his chest, voice muffled. “Never told me he was proud of me. I-I don't understand. He's my dad, i-isn’t he supposed to love me? That's his job.”

Beau felt a few tears stinging his eyes as well. He couldn't imagine being that type of person. That type of father. He loved Emily so much it hurt sometimes. Andi too. To be the type of father to, quite frankly, never pay attention to his child was an alien concept to him. One that was very much real. And one that saddened Beau.

He squeezed Andi tighter and pulled her into his lap. She was heavier than what he was used to but it didn't matter. What mattered was comforting her as much as possible. He didn't know if he could ever change her mind about her self-worth, at least, not in the moment. But this kind of touch would help. He hoped it would.

After a while, Andi’s tears died down and Beau brushed away the hairs from her face. He even wiped some tears away. “I know I can't… just replace your dad, as unfortunate as that sounds. You had eighteen years with him. That won't just disappear. But I can try to help ease some of that pain, show you what a real parent should be like.” Beau whispered softly. “I love you as I would my own daughter. I'll be so proud of you at your concert next week, I'll clap and cheer so loud they might have to kick me out. I love you.”

Andi sniffled. The words meant so much to her and she knew Beau was telling the truth. He had a record to back it up. He never missed one of her recitals, a soccer game she had, or an event she really wanted to go to.

Before she ever moved in, Beau was Andi’s plus one to a lot of things. A chaperone in some sense but Beau just loved seeing her smile. They went to a few markets around the city with her college friends, saw quite a few movies in his airstream, and—at the end of the day—he would always give her a warm hug and a kiss on the forehead.

“I love you too.” Andi breathed. It was the first time she'd said it back.

Beau had a habit of slipping it behind a sentence or saying it when they said goodbye. Andi didn't mind. She liked hearing it. But she had never said it back or even said it first. Beau was okay with that. He wanted to earn it.

And he did.

It was bittersweet, though. He was glad but his heart still ached. All he wanted was to take all that hurt from Andi and throw it in a locked box somewhere. Maybe throw that into the depths of the ocean. But he couldn’t. And it pained him that he couldn't. Andi didn't deserve those sorry excuses of parents. And maybe she didn't deserve Beau either but he was going to try.

Beau hugged her close, closing his eyes as he rocked her side to side. Andi wrapped her arms around Beau’s torso. Her breathing calmed as she nuzzled her head in the crook of his neck.

It was silent for a while, her music had died down a while ago into a soft instrumental. “Sweetheart?” Beau asked softly. He had a small, but hopefully effective, idea

“Hm?” Andi hummed. She felt a little better hence the crying stopped but there was still an emptiness in her chest.

“Do you want to sleep in my room tonight?” Beau knew it was a tactic mostly used for little kids. Where if he could squeeze her tight enough that would make everything better. But Andi was legally an adult so he wasn't completely sure.

Andi bit the inside of her lip and drew in a small breath. Her parents didn't do this when she was sad. Hell, her parents barely even noticed when she was sad. She simply nodded.

Beau lifted the covers over Andi before he got in bed next to her. She held onto Beau. He quickly did the same.

Andi was an adult. But not really. She was a child who had never felt like she had any real comfort in her life until Beau came along. Andi wasn't even sure she could pinpoint a time she was genuinely happy in a while. Physical comfort didn't fix everything but it sure helped a lot. She didn't get that much as a child but she did now.

Beau was so affectionate that it almost made Andi cry. Small things like a touch on her shoulder as he left or a kiss on her forehead. Hell, a simple thumbs-up while she was on stage made Andi feel so warm. And so loved.

That was part of the reason this whole mess started in the first place. Andi loved Beau and wouldn't trade him for the world but a part of her wondered why her father couldn't be like him so she didn't need to have Beau in the first place. Why couldn't he be the type of father that supported his child? Who made it known that he was proud of her every day even if it could be a little embarrassing? Who hugged her every single time they met after they were apart?

Beau rubbed Andi’s back, playing with her hair. He found that it calmed her after a while. “I can stay home tomorrow. We can watch Book of Life, make fresh brownies, and have ‘em with ice cream.” He suggested softly.

Book of Life was her favorite movie. And warm brownies with vanilla ice cream was one of her comfort foods. She didn't eat it often.

“Okay,” Andi mumbled, a soft smile making its way onto her lips. “I would be a sorry excuse for an older sister.”

Beau’s eyebrows furrowed. “What makes you say that?”

Emily and Andi knew of each other but they hadn't quite met yet since Emily still lived with Carla in Texas and she hadn't made her way up to Montana to see her father in a while. He knew adoption was off the table but he was as close to a father as Andi could have, ultimately making her family. And making her and Emily sisters.

Andi shook her head. “Forget I said that.” Beau pursed his lips, glancing down at her. She let out a breath through her nose. “I just… I'm the youngest in my family anyway and—I dunno—I don't feel right. I guess. I'm not a role model. I'm not–”

“I think you are.” Beau cut in. He hated when Andi talked bad about herself which unfortunately happened a lot. “You have your hands in a lot of different clubs, you excel in your classes, and you fight for what's right.” Beau hugged Andi close. “We can work on it feeling right but… You're a far better role model than me.”

Andi scoffed. Beau may not have been open about everything that happened in his life but, for a middle-aged man, it was far better than any other man Andi had ever encountered before. He was affectionate with just about everyone in his life, co-workers, friends, Andi’s friends, Carla, and Emily. Maybe Beau wasn't perfect but he was already doing better than Andi’s father.

Beau thought Andi drifted off to sleep until she said, “I'm glad you're in my life.” He could tell she was trying to starve off sleep by the sound of her voice.

“Me too.” Beau admitted softly, an absentminded smile on his face.

Beau thought Emily was the limit to his love. But then Andi came along and suddenly there was more love to give. There was no rationing of his heart, it only grew. And he couldn't fathom it for a while. Andi wasn't his child, not biologically, but he loved her as if she was.

With Emily away, it was hard for Beau to function properly. That was his daughter and she was hours and hours away. Of course, it still was but it was a little easier with Andi. He thought the world of her and couldn't comprehend how she didn't think the same.

If Beau ever did meet Andi's parents, he couldn't imagine it'd go well. He'd likely end up in a detainment cell while Andi's father ended up in the ICU.

#jensen ackles x oc #jensen ackles #supernatural #spn #big sky season 3 #big sky s3 #big sky #beau arlen x oc #beau arlen x you #beau arlen x reader #beau arlen #which one is it? oc or reader... we'll never know #beau arlen x daughter reader #beau arlen and daughter relationship #father daughter relationship #whump writing #fluff

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pastel-pillows · 1 year

Text

Stranger things but fae. Lucky for you they’re more interested in the human things you can offer.

Fae Eddie who looks menacing but notices the music coming out of the little pods in your ears. You let him scroll through your Spotify and make his own playlist. He loses it when you bring him a tshirt from his favorite band. Fae law insists he owes you but you tell him it’s just what friends do.

Fae Steve who finds you muttering in a fairy circle because you’d wandered off upset and gotten lost, you’d been hoping for Eddie and are startled when you turn around find him watching you amused. He’ll try to get your name and you’ll dodge it by offering him music. He finds it fascinating but your Lock Screen is what really gets his attention, he’d held down and watched as the picture had started to move. You explain Live Photos to him, then move to showing him videos and tik tok. He’s obsessed. You very quickly change to an unlimited data plan. Eddie had told him about you but he couldn’t believe it until he met you.

Fae Jonathan who doesn’t actually approach you, but does a terrible job at hiding as you take various pictures of plants and animals and the river for your instagram. While crouched down and trying to get a picture of the morning dew on a flowers petals you call out to him insisting that it’s ok to take a closer look. Of course he’s heard from both Eddie and Steve that you’re harmless but it’s so ingrained that humans can be as dangerous as they are dumb and it gives him pause. He loves photography, it’s much more efficient than painting and he adores the sheer amount of beauty you can capture.

Fae Billy who’s actively waiting for you the next time you go into the forest. He’s straight to the point, doesn’t bother to get your name knowing not only is it the least interesting thing about you but how he’d never hear the end of it from the others. He’s naturally charming and you’ll swear he’s flirting as he asks what you’ve got in your bag. You don’t have anything to interesting, a few magazines, some snacks, a few toy cars curtesy of your nephews. He’ll ask what they are, then judge you for having children’s toys. He likes the blue one, you’ll tell him he can keep it if he likes, you’ll ask him if he’s ever seen a real one in person. He then makes you spend thirty minutes showing him the different types of cars on your phone.

And now you have all these fae friends teaching you about the world of magic.

It’s three in the morning so ignore anything off.

#steve harrington #stranger things #billy hargrove #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson #ash talks #eddie munson x reader #billy hargrove x reader #steve harrington x you #jonathan byers #jonathan byers x reader #stranger things x reader #fae folk #fae #stranger things au #alternate universe #fae au

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ohmightydevviepuu · 3 months

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imperfect boys. perfect ploys. (this is a song about tragedy) [1/6]

“My ‘story’ is that I left a fucked-up situation and it kind of fucked me up,” he’d said. But it was the way he’d said it, like it hadn’t broken him. Like it was just a fact. But Emma’s life was a story, too. A fucked-up situation that had kind of fucked her up. She wasn’t that kid anymore. Confidence could be learned. And maybe—maybe—she wasn’t broken, either. Not if she picked up the pieces. Not if she told herself a new story. About who she was. About what she wanted. Roots, family, friends, a sense of the familiar—these did not have to be fairy tales. "You owe it to yourself," Mary Margaret said. "Happy endings always start with hope."

S3 post-neverland canon divergence. 20k of no-curse renaissance.

read it on AO3

to @wistfulcynic and @thisonesatellite who sat with me while we daydreamed on a hilltop in cornwall on the summer-iest summer day england has ever seen. it took me eight months but i got there in the end.

thank you to @shireness-says for time and feedback and kindness to the IAS @spartanguard @optomisticgirl @idoltina @initiala @thejollyroger-writer for always giving me a cheer when i needed it (including--in B's case--occasionally getting random, context-free paragraphs dumped into her DMs)

one. 'when you leave, you just miss it'

The sun was shining.

Almost a week since they’d seen real daylight—maybe more, maybe less. No one was sure. Time, like light, did not work properly in Neverland. That’s what Hook had said, and Neal had agreed, an uneasy peace between them; Regina grumbled and Gold snickered but it had been a week or a lifetime and the sun was shining and she had slept last night, for the first time in a week.

Or a lifetime.

She heard the wind rustling around her through the open portholes. Tasted the salt on the air, sweet and slightly cool. Emma sat up and the chill danced around her skin as the sheet fell. She felt good; rested, refreshed. Free.

Her clothes were were on the floor where she’d left them. She slipped from the bunk and picked them up, one by one and hanging from her fingertips. Because time might not have been real in Neverland but everything definitely smelled like she’d been wearing it for a week. When they got back to Storybrooke she wasn’t just going to wash the clothes. She was going to burn them. Just thinking about it made the power well up inside her. It wasn’t anger or darkness or the unrelenting terror of the Dark Hollow. It was something else—warm, gentle flames that tickled.

Or maybe she just really needed a shower.

God, a shower.

She dressed quickly and found her way above deck, stumbling over a dozen dozing Lost Boys and one wide-awake former fairy. Neal and Wendy leaned up against the bulkhead, their legs sprawled out in front of them. Wendy had curled herself against Neal like she wouldn’t let him go.

Emma wrapped her arms around herself and glanced up. The sail billowed, but the Shadow cast no shadow here. Tink turned and spotted her. The way her eyes lit up made Emma’s breath catch. They were going home.

“We’re nearly there,” Tink said. “I almost can’t believe it. Where’s Hook?”

Emma shrugged. “I thought he needed to be here. Steering.” Behind them, the giant wheel turned on its own.

“Magic,” Tink said. “The ship, it has magic. Not my kind—I’ve no idea how it works.”

“And I’ll never tell.” His hair was mussed by the wind but his coat hung heavy over him. Weighing him down. The words were heavy, too, weighted with meaning—something in his eyes before he cleared his throat. Then Captain Hook inclined his head and it was gone, replaced with twinkles like tiny blue gems in his eyes. “Tinker Bell.”

“Hook.” A speculative syllable as the fairy stared intently and he blushed. Emma looked from one of them to the other until Hook’s eyes caught hers and held. He raised his eyebrow, just the one.

Emma raised hers. Both of them.

“Swan,” he said.

“Hook,” she said.

“Mom!” Henry ran across the deck, leaving Regina behind in the companionway with a genuine smile on her face. Neal’s eyes opened immediately at the sound of his son’s voice and he scrambled to his feet, catching Henry in his arms but barely slowing him before he angled back toward Emma. She nearly fell over as she absorbed the fullness of his hug. Her son’s arms around her, finally.

Six days. Not even a week. But her life had changed in less time before: The time it took to steal a car, to open a locker. Sixteen hours to give birth. Ten hours on a beanstalk.

The kiss it took to break a curse.

A week was plenty of time for her world to turn itself upside down. Again.

“The sun is fully up,” Hook said. “We’ll be arriving shortly in Storybrooke.” A fairy-tale land full of fairy-tale people encased in a magic shield that they were going to pierce with a magic boat piloted by a pirate and guided by a demon’s Shadow. Hook spoke and the ship turned on a dime, the wheel spinning, the Shadow-filled sail briefly flashing white, and there it was.

The harbor. The clock tower. The neon sign of the B&B.

“Home,” Mary Margaret whispered, coming to stand next to Emma.

David rested his hand on her arm and Emma tensed. His smile gentled and he moved, stepping back to pull Mary Margaret closer. “Together. Heroes, villains—pirates.” Pride glowed briefly in his eyes. “Just like you said.”

Heroes, villains, pirates. Parents.

Storybrooke.

Home.

The rest of the fairy-tale folk rushed to the rails, hanging over the sides for a closer look at their heroes’ welcome. A faint sound carried on the breeze—laughter. Cheers.

They were in the water. They were in the harbor. The gangplank lowered. Henry was practically trembling with excitement as he hurled himself onto the dock, zooming between his father and his grandparents and Granny and—and—and—

But it was Neal Emma was watching. Hugging his father. Hugging Belle. Escorting Wendy. No longer a Lost Boy but a found one.

“Home. The place that when you leave, you just miss it.” He’d told her that the night they’d met. Her lifetime had been a series of moves from place to place to place and every time, she’d only known one thing for certain: She wasn’t home. Not yet. She’d been seventeen and Neal Cassidy had kneeled in the dirt and picked the lock and when he turned the amusement park lights on and smiled at her, knowing and full of confidence, her entire world had shifted on its axis.

“My ‘story’ is that I left a fucked-up situation and it kind of fucked me up,” he’d said. But it was the way he’d said it, like it hadn’t broken him. Like it was just a fact. Or maybe it was a secret he was sharing. With her.

Home. Neal wrapped Wendy and her brothers in a group hug with an expression Emma had never seen before. But Emma’s life was a story, too. A fucked-up situation that had kind of fucked her up. She wasn’t that kid anymore. Confidence could be learned. And maybe—maybe—she wasn’t broken, either.

Not if she picked up the pieces. Not if she told herself a new story. About who she was. About what she wanted. Roots, family, friends, a sense of the familiar—these did not have to be fairy tales. The flame warmed inside her again, as if the idea of wanting—of knowing what she wanted—was its own kind of magic. Maybe it was.

Possibilities. Hope.

In her. In the magic. In this town. It wasn’t a home—yet—but for the first time Emma felt like it could be. If she let it. If she wanted it. If she chose it.

Henry turned back to her, waiting. An impatient gesture. She took one last long look around the decks of the ship. Hook stood at the helm, tracing the scratch marks in the wood.

Home.

With a deep breath, Emma stepped onto the dock.

two. 'i quite fancy you'

The realization hit at approximately the same time Emma Swan hit the water, the waves enveloping her and dragging her down, though he didn’t think about it. Not then. Not in the midst of the magically-intensified storm and the maelstrom wrought by his own frustrations: Baelfire’s death, his son missing, the Dark One on his ship and Prince-bloody-Charming up in arms and in Killian’s face, so certain it was he who was the captain here—an uncomfortable thought all on its own, and similarly ignored.

But then she’d hit the water and it was all hands on deck.

Nothing else mattered as they retrieved her from the deep and lowered her to the deck and waited. Waited for her to breathe, to move, to cough out the water, her body wracked by the effort but alive. The storm vanished as quickly as it appeared but the weight lingered.

Killian did not like to think about the last time he had seen a woman laid out before him on his ship. About how it had ended. So he ignored it. Ignored it with the patience and practice of a man accustomed to counting time in centuries rather than minutes and it was easy enough. In Neverland the only thing real was the here and the now; their horrific, indeterminate trek across the island was more than enough to occupy his mind.

Until it wasn’t.

He set himself up a good bit away from the others as they made their camp. He refused to watch the undisturbed slumber of the Charmings. Even Regina slept, but not Killian. Never Killian, never on Neverland. Whether it was better or worse to be alone and surrounded by the haunted cries of the Lost, Killian did not know. He’d thought and hoped never to hear them again no matter how unnaturally prolonged his life might be. But he knew this—it was too easy for Pan to grab on to a person in the netherworld of Neverland at night and it was darker now than Killian remembered it being, unless it was just the effect of the rum.

He almost wished it was.

Either way, there wasn’t enough of the bloody stuff to soothe the ragged edges of his soul.

He’d said it as a joke. Or a feint. An instinctive push in their ongoing tug-of-war. “I quite fancy you sometimes,” he’d said. But here in the dark surrounded by the cries he had no choice but to admit to himself that he’d meant it.

Horrific thought.

Idly, he wondered if Tinker Bell was still here. Their tactics for sleep--and mutual exhaustion--had always proved more then satisfactory in the past. Pleasurable, even; some of the only good memories Killian had of this place. Only that felt somehow…disloyal. A betrayal to an idea that his heart was apparently already committed to. Killian took another pull from the flask and reminded himself that villains didn’t get happy endings and if Captain Hook had been anything in his life, it was that.

After all, if he had been a better man, perhaps Baelfire wouldn’t have left.

It was with that happy thought that the cacophony of cries reached its crescendo—midnight, then, or near enough on this cursed island where the night felt endless. Perhaps it was endless, now. The days seemed shorter—nonexistent—the darkness constant. The island was changing. Dying. Killian knew only too well there was nothing Pan would not do to prevent that happening. Every instinct told him that Henry was the answer Pan sought.

Killian had not been lying when he told Emma that on this island, he was not the villain. Perhaps that was why he waited. Waited to hear the whisper of movement and the moment she finally gave up. When she finally got up. He had never wondered if she might hear the cries. It had been very nearly his first thought upon meeting her. She’d had the Look and few knew it better than he. Maybe Baelfire—Neal—had recognized it, too.

He could hear the muttered imprecations under her breath and was only gratified that she had sense enough to take the cutlass with her as she began to roam the surroundings of their camp. And then he heard something else.

Not words. A voice. A voice that taunted him still, lurking on the edges of his nightmares. Even worse, he knew what it meant. To be approached by Pan was to have a quest assigned, a task given. When Emma stumbled out of the woods clutching a scrap of parchment, he stood to meet her, already on alert.

Pan always did like his games.

three. 'you owe it to yourself'

The shower felt incredible. One after Granny’s; one before bed; one when she woke up. Part of her felt like she might never not be covered in dirt and sweat again. Part of her just wanted the warmth and the solitude. Even in a loft built for one and sleeping four, the shower was a one-person-at-a-time activity.

She hoped.

Exhausted but too restless to sleep, Emma had lain in her bed and stared at the exposed beams, counting the wood scratches and feeling it every time someone in the apartment breathed. Henry’s little snores made her smile with every exhalation and though here Mary Margaret and David were only—breathing—it was hard not to think about the other things they could be doing in the bed they shared at the bottom of the ladder.

Ew.

Emma really needed to get her own place.

Henry would want to go back to spending nights at Regina’s again, anyway. As he should. She was his mother.

Emma couldn’t help but think of Regina at the Tree. Regina with ‘no regrets’. She wasn’t sure if she believed any of it, but she couldn’t argue with the result—all of them, still standing, at the end of something horrible. Even if Emma thought Regina should have a few regrets—surely some of the murders had been unwarranted—maybe it was time to follow Regina’s example. Leave the past behind and focus on what she had.

What would it be like, to live with no regrets?

A new beginning.

A steam cloud followed her as she opened the frosted glass sliding door and followed the sweet smell of coffee to the kitchen island—a little pot, in an honest-to-goodness tea cozy, left in the blessedly quiet loft. Mary Margaret hadn’t done that in—she hadn’t done that since—

Before.

The texts had accumulated on her phone while she showered. She recognized most, but not all, of the phone numbers—David, Mary Margaret, Henry, Ruby—and remembered suddenly that she didn’t know which one might be Neal’s. Being presumed dead made that easy enough to excuse.

She was glad he wasn’t dead.

Emma sighed. Maybe it would have been easier if she’d set a time, or maybe it just would have been funnier: An hour to process Felix into the cells. Another at the pawnshop to watch Pan sealed beneath the floor—a tiny box to hold so many nightmares, but both of her parents standing next to her in spite of the dreamshade. Henry flanked by his mothers, his father, three of his grandparents.

Of course Neal had approached her—exactly down to the minute on the timer she had not set—cornering her at Granny’s. The beer was flowing, the food was hot, the noise was crushing her skull. Tick, tock.

“Emma, can we make some time to talk?”

She hadn’t even gotten her coat off, and it was weird to suddenly need it again after six days and a lifetime sweating in an otherworldly jungle. She saw Hook at the bar with Tink, a glass mug of amber liquid in each of their hands as they toasted. Mary Margaret and David pushed in behind and around her to head for a table. Regina and Henry were tucked in together at a booth.

Tick, tock.

She forced her attention back to Neal. “Isn’t that what we’re doing right now?” she said. “Unless—are you trying to ask me on a date?”

Yes.

Yes, he was and yes, she would make time—because they needed to know what would happen. Emma had a few ideas and as Mary Margaret always said happy endings start with hope. It was the look on Mary Margaret’s face as Neal settled himself back into his booth that had her worried. The big eyes, the bright smile. It was a look she wasn’t totally used to seeing on her friend’s face because it was such a Snow White look.

“You owe it to yourself,” Mary Margaret had said.

Tick, tock.

A motherly look. She wasn’t used to that yet, either. Six days or a lifetime hadn’t quite given her enough time to digest the shift from best friend to parent and almost every minute since the curse had broken had been one unrelenting nightmare after another. Ogres, giants, beanstalks. Cora. Hook. Neal. It didn’t help that even while Mary Margaret was urging her to take the chance—“You owe it to yourself”—Emma kept thinking about the chances Mary Margaret and David wanted to take.

Tick, tock.

They were home now, the three of them—four—five—six—or maybe eight—one big modern fairytale family—and that mattered, even if Mary Margaret had looked her in the eyes and promised that she wouldn’t be an orphan anymore and then decided that she would stay in Neverland forever if she had to. The thin leather strap of the waterskin crossed over David’s shoulder didn’t feel like much against that, but it was everything.

The water. From Hook. And every time she’d turned Emma had seen Hook watching, his eyes tightening slightly every time David moved. Like he was waiting for something. Tick, tock.

Shaking herself, Emma finished her cup of coffee and hauled herself back up the ladder. The curling iron felt comfortable in her hand; it was a relief to look in the mirror and see someone she recognized, from Before. Her blue leather jacket because it was warmer, her favorite tank top layered underneath, and she was going to go to Granny’s and have a goddamn normal day. Whatever that meant now—now that it wasn’t Before, but After. After the curse. After the Enchanted Forest. After Neverland.

After—everything.

She wasn’t a tiny princess under a mobile of glass unicorns; none of them knew what to do with a goddamn adult with a past. A history, a trauma, that was not part of their storybook fantasy, and more than a missed opportunity that they could recreate.

She refused to just be that. She was a mother, too. A sheriff. A Savior.

An orphan.

If what they had was unique, to use Mary Margaret’s words from the Echo Cave, then they had to be able to make their own definitions. Their own rules and wants and needs and hopes. Their own story. And what Emma wanted, more than anything, was to carve out her own space in this world—parents, children, magic, exes, and evil queens—and know that it was hers. That she belonged. Emma wanted to know that when Henry came for her he wasn’t just looking for her to break a curse. He was bringing her home.

How did Snow White, of all people, not understand that?

She glanced at her phone, at the time and at the last text message. Pulled on her shitkicker black boots and closed the door behind her.

She had a date to get to.

#cs fic #canon divergence #season 3a #no curse renaissance

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