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streets-in-paradise · 1 year

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Diverted Course

Troy (2004) Reader Insert Fanfiction / Achilles x Mycenaean Princess!Reader Precuel - Part 22

Word Count 10 K

Warnings: Thetis is being portrayed as a supportive mother. Clichés from the historical epic-swords and sandals film genre mixed with mythology.

Characters (main): Achilles, Patroclus, Thetis, Phoenix, Eudorus, Agamemnon, Hesione.

Summary: Returning to his homeland gives Achilles time to meditate on the intense experience he has lived and he intends to take drastic choices on the matter. However, the reminder of a pernicious detail leaves him in need of good advice and Patroclus convinces him of visiting the best sources available.

In the meantime, Hesione attempts to penetrate the stubborn mind of her master hoping to persuade him using his loneliness on her advantage.

Notes: In the movie Achilles afirms to have seen the gods, implying he is the only mortal arround who had any contact with at least some of them. From this fact i attempt to add some of the mythical element into the story without changing the original tone of Troy centered in mortal actions and motivations.

Tags: @yerevasunclair @mysticaldeanvoidhorse @spideyanakin @spideyanakin-interacts @awakenedevildays @alaysha-of-middle-earth @zoegarfield @helie-brain @rfkfan

There were many silent sacrifices that Achilles accepted to endure for Patroclus since he took him in, but having to stand his new friend during a good portion of the journey back to Pithia was a very annoying one. The bard that the lad befriended in Mycenae was quite talkative and obtrusive, constantly meddling in matters that weren’t his business. He would never stop reminding him that he was a witness of his greatest crime, the only one Greece wouldn’t cheer him for. The awakening of passion in the heart of the queen among greek princesses, splendid daughter of the King of Kings, woman meant to belong with some mighty lord ruler of rich lands. The story brought forward the bard’s curiosity, seeing in it great epic potential and for so, filling the hero with unwanted advice in hopes of making him reveal more details.

Death threats weren’t enough to keep him shut, not at least while being around them. It was most likely that Alexander knew the risk that the rage of the myrmidon champion meant for him and wouldn’t challenge it anyways, but he also wanted to have privileged access to the novelty. He would keep it secured awaiting for better times in which his songs would be an honor instead of a source of scandal. That didn’t stop him from accidentally bringing many questions to the hero’s already troubled mind.

Her suitors and what he was going to do with them were a concerning conversational topic between them on the way. The artist was coming up with ideas on the assumption that Achilles would follow the less subtle route to obtain the lady as wife. Go directly to her father, expect the obvious negative, then do a carnage that wouldn’t leave a single one of her suitors alive and kidnap her. He wouldn’t be the first greek hero taking that path, many stories in the past were evidence of it. Other remarkable warlords before him met with the refusal of their fathers in law and resorted to war like violence.

It would be what everyone expected of him, a typical Achilles reaction according to the brutal fame he was acquiring. He didn’t want that, their nuptial thalamus should not be stained with a bloodbath. However, the reminder brought him the realization that he was indeed capable of jealousy. Despite being completely sure of her feelings for him, the idea of returning to her city and finding out that Agamemnon betrothed her to someone else was unbearable to him. Suddenly, killing the chosen suitor in a rage outbreak didn’t seem an improbable possibility. Not even an oath like the one forced on Helen’s suitors would stop him. If he would have been in their situation he would have killed Menelaus in the blink of an eye. Except that he wasn’t even a legitimate suitor for his lady’s hand, he was only the most dreaded soldier at her father’s command.

Reproaches about his lack of patriotism and long lasting hate were all Agamemnon had for him because he never valued or understood myrmidons like he should. Phthia grew with the frequent arrival of persecuted runaways from other greek cities, many of whom were protected during the times of Peleus, mixing themselves with the descendants of the original habitants of the land. National feelings would hardly emerge among people that were once forced to leave their homelands, mycenaean occupation didn’t change that. The king loved to insult him based on his lack of loyalty to the country ignoring that his definition of Greece was himself. Myrmidons weren’t happy with submission just to feel like belonging to a closed identity given to them by his empire, they were only loyal to themselves.

Reclaiming political power wasn't his particular ambition like was often suspected of him only because he was from a conflictive province. The greedy king could keep the throne and place his favorite crawler general on it; all Achilles wanted from him was the princess. The way to eternal glory, he would win on his own through his actions in the battlefield. She was the only of his wishes that strictly required from the approbation of his hated rival. For her he was going to endure him, since she had the loyalty of his arrow pierced heart. It didn’t take long for him to realize he was starting to miss her, in Mycenae he got used to seeing her everyday and he underestimated how much he loved that. He wanted to wake up beside her, to see her smiles witnessing his training combats with Patroclus, to introduce her with everyone she couldn’t meet the first time she visited him.

Remaining separated in times of war was understandable and normal, but being without her in peace was harder to accept. Something on him was changing and the people around him were noticing it. Patroclus was surprised to see him pick the lyre again, then offering him lessons with the excuse of his recently noticed strong interest in music. They had tried it before and made some good advances, but Achilles postponed those because combat training was a priority. Not only that preoccupation seemed to change, but he even catched the hero playing alone at one given opportunity.

The song sounded melancholic, but it was beautiful, and the lad didn’t dare to interrupt until it was finished.

“ I’m so full of jealousy, I can't believe this… I will never be as great as you. Everything you do feels epic, Achilles!”

The man smiled for him, used by then to be the center of his admiration. It was no secret that Patroclus looked up to him and he didn’t want him to doubt himself in pointless comparisons.

“ You are the one with the musical inclinations, I only play when I’m bored.”

“ You know I’m not talking about musical talent.” The lad clarified. “ When a normal man falls in love, he acts like a fool until successful courting leads to marriage. When you do it, it has to become an intricate adventure for a distant maiden that is practically unreachable. Look at yourself, you are in the part of the tale where the hero mourns his longing for an impossible love because his great challenge hasn’t come yet.”

Achilles wasn’t following the joke.

“ Life is not an epic tale, Patroclus. If it was, I would know what happens next.”

Seeking to help out while trying to differentiate sadness from bad mood, he sat next to him hoping to provide him comfort. Achilles would never ask for it first, especially from him, but Patroclus knew what to do when he needed it.

“ I know exactly what would happen, her father would do something incredibly stupid that would anger the gods. They would punish him through her and you would become her only hope, so Agamemnon would be forced to let you have her in payment for saving her life. “

“ What worked for Perseus didn’t turn out well for Hercules. “ Achilles recalled. “ For some heroes passion leads to doom.”

The pessimistic claim didn’t bother Patroclus in the slightest.

“ But you are Achilles, you are greater than all of them! And your princess already loves you, which means you only have obstacles in the way because the world would not easily accept that her heart belongs to you. All the other heroes won the right to marriage before the girl’s affections … Although Andromeda is still questionable, I like to think that she liked Perseus on sight.”

“ When the choice is marriage or being devoured by a sea monster, the bride is just offering herself as payment for the rescue.”

The stubbornness of Achilles would have disencourage anyone else, but the boy had an inextinguishable spirit.

“ Think of the lack of conflict due to loyalty to her family. Agamemnon is not a father, he is a jailer. From what I saw, she seems to be like a ghost haunting the palace for him. If she has to choose between him and you, he will pick you faster than Medea picked Jason… And with you she wouldn’t be making the worst mistake of her life. You would not abandon her for a younger princess once she would stop serving a purpose for your heroic journey… not unless you want to be fed a stew made with the flesh of your own children as the main ingredient.”

The casual application of her most frequent dark joke got a chuckle out of him, on that he noticed the mark she left on his cousin.

“ That won’t be necessary, once she would be rightfully mine I would never let her go.”

Patroclus had a triumphant smile that gave his expression a mischievous look.

“ What are you up to now?” Achilles inquired, knowing something was coming. “ Don’t give me that look, I know what it means.”

“ Now that you ask, I was going to see Eudorus and I wondered if you wanted to come with me. “ Patroclus innocently offered. “ Phoenix will be there and I bet you would like to talk with him.”

“ I’m not looking for advisors, but you can leave if you want.” Achilles concluded. “ Salute everyone on my part.”

The harsh negative would stumble once more with infallible insistence.

“ Achilles, I’m being serious now. I lost my father and you are the person I search for when I feel lost. Who is yours, if not the old friend of your deceased father? “

He had a point, Phoenix was the closest thing Achilles had to a parental figure found on father’s side. However, he was behind someone else in the matter of being a trustable source of advice.

“ My mother.”

It was the obvious answer, only that Patroclus didn’t consider her first in that opportunity because he thought she was already aware of everything.

“ Haven’t you spoken with her about this? You always tell her everything and you had already visited her before seeing anyone else when we arrived.”

There was a certain glimpse of shame in him.

“ I didn’t tell her yet, don’t make me feel any more guilty about that. “ Achilles confessed. “ If we do what you want, would you go with me to visit her later?”

“ We have a deal." Patroclus agreed. “ I like your mother, tables turn when we are with her. She treats me fairly and you become the little boy.”

Their first stop was the house of Phoenix, adoptive father of Eudorus and old teacher of Achilles. The family had a modest home not too far away from theirs and have been there since the beginning of the mycenaean occupation. The countryside villages were untouched by it, an inheritance of the deposed king that wasn’t magnificent enough for the mycenaean eye. Comfortable places, but not symbols of power they cared to occupate. Those were once conceived as retirement country houses for royals of old age, but with enough patience and work put on them they were turned into suitable places for families. Phoenix took excellent care of Achilles’ inheritance while he was growing up and by the time he reached adulthood the place reserved for him was magnificent compared with its initial state. An architectural hybrid between the palace of a prince and the house of a traveling mercenary, not absolutely sophisticated nor fully rough. In contrast, the place of the old man and his family was just a homely country house.

The disposition intended to imitate the order of things from the times of Peleus. but the space was susceptible to expansions. In times of peace Eudorus was often seen occupied in home improvement labor. Before the rushed travel to fight in Argos he was working on an ampliation to emplace a thalamus for the eventual time of his marriage. It was his wishful project for the future, so he was getting the house ready in advance of finding a woman he would want to take there.

Achilles used to mock the sequential order of his efforts, wondering why he would bother in getting the bedroom ready before actually finding the bride. At that particular opportunity, he was the one asking about the state of the project.

“ He has been working non-stop since he returned, it’s almost ready.” Phoenix told the freshly arrived visitors. “ The women of the argives must have inspired his purpose. “

The impetus didn’t come from Argos, his friends imagined it linked to his mycenaean admirer. The sweet servant girl with an obvious crush on him must have reinforced his will to work on that.

“ We have met Helen of Sparta in Mycenae.” Patroclus innocently excused him. “ That woman is an unstoppable source of inspiration for anyone.”

The old man was absolutely unimpressed by his implications.

“ Those thieves are hoarding treasures from all over Greece, the least they can do with that is getting stunning wives.”

“ … And they do, women were arguably the best thing there.” Achilles joked to soften things. “ When we’ll become truly rich, I would like to get one of those for me and one for my friend.”

“ A mycenaean serving us would be a nice change for once. “ The man snarked, letting them see he thought the hero was talking of buying slaves. “ You know I don’t like to see you both leave knowing you will be fighting for Agamemnon, I accept it because I have no choice.”

“ I fight for myself and your son fights for me. We only use that king to get our deserved rewards.”

The conversation was paused to make proper libations to the gods with the wine that Polymele brought for them.

“ And how good were those this time?” The mother of Eudorus asked. “ I’m absolutely proud of my son’s glory, but we weren’t expecting him to arrive without you. Haven’t you thought about how you were going to scare the people, Achilles? At first sight we could have thought you were lost in battle! “

“ Mother, he was being honored in Mycenae for the great victory against Diomedes.” Eudorus jumped in his lord’s defense. “ The conqueror of Thebes, of seven gates, was never forced to retreat before. Achilles made him.”

The hero seemed pleased with the accurate description of the official motives masquerading his reasons for staying in the mycenaean palace more than necessary.

“ Not easily, he is worth the fame he acquired. Diomedes is the best I have faced, just not good enough to contain me. He knew when to back down, or a deity who loves him inspired him to do it. “

“ Then he got his army submitted to Agamemnon, paid the tribute, and you got the argive blood cleansed from your skin by the hands of the mycenaean princess. “ Patroclus added. “ Not a bad outcome, you got honors that have never been given to any other hero during the ruling of Agamemnon.”

“ Diomedes can still be called a King, Achilles takes the myrmidons to battle as a mere commander.” She recalled, showing disdain for the descripted situation. “ No honors can repay that, a ceremony in the palace of Agamemnon isn’t enough.”

“ But it was a great start.” Achilles insisted, on a positive note. “ His own people are fascinated with me, Mycenae loves me against the wishes of its king.”

The affirmation was accurate, but also an excellent metaphor. Mycenae discovered a fervor for him that Agamemnon despised, but the most special of his subjects actually loved him against his wishes.

Phoenix seemed to have a clear position about that.

“ A bath? If they want to vindicate you, at very least they should have let you sleep with her.”

The joke made everyone chuckle for all the wrong reasons. He wasn’t speaking seriously, but Achilles truly had the even more delusional idea of taking the princess of Mycenae as payment for all past and future offenses when he would finally be able to part ways with the Atreide.

“ Don’t make him wish for so, father. “ Eudorus spoke first. “ The girl is a delight, she surprised us all. Kindness like hers is rare to see in the highest royalty, especially in the House of Atreus.”

The remark made him feel taunted and Achilles wasn’t going to remain impassible.

“ The only one in that family that is worth something. Let me tell you something, Phoenix. That princess is splendid and her personal entourage is not far behind. Her servant girls are as lovely as her, one is very feisty but the other one is pure tenderness.”

Polymele retired to a subtle sign of her husband, understanding he was going to share things that she wouldn’t like to hear.

“ It may seem like that, but servant girls are no game.” He strictly commented. “ Not even with the ones belonging to his own household a young man is safe. One may say that everybody does it, but things are never so simple.”

Patroclus was weirded by the strange reprobation.

“ As long as she consents, I don’t see the problem. Those girls are often offered as part of hospitality. Why should we be the ones to beware of them and not the other way arround?”

“ Because there will always be someone else willing to ruin your life for one of them. Servant girls aren’t prostitutes, you don’t remain free of consequences. Don’t underestimate the damage that a jealous owner can cause you. Everything is fun until he realizes that she wants you for real and barely tolerates him. Some don’t like to get reminded that those girls spread their legs for them only because they have to.”

The passion he showed in the intense explanation was suspicious, almost like a defensive reaction.

“ That’s not ethical advice,” Achilles pointed out.” you are treating us like kids that want to put their hands over the fire because they don’t know it burns.”

“ You already know I was not born a myrmidon, your father offered me shelter after I ran away from my homeland. What I never told you or my son was the reason.” The man replicated. “ I was once a prince of Hellas, son of King Amyntor. My father humiliated my mother with his blatant preference for a concubine of the palace and she begged me to do something about it. She wanted me to seduce the slave so she would despise him and so I did. I got close to her, at first for the sake of my mother’s sorrow, but I got to experience a sweet furtive passion with that girl. I awakened in her the fire that only love brings, she wanted me like she had never wanted my father. When we were discovered, Amyntor forgot I was his son. His jealousy overcame everything, he summoned the Furies to curse me with childlessness and they heard him. “

He stopped the tale for a brief instant and glanced at Eudorus.

“ You know now why my blissful union with your mother has never produced offspring. My seed is cursed, dear boy. I came to this land escaping the hate of my father and you were a miracle that happened after I thought I lost everything. It was decreed that I would never conceive a child of my own and when I met Polymele she was already pregnant with you. I got blessed with a chance to raise two boys, my son and my apprentice, and I thank the deity who had mercy on me for that.”

“ Maybe it was your mother, Achilles, I will never know. “ He continued, back on his main interrogator at that opportunity. “ After all, she allowed me to educate you when you reached the proper age. She honored my friendship with your father by letting me be the one teaching you what he couldn´t. I’m obliged to transmit you the humble wisdom that I acquired in a lifetime. Don’t get in the way of a master and his possessive love, he would destroy you no matter what just to keep the illusion of full ownership over his favorite girl. “

The words of advice Phoenix had to give weren’t a calming balsam for the worries of the heart poured for them. Eudorus received those like a personal alarm while Achilles felt his existing doubts increasing after the visit. The outcome contradicted all expectations, he was still feeling conflicted because the advisor didn’t succeed on the accidental intention of making him desist from his secret purpose. Nothing would, not even Zeus himself coming down from Olympus to tell him that woman was forbidden. Speaking of the servant girls was easier than directly confessing he was going after the mycenaean princess, but he knew the advice wouldn’t change much if the man would be aware of his actual target. In any case, it would be harsher and more determinant giving the substantial difference in the high rank.

On his part, Patroclus was amazed recognizing in them the same fear of disappointment he sometimes felt regarding them. It was a strange realization, since normally his cousin never seemed vulnerable to expectations and Eudorus would only care about disappointing him in particular. Phoenix felt to him then like the patriarch they all wanted to make proud, but whose wisdom they wished to put in question. Not a single word of complaint came out from the men, despite the lad waiting for it to emerge. The two grown adults he admired the most, fearless warriors and makers of massacres, wouldn’t dare to question the advice of the man who raised them taking the lead of their absent fathers.

His hope was in a presumably kinder advisor, the only one who could help Achilles out of the tribulations in a way that wouldn’t make him feel hopeless.

Thetis received them the next day in the usual grout by the sea. Only her son knew the precise location of the isolated spot where he spent the early stages of his childhood and Patroclus was the only company he ever admitted. The reason would have been evident to anyone who could witness his interactions with his mother. The stoic mask would fall completely in her presence, she was capable of discovering the deepest secrets of his heart with amazing ease.

“ You have found more than glory in Mycenae.” She told him right away. “ I saw it in you, but I preferred to wait until you would come to me with the news.”

It never stopped to impress them, Achilles found his initial guilt over hiding the secret absolutely pointless and Patrocus was in disbelief for what he was witnessing.

“ I didn’t want to overwhelm you so soon. You were receiving me as your son coming victorious from battle, it wasn’t a proper time to come to you for help.”

Once he approached close enough she gave him a soft caress on the cheek.

“ There is no wrong time to need your mother.”

He had a sweet smile always ready for her.

“ Your little helper has convinced me.”

Patroclus peeked from behind his shoulder waving one hand and Thetis smiled at him.

“ I see. It's nice to have you with us this time, Patroclus! I heard about your journeys, your first steps outside your homeland. I’m very proud of you.”

The boy was bright with happiness receiving the praise.

“ At least I'm not the only one who is here for your validation.” Achilles mocked him. “ Although I’m not sure who needs it the most right now.”

Sitting on top of some rocks on the shore, she allowed him to rest his head against her shoulder in a calming pose.

“ I always wondered why you didn’t try to sneak into the competition for the hand of Helen.” She commented as a subtle entrance for the matter. “ It’s true that I advised you against it, but many achaean heroes were there. I thought pride could have pushed you anyways.”

“ I’m the best, I have nothing to prove.” Her son answered right away. “ It didn’t matter to me how pretty they said she was, I told myself I was married to the sword and nothing would distract me from fighting. When I had to leave for her wedding party, many men told me I was going to regret it once I met her. I didn’t, Helen is beautiful beyond measure but meeting her didn’t change my life and that made me feel safe in my position. If the prettiest girl in Greece wasn’t trapping me, no other would. “

He made a brief pause looking for exact words that would describe the best what he had to tell her.

“ I met someone else there, a shy girl nobody was paying any attention to. She was the niece of the bride, I thought I was never going to see her again and that’s why I never spoke about her before. I visited her palace, I stayed for more than I should have and now I feel I can’t live without her.”

There was no judgment in his mother’s reaction and he felt encouraged by that.

“ You have a good eye for trouble.” She sweetly mocked him. “ I thought you hated the Atreides, the eldest surely hates you. He invaded the land of the myrmidons in spite of your existence. The age of the demigods was starting to fade, a direct descendant of gods was rare to see. Prince Agamemnon of Mycenae was horrified when he heard people were saying the little boy of King Peleus didn’t have a mortal mother. A demigod child ruling anywhere else was a threat to everything he wanted to build, so he came here with lies claiming the myrmidons were hiding Thyestes and took away your crown before you could get to rule. "

“ No way, he is your Eurystheus!” Patroclus recalled with weirded excitement. “ This is getting very interesting.”

" Deep down Hercules cared for his lost throne, I don't. " Achilles corrected him. " Everyone thinks I say it because I'm trying to escape who I'm meant to be, but I'm not. Agamemnon did an excellent job shaping my fate for his benefit because the man I have become is not the one that prince boy was meant to be. I'm a fighter, not a politician. I can barely look after myself, nobody in their ríght mind would ask me to look after a kingdom. "

" ... Too bad, because your princess seems born to rule. I bet you wish you had your old title just to give her a throne to sit on. "

The tease wasn't ill intentioned, but it touched a detail he didn't consider until then.

" I don't need to present myself to her as the one I was born as. Consider it for a moment, Patroclus. Her mother committed treason sleeping with a traitor. If she finds out I was born a prince, she could think I want her just to get my throne back and she will find logical reasons to believe it. It's the only detail everyone remembers about the Queen of Mycenae, you can naturally assume her daughter is haunted by that. I don't want a scepter of king, I want her... but how do you convince a woman who has been told over and over that her dead mother was a weak bitch seduced by an enemy? "

It made sense and for so, the lad didn't object.

" I have a plan, but it requires time I can't afford and patience I don't have. " Achilles continued. " I can win the dowry with the sword, make Agamemnon owe me so much that he will have to acceed regardless of the mutual hate we feel. Once his greed will be satisfied he will not have any believable excuses. I put the world at his feet and all I ask in return is a wife. The great emperor will not look good if he refuses and we know he will pick his damn empire over her anytime. He could be capable of selling her to old King Priam for the control of Troy."

" Well, to be exact there is nothing he wouldn't give to rule Troy."

" What I mean is that he will not miss her and before he will sell her to anyone else for power he will have to sell her to me. I will bring him all the power he wants so he will not have to exchange her for it on any of the few free kingdoms that remain. " Achilles clarified ríght away. " The problem is that this is a long term plan. She is clever, so far she has managed to delay marriage, but i don't know for how long she will stand. "

There was genuine worry in his face when expressing his deepest concern.

" What if I come back one day to find her married? Maybe she resisted as much as she was capable of, but Agamemnon forced her to marry someone else. Doubt is driving me mad, I don't know how long it will take me to find a new excuse to return. My only comfort is knowing that she is with Odysseus now, that should keep her safe for some time."

Thetis kissed his forehead and prepared herself to deliver bad news.

" I lament to inform you that your friend conspires against you. Is not personal, he still loves you, but nothing comes above the love he has for his wife and son. He fears you could recklessly unleash a country-wide war for that girl and hopes to contain the situation with manipulations. Nothing new, he is once more playing with forces he can't understand trying to cheat fate. "

He raised his glance at her with confusion.

" Mother, are you sure about this?"

" Which one of the two?" Patroclus asked him." Odysseus playing on his own side or her being your fate?"

Thetis seemed quite surprised by the comeback.

" You have returned with a sharper tongue, dear boy. Is that another prodigy from the women of the Atreides?"

Patroclus easily confessed his guilt.

" For cursed people, they are very nice. "

" Don't insult her like that, the only curse my princess has is being born from that father."

" So easily you claim her yours!" His mother followed in a teasing tone. " This is not the same man who left the homeland for war. A true miracle has occurred, my son was visited by the children of Aphrodite!"

" Is that all you both plan to do? Join forces to mock me?" Achilles defended himself. " Yes, I am in love. I thought I would never feel that need for someone else and here I am, losing my mind for the daughter of Agamemnon Atreide. Maybe it is the punishment he got for all the offenses he caused me, or it's yet another motive of suffering I have to endure from him. In either case, it's already done. I love her, I can't conceive the idea of finding her married to someone else or witnessing her wedding as an invited guest. If what you say is true, mother, then Odysseus is ríght in just one thing. I would kill the groom if i have to, she wouldn't even have to ask me to slaughter the husband being forced on her."

" Or you could also remember that the goddess of marriage is the woman who educated me. '' Thetis interrupted before the rage inside him could escalate. " You don't have an immortal mother in vain. "

Achilles wasn't fond of the idea, the mere thought made him feel uneasy. He stood up out of sudden and gave a few steps away contemplating the sea.

" You know I don't like to owe favors in Olympus.You never know how the ones up there will choose to collect payment. "

" I'm loved and respected by both sides of the ruling marriage and that is not an easy achievement." She insisted. " Do you truly want the princess of Mycenae for a wife?"

" Ask Hera if she wants us to honor her getting married or to offend her with an adulterous relationship. In either way that girl is mine. ” Was his terminating answer halfway into an angry ramble “ In fact, being her lover would never be enough. Only a coward would conform with that. I would steal her from her dying husband and if I have to spill blood all over the temple, I will. "

" That sounds like a threat, I think it's not wise to offend the goddess whose favor you need." Patroclus mocked his lovesick rage. " ... You truly are lucky that this lady is your mother. "

Thetis smiled once more, purposely avoiding chuckling to the comment and the overall situation, but remained silent.

" Do you think threatening the Queen of Olympus is a viable option?" The boy continued, horrified. " Are you completely out of your mind?

" I'm not a coward, I speak my mind. If Hera doesn't make her my wife, I'll take her by myself. "

" Or the goddess can obviously go one step ahead of you and marry her to someone that would screw your plans."

To the immortal woman in front of them it was like seeing the argument of two children. However, the unusual wisdom that the youngest was showing was unusual to perceive in someone of his age. He had a healthy fear of gods her son had never acquired.

" No one will get in my way." Achilles confidently answered to Patroclus' provocation. " No one would be that stupid. "

" What about a man you wouldn't kill so easily and she wouldn't want to cheat on despite not loving him ? I know of a prince that fits the description, a great fighter and a very honorable man... Agamemnon would love to get him on board. "

The mere reminder of that man annoyed the demigod. Although the idea seemed improbable,he had realized that his cousin was in the ríght.

" Prepare an expiatory sacrifice for tomorrow morning or Hera will gift your girl to Hector just to give you a lesson. "

Thetis wanted to show support for Patroclus' advice without revealing too much of certain information that could be upsetting for her son. As a sea deity she was aware of many things happening on the domains of Poseidon.

“ That would be an excellent start, I can do my part and speak with her later. “ She quickly took the lead in the conversation. “ The alignments on Olympus could also be useful information to you. I will try to figure out what the great deities think of her, but don’t expect much. Your discredit of Olympians comes from the fact that you have met them, your girl has never felt divine presence. Zeus hates the Line of Tantalus, no one assists them directly. Agamemnon has done more harm than good trying to restore the relationship with the Great King. He thinks that ruling the world would prove that he is better than his ancestors and Zeus will forgive him. I feel confident guessing that the young princess must be secretly watched by Athena, anyone loved by Odysseus gets at least a bit of her attention. Aphrodite is over Helen, if they are close she may be keeping an eye on her too. “

“ Aunt and niece have become hard to separate. That must be why the goddess of love couldn’t keep turning a blind eye anymore.” Achilles commented. “ It explains a lot. I thought the world was going a bit more insane than usual when no other man seemed to mind leaving that gorgeous girl all by herself. She even used to boast of being invisible to the eyes of men and I heard that while my own eyes were feasting on her.”

They shared a few chuckles to the amusing sounding confession.

“ Aphrodite is called the laughter loving for a reason: she adores pranks. Expect some more pranking now that she is bringing her favorite mortal man. “

The words escaped from her in a moment of distraction because the thought was already on her mind. Her son suspected immediately and questioned her about it.

“ Mother… is there anything else that I should know?

She was reluctant to keep speaking, as if they were reaching a cursed topic, but there was nothing else she could have done.

“ Your beloved was invited to Ithaca under false pretexts, Odysseus has a mission for her. To be the bridge between his people and the trojans, Prince Hector is on the way on board of a ship that will arrive soon there. His brother Paris is with him, he is the favorite mortal of Aphrodite. Hector is the predilect of Apollo … and of their entire nation. “

Patroclus cackled loudly to the incredible coincidence.

“ Well, looks like all our mockery will be put to test. “ He concluded. “ Do you think Athena could be connecting her thoughts with Odysseus’? She didn’t tell him about her old escape plan, I'm sure of that. If she sees him the same way I see you, I can confirm that it didn't come out from her.”

Achilles was certainly dismayed, but not even in front of his mother he would admit it.

“ It’s only a shame that I can’t be there to see her gaining fame. Her glory is a motive of cheer for me, she always takes pride in mine. I want the trojans to adore her so Hector can envy me later. And as for Paris, he can check on the wonderful woman that could have mindlessly gifted herself to him if she wouldn’t have met a real man first. He will see how unworthy of her he is and she will feel embarrassed to have ever considered him.”

Surprisingly calm reaction making everyone else suspect there was more behind he wouldn’t acknowledge at the moment.

“ May I ask you one more favor?”

The goddess secured some of the strands of golden hair falling at the sides of his face behind his ear

“ Anything. No matter the path you take, I’m always on your side. “

Achilles seemed partially encouraged and that was a relief.

“ Take care of her, keep her safe when she is unreachable to me. “ He sweetly begged. “ I don’t need you to spy on her because I want to test her loyalty. I trust her, I feel it every time she is close to me. She wants no one else, the world demands her differently. The request is not about me, I just want to know if there will be someone out there looking after her when Athena or Aphrodite would be too busy with the mortals they like more. “

The petition was clearly heartfelt and he hugged her right away.

“ That will not be a problem, she has been praying to the Nereids.” Thetis shared with him in complicity. “ She thinks I don’t listen to her talking of her love for you, but if you would know the things I have heard you will be swimming to Ithaca. “

His eyes went wide realizing that his mother had been aware of everything all along.

While such matters were occupying him, the situation in Mycenae appeared to be diverting the course...

The atmosphere in the palace was moderately quiet, but that wasn’t doing any wonders for the king’s mood. He seemed distracted at best and more easily irritable than usual at worst. Dealing with him wasn’t simple even for his royal advisors. The absence of Nestor complicated things even more and there were no future prospects for an imminent military action that would justify his comeback from Pylos.

For Agamemnon, it was just him and the mundane issues of Mycenae in a boring in between wars period he would be spending alone. It was hard to admit he didn’t enjoy peace, not even the domestic one obtained in solitude after getting rid of his daughter for a while along with all the uncomfortable visits they were forced to receive. Having her around was often a source of headaches, but letting her go to any place other than his brother’s palace and being uncertain about her time of return wasn’t nice.

He was worried, no matter how much he trusted Odysseus or how advantageous it would be to have information about Ithaca after the conflict with Diomedes. To some extent, he was regretful about letting her go.

It was a constant in his relationship with her, taking choices as king that he would later regret as a father. In a more busier context, with some war upcoming or anything to distract his mind, he would simply ignore it. All his usual topics of concern were in control and he had no better idea than turning his thoughts back at her. Their bond was of constant struggle, if there was one thing she learned good from him was the insistence on doing things her way and there was nothing he hated more than being contradicted. She would always stand in the opposite viewpoint for any issue, from the petty things to actual conflicts, and drive him insane.

However, the palace wasn’t a constant battlefield at all times and she was a nice company. Whenever being anywhere else was impossible and campaigns had to be postponed, in the cold seasons when receiving guests was less frequent and the palace would reduce to just the two of them and their servants. Hunting wasn’t her thing, but in the bad weather she did appreciate the fur clothing. He would typically mock the hypocritical stance and she would laugh, admitting her guilt, to later extend the discourse claiming that hunting trophies were the useless side of it she didn’t enjoy. He once tried to explain to her his taste for keeping trophies using battlefield comparisons. In war when one man kills the other, the defeater has the right to take the fallen’s armor as a prize to display at his home. Without hesitation, she told him that an armed man in battle was a danger to another armed man, but a deer in the woods wasn’t. Only greater prizes from actually dangerous creatures made sense to her for that. The hunt of the Calydonian boar or the gorgon head kept by Perseus, not parts from the lifeless remains of animals that weren’t extraordinary.

If wars had to be fought following her logic, only killing the extraordinary people, he wouldn’t be at the edge of ruling Greece. Their philosophical arguments were at least entertaining and he would always crown those with some intricate wartime anecdote that would keep her listening. At some of those occasions she would simply hear him vent about Achilles driving him insane without stopping to question him a single time. Her silent support was comforting to him, seeing her simply nodding and smiling to whatever he said for once was definitely helpful. That man would often manage to outshine him while making him look like the villain of his heroic tale, so the king liked to have someone with whom he wouldn’t feel that way. His girl was always understanding, the onlyone besides Menelaus that seemed to be completely on his side.

Watching her sitting among her slaves, directing their work while keeping up with her own beautiful embroidery works, would sometimes secretly fill him with pride. She already looked like a queen and she had reached the age to become one. Although he was hoping to receive her back before the end of the season, soon he would have to let her go definitely. His empire needed offspring, from his viewpoint as a king he had to get her married as soon as possible. From his feelings as a father, he couldn’t grow the courage to let her go.

He would never admit it. Not even to himself, always up to find new motives to place on her. Blaming her was easy, stating she was not ready yet to be a good wife sounded more rational. In that line of thought, delaying the marriage was saving an unlucky man the disappointment of getting stuck with a disgraceful mess of a woman that would ruin his life. He was merely providing the useful service that Tyndareus should have given him before he married Clytemenestra, making sure the daughter she gave him would be in optimum conditions before her engagement. He managed to truly convince himself of that, satisfied with his self deceiving. She wasn’t good enough for any man and it was his responsibility to perfect her. Behind his cruel reproaches he was hiding the consequences of his paranoid fears, but also the possessiveness of his filial love.

It was no mystery to anyone that Agamemnon was a greedy man in every sense of the term and that included his affections. Shouting that he wanted her out of his life only masqueraded his necessity to keep her by his side. He preferred to have her in the palace, far away from the world, because she belonged with him. A fierce, jealous love was the guide of his parenting style. Taking anything away from him was already a difficult task, expecting him to give it away was nearly impossible. He was the accidental creator of his own difficulties, living in the contradiction of needing her to provide an heir to the house and feeling like any man wanting her was stealing her from him. She, who he had raised to be the exception to the rule in the troubled history following the women of the family, was a final product meant to be handed to someone else.

His mother abandoned him and his little brother when she sentenced herself to death for being unfaithful to their father, then his wife followed the same path. She carelessly left that child lonely for the sake of a lover, but her father knew very well what that little thing endured growing up without a mother. He promised himself he would do better with her, that he would keep her safe from the curse. Her innocent acts of rebellion in the palace were a fair price to pay for rescuing her from that fate.

Under her watch she was doing fine, occasionally trusting her to Menelaus wasn’t doing any harm either. As the only woman they managed to save, she was theirs by right, meant to be their caring company from her roles of daughter and niece. For the same reason she was their special responsability. Odysseus was a great man, but he wouldn’t understand it. He was probably being indulgent with her, allowing corruption to happen accidentally just to be a nice host. He was her favorite for a reason, he would often destroy all of her father’s good work on a week of visiting by giving her permission for anything she wanted.

She adored the King of Ithaca and he had an evident soft spot for her. She was always all smiles at the news of his arrival to Mycenae, even happier than if they would tell her that her father was returning from war. No other visitor would spend as much time alongside her as he did yet it never seemed to be enough. She would always beg for him to stay a few days more, looking at him with an adorable expression. It was the exact kind of trick she used to play as a little girl to stay for longer in Sparta, only not about her uncle anymore. She had built a great affinity with Odysseus, one that replaced Menelaus from the spot of favorite. It was granted that, despite the good intentions of Penelope, that man would give the girl too much freedom.

There was no doubt that his friend also meant good, but he wasn’t the one dealing with the consequences. Odysseus was responsible for her only while she would remain on Ithaca, nothing obliged him to be severe. For as much as Menelaus enjoyed being a relaxed uncle, he was aware of the limits he couldn’t let her cross. He would be more careful because he was aware of the risks, they had a secret mission to accomplish keeping the curse at bay. Although, at the end of the day, it was always up to him. The eldest brother, head of the house and father of that girl he wasn’t ready to raise alone when circumstances made him. His younger brother was a good support, but he wasn’t there all the time.

The trojan was all he had on a regular basis, that damn woman he would never get rid of. She knew too many secrets of the family, so he could never sell her, but he was too dependent on her and could never kill her. They were stuck with each other and over the years she had at least proven a consistent loyalty. It was a bond of relative mutual convenience making itself more evident when there was no one else around.

“ I’m bringing your meal, the poor boy that pours your wine is afraid you may slaughter him so I told him I can handle everything.” She announced herself carrying a tray to serve him. “ We are far beyond that, aren’t we?

Agamemnon tried to remain as composed as possible to show kingly dignity.

“ Just because my daughter has made you a queen among slaves, that doesn't mean you can talk to me as if you were a real one. She uses you to fulfill a need, as slaves are meant for. Queen Penelope of Ithaca is now in your place, surely doing a better job than you.”

The woman began to serve the table for him with cold carelessness.

“ Perhaps you are the one worried wondering if Odysseus is doing better work pretending to parent her. “

She poured wine and handed him the cup with total naturality, upsetting him even more than a claim that got him a bit too deep.

“ That’s an insolence I can't tolerate, not even from you. Hesione, favorite of the princess, I can’t care less about your old age and she is not here to protect you. “

“ The last time you marked my body she didn’t speak to you for days. I have seen her shredding tears of resignation whenever her benevolence wouldn’t be enough to calm your wrath against any other of us. Anger is what will be awakened if you touch me or her handmaids. Only three persons in this palace she expects you to protect in her absence, two of them are away.”

The reprobation made sense, so he switched the topic.

“ Odysseus was blessed with a firstborn boy, but I fear he would never be a good parent for a girl. Not only was he luckier than me regarding his offspring, he has an irreproachable wife and in this fortune lies his optimism. He has no idea of what it's like to have been married to a traitorous whore knowing your mother was one too while you beg for your only offspring, that just HAD TO BE yet another WOMAN, to not end up like that. I’m sure the pretentious little bitch is going to be insufferable at her return, that’s what he does to her.”

“ Be honest to yourself, King of Kings. “ Hesione warned in a mock. “ You are thinking of the people she will meet. Provincial nobles that will be dazzled by her shine, she may make new friends. Some that you didn’t buy for her, that you can’t control in the limits of this palace. Your sad attempt to control Patroclus wasn’t only about upsetting his cousin, he is the first friend your daughter made from outside your borders and that makes him dangerous… Who knows who she may befriend next?”

“ YOU KNOW WHY I HAVE TO DO IT! “ He yelled out of blatant rage for the callout. “ Your intrigues mean nothing to me, I’m protecting her from the curse she was born with.”

If she would have been completely free to speak, Hesione would have said he was that girl’s curse. At least for that she missed the presence of Achilles, he would never hesitate on freely insulting him without fearing repercussions and through the blade he had earned the power to do so.

“ It will not happen again because I have paid enough attention. From the claws of that harpy I rescued her and I made her a decent girl.” Agamemnon strictly concluded . “ Too nice, perhaps, her sense of morality drives me insane… But she has high morals, even if she often uses those to judge me.”

“ Trojan sense of morality, too elevated for the House of Atreus.” The woman clarified, reclaiming what she considered her accomplishment. “ That rectitude and virtue didn’t come from you.”

“ She is a righteous woman anyways, Hesione! I made that possible, on my watch she grew up safe.”

The king had a long sip of his drink while the slave kept accommodating plates.

“ She can’t be under your watch forever. “

He swallowed his first bite of food quickly to eagerly reply.

“ I can’t trust her to another man, they don’t understand. With me the curse is contained…”

“ She is a girl, not a feral force of destruction.” Hesione recalled. “ You don’t need to contain her, you need to understand her. It’s not about finding a husband to control her in your place, she needs one that would care for her. So far you have received prospects following nothing but your own interests. Your local flatterers and a few foreign princes from families you like, all focused on your personal gain. Have you actually checked on any of those men, besides from their inventory of richness or political influence? What about their personalities, goals and morals? Do you find any virtue in at least one of her suitors?”

“ Antilochus is a good young man, Nestor and I have been thinking about it since they were kids. He was my strongest favorite, but he became a suitor of Helen and our plans got ruined. Until quite recently, many of the most righteous princes were too busy fighting for her.”

Hesione was subtly heading the conversation into a very important point she wanted to make. Always letting her master believe that she was simply helping him think, what she actually seeked was to persuade him.

" It's not about righteousness. Look for a man that is in perfect balance with yours and her morals. One that would follow your brutal ways of heartless conqueror but would still make her happy. "

" That man doesn't exist, no one can reconcile such extremely different interests. Agamemnon insisted. " Her purpose in life is to serve me, it's logical that the choice has to be useful to me. "

He was incredibly stubborn, but she wouldn't stop.

" The kind of man you are looking for is a fierce warrior with a good heart. One that would be with you exterminating an entire population of men, but would pretend he didn't see the children escaping. A son in law fitting for your needs that would still have softness reserved for her. A mighty arm to destroy your enemies that would wrap her in a tender embrace."

The servant was purposely describing Achilles in a language vague enough to plant the seed of an idea that was favoring him. Despite the king didn't figure out the underline meaning of her words, the advice seemed sensical to him and precisely for that he was feeling conflicted.

None of his trustfull advisors would have ever been so direct.

" I fail to see what makes you so interested in her departure from this house. '' Agamemnon snarked with poisonous disdain. " You'll lose everything with her marriage and I am not speaking only about your position of privilege. You don't have a family, that girl is all you have. I have many other matters to care about, my mind will move on, but without her you will lose your purpose. "

Her answer was a hard strike.

" My love is selfless, I want the best for her no matter what will happen to me. Perhaps because I have nothing I can call mine and you own so much, you will never understand that. "

Agamemnon cackled carelessly and shamelessly.

" There you are again, playing to be the sacrificial matriarch! It doesn't suit you as good as you think it does. "

Hesione watched him completely unamused.

" You still hope for it, don't you? How many years humiliating me in front of her got you nowhere? How many teachers and etiquette trainers that you have collected among the best wives in mycenaean nobility have failed before? Now you think that Penelope of Ithaca, of all queens, will be the one successfully training her to hate me and my kind? "

" She needs a fitting role model to follow and Penelope is a flawless queen, i believe her influence can inspire her into becoming one. Acknowledging your inferiority is part of that, she is too old to keep pretending you are her mother. "

Her mockery was turning into rage. She had no doubts about the love of her girl, but it was true that her social position demanded other teachings besides from hers and the king was pointing it out to hurt her.

" You are spiteful because she hasn't learned to dehumanize trojans like you wanted. Growing up with me was supposed to show her that we are all pets your family will dominate someday, but you failed in poisoning her with your hate..."

She made a brief pause, unsure of letting the anger dominating her get its outlet.

" ... Let’s revisit some basic facts about your daughter. She loves horses more like any other noble girl who has been in this palace. Do you remember when you whipped a lad working in your stables thinking she was sneaking there to see him, only to later find out she was there talking to the horses? "

The king remained silent.

" If given the choice, she loves dressing in blue clothes as much as your traditional red. She can recite the story of the foundation of Troy as fluently as she would tell you about the origins of Mycenae. Dardanus and Tros are names as familiar to her as Perseus or Tantalus. "

She didn't want to get that far, but couldn't stop herself.

" My child calls me her anna, and she speaks my language with the cutest greek accent. She is insecure of it and would never dare to speak it with another trojan, but King Priam himself would get emotional hearing her because it's perfect mixing. Troy is her secondary homeland, she made my roots as hers as the ones birth assigned her. "

" Being attached to you doesn't make her an honorary citizen of your old kingdom." Agamemnon mocked her. " It's true, you taught her some unusual traditions behind my back, but a princess of Mycenae can only be destined to rule trojans after I'll raid their city."

" Start thinking of her beyond your wishes or you'll lose her. " The trojan concluded, a genuine piece of advice wrapped in the harshness of her emotional state. " Now is the time for you to do it, before it will be too late. Don't get surprised later if once your grandkid is born Odysseus receives the news first."

The callout didn't convince him completely, but it gave him a new problem to think about.

The king sent away emissaries with important messages the next morning. Two to Pylos and several more to Argos, making his advisors suspect he had developed a remarkable interest in Diomedes after managing to submit his army.

#troy (2004)#troy 2004 #troy #troy 2004 fanfiction #troy fanfiction #achilles #patroclus #thetis #phoenix #eudorus #agamemnon #hesione #brad pitt #garrett hedlund #julie christie #vincent regan #brian cox #achilles x reader #brad pitt x reader

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centuriespast · 4 months

Text

Vincent van Gogh Cows (after Jordaens) July 1890, Auvers-sur-Oise Oil on canvas, 55 x 65 cm Palais des Beaux-Arts, Lille

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calmcoldevening · 9 months

Text

Slashers x suicidal!reader

TW: suicidal thoughts, mention of blood, suicide, self harm, explicit suicide

Characters: Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair

I wrote this for people who have had suicide attempts or still have suicidal thoughts. honey, you are not alone, if you have such a problem, then please talk to someone from your loved ones about it or visit a psychologist. your health and life are important ♡ at least let's talk about it together, you're wonderful

Ps: sorry for misspels, English is not my native language

Jason Voorhees

• Jason spent most of the day making his rounds around the camp. In the morning, he gently kissed you on the forehead, removing the strands of hair stuck to your skin wet from the summer heat, and mumbled contentedly, enjoying your calm expression.

• This day was not distinguished by anything special. It was the middle of July, so it was quite hot both outside and in the cabins. Knowing that you are certainly suffering from such hot weather, Jason decided to offer you to go to the lake. And although he wasn't a fan of the idea himself, the cool water should have made you feel a little better.

• Jason enters the house and stops awkwardly. Usually at this time you were sitting in the living room and reading one of the new magazines or books that he found for you. You weren't in the bedroom either. The man was seriously scared, fearing the worst.

• Finally, he notices the light pouring from behind the bathroom door and freezes right in the doorway. You were lying almost up to your neck in the reddening water. His bloody knife was lying on the floor.

• Jason is seized with instant panic. At first, he thinks that it could have been done by one of the violators, whom he simply did not notice during his morning rounds. But then in his aching head there are memories of your repeated jokes about death and strange behavior. God, he was so blind.

• Jason gently pulls you out of the water. Your eyes are closed and your body is very cold and pale. The man quickly carries you into the bedroom, completely oblivious to your blood covering all his clothes.

• He checks all the lockers in your shared bedroom, hoping to find one of your small first aid kits. Finally he finds it. The man clumsily bandages your wounds on your arms and stomach, then covering the throbbing flesh with anxious kisses.

• Tears flow down his cheeks as he squeezes your palm in his hands and makes painful sounds. Jason climbs onto the bed and pulls you into his arms along with a warm blanket, hoping to warm your unconscious body.

• He was such a fool not to notice your obvious pain and suffering. Was it that bad for you? Why didn't you tell him about it? Jason could have helped, he would have tried! It will be so bad for him if you are gone...

• The man noticed how your face twisted and you opened your eyes slightly, squinting from the bright light. He was so glad you woke up! Jason gently ran the thumb of his free hand over your cheek, wiping away the already dried tears. He held you as close to him as possible, his excited breath tickled your ear. Don't leave him. Never.

• A hoarse breath escapes from your chest as Jason babbles incoherent sounds of relief. When you fully recover, he relaxes his grip on your body, giving you the opportunity to move, and tilts his head to the side. Why did you do that? Still weak, you shyly look away. You probably didn't think it would turn out that way, he came too early. But deep down you wanted and hoped that he would save you. You awkwardly squeeze the edge of the blanket, stilling sobs. Jason covers your hand with his palm, drawing your attention. He obviously wants to tell you something.

• Index finger at himself. Then at you. His palm touches his lips, and then covers his heart.

Michael Myers

• Michael was out hunting. He usually returned early in the morning, but today Haddonfield was surprisingly quiet, so the man decided to return home a little earlier. After all, you should have been asleep a long time ago, so his earlier return won't be anything special.

• Michael came in through the back door. He took off his dirty shoes, leaving it on the doorstep. You've never been thrilled when you found bloody footprints all over your house in the morning. The man went into the kitchen, intending to get something to eat before he went to bed. The choice was made on a can of lemonade and a pack of chocolates that you bought especially for him not so long ago. Michael rolled up the edge of the mask on the way to the living room and began to eat sweets.

• An instant icy shiver went through his body when he saw you in the living room, hanging in a noose. The food flew out of Michael's hands as he pulled a bloody knife out of his pocket and yanked the rope. The man gently picks up your limp body, pressing it to his chest. He tries to act quickly.

• Smiths Grove has never said anything about rescuing sufferers of asphyxia, but Michael is knowledgeable enough about the abilities of the human body to help. He puts your feet on his knees, gently laying your head on the floor, and wraps his palm around your neck, reddened from the rope. There will be a bruise. The man feels a barely perceptible pulse. For the first time, the whispers in his head fell silent, leaving behind only an unaccustomed painful silence.

• Michael clumsily touches his lips to yours, hoping to do something similar to artificial respiration.

• His body relaxes when your mouth begins to swallow air quickly and superficially on its own, returning your lungs to working condition.

• Michael would be angry if it was another person he was trying to kill. But now he's ready to cry with happiness, watching your eyes slowly open.

• The man jerks up your body, knocking the last air out of your lungs, and presses you to him. He kisses your neck, and you feel warm liquid trickling down your skin. He was crying. The shape of Haddonfield was crying because of you. Michael was afraid of losing you forever.

• "Don't leave," he whispers into your neck, desperately clutching the fabric of your clothes in his fists, "Please."

• The mask has been dropped and is lying on the floor, and now you can see his trembling features. A man runs his palm over your face. For him, you are the most precious thing in this world, even if he didn't say it out loud. You are the first person who made his heart beat faster not because of a desire to kill, but because of a warm tickling feeling in his chest. Love. Michael loved you. For real.

Thomas Hewitt

• It was a particularly quiet day. New tourists were not expected in the next two weeks, until the weather outside the window becomes more favorable; Luda, along with Charlie and Monty, went to distant relatives to celebrate the upcoming holidays, and Thomas spent the whole day in the basement, trying to restore order there.

• And although the man was already pretty tired from work, he still couldn't go upstairs to hug you and spend time together. He has too much to do before his mother and uncles return. Although he was scared by the fact that you've been avoiding him for the last few days. You seemed more closed and scared, as if you were afraid even of your own shadow. You often skipped meals, although Thomas didn't notice that you were against their "special food" before. You were pale and nervous, but he couldn't understand what was happening to you. To all his questions, you refused and said that everything was fine. He was afraid to put pressure on you.

• But it was too quiet upstairs right now. If earlier it was possible to hear your rare quiet footsteps on the old creaking floor, now there was a tense silence in the air. It bothered Thomas.

• Would it be so bad if he left work for a while to check on you?

• The man wiped his hands on a towel lying on the workbench and wandered towards the stairs. The old floorboards screamed, cutting through the silence pressing on the temples like blades. Thomas walked around the entire first floor when, going up the stairs, he heard your quiet sobs. He instantly rushed into your bedroom, from which the noise was coming. The man forcefully opens the door; the tree thuds against the concrete wall.

• You were sitting on the bed, clutching the knife tightly in your hand. Your free hand was like a piece of naked flesh, as if you were one of the victims. Blood was quickly flowing out of your fresh wound, staining your clothes and sheets. Your face was red, and streams of tears were running down your cheeks.

• The man's lips trembled, his eyes ran in disbelief over your shrinking being. Thomas approaches you quickly, cautiously, holding out his hand to you. He touches your trembling shoulder, pulling you to him as gently as possible. With one hand, he buries himself in your wet hair at the back of your head, while with the other, as carefully as possible, he snatches the knife out of your hands. You cry loudly, as if coming to your senses, and bite your nails into his broad back. Thomas wraps his hands around your face, gently running his thumbs over your cheeks. His heart hurts. Why did you want to do this? Is it because of him? Has someone offended you? Why didn't he notice how desperate you were all this time? This strange behavior, lack of mood and apathy, it was all for a reason.

• Thomas picks you up under your knees in wedding style and carries you to the bathroom, intending to treat your wounds. You were the real sun in his life, you accepted him and loved him despite his disgusting appearance, you were one of the few who accepted him for who he is. But he didn't do the same for you. You were suffering, and he preferred not to interfere with your thoughts, for fear of harming you even more.

• The man was carefully watching you and your tired eyes from what happened, wrapping your left forearm with a thick layer of bandages. Thomas gently runs his finger over your swollen cheeks, removing wet strands from your skin.

• Finally, he gently takes your healthy palm and draws a question mark, asking why you would like to do this. You were silent. He frowns, but nods knowingly. He'll ask a little later, you need to rest. Thomas draws a small heart and kisses the inside of your palm, and then kisses each finger. He wants you to know that he really loves you and is ready to help. You're not alone.

Vincent Sinclair

• Vincent started paying more attention to your behavior. You became more distant and silent, you were constantly in your thoughts, sometimes even at moments when one of brothers was talking to you.

• Did he upset you in some way? Or maybe you feel bad because of Bo's harsh comments?

• You often locked yourself in the bathroom or in your shared bedroom while the man was working in the basement. It bothered him. It was as if you were withering right before his eyes, dissolving in his arms.

• Vincent didn't know how best to talk to you about it, after all, expressing his own thoughts is not his strong suit. But he wanted to help you. One day, when you looked particularly drooping, he returned to the bedroom a little earlier than usual, hoping to talk to you. What was his surprise when he found you with a blade in your hands. You sat on the edge of the bed, biting your lip, and left slow deep cuts on your body.

• The man quickly ran up to you, snatching the bloody object from your hands and threw it into another part of the room. His gaze trembled, wandering over your wounded flesh. Thousands of painful thoughts raced through his head as he slowly knelt down in front of you, wrapping his hands around your hands and gently stroking the back side.

• Vincent wanted to show you how much he cares about you, how much he loves you. His heart ached when he saw your tears mixed with your own blood.

• Water gushed out of your eyes when you poured out all that pain accumulated in your chest, allowing yourself to cry. Your body was shaking and hurting. Vincent put his arm around you, gently stroking your back and trying to calm your sobs.

• You have him. You don't have to deal with all the pain alone. Vincent knows how strong you are, but that doesn't mean you have to keep all the problems to yourself. He wants to help.

• The man pushed the mask off his face, exposing his lips, and slowly began to cover your face and neck with kisses, trying to take away your pain. You were his only ray of light in this pitch darkness, and he won't let you fade away. He loves you.

#slashers x reader #michael myers x reader #michael myers #jason voorhees #jason voorhes x reader #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt #vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #x reader

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ilongfor-the-arts · 11 months

Note

Could you do a fanfic where the marquis meets the reader in a museum and they bond over their live of art

Meet Me in the Hallway

Pairing: Vincent de Gramont x fem! Reader

Warnings: VERY mild language

Summary: *in req*

Word Count: 2.3k

The Louvre has maintained a particular place in my heart for as long as I can remember. As a child, I recall visiting during tourist season. The other children darted around, driving their guardians to the brink of insanity. However, I stood in front of the immense paintings, carefully analyzing each aspect of the art. I remember visiting The Louvre as a teenager during the winter, when the immense corridors were barren. I'd find a place to sit and ponder, observing faces and objects in the quiet halls. I recall taking advantage of any occasion to talk about art with friends and family.

My friends were perplexed by my preoccupation. When I rambled on, they would nod and appear to be attentive. But I could always tell by the look on their faces that they were eager for my rant to end.

I've always been drawn to art's beauty. One bad stroke, one outburst of rage, and the finished result may be jeopardized. Art is more than just a painting or a sculpture; it is a way of life. You must be able to look beyond what the eye can see in order to produce art. You must be able to view the world in a completely unique way. You must look for a message behind the eyes rather than simply viewing things analytically. Painters paint, artists interpret.

That is what separates the good from the iconic.

I enjoyed the near silence as I wandered through The Louvre. Because it being January, the museum was nearly totally populated with a sprinkle of wandering locals. I took a tour around my favorite section, French paintings 1780-1850. The gold frames stood out against the dark burgundy walls.

The atmosphere was serene. As night fell, the hallway was illuminated exclusively by a few fluorescent lights. The sensation that washed over me was one of sheer nostalgia and amazement.

The dimness of room 700, when combined with the massive displays showcasing the complexity of the human mind, gave off an ominous vibe. There was everything and nothing at the same time.

Nothing else on the planet can make you feel this way.

I proceeded to one of the most well-known works of art in the entire museum.

Ah, one of my favorites, Liberty Leading the People. Eugene Delacoix created this work of art in the year 1830. Delacoix depicts a scene during the July Revolution of 1830, when King Charles X-

Woah.

My gaze was drawn to a man sitting on a beautiful white couch.

I tightened my teeth to keep my jaw from dropping to the floor.

He was breathtakingly beautiful.

Was he a tourist?

No way, no how. No tourist would dress up in an expensive three-piece black suit to visit the Louvre. He's got to be a local.

He was staring at the enormous painting, his mind fixed in deep thought. Many locals stopped to look at the paintings, but he seemed to be examining every face and object.

Should I introduce myself? It would be the polite thing to do as I’ve been obviously staring at him for-

“Did no one ever tell you it’s rude to stare?”

My trance was broken by his velvety accent. I hid my gitters by slipping my hands into the pockets of my beige trenchcoat.

“I’m sorry,” I said smugly, “You caught my eye.”

He sneered, a slight smirk playing on the edges of his lips. He couldn't take his gaze away from the painting. I swallowed, unsure how to dispel the uneasiness. The man uncrossed his lanky legs and pushed himself up to his full height.

He's tall, Jesus.

He strolled over to the picture, decreasing the distance between himself and the work of art to a few feet. He cocked his head upwards, his gaze wandering over the magnificent painting's many intricacies. The man put his hand on his hip and pushed his jacket to the side, revealing an astonishing variety of golden buttons along his vest.

“What do you think of this one?”

He asked, motioning with his free hand towards the canvas. I followed his movements, taking in the painting I know and adore.

“It’s a beautiful piece of art.”

I said hesitantly. The man chuckled, turning his head to meet my gaze. Despite being only three feet away, I found myself completely engrossed in his captivating green eyes.

“That’s it? It’s beautiful?”

His smirk now more prevalent than before. I exhaled a shuddery breath.

“Well, it’s one of the most famous paintings in art history. I think it's wonderful how this artwork has become a universal emblem of liberty and freedom from oppressive dominance.”

The man raised his eyebrows and nodded.

“That’s excellent insight. It’s good to meet people with an appreciation for the finer things in life.”

He returned his gaze to the canvas, motioning with his fingers for me to come towards him.

“Come closer, look at this.”

I was hesitant to approach this intimidating man, but my curiosity was far too strong to ignore. So I narrowed the gap between us to a mere six inches. As I took up a place next to him, our sides nearly brushed against each other.

He raised his finger to the stunning representation of liberty.

Take note of her features, such as her straight nose, plump lips, and delicate chin. They all look like antique Greek and Roman statues. She pays homage to both Ancient Greece, the birthplace of democracy, and Roman republican culture.”

I narrowed my eyes, mentally applying his words to the painting.

“Here, look at this,” I began, pointing to the left side of the painting.

“See that guy with the pistol? He's wearing a shirt but no jacket. He belongs to the lower class. But look at the man next to him; he's wearing a top hat, jacket, and vest. He belongs to the upper class. Delacroix aimed to include all classes of people in the fight against royalist oppression.”

The man exhaled in amazement.

“How fascinating. Delacroix’s artistic vision is truly unmatched.”

“I agree. This piece is probably my favorite in the entire museum.”

The man shrugged nonchalantly.

“It is certainly impressive. But my favorite would have to be Venus de Milo.”

He shifted his head to face me, sweeping his gaze up and down my figure. I shuddered, his heated gaze making me feel like I was under scrutiny.

“However, I suppose that opinion could simply be mine because I enjoy the presence of a beautiful woman.”

Holy shit was he flirting with me?

Heat climbed onto my cheekbones. I hoped my flush wasn't too visible, as his gaze was still fixed on me. I chuckled awkwardly.

“I suppose that could certainly contribute to your fondness of the piece.”

He motioned towards the white couch.

“Here, sit, let’s talk.”

He sat closer than I had expected. Our thighs were almost touching, and the arm slung around the back of the couch was almost brushing my shoulders. Despite the color on my cheeks and my minor intimidation of the man's large stature, I felt strangely at ease. I was intrigued rather than nervous. He exuded mystery, and I had every intention of unraveling the web of secrets.

“Do you believe talent like this is given at birth, or developed as the individual grows?”

I licked my lips, carefully contemplating my next words.

“Well, I believe we are all born blank canvases, and if we find something we are exceptionally passionate about, then we can grow those specific talents.”

I swallowed, hoping he was satisfied with that reply.

“How about you?”

“Oh, I believe people with true artistic talent are born with promise. Because if we go by your logic, anyone who loves art has the potential to become the next Delacroix.”

Wow, he was certainly quite the intellectual.

“Well, allow me to elaborate. Anyone can become a mediocre artist if they try,” I began, “but yes, I agree with you, only a few are born with the promise of artistic greatness. I mean, someone like Coco Chanel could never become the next Van Gogh or Delacroix, it just isn't meant to be. That isn’t where her talents lie.”

The man's lips curved into a smile. I locked my attention on his lovely green eyes. We were closer than I had imagined. His breath was cascading across my face. I inhaled sharply. He smelt amazing, like an expensive floral fragrance. It crept into my head, confounding my already hazy thinking.

“I like you… Miss…”

“Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N.”

His smile widened even more, splitting his face to reveal a stunning row of white teeth.

“What a gorgeous name... It’s fitting, a gorgeous name for a gorgeous woman.”

His accent was dripping with charm. There was no way in hell this man didn't have a significant other. He was far too enticing and attractive to be single.

“You know, plenty of people wander these halls, knowing every name of every piece. Yet they don’t contemplate the true meaning of the art.”

His eyes were drawn to Liberty Leading the People. The man’s tone became somewhat agitated as he ran his tongue along his smooth bottom lip, his eyes narrowing.

“They only think about the art, they don’t contemplate it.”

He inhaled deeply, his chest softly rising and sinking beneath the pricey cloth.

“Thinking is simple, thinking is the most simple thing in the entire universe for humankind. Anyone can think, but not everyone can contemplate.”

I concur. It was pleasant to meet a thinker who cared so deeply about the beauty of art.

“Who’s your favorite painter?”

My face broke into a genuine smile.

“Paul Cezanne.”

“And why is that, Miss. Y/N Y/L/N.”

I adored how he said my name. It rolled off his tongue effortlessly, like butter on a hot pan. I could spend the entire day sitting next to him on a couch at the Louvre, listening to him utter my name.

“Well, because his distinct color-building technique and his analytical approach to nature had a great impact on the art of Cubists, Fauves, and many generations of avant-garde artists.”

I've never encountered somebody who would listen to my raving with such enthusiasm. And there was no one who properly comprehended my words and had the knowledge to respond intelligently. Not only on the subject of art, but also on the issue of life.

“Ah!”

He exclaimed, shooting a finger towards me.

“There it is!”

His hand fell to his lap.

“You, Miss Y/N Y/L/N, do not just think, you were born with the gift of careful contemplation.”

I'd dated a few men previously, but none had ever made me feel as great as this mysterious man. And I'd only known him for about 30 minutes. My eyes lit up with wonder when I heard his voice, and I hung on to every word with excitement.

“You have a dizzying intellect.”

His velvety tone dropped to an endearing whisper. My stomach flipped.

“It is very rare I meet a woman with such beauty, not only in her appearance, but in her demeanor as well.”

His long fingers pushed a stray hair behind my ear. I nearly flinched before realizing the gesture was benign. I could still feel his contact on my cheek after he removed his fingertips. He set fire to every nerve he came into contact with.

“Will you grant me the opportunity to become your acquaintance?”

His eyes were filled with anticipation. There it was, the date I'd been looking forward to throughout the duration of this conversation.

“I would like that very much Mr…”

“Vincent de Gramont.”

I hummed in delight.

“That’s a handsome name. It’s fitting, a handsome name for a handsome man.”

I said, slightly mocking his previous remark.

Vincent chuckled.

“Oh, you are a comedian as well. I like you more and more as time goes on.”

Vincent waited for a beat of silence before rising to his full height. Being the one seated while he stood certainly flipped the script. I felt small under his demeanor as his presence was felt throughout the room. He was comfortable in his own skin, demanding control of the atmosphere like a conductor.

“My bodyguards will ensure that you have all the information necessary to find my estate.”

Bodyguards?!

He indicated to two men in gray suits who were standing with their backs against the nearest maroon wall.

Wow.

I surely hoped they wouldn’t be hanging around when I finally seized the opportunity to speak with Vincent in private.

“Wonderful.”

“My estate is beautiful if I do have to say so myself. You will enjoy it.”

I can only imagine how magnificent his house was if this was the suit he decided to wear for a chance visit to a museum.

“There is lots of space, plenty of rooms to explore and places to sit and talk for hours.”

I couldn't keep a smile from breaking my face. Who would have guessed that when I walked into the Louver today, I'd walk out with a lovely new date?

“That sounds like a dream come true. I can’t wait to see it.”

Vincent returned my grin.

“I can not wait for you to see it. You will melt.”

He extended his hand. I hesitated for a moment before realizing he wanted me to lay my palm in his. Vincent leaned down and kissed the top of my hand in an exceedingly trendy gesture.

Wow, very gentlemanly.

If my cheeks weren’t pink before, they surely were bright red now.

“Thank you for granting me the pleasure of becoming your acquaintance, I look forward to seeing you around my estate.”

After his departure, I remained seated on the couch. I was unable to move, wanting to preserve the moment for as long as possible

#marquis de gramont #marquis x reader #marquis de gramont x reader #marquis vincent de gramont #vincent de gramont x you #vincent de gramont x reader #vincent de gramont #john wick 4 #john wick #bill skarsgard fanfiction #bill skargard #bill skarsgård #bill skarsgard imagine #bill skarsgard x reader

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visceravalentines · 2 years

Text

Fireworks

Dad's Best Friend!Dilf!Bo Sinclair x AFAB!Reader

3k words Part 2 here!

Smut for days, fluff for weeks. Age gap, dad's best friend, oral, dirty talk, praise, creampie, reader is referred to as darlin' and baby girl and pretty.

Yeah yeah, today's the 4th of July, cheesy title, whatever. THIS IS THE MOST FUN I'VE HAD IN A WHILE. In fact I loved living in this little tableau I've created so much I'm planning a sequel?? Fuck dude, I am down so stupid bad for this dumb idiot man.

Tagging a few people who I think might enjoy this as much as I did. @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better, @slutforguts, @brandnewhuman, @fluffy-little-demon

If there was one thing your parents did right every time, it was their big summer bash.

Every year, when the temperature really started to ramp up, they invited the whole neighborhood over for barbecue, drinks, ice cream, and yard games. Their backyard pool was filled with kids bobbing like apples. There was often a waterslide, a water balloon toss, and sometimes fireworks once it got dark.

You had missed it the last few years, busy with summer semester at school. This year, however, you found yourself longing for a familiar setting and comfortable traditions. Even the incessant questions from neighbors you barely remembered would be worth the opportunity to be somewhere stable. Your parents, of course, were delighted, and swiftly roped you in to helping plan the menu, buy food and supplies, and set up the morning of the big day.

Wearing a new bikini underneath a band tee, you helped your mom arrange watermelon slices on a large platter, nestled soda and beer into coolers full of ice, and walked up and down the deck steps innumerable times carrying everything outside.

Although the party didn’t officially start until noon, people always began trickling in early, especially people close with your folks. The Swensons next door with their four boys arrived at 10:30. Two women from your mom’s book club arrived around 11. And when you made yet another trip down the deck stairs, you saw your dad on a ladder hanging decorations with the help of a tall, sandy-haired man you immediately recognized.

“Hey Dad, Mom wants to know if you want the stuff for the grill outside now or if you want to wait.” The man looked over his shoulder with a curious expression on his handsome face. ��Hi, Mr. Sinclair.”

He broke into a grin. “Y/N, is that you? I’ll be damned.”

“It’s me.” You smiled sheepishly. His Southern accent had been the source of much conversation between you and your high school friends. You’d even dated some asshole from Mississippi for a while just to hear that honey-sweet drawl.

Mr. Sinclair handed your dad the other end of the banner he was hanging and turned to you. Were you imagining his ice-blue eyes flicking down to your bare legs and back up to your face? “You look good, darlin’. How’s college?”

Oh, you had forgotten that. How had you forgotten the way he called you darlin’? “Can’t complain,” you said. “I’ll graduate in another year.”

“Y’got big plans after that?” God, those eyes. Had they always been so piercing? You felt seen in a way that was intense, but not unpleasant.

“Not really. I’m waiting to see what opportunities open up, I guess.”

“Well, you’re a smart one, you’ll figure it out.”

Your mom yelled your name from the back door. You excused yourself and walked across the patio. The weight of a stare on your ass was tangible.

Just before you reached the deck stairs, you turned and looked back. He did not even try to hide the fact that yes, he had indeed been checking you out seconds before. His gaze swept up to your face at the most leisurely pace possible and he flashed you a subtle smirk. You felt the heat of a blush and tried not to race up the stairs.

The backyard filled up quickly as people began to arrive. Music wafted from the speakers mounted beneath the deck. The shriek of neighborhood kids and the splashing of pool water rounded out the suburbia soundtrack.

You answered the same questions over and over from friendly neighbors, helped your mom stave off several low-stakes emergencies, finally managed to extricate yourself from all party business long enough to shed your t-shirt and slip into the pool.

The shallow end was for splash fights. The deep end was for the older crowd. The water was cool but not cold, washing the sweat from your skin as you let yourself sink all the way down to the bottom. The muffling of sound and the sensation of even pressure on your skin helped you relax, clear your mind, until all that was left was the thought of a mechanic’s rough hands.

You had bet on a lot of things, coming home for this event. Mr. Sinclair’s killer jawline was not one of them.

In one burst, you launched yourself back up to the surface. Wiping the water from your eyes and nose, you kicked to the wall, hauled yourself up and out of the pool. As you toweled off your face and arms, you scanned the crowd. Sure enough, you found him, barely a participant in the conversation at hand, gaze locked on you as he drained the dregs from his beer bottle.

He was going to need another, wasn’t he? You were sort of the host of this party too, right?

You wrapped the towel around your hips and snagged two beers from a cooler. You pretended you couldn’t quite hear Mrs. Swenson flagging you down and made a beeline for the tall man breaking away from the conversation.

“Hey, Mr. Sinclair,” you said, darting in front of him. The way he lit up upon seeing you made your stomach flip. “I grabbed you a beer.”

“Well ain’t you the sweetest thing.” He accepted the bottle from you and this time, there was no mistaking the way his eyes drank in your exposed skin. “Call me Bo, darlin’.” He took a swig. You tried and failed at not staring at his lips. “You enjoyin’ yourself?”

“Yeah, it’s good to be back. Summer on campus is boring.”

“Can’t help but notice you didn’t bring anyone home with you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Yeah…not a lot of luck in that department.”

He grinned at you. “What, a pretty thing like you? Now that’s a cryin’ shame.”

“Oh, believe me, there has been crying.”

His smile cooled, just a little. “Any o’ them kids hurt your feelings, darlin’, you give me a call. I’ll teach ‘em a lesson for you.”

Something told you he wasn’t joking. “Well, if you ever come across Bradley from Gulfport, you have my permission to kick his ass.”

He laughed. “Duly noted. What did Bradley from Gulfport have goin’ for him?”

You pinched your tongue between your teeth. “…a Southern accent.”

The smile this triggered sent a heatwave rolling beneath your skin. “That’s all it takes, huh?” You bit your lip and could not look at him. “You gotta watch out for those Southern boys, there’s only two kinds. They’re either gentlemen or scoundrels, every one of ‘em.”

You boosted your courage with a mouthful of beer. “Which one are you, Bo?”

He studied you for a long time before answering. “The kind who doesn’t want your daddy noticin’ the way I’m lookin’ at his daughter.”

You were wet, and it was not from the pool.

Clearing your throat, you said, “I think I’m…going to go change. Probably not getting back in the water.”

He nodded once. “Fair enough.”

You took two steps before adding, “I’ll be upstairs, if you need anything.” Again, shocked at your own brazenness, it took everything in you not to run up the steps.

The house was cold and quiet. You made your way down the hall, hung the towel over the shower curtain rod, nudged your bedroom door almost completely closed. Slowly, you undid your bikini, practically tingling with anticipation. Would he actually follow you up here? What if he did? You took your sweet time picking out a pair of underwear and a new t-shirt. You held off on the shorts and the bra. How long should you wait before you went back out there?

Just as you were about to give up and pull on the rest of your clothes, there came a soft rap on the door. You took hold of the handle and opened it just a little further, peeking into the hallway.

There stood Bo Sinclair, bold as brass, looking somehow both smug and earnest. “I missed you,” he said.

You reached out, grabbed his hand, tugged him into your bedroom and shut the door. With fluid grace, he spun you around, pushed you against the door, set his hands lightly on your waist. You were breathing hard already. “D’you want this, darlin’?” he whispered.

You nodded. “Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He tilted your chin up with his thumb, kissed you with those lips. He tasted like beer and cigarettes and some indescribable sweetness. Your hands found his chest, still broad and muscular, and he felt hot beneath the fabric of his shirt. He broke the kiss, met your eyes, then kissed you again, deeper this time, his tongue playing at the edge of your teeth. A soft moan rose to your lips.

He pulled away again, looked at you seriously. “If you want me to stop, I’ll stop,” he said.

You shook your head. “No. I want more.” Your hand slid down his front, palmed at him through his jeans.

He cocked his head, a smile creeping across his face. “You’re a little minx, ain’t you.” He thrust his hips against you, pushed his knee in between your thighs. “Lemme show you a good time, baby girl.” He kissed down your neck, into the hollow of your throat, his fingertips brushing the skin just underneath the hem of your shirt. You arched your back, pressing against him, still caught up in a measure of disbelief that this was actually happening.

Bo took your hands and pulled you toward your bed. It was a full, barely bigger than a twin, hopefully big enough for two – you’d never tried it before. He sat on the edge, guided you onto his lap with your legs wrapped around his waist, showered you with kisses while he ran his hands over your legs, your ass.

You took hold of his shirt, worked it up his torso and off of him. His shoulders were dusted with freckles, soft blonde hair on his chest. His eyes gleamed. “Fair is fair, darlin’.”

You stripped off your own shirt, tossed it to the floor. Bo muttered an expletive under his breath. He traced his thumb over your nipple and it hardened instantly, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. “You’re too pretty, baby,” he murmured. “I wanna wreck you.”

Wrapping your arms around him, you pulled yourself against his body, kissed his collarbones, his shoulders. You could feel him getting hard underneath you and you rolled your hips experimentally once, twice. He made a delightful sound in his throat, his grip tightening on your love handles.

“Let me worship you, darlin’,” he said against your temple.

“Please,” you breathed.

He twisted, laid you down on the bed, kissed you sweetly and then wandered his mouth down your body, little by little, until his fingers were tucked in the waistband of your underwear and his breath was warm on your lower stomach. His baby blue eyes, alight with mischief, locked on yours.

“Now, you gotta be quiet. Wouldn’t wanna get you in trouble.”

You nodded quickly, the blanket already balled up in your fists.

Bo eased your panties down your thighs slowly. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to steady your breathing, and when his tongue first slipped through your lips you let out an involuntary ohh.

“Ah-ah, what did I say?” You could hear the grin in his voice. “Be good for me or I might have to give you a spankin’, and it won’t be like the kind your daddy used to give you.”

You writhed. You disheveled the sheets. You bit your lip hard as he worked you over, sucking your clit, teasing your entrance. These were not the bewildered ministrations of a reluctant frat boy. This man was indeed worshipping you and doing it well, and the pleasure building steadily deep inside you was enough to make you want to scream.

Finally, when you truly could not take it anymore, you choked out his name, grabbed at his hair. He looked up, licked you off his lips, kissed the inside of your thigh. “What d’you need, baby girl?”

“I-I….”

“God, you look good.” He crept up the length of your body, cradled your head to bring your lips up to his. “Such a mess for me.”

You ran your hands through his chest hair. “Bo,” you whimpered.

“Yes, darlin’?”

“I need you.”

“You need me where?”

“I need you…to fuck me…please?”

He exhaled sharply. “You are hellbent on gettin’ me in trouble, ain’t you.” He trailed a finger down your breastbone. “Teasin’ me with that beautiful body…askin’ me so nicely.”

“Please, Bo.”

He pressed his lips to your forehead, nuzzled your ear. “Has anyone ever made you cum in this bed?” he whispered.

“No,” you whispered back.

“Mmm.” He cupped your breast, squeezed firmly. “I bet you’d look mighty fine on top of me.” He slipped away from you, pulled off his jeans and boxers. You made room for him on the bed, straddled his hips, eyeing his length. He folded his arms above his head and stretched languidly. “Take it slow, darlin’. I like the view.”

You rubbed yourself against him, your already-sensitive clit dangerously tender. The two of you moaned in concert, the friction between you intoxicating. He felt good between your folds, beneath your hands, his stomach firm under a cushion of fat. You canted your hips in a steady rhythm until he was slick with your arousal. With his tip at your entrance, you pressed down carefully, not quite enough to push him into you, and smiled at him, held him there.

“Wicked,” he scolded. “You bet your ass I’ll remember this for next time.”

“Next time?”

“Oh, there will most assuredly be a next time.”

This lit up your insides more than you expected and you lowered yourself onto him all the way in one smooth motion. You gasped. He groaned. His hands left their place on the pillow to take hold of your hips. He rocked you back and forth at an easy pace and you felt him flex inside you.

“Oh, Bo.”

“Quit.” He slapped the side of your ass. “My stamina ain’t what it used to be and if you throw that in the mix we are in for a short ride.”

You giggled, leaned back for a better angle, and sighed contentedly. When you opened your eyes, you found him staring at you with open admiration. Bending over his chest, you kissed him deeply, your skin alight with his touch. You rode him methodically for what could have been hours, hands on your breasts, biting back the little sounds he drew out of you.

At last he took your jaw in his hand, commanded your attention. “Now, darlin’. You’re gonna cum for me hard and you’re gonna look me in the eyes while you do it. Y’understand?”

Your breath caught in your throat. “Yes sir.”

He gave you a look. “I’m gonna remember that for next time too.”

He took a firm grasp on your thighs, adjusted his hips, and began to thrust into you with unexpected force. Your mouth fell open in an O and your eyes rolled back in your head. “Look at me, darlin’, look at me.” You refocused, teeth pinning your lip, his expression positively sinful. You felt yourself begin to come apart and clawed at his chest. “That’s it, baby, so pretty.”

You couldn’t keep back the whine bubbling up in your lungs any longer, keening helplessly, whole body a mass of snapping nerves. His long, soft lashes fluttered as he finished inside you with a low grunt, clenching your flesh hard enough to leave marks.

Panting, you sank onto his shoulder and he wove his arms around you. “You did so well for me,” he mumbled, kissing your brow. “Such a sweet thing.”

You curled into his side while he stroked your back, traced the lines your nails left in his skin. “You know…I’ve never….”

He grew immediately serious. “You’ve never what?”

“I’ve never had sex in this bed at all.”

Bo huffed out a sigh of relief. “Jesus Christ, Y/N, you’re gonna give an old fuck like me a heart attack.”

You giggled. “Sorry.”

“I can’t be goin’ around deflowerin’ young women, they’d kill me in the streets.” He gave you a tender kiss. “Probably kill me for this anyway.”

“Too bad, I’ll miss you.”

He gave your ass an affectionate smack. “Speakin’ of missin’, we’d both better get back out there before they send a search party.”

“When can I see you again?”

“In about five minutes when you put your clothes back on and get out there and pretend like you weren’t just fucked stupid by your daddy’s best friend.”

“That is not what I meant.”

“Oh, what’d y’mean?”

“When can I see you again like this?” You ran your thumb along his jaw.

“Well, how long are you in town for?”

“The rest of the summer.”

He let out a low whistle. “Is that so? Y’know, I’ve been meanin’ to hire some help at the shop. How ‘bout I pay you and let you fuck me?”

“Would that be weird?”

“You tell me, baby girl.”

“Nah, I don’t think so.”

“Well then I don’t neither.” He kissed you one last time. “Consider yourself hired. Great interview. Put your clothes on.”

You socked his ribs and wiggled away. He watched you dress and you slipped out of the room, sneaking back to the party well before he did. No one seemed to have noticed either of your absence, and you managed to play it cool for the rest of the afternoon.

When the sun fell at last and the streetlights turned on, everyone congregated on the front lawn for a fireworks show. Your dad always went for the ones that were technically illegal and to this day no one gave him grief about it.

With everyone’s eyes on the sky, you sidled up beside Bo, standing behind the crowd near the house. You didn’t dare take his hand, but you leaned against his arm, and a smile appeared on his lips, and that was enough.

#bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair fanfiction #dilf bo sinclair #slasher x reader #my writing #bo sinclair

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talkingpiffle · 8 months

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"Either as Captain O'Shea or the vengeful Earl, John Emery was a fine young romantic actor. He had style and eloquence and was completely at ease in costume drama. In July of the same year [1937] I was to see him as Lord Peter Wimsey in Busman's Honeymoon at the Westport County Playhouse in Connecticut. As is the custom in summer theaters, his engagement was for only a week. He'd had but a week of rehearsal, yet he gave a deft and amusing performance. At the time I was living in a rented house on Long Island Sound, ten miles from Westport. It boasted a swimming pool and free liquor. There I held open house for the likes of Anna May Wong, Clifton Webb, Estelle Winwood, Vincent Price, Louisa Carpenter and a lot of other friends, overloaded with leisure.

"I got a sizzling crush on John on seeing his Wimsey. After the performance I went back to see him. Would he care to spend the week end with me? John readily agreed. I found him intelligent, amusing and exceptionally good-looking. He had good manners and seemed a good listener. This last marked him a rare bird in the set in which I traveled.

"But when John asked me to marry him, I looked upon his offer as an impertinence. Wasn't he getting presumptuous on short acquaintance?"

--Tallulah Bankhead on meeting her husband John Emery, from Tallulah: My Autobiography (Ch. 10)

Newlyweds John Emery and Tallulah Bankhead, September 1937 (x)

#dorothy l. sayers #lord peter wimsey #busman's honeymoon #john emery #tallulah bankhead #was NOT expecting a lord peter reference in this book #tallulah: my autobiography #westport county playhouse

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fingerprot · 2 years

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i calculated stardew valley characters’s real-time birthdays because i love celebrating fictional birthdays

here’s my big brain process. i looked up the average amount of days in a season and set it equal to the fraction of their birthday. ex. there’s 28 days a month, so spring 4 would be 4/28. spring has an average of 92.8 days assuming stardew valley is in the northern hemisphere. 4/28 = x/92.8 and solve for x. x is the amount of days AFTER the first day of the season. so i looked up the first day of each season (average) and added x, (ex. what day is 23 days after march 20) and these are the dates i got. marnie’s birthday is a day after mine :)

kent: april 2

lewis: april 12

vincent: april 22

haley: may 5

pam: may 27

shane: june 3

pierre: june 23

emily: june 26

jas: july 4

gus: july 17

maru: july 24

alex: august 3

sam: august 16

demitrius: august 23

dwarf: september 2

willy: september 9

leo: september 15

penny: september 28

elliott: october 8

jodi: october 27

abigail: november 3

sandy: november 9

marnie: november 19

robin: november 28

george: december 8

krobus: december 24

linus: december 31

caroline: january 12

sebastian: january 22

harvey: february 4

wizard: february 13

evelyn: february 23

leah: march 4

clint: march 14

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arthistoryanimalia · 1 month

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Vincent Willem Van Gogh was born #OTD (30 March 1853 – 29 July 1890). And since it's also #EasterBunny time...

Landscape with Rabbits Saint-Rémy-de-Provence, Dec. 1889 oil on canvas, 32.7 x 40.6 cm F0739 / JH1876 Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam

Cart and Two Rabbits in a Snowy Landscape June 1885-June 1886 chalk on paper, 10.2 cm x 13.6 cm F1693a / JH0992 Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam

#animals in art #european art #19th century art #Van Gogh #Vincent Van Gogh #birthday #OTD #Van Gogh Museum #post impressionism #painting #oil painting #rabbit #rabbits #pair #Easter Bunny

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grellsutcliffsworld · 2 years

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British victorian era generator ! :D

Your month of birth:

January: Prince/Princess

February: Baron/Baroness

March: Marquis/Marquise

April: Earl/Countess

May: Butler/Maid

June: Duke/Duchess

July: Homless boy/girl

August: Salesman/woman

September: King/Queen

October: Joker

November: Prostitute

December: Farmer/worker

First letter of your first name:

A: Arthur/Alice

B: Benedict/Beatrice

C: Charles/Cordelia

D: David/Dorothea

E: Elijah/Evelyn

F: Francis/Fiona

G: George/Gwen

H: Humphrey/Helena

I: Isaiah/Iris

J: John/Juliette

K: Kyrie/Kelvin

L: Luther/Lucille

M: Marcus/Muriel

N: Neville/Novalynn

O: Oscar/Ophelia

P: Pascal/Penelope

Q: Qasim/Quintessa

R: Randall/Rosemary

S: Samuel/Sophia

T: Theodore/Theodosia

U: Uriah/Urith

V: Vincent/Victoria

W: William/Willow

X: Xerxes/Xenia

Y: Yoel/Yolanda

Z: Zander/Zipporah

Last letter of your last name:

A: Addams

B: Berrycloth

C: Chapman

D: Dankworth

E: Edwards

F: Featherswallow

G: Graham

H: Hughes

I: Insworthy

J: Jones

K: Knight

L: Lawrence

M: Matthews

N: Naiswell

O: Osborne

P: Palmer

Q: Quintrell

R: Ratcliff

S: Stewart

T: Taylor

U: Underhill

V: Villin

W: White

X: Xavier

Y: Yates

Z: Zachary

Your favorite color:

White: Death by suicide

Yellow: Poisoned by an secret admirer

Orange: Burned alive as a witch

Brown: Stumbled into horseshit face first, while being drunk and suffocated

Red: Killed by Jack the Ripper

Purple: Ran over by a carriage

Blue: Fell of a great height

Green: Ripped apart by a grizzly bear

Grey: Died peacefully in their sleep

Black: Killed by the pest

Comment bellow what you got and tag at least three people >:D

@ctitan98

@lacelynpage

@we-r-loonies

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bunchofrandomfandomsandbands · 4 months

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Get to Know Me and My Obsession with KISS 🎸

1. Who is your favorite member?

Eric Singer

2. Who is your least favorite member?

Vinnie Vincent

3. Best album?

Destroyer

4. Worst album?

Animalize

5. Favorite song?

There are too many good ones

6. Say one nice thing about each member.

Gene- Super charming

Paul- Super charming

Peter- Super Sweet

Ace- Super Sweet

Eric C- Super funny

Eric S- Super nice

Bruce- Super funny

Tommy- Hot

Mark St. John- Super nice

Vinnie- Super nice

7. What do you dislike about each member?

Gene- Egotistical

Paul- Egotistical

Peter- Hateful

Ace- Spiteful

Eric C- Negative

Eric S- Negative

Bruce- Truthful

Tommy- Awkward

Mark St. John- Dumb

Vinnie- Idiot

8. How did you get into KISS?

Scooby-Doo And Kiss: Rock and Roll Mystery

9. Have you been to a concert?

I have been to nine. Fort Wayne on August 12, 2016, London on July 11, 2019, Tampa on October 9, 2021, KISS Kruise IX & X Sail Away, the indoor concerts, Indiana on November 25, 2023, and the KISS 2020 Goodbye show.

10. Do you have any merch?

Not nearly enough

11. Unique thing you have related to KISS?

I have a really long tongue like Gene Simmons. I was onstage with him in Anderson Indiana, but Gene kicked me off the stage for upstaging him

12. Who is/are your favorite lineup(s)?

Gene, Paul, Eric C, & Bruce

Gene, Paul, Eric, & Bruce

Gene, Paul, Eric, & Tommy

13. What's your favorite era?

Revenge Era

14. What are your opinions on Tommy and Eric?

Love them. They are a lot better than Peter and Ace (in my opinion)

15. A question you would ask the band if you could?

What was the idea behind the song “Take It Off”

16. What other bands/artists are you into?

Alice Cooper, Ghost, The Beatles, Elvis, Black n Blue, Union, ESP, Mötley Crüe, Liliac,

17. Do you have a KISSona?

The Catman

18. Who are some of your favorite blogs?

@2000-man1, @comets-nix, @tanookikiss, @sluttery-withoutshame, @catmansdrumsticks, @daddycatcriss, @eric-carr-the-fox, @ericsinger

19. If you could spend a day with one member who would it be?

Eric Singer

20. How would you explain the band to someone who isn't familiar with KISS?

KISS is an iconic rock band known for their elaborate stage makeup, flashy costumes, and energetic performances. Formed in the 1970s, they're recognized for hits like "Rock and Roll All Nite." Their unique personas, like Gene Simmons' Demon and Paul Stanley's Starchild, contribute to their larger-than-life image, making them a significant influence on the glam metal genre.

#kiss band

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mynameis-noe-body · 8 months

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Masterlist

For those wondering: I closed the previous mynameis-noe-body blog and opened a new one, to make it a main blog and have free access to dm.

First of all, rules. This is a list of my works, and I will rate them accordingly to Ao3 guidelines. This means they may be explicit and so, strictly +18.

I will write for the following fandoms and more (find more in others).

I will not write underage. I am comfortable with a certain amount of angst and/or violence but it's still up to me to decide what I am okay with.

I will not write for The Marauders fandom, since I do not appreciate those characters.

Requests are closed for the moment. And thank you for reading.

▪️Wizarding World

Shot through the heart

Professor Severus Snape × Original Female Character

Rating: Mature

Status: Complete (multiple chapters)

Summary: Licorice Hatch has traveled the world, fulfilling her dream of becoming one of the most famous writers and reporters in the Wizarding World. Now, she is coming back. Merlin only knows the turmoil she has caused in the heart of her dark, splendid professor. And at the very thought — eager to hold her in his arms again — Severus can't help but relive their whole story, from the very beginning, when it all started with a Wilbur Smith's book and... a two-month detention!

The Old Mill at the Hogsmeade's Eastern Forest

Post-Second Wizarding War Severus Snape × you (F)

Rating: Mature

Status: in progress (multiple chapters)

Summary: A year and a half after the end of the war, Severus still hasn't managed to leave Britain. No one knows of his survival, and for months he enjoys a life of silence, solitude and well-deserved peace. Everything would be absolutely perfect, were it not for you, sitting on his empty tombstone everyday to bring condolences and read some poetry. When it's said that curiosity killed the cat...

▪️Adam Driver Fandom

How to (not) kill a stranger

Kylo Ren × you (F)

Rating: Explicit

Status: Complete (multiple chapters)

Summary: He glances at you. "A young lady like you shouldn't travel alone, on a night like this." You want to roll your eyes and send him to hell, but he was kind to help you and you don't want any more trouble. "I couldn't really stay in Aberdeen. I knew my old Corolla wouldn't hold up for long, not in this weather, but I wanted to at least get to the Motel for the night." He nods, raises the temperature of the car and you thank him again. He doesn't acknowledge your words. But he smirks. "Aren't you afraid you just crossed your path with a murderer?" You grin. "What are the odds that we are both murderers?"

▪️Stranger Things

Catch me if you can, Chief!

Chief Jim Hopper × you (F)

Rating: Explicit

Status: Complete (one shot)

Summary: It's the 4th of July in Hawkins, and while everybody's having fun at the amusement park, the only one who's catching your attention is Jim Hopper, Chief of Police — and he's looking at you, equally interested.

This Friday night

Chief Jim Hopper × you (F)

Rating: Mature

Status: Complete (one shot)

Summary: All alone on a Friday night, after a long week of college classes, you just want to eat some ice cream and watch a movie. You didn't expect Jim to pay you visit — but god, if it isn't a nice surprise. OR — you and Jim (your father's best friend) get intimate on your parents' couch.

“Nothing to say, hm?”

Chief Jim Hopper × you (F)

Rating: Mature

Status: Complete (one shot)

Summary: You let Billy flirt with you a little... that might not be a good idea. Jim will find a very passionate way of showing his jealousy.

Sunday morning: pancakes and...

Chief Jim Hopper x you (F)

Rating: Mature

Status: Complete (one shot)

Summary: You make Jim breakfast and decide to wake him up with your hands and mouth.

▪️John Wick Fandom

🖤 Marquis Vincent Bisset De Gramont 🖤

I am your slave

Marquis Vincent Bisset De Gramont × you (F/GN)

Rating: Teen & Up Audience

Status: Complete (one shot)

Summary: You and Vincent play the jealousy game at a public evening gala of the High Table. You end up revelieng almost all of your feelings to each other.

Safe in his arms

Marquis Vincent Bisset De Gramont × you (F/GN)

Rating: Teen & Up Audience

Status: Complete (one shot)

Summary: Vincent, who has fallen in love with you and made you his beautiful wife, has never really told you about his true life of crime and murder. What will you do the first time you catch him red handed?

Little dove

Marquis Vincent Bisset De Gramont × you (F)

Rating: Explicit

Status: Complete (one shot)

Summary: You're the Marquis' favorite tailor — and you always act so innocent and pure it would just too much fun to ruin you (corruption kink).

🖤 John Wick 🖤

Origami

John Wick × reader (F/GN)

Rating: All

Status: Complete (one shot - drabble)

Summary: A casual encounter lead you and John to looking for each other, wishing to meet again.

▪️Others (open to write for: Alice in Wonderland, Joker(s), Johnny Depp fandom)

Wonderland Chronicles

Tarrant Higtop (Mad Hatter) × Alice Kingsley

Fandom: Alice in Wonderland

Rating: Explicit

Status: Complete (one shot)

Summary: Alice and Tarrant get inspired by fruit juices and enjoy smutty time, all alone during a tea party.

🔹A list of k*nks without explanation

Severus Snape

Lucius Malfoy

Eddie Munson

Billy Hargrove

Chief Jim Hopper

#harry potter #adam driver #alice in wonderland #starnger things #jim hopper #severus snape #pro snape #snape x you #snape x oc #adam driver x reader #mad hatter #masterlist #request #eddie munson #billy hargrove

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awkwardgtace · 11 months

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Enchantment or Curse

gt july let's goooooo Rhys was enchanted a long time ago. It's the time where he is near his home avoiding things, but he might not avoid everything

Enchantment or Curse

Rhys stared at the field of flowers before slowly lifting his hand. Despite the years passing, the ring was still fused to his skin. Everyone else said it was enchanted, he said it was cursed. The ring became blurry as his focus shifted to the flowers he ran through as a child. He missed those days.

Heaving a heavy sigh, he moved to the clearing he’d wait in. Usually his family didn’t go looking for him when he didn’t meet them, but just in case. He couldn’t risk them going too far, they’d get hurt. He covered so much more ground than they did. Once clear of the trees, he turned towards the flowers and sat down heavily. He was met with a shout that sent his heart pounding.

Looking around he managed to see a man lying on the ground staring at him with striking eyes, one the color of emeralds and the other of violets. Despite the intense glare he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to grab the small person. As soon as his fingers started to wrap around the small body, tiny fists bashed against his skin. It made him pause, but he had to see this person up close.

Rhys pulled them up to his face before the punches stopped. Once he dropped them in his other palm he was frozen. The man he held was stunning. Silver hair tied back and out of the man’s face, leaving pale X shaped scars standing out against his dark brown skin. He was dressed in simple dark clothes, simple enough they managed to pull his attention from the man’s looks.

This could be a sign his so-called enchantment was ending, or at least weakening. He whispered, “You’re so big.”

“Playing with your new toy already?” the man sneered. Rhys jumped at the venom in his voice. His hopes were dashed already, everyone knew about the prince. About how he had been ‘enchanted’ to view the world from above. “Let go! I’m a person you damned monster!”

Rhys let his hands fall to the ground. He kept it slow enough the man would be safe. He waited limply for the man to leave. They weren’t from his kingdom, so the curse was still there. For all he knew this person was-

“Wait… you’re actually letting me go?” the man asked. Rhys looked down where the man sat on his fingers. He didn’t want him to go, even if there wasn’t hope of returning home he was lonely. The last time he’d spoken to another person was years ago. That last time he’d seen anyone besides his family was even longer.

“It’s what you wanted,” Rhys said. The man scrambled off his palm and Rhys closed his eyes. He was painfully aware of how tired he was at that moment. Tired of fear, of being alone, tired of everyone talking about him like he was a monster. He wanted to be normal again, to be-

“What’s your name?” the man asked. Rhys jumped as he snapped his eyes open to stare at the man. He couldn’t find his voice to answer. How long had it been since someone cared about his name? “You don’t get to play like you can’t talk. You already did twice. I’ll just leave if you don’t want to tell me.”

“Rhys!” he shouted. The man flinched, his hands shooting up to cover his ears. Fear had forced the word from his throat. Guilt filled his heart at the way the small man reacted. Taking a deep breath he focused on keeping his voice quiet. “I’m Rhys.”

“Jeez, keep your voice down. Do you want to blow out my eardrums?” The man just glared up at him with a gaze that seemed almost soft. Rhys frowned, shrinking away from the stern view. “Vincent. What are you?”

“A person?” Rhys hadn’t considered what he was. The man- Vincent- crossed his arms with a dubious look. It felt nice to have someone act like this, to act like he wasn’t a monster. He didn’t want to have an answer to what Vincent was either. He could pretend like this.

“Fine whatever.” Vincent sat down on the ground continuing to just stare up at Rhys. In an attempt to get a better look, Rhys decided to lie on the ground. When he moved Vincent tensed, but he didn’t run. Rhys counted that as a win. “So what’s your plan, let me go and follow me to my village or some shit?”

Rhys shook his head, he didn’t want to be near anyone. It would be a few weeks before he left, but he wouldn’t go near people by choice. Vincent narrowed his eyes before standing. The man patted at his pants and turned to leave. A part of Rhys was desperate to make him stay. Instead he managed to watch the small man disappear in the trees, returning to his lonely lifestyle.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few days later Rhys was staring at the clouds through the trees. He had been thinking about Vincent more than his past. It was a nice change, usually the day that ruined his life was all that was on his mind. He knew he’d never see the small man again. It wasn’t worth the risk of seeing more people he might hurt. Of finding out he’d been gone long enough his family gave up on him.

“Hey tiny! You still out here?” Vincent’s shout echoed through the air. Rhys sat up on his elbows looking around for the man. He saw the silver hair first, those striking eyes and the scars that made his heart hurt next. “I actually thought you’d leave before I decided to come back out here.”

“You came back?” he whispered. Rhys pushed himself to try and sit up more, shocked to see Vincent walking closer. By the time Rhys was sitting up straight Vincent had settled close enough it would be easy to grab him. It left a strange warmth in his chest.

“Figured you didn’t follow me so I’d come back. Find out just what the fuck you are.” Vincent dug into his bag and pulled out a container. He opened it and pulled out something small before holding it out to Rhys. “I don’t like to eat alone, take this. I don’t care if your giant ass will barely taste it.”

Rhys brought his hand close to the small man trying to ignore the way it shook. Vincent dropped something miniscule on his finger. He used his other hand to steady it before bringing the tiny thing close to his face. It was sweet, and smelled like something he recognized. He couldn’t place it though. He opened his mouth wide before placing the tiny thing on his tongue. The blast of flavor was bigger than he expected and also something he hated. A grimace found a way on his face.

“What? Don’t like strawberries? Thought for sure you would. Your breath smells like them,” Vincent said. The man shrugged his shoulders, taking a bite of his own version of the small thing. It was weird, Rhys couldn’t actually remember the last time he’d eaten anything. He never had liked strawberries though.

“No… I hated them before too,” he said.

Vincent looked up at him, Rhys swore the man felt larger than him. He knew it would be easy to pick up the man and knock that feeling away, but he enjoyed it. He used to be shorter than his family and his friends. He missed that. He’d never forget the fear on the faces of his friends when he walked out of his room a head taller than Ryder. Ryder was supposed to be the tall one.

“Before what?” Vincent’s question felt like ice in his veins. The last time he told someone the truth they stopped visiting. He shouldn’t be honest. At least not completely just a little bit of what it was.

“I… I was given a gift that changed me. Everyone says it was enchanted, I say it’s cursed.” It left a bitter taste in his mouth as he spoke. He hated it, hated his life since he ran away. He was getting too big, too dangerous. He was still growing years after he left. He had no idea how his family would look to him now.

“Well, it’s a curse if it needs to be broken and an enchantment if it has an end. Did you get some stupid rhyme with it?”

“It’s time you grow into your own. Spend some time, wander alone. Look on from there, see from above…’” He stopped before he said the rest. Rhys took some time to look like he was trying to remember, but the reality was he knew. Until you find your one true love. “There were more lines, but I don’t remember anymore. It's been a long time.”

“Probably true love or some shit.” Vincent stood up, once again dusting his clothes off. “Gotta head back. I’ll try a different pastry next time. See ya, tiny.”

“I-”

Vincent ran off before Rhys could speak. A promise he’d come back. A promise he wouldn’t leave Rhys to suffer alone. No matter what happened he wanted that. He wanted time where he wasn’t trapped in his mind. He returned to his original position staring at the clouds. This time he had the smallest bit of a smile on his face.

The next day Vincent was back. He didn’t have to call out, Rhys was watching the spot the man disappeared the last time. Somehow he knew Vincent would be there before sunset. The smaller man gave him a look, but continued to walk closer. He came up to Rhys’s leg before lying back against it. Fear sent his heart pounding, but Vincent didn’t react if he heard it.

“Hey tiny, what do you normally eat?” Vincent asked. Rhys frowned, what did he eat? Also why did the man keep calling him tiny?

“Why do you keep calling me tiny?” he asked. Answering about his eating habits didn’t seem fun. Admitting he couldn’t remember eating since he ran from his home would make things change. He wanted to not be alone while he waited here for time to pass.

“Why not? Would you rather I call you big guy or something?” Vincent held an arm out with something in his hand again. Rhys set his own massive digits next to the small frame. Another treat was set down with no hesitation, like this was normal.

“You know my name.” Rhys lifted the hand with the treat up to his face. It smelled sweet again. He hesitated, he didn’t want to have the taste of strawberries stuck on his tongue. It took hours for it to fade the day before.

“So?” Vincent tilted his head back to stare up at him. Rhys felt awkward staring down. The small man looked amazing, Rhys probably looked monstrous. He’d seen monsters before too. He didn’t like the idea of being one. “You worried that I’m slipping you strawberries again? It’s just chocolate cake this time.”

Rhys used that to push him to taste the sweet. It was something new, he couldn’t find words to describe it. Vincent laughed below him. Setting his hand on the ground, Rhys got a chance to see the smile on the smaller man’s face. Another thing that sent his heart racing. No one else had made him feel like this before.

“I don’t think I’ve ever tried that before,” Rhys said. Vincent’s eyes widened. The man climbed to his feet and stepped away to stare up. At first Rhys thought it was fear, but the pure shock on the small face pushed that away.

“Damn, never had chocolate. What kind of sheltered weird life were you living before?” Vincent said. Rhys sighed. He hadn’t been sheltered, at least he didn’t think he was. Vincent sat down again, this time not leaning against his leg. Maybe he was sheltered. “By the way, I looked into an enchantment record.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s this record most places keep. Has a history of the first use of any enchantment. Thought it might have the rest of yours in it.” Rhys held his breath. If Vincent knew he’d stop coming. He’d be alone again. Vincent’s demeanor changed, softened almost. “Only record was some prince a few hundred years ago. A birthday celebration that went wrong. It…” Rhys was terrified. Once he knew, once Vincent said it, he was alone. “It didn’t have the rest of your enchantment in it. Was stuck at the same place you remember. Probably… probably part of it or something.”

“Oh…” Rhys’s heart continued to pound. Something in the way Vincent looked didn’t feel like it was the truth. It didn’t matter, he didn’t know. For the few weeks Rhys stayed in the area Vincent wouldn’t have a reason to abandon him. That’s all he wanted.

“So, what was it like before you wound up like this?” Rhys jumped, but it made him smile. When was the last time he got to think about home? Not just think about it, but talk about it.

“It was… fun.”

Rhys went into stories of trouble he caused. His friends, Ryder and Felix, were a bit older and would try to make him stop playing tricks. He had fun. Vincent nodded along, even laughed at times. Rhys talked until the sun started to set. A part of him wanted to reach out, to hold Vincent as the night air started to grow cold. Before he could consider giving in to that feeling, Vincent stood up and stretched.

“Gotta head back, I’ll probably visit again,” Vincent said. Rhys nodded, if the small man took too long he’d be gone. It was how his life went ever since that horrible birthday. The similarities between the story Vincent knew and his own life were fighting to take his thoughts. He didn’t want to think it had been hundreds of years. “Jeez, don't look so sad. Make sure you don’t disappear. I’ll think I dreamt up a weird giant guy with pink eyes.”

Vincent disappeared before Rhys could speak again. He watched the spot the little man came from. Following would let him find a whole place where people might talk to him. He could see if any broke this stupid curse he had. It didn’t feel right to follow him. It had only been a few meetings, but he wanted this to keep going. Vincent… Vincent made him feel like he was normal again.

Vincent kept visiting. Each time he brought something new for Rhys to try. The man stayed later and later each time. Rhys was growing more and more tempted to hold the smaller man in his palms. It was getting harder to avoid it. Reaching forward, hovering, feeling more alone than before. The ring on his finger was making him angrier each morning too. A reminder Vincent wasn’t the one to break it. That even his own feelings weren’t important to the stupid thing.

“So, how long are you gonna keep hovering before you grab me again?” Vincent asked. Rhys jumped, staring at his hands currently trapping Vincent in the clearing. He started to pull back. Guilt ate at him.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. Vincent smirked. That at least made this less embarrassing.

“You should be. At least ask, I might even say it’s ok.” Rhys’s eyes went wide.

“You… you’d let me hold you…” Vincent climbed to his feet and crossed his arms. The stare he offered made Rhys’s heart pound. The smaller man paced before shrugging his shoulders.

“Why not, you haven’t killed me yet.” Rhys brought his hand close. Worry sank into his bones, what if his hands were sweaty? He wasn’t this nervous the last time. Just as he was about to wrap his fingers around the small, stern man a hand was placed on his finger to stop him. “I don’t think grabbing sounds fun, tiny, let me climb on.”

Rhys nodded, setting his hand flat next to the small man. When those hands touched his palm he shuddered. Vincent chuckled, making him flush. The tiny weight in his palm made his heart race. Vincent was bigger than his family, but still so small. What if he hurt him? What if he did something that killed him? What if he-?

“Rhys,” Vincent’s voice was soft, kind, and reassuring. The first time it wasn’t a nickname. “It’s fine, I trust you.”

The anxiety in his heart died down. Vincent crawled to the center of his palm. As soon as the man sat down, Rhys lifted his hand from the ground. He moved slowly, deliberately as he brought the man up to his eyes. Seeing him close like this left Rhys with a feeling of awe. Vincent’s eyes were all the more striking. His face was soft, just like his words.

Rhys brought his other hand up and grabbed Vincent’s hand. The small fingers tensed in his hold, but he didn’t pull away. Despite the size difference, he felt Vincent dig his nails into his own skin. He squeezed, just a little, trying to show he felt the small fingers on his skin. Rhys continued to hold his hand for a while. Eventually he let go and started to run his fingers up to trace Vincent’s entire body.

Vincent shuddered under his touch. There was no request to stop. He got to feel the soft silver hair. The warmth of the small man who kept coming back to him. The tiny hands that dug into his palm this time while he traced a finger down the firm arms. He moved to hover over Vincent’s chest and pressed down only a little. Rhys heard the gasp from the smaller man, but didn’t pull back. The tiny hands reached up and gripped the finger on Vincent’s chest, but he still wasn’t asked to stop.

“...why do you trust me?” Rhys whispered. Vincent’s miniscule hands tensed, trying to hold him tighter maybe?

“Why not?” Vincent said.

“I… I scared everyone before I left.” Rhys didn’t know if telling him was right, but he had to. He moved to cradle Vincent just above his mouth. A finger kept against the small face. “The first morning after this whole enchanted thing, I scared my closest friends. I was taller than one of them, he was always the tall one. Then I almost hurt my sister, she was trying to surprise me and I almost stepped right on her. I… one night I knew I was growing. My bed broke and I ran… I was supposed to see my family whenever I came through here. I haven’t in a long time though.”

Vincent sat up again in his palm. The violet and emerald eyes weren’t fierce or cruel. He rested a hand on the finger Rhys kept close. The man leaned into the large digit, and Rhys started to cry. He hadn’t spoken about those days in so long. How scared his closest friends looked. How wrong he felt, but Vincent didn’t look scared or angry. In a way it reminded him of when he was young and played pranks all over the kingdom.

“If they didn’t want you they weren’t worth it then,” he said. Rhys was shaking, he started to lower his hands. “Don’t move me. At least not to the ground. Don’t feel like sitting on the hard ground again.”

“I… I don’t know if they wanted me.” Rhys knew his voice was quiet. Barely audible even by his size. “I… I kept growing after I left. I stopped risking going near them after I saw the tops of trees. I… I didn’t want to hurt them.”

“You didn’t hurt me.”

Rhys nodded. Vincent was right, he didn’t cause the small man any pain. It was different. Vincent was definitely taller than his family. If… if Vincent came along it could be safe. It wasn’t fair to ask that of him. They were maybe friends. He couldn’t expect Vincent to trust him enough to go somewhere together. Even if it was nearby. Especially if his family wasn’t even there for him. It would seem like he lied to take him away.

“It’s late,” he said. Vincent nodded.

Vincent stretched and rubbed his shoulders. “Yeah it is, guess you should lie down so we can sleep.”

Rhys stared with wide eyes at the little man. He pulled his hand away from his face and curled his fingers over Vincent. Slowly he moved on to his side with Vincent still in his hand. Then he pulled that same hand close to his face before uncurling his fingers. Vincent moved to lie on his side staring into Rhys’s eyes. This… this felt nice. It felt normal, like they were the same. This was something he could live his life with.

“Better have that strawberry breath in the morning or I’ll kill you,” Vincent whispered.

“Probably will, I don’t eat anything to cause it,” Rhys said. He leaned forward until his nose was against Vincent. He got the faintest hint of a smell, something like copper. “I think you smell like copper…”

“Weirdo knowing what a metal smells like.”

Rhys pulled back, but smiled as he watched Vincent. The smaller man closed his eyes and looked happy in his palm. He moved his forehead close enough to rest against his hand, this was nice. He wanted things to stay like this. To be close to someone. He started to hope Vincent felt the same. He might actually feel enchanted if he could stay with the small man falling asleep in his palm.

The next morning Rhys woke up alone. Positive it was a dream he tried to stop his shuddering breaths. When he sat up he found large letters drawn into the ground. Don’t leave before I come back. A blush coated his cheeks, Vincent would be back… He wasn’t alone.

It was almost a full week with no sign of Vincent. Rhys had to leave in a few days, the meeting with his family would come and go. Once it had passed he wouldn’t stay, but maybe… maybe for Vincent he would. He frowned, the silver hair hadn’t appeared in the shadow of the trees yet. With the sun setting it wasn’t likely the man would show up today. Rhys hugged his knees to his chest, Vincent might have given up.

A grunt caught his attention. His breath caught in his throat as a small form slipped into the slowly fading light. He gathered the tiny form into his hands without a second thought, a warmth spread out that he hated. He’d felt it a long time ago.

“Sorry, tiny,” Vincent coughed. “Had some trouble getting out. They didn’t like that I was out so much. Thought I was getting ready to run away.”

“What, why?” Rhys breathed. He brought Vincent up to his eyes, tears already falling. He didn’t want the smaller man to die.

“Heh, guess you didn’t know. Takes a special person to read those enchantment books. This is the latest place that decided it was worth keeping me.” Rhys curled his fingers in, hiding Vincent from everything. He didn’t know what it meant, but he’d keep the smaller man safe. “You know, I’m pretty tired. Your hand was cold the other night, how about your chest this time?”

Rhys didn’t hesitate. He brought Vincent over his heart before lying on his back. The small man went limp and left a gaping hole in Rhys’s heart. He… he had an idea. He hadn’t tried since all of this started. Since his birthday however long ago… Probably hundreds of years ago.

“Rhys,” Vincent said. The quiet word pulled him from his thoughts. He had to remember the right feelings to use it. It would work, he’d save the small man who reminded him what it meant to be alive. To be seen. To be a person. “I lied to you.”

“What?” His own voice cracked. What possible thing could he have lied about? What would shatter the building warmth in the back of his heart? A warmth he’d abandoned for so long.

“That book had the full words. You probably even knew them. ‘Until you find your one true love’.” Vincent laughed, it was hollow. The feeling made everything happening worse. Rhys could feel the warmth of blood pooling on his chest now. “Probably wasn’t the best idea to keep sneaking in for a way to break it. Couldn’t stop myself, kind of wanted to be the answer for you. Didn’t think they’d stab me though.”

“I lied too.” Rhys focused on the better warmth, the one that he’d given up on ever trying to use. He could feel as it worked out of his heart and into his hand. The coolness overtaking the warmth of the pooling blood. His father explained it when his mother was bleeding like this once. How to heal someone. “I think… I might be that prince you read about. I am a prince, at least I was. I knew what broke what happened to me, but I wanted you to keep seeing me.”

“We’re both liars, I can live with that. I’m gonna sleep. G’night Tiny.”

“Good night… Vincent.”

Rhys closed his eyes pushing all the warmth he could into his hand. This had to save Vincent. He couldn’t lose the smaller man. It hadn’t been long, but no one else could replace him. Fuck the enchantment his true love was sitting on his chest and dying. He’d save him, find a way to solve all of this. To do something.

The next thing he knew he was on the ground without a small body on his chest. He sat up in a panic, looking for Vincent. His breath hitched when he turned to find a massive face with the scars he’d grown so curious about in front of him. As those eyes he’d been mesmerized by started to open he was frozen. Vincent… Vincent was huge now.

Emerald and violet locked on his small form. Time was still as the two stared at each other. More actions he couldn’t react to occurred. A massive hand grabbing him. His back was on Vincent’s middle and ring finger, the man’s thumb holding his stomach. His pinky and index were touching him and… and holding his wings? Rhys stared at the wings Vincent held steady.

“This is real,” Vincent breathed. That smell of copper wafted over Rhys. He was terrified. The grip was firm, the firmness that always exuded off the man. The other hand held one of Rhys’s wings still. He hadn’t even realized he was moving them. “Guess tiny is too on the nose of a nickname now.”

The smile shown on the now larger man’s face sent all the anxiety away. It was Vincent. The man who brought him treats. The man who kept visiting despite Rhys grabbing him at first. The man who almost died just to keep seeing him. To try and help him. His wings slowed. He didn’t even know they’d still grown while he was huge.

“Rhys,” Vincent’s voice was soft. It made him jump, but he nodded in response. “Are you scared of me?”

“...no,” he said. It was the truth. He wasn’t scared. The fingers holding his wings disappeared. The thumb on his stomach was released and he fell face first into a palm. It was covered in rough, calloused skin. He pushed himself up to stare at the amazing eyes above him.

“So… what are you?” Rhys opened his mouth to answer, but Vincent used a finger to silence him. “Don’t say a person. Obviously you aren’t human so what are you?”

“A fairy, I thought you were one too. Just taller than my family. At least taller than I remembered them.”

“I don’t have wings, why the hell would you think I’m a fairy?” Rhys crossed his arms and glared up at Vincent.

“We’re not born with them Vincent. Obviously they grow later.”

“Right because I’d know the natural age progression of a fairy. Guess that explains why I’m not dead. You healed me right?” Rhys nodded. Vincent pulled Rhys close and pressed him against his chest. “Thanks, strawberry.”

Rhys grimaced that one was worse. He hated strawberries ever since his mom… his mom, his family. He could see them. It would be safe, he could go home! He started to struggle against the hand cradling him. Vincent let him go and he flew up to hover in front of the human’s face. His wings were buzzing behind him, he loved the sound.

“We have to go!” he shouted. He flew to the hand by Vincent’s chest and tugged on one of the fingers. “My family, this is when I’m supposed to meet them! We need to hurry.”

“Right, fairy. Guess hundreds of years isn’t the same,” Vincent mumbled. Rhys paused, there was a sour tone behind the words, but Vincent started moving. He’d worry about the sourness in the words after he saw his family.

The two moved shockingly fast. Rhys was sure it would take a lot longer, then again he always thought he’d be walking at his real height once the ring was gone. He thought someone his size would be next to him. He held the hand up that had held his curse for so long, the ring was really gone. It was over. Vincent’s shadow over him made him feel safe. It was weird, humans were always a scary story as he grew up. He barely believed they existed.

He burst out of the trees hoping to see his family hovering over the flower field. There was no one. He wasn’t giving up hope, not yet. They wouldn’t need to be there yet, it wasn’t time. The sun was still high. A curse behind him made him pause, Vincent had stepped on a flower. Vincent… he was as big as Rhys was when he ran for good. Rhys flew right back to his face.

“You need to be careful! Fairies could be out here,” he insisted. Vincent smirked before grabbing him. He was held the same way as earlier, fingers supporting his back and stopping his wings from flapping forward. The human kept walking, but the hold left Rhys with a feeling of safety.

“Please strawberry, I’m not a monster. I can keep an eye out for things that might be even smaller than-”

“Your highness!” A voice called. A voice Rhys knew. He was being pulled from the fingers holding him by hands his size. The fingers around him went limp as soon as a force tugged at him. Rhys was left with wings colored gold with hints of bronze blocking him from view. They barely moved as the fairy in front of him hovered. “We’ll keep you safe, grab the princess and return home. She’s far enough it won’t see you. This monster won’t follow you. Stay low to catch the others.”

“Wait! He’s not-”

“You really want to attack the one who helped break the strawberry prince’s enchanted ring?” Vincent sneered as he spoke. Rhys tried to look around Felix’s wings and found Ryder in the human’s face. Vincent lifted a hand up near Ryder, Rhys had his heart freeze as the human moved. All he did was press a finger to the point of what looked like a spear Ryder held. He moved it down and Rhys’s heart started beating again.

“You… broke the ring?” Ryder asked. “That was enough to free him?”

“Yup, came along for a reward. Not worth it with little brutes like you two.” Vincent had bent forward at some point. He stood straight up and glared down at both Ryder and Felix. Rhys saw the soft look sent his way. Vincent was giving him a way out, a way to go home without the truth ever being revealed. A way that didn’t include him- and that made Rhys sick.

“He’s lying.” Ryder and Felix looked at him with shock. Vincent narrowed his eyes. He would let Rhys decide what happens next. If… if his friends and family hated Vincent then he’d leave with the human. He had already been willing to give them up to keep the man in his life; this was no different. “He didn’t break the ring, he’s the answer to the enchantment. My true love.”

Rhys watched the weapon in Ryder’s hand fall. It kept going until it reached the dirt below. He waited, the anger and fear. Yelling at him for this being what happened. Treating him and Vincent like monsters. Treating the only one who made him realize he was still a person like something wrong. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t, let that be his life. Vincent was too important.

Arms his size wrapped around him. Fear seized his heart as another pair joined the ones already containing his wings. From where he floated he saw Vincent’s eyes go wide and the massive being moved his arms. Rhys fell with the two around him. They landed on the calloused palms that held him earlier. He still expected fear, but it wasn’t happening.

“You finally get to come home,” Felix whispered. Both pairs of arms around him tightened. He couldn’t believe this.

“I apologize for threatening your love,” Ryder said. It was loud, loud enough Vincent definitely heard. “We’ve had some close calls when we came to see if you’d visit. I have to admit the princess was too eager that it might be you.”

“You… you’ve always come,” Rhys whispered. He looked up to the human holding him and his closest friends. It was easy to read the subtle hints of concern on Vincent’s face. He forced himself free, and climbed to his feet on the palm. Both Felix and Ryder stared at him, gold and silver wings buzzing. “This is Vincent.”

Ryder flew up to Vincent’s face. He did a bow that he’d done since being assigned Rhys’s guard. Vincent kept a dead look and didn’t speak. Felix flew up slowly, his wings were shaking. The two shared a look before Felix joined the bow as well. Then he lowered himself so his wings were on full display. The way they faced royalty.

“We apologize for our actions. We have been assigned to defend the prince at all costs,” Felix said. Rhys stumbled, they were still his guard? Even after all this time. “Our services would be passed to you as well, as his partner. We have had some issues during these trips away from the kingdom that made your hold something to worry about.”

Rhys felt the hand beneath him warm up. He started to fly up a bit and saw the hint of red finding its way to Vincent’s face. The human was looking between the bowed fairies and Rhys. As if he needed some kind of guidance. His wings started to buzz when reality hit him. Vincent didn’t know fairies, Vincent wasn’t one. The thought faded as the words Felix said finally registered in his mind.

“You’re still my guards?” Rhys asked. The two broke from their bows and faced him. Faces warm and kind, just how they always treated him. “I thought for sure you’d be changed or at least assigned to… Wait Del’s here! You said princess where-”

The words were knocked into silence as something, more likely someone, slammed into him. He was knocked back into the large palm that had stayed hovering just below him. It didn’t take much effort to move enough that he could see who was holding him. The fairy princess, his younger sister who hadn’t been close to her wings, Delphia.

“You’re home,” she whispered. “I thought… I was so sure I made you hate us. That you wouldn’t come back. I didn’t understand, I’m sorry. I should have realized the games we played before were dangerous I-”

“It wasn’t your fault I should have been careful. I… you were young. It was…” he started. The words didn’t exist to explain. Was it his fault for doing as he was raised? Was it his fault for not pulling away? More likely, how wasn’t it his fault?

“Don’t beat yourself up shortstack, he almost sat on me and he let me stay around. Strawberry’s just worried about hurting someone,” Vincent said. This time the human’s voice was soft and kind, Delphia pulled away to stare up at him. Almost like she hadn’t realized they were currently on his hand. Her arms tightened around Rhys, she was scared.

“I didn’t almost sit on you, you were near the trees.” Vincent’s other hand came up and ruffled Rhys’s hair.

“Close enough, probably as close as you came to hurting the shortstack here.” Rhys smiled, Vincent might be right. Delphia let him go.

“I have a name!” Rhys couldn’t hold back his laughter. Currently held by a human that she’s never met and her reaction is that he’s not using her name.

“So does Strawberry doesn’t mean I’ll use it.”

“Del, this is Vincent. He’s the answer, my love.” Rhys’s cheeks were red hot. How many times would he need to say that? At least one more… Vincent’s hand got warmer too. She shot up from the palm and plastered herself to the human’s face. Felix and Ryder both gasped as she did this. Just because he was with Rhys didn’t take away the distrust of humans. If he had known Vincent was human would he have let the man stay around?

“Thank you.” Rhys pushed the thoughts away as he watched his sister hugging the cheek of a human she just met. “Thank you for bringing him back.” She pulled away before offering a curtsy before the human. “I am Rhys’s younger sister and current crown princess.”

“Uh… sure no problem.” Vincent had a tinge of red on his cheeks that sent Rhys’s heart racing. The human was kind. Even if he knew Vincent was human, Rhys wouldn’t have been able to send the man away.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Felix cleared his throat. “The king and queen should arrive soon. I would suggest the human uh… Vincent I mean lie on the ground so as not to cause undue stress.”

“Sure.”

Rhys noticed the sour tone in the word again. He wanted to understand, but Vincent was moving. Rhys fluttered to the ground with Ryder next to him, Felix had pulled Delphia back to wait. He felt the way the human’s movements shook where they stood. He’d been bigger than this, a larger force of nature. Vincent trusted him… He wanted his family to trust the human he loved.

Once again he was pulled from his thoughts. When Vincent folded his arms in front of them the others relaxed. Felix and Ryder were telling him news. Delphia was telling him how things changed. That they still couldn’t find who gave him the ring and were more careful in case someone tried to do it again. All three spoke of how his mother and father had been worried. His father was quieter since he stopped visiting, something he struggled to believe. His mother was gone more often.

Overall, he learned his choice to stay away hadn’t been ignored like he thought. Felix and Ryder kept worrying they failed to protect him, the little brother of their group. Hearing that made him smile. Delphia apologized even more for driving him away, no matter how much he promised it wasn’t her. It was nice to see no one had wanted him gone, but it was the right choice. It brought him to Vincent.

He looked up at the human, a darkness was in the man’s eyes. Rhys wanted to ask, to understand the sour tones and pain he was seeing. Why the time he’d been gone could matter. Fairies were ageless once they grew their wings… Once their magic was at full strength. His heart shattered as it finally clicked. Humans weren’t like that… Humans lived small blips of time compared to a fairy.

“Vincent,” he started as he walked away from the others. The human’s demeanor changed. The snarky attitude he expected plastered on the face above him. He didn’t have words. He watched as the arm in front of him moved until a single finger was pressed against his chest. That finger pushed him back causing him to stumble a bit.

“What’s the long face for Strawberry?” Vincent asked. Rhys could hear the hints in the human’s voice. It was harder to hide it when Rhys was the small one. “Keep getting caught up, I’m listening too.”

Rhys tried to find the words. To tell Vincent they’d be together for both their lives. He didn’t have any way to promise that. It didn’t help when Ryder’s hand landed on his shoulder as Felix turned him around. In the distance he could see the wings of his parents. Dark black, so dark you couldn’t see the pattern of her magic. Brilliant white filled with images of life. The king and queen of fairies were walking on the ground. They always walked when together, he never understood why.

Once they were close enough he started to tremble. All the stories he’d been told before that stupid ring popped in his head. His father would be strict, expect no more of his mistakes. He was to stop playing his games and having fun. It was time for him to be a respectable prince, a respectable heir.

His mother noticed him first. Her wings started buzzing as soon as their eyes met. In a flash he was knocked to the ground while she hugged him tightly. Her wings continued to buzz loud enough he was sure Vincent would be hard to hear. Her arms tightened, he wrapped his own around her. He missed his family.

“Rhys, I’m so happy you’re back,” his mother said. She pulled away and he saw the tears rolling down her face. “I’ve been so worried since you stopped coming to see us. Your father wouldn’t let me go too far to try and find you. He felt you needed your space if you weren’t coming here.”

“I…” he said. His mother climbed to her feet and pulled him up with her. She looked up at Vincent, Rhys followed her gaze. The human looked sad and happy all at once.

“This must be your true love then? A human?” Her mother flew up and offered her own bow in front of Vincent. Rhys’s heart thumped as a smile wormed its way on the human’s massive face. “An honor to meet you. Please call me Dabria. I hope my son hasn’t been much trouble.”

Rhys was distracted from Vincent’s response by his father. The man had continued his walk towards the small group. Despite being smaller than the human behind him, his father felt like a giant. A stern look, his wings frozen as he walked. Rhys tensed in an attempt to prepare for what was coming next. He knew the stories of the previous king, the iron handed rule back then. His father had been kinder, but no one expected it to last with his heir.

“F-father,” Rhys said. He could feel the concern wafting off the human behind him. In the few stories he’d told, his father was kind. That didn’t include everything he’d been told before the birthday that changed everything. His father stopped right in front of him, the white glow from his wings was intimidating. “Vincent was the answer to the enchantme-”

Rhys was cut off as his father pulled him into a hug. His father’s chin was placed on his head, the white wings wrapping around them both. It reminded him of the times he had nightmares, protected from everything by the glowing white or black of his parents’ wings. The whole world went silent waiting for what this meant.

“Welcome back,” his father whispered. Rhys melted at those words. His father wasn’t a great speaker, but he could hear the crack of tears. He felt the droplets landing on his head as his father cried.

“I’m home,” Rhys said. His own voice was too quiet. He was sure no one would hear, but the arms and wings wrapped around him tightened. A worry that his father’s wings could rip snuck into his mind.

“With a human too.” The chuckle from his father made Rhys stiffen. “I guess it runs in the family. Your mother should be telling him, but she’s human too. At the castle I’ll show you a way to craft something to share your own magic. His life and yours would be tied together.”

Rhys pulled back to stare at his father with wide eyes. He was let go just as he started to try and see Vincent. The human had a look of shock on his face aimed at Rhys’s mother. Then looked back at Rhys. There was a moment where they seemed connected, like no one could come between them. A true love always sounded like a fantasy, but as he nodded to the human who offered a smile with a nod back. Rhys knew he had found someone that would stand by his side, enchantments be damned.

#gt #giant/tiny #giant tiny #g/t #g/t writing #gt writing #gianttiny #gt community #g/t community #gt july 2023 #oc:rhys #collaboc:vincent

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getvalentined · 10 months

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I think that fandom as a whole, but particularly the FF7 fandom, needs to understand that there are two forms of "canon": the one shown in the source material itself, and the one written down in the meta materials like artbooks and Ultimanias. If there's a contradiction between the two, it should be assumed that the source material is correct.

The Ultimania series is interesting, and it can help fill in gaps for things that we don't know. It's also almost universally known across multiple franchises to get ton of things that we do know very wrong—even when the creators themselves confirm plot points contrary to what's written in the books.

My personal favorite example of this is the Chrono series Ultimania, which says in no uncertain terms that Prometheus from Chrono Cross is not Robo from Chrono Trigger. Meanwhile, the people who actually wrote both Chrono Cross and Chrono Trigger have always been very clear that Prometheus is Robo. This is a major plot point about a main party member that you can pick up quite easily by playing both games, and the Ultimania got it completely wrong.

Another, more pertinent example: when Vincent was killed in 1977, Lucrecia was already pregnant. We know this from both the OG and from Dirge. The Ultimania says that she gave birth to Sephiroth around 1980. This is literally physiologically impossible.

If the game gives us a year, over and over, and then some piece of meta comes along and says that it was actually a different year the entire time, the meta is wrong. Full stop. The meta is wrong.

This is particularly frustrating with FF7 because the Compilation is staggeringly internally consistent, to the point that the opening cutscene from the First SOLDIER battle royale mobile game (RIP) fits perfectly into place in a way that makes the in-universe timeline make more sense, not less. A two minute cutscene filled in a time gap that had been in place for decades, in such a way that it clarified what we already knew (Gillian was no longer active in the Science Department after 1977, Hojo was not given control of Project S until Gast left) and confirmed some things we've assumed for ages in spite of lacking concrete evidence (Lucrecia stayed on with the Science Department for years after Sephiroth was born) without contradicting anything.

The one instance I can think of where the Compilation actually overtly retcons itself is in Crisis Core, where the research notes in the Shinra Mansion basement say that Jenova was discovered and confirmed to be a Cetra in 1977. Her discovery date is literally printed on her helmet (October 10, 1959) right alongside the date she was sealed up in the Nibelheim reactor (July 2, 1967), and the latter date is a whole decade prior to 1977.

In the OG these dates were redacted (written as "X year, X month, X day"), so it's clearly an intentional change—but there's a really simple in-universe explanation for this apparent retcon.

To put it plainly: Gast lied. Hollander says in Crisis Core that nobody knows where the main Jenova sample is stored, not even Hojo—but Gast must have, since he was the one who was actually in control of all divisions of the Jenova Project. If he kept information that integral to the future of the project from his colleagues, why would he hesitate to fabricate dates in his easily accessible research notes?

One easily explainable retcon doesn't make a book of meta that is littered with similarly ludicrous claims correct, much less correct in direct contradiction to the actual games it's supposed to be sourced from.

#fandom ramble #fandom vent #FF7 #final fantasy 7 #nashi has an opinion #long post

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accidentalslayer · 9 months

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Word Count: 2,530

Warnings: Angst & Abuse. In particular, religious/cult abuse. Death, dying, and trauma after a near-death experience. Dissociative vibes. The end has a really reaffirming, comforting example of friendship. I wish everyone had a Josh in their lives.

Author's Notes: I really struggled on this chapter. Mostly because I've been sick for all of July and only recently started to recover. My spirit was willing to write but my flesh was weak. 🤣 Anyways, I'm still on my Angsty!Davina hype. This chapter delves deeper into that. Oh! By the way, I changed "Vincent Webb" in Chapter One to "William Webb" so as not to confuse everyone because there's already a "Vincent" in The Originals. It'll be William Webb moving forward.

This'll be the last Davina chapter for awhile.

Please feed me comments, hearts, and reblogs if you liked this 🌹You can find me on A03 as accidentalslayer.

Pairing: Yandere!Elijah & Klaus Mikaelson x Fem!Reader (eventually) Summary: Davina gets an unexpected visit from her best friend Josh who has some, erm...concerns about her mental health. Also, life gets weirder for the young Harvest Girl when a truth is revealed. One that could change her life forever.

Recommended Song: "You Were Cool" by: The Mountain Goats

Chapter Three: Jonah's Whale (Part Two)

Cold hands shook Davina. Muffled sounds hit her ears. Someone was shouting, their voice fraught with urgency. It was enough to snatch her out of sleep and snap her eyes open. Peering through a blurred vision still addled by dreams, she looked up at the person who had a vice grip on her arm, then blinked.

It was a boy; dark-haired, dark-skinned, wearing an Abercrombie & Fitch polo shirt underneath a worn hoodie that looked like it'd seen way better days. Fastened around his wrist was a friendship bracelet that Davina immediately recognized as the one she'd made a year ago while living at St. Anne's. The initials 'J.R.' and 'D.C.' embellished its design in bright, rose-colored thread. The letters were joined together like clasped hands inside a heart that she'd gotten a migraine over weaving at the time. Davina was a much better artist with charcoal sticks than with cotton twine, anyways. Despite all the grueling hours of training she had gotten out of the Sanguinem Knot.

Groggily, Davina wondered if she could trust her sight?? Perhaps this was another nightmare or an illusion cast by Monique to trick her? Could it really be...

"J-Josh...?"

"Davina!"

It looked like Josh. It sounded like Josh. It bit its lip nervously like Josh. But Davina needed more proof just to be sure. Illusion magic had its limits. And memories weren't easily replicated. So, she asked the boy something that only the real Josh would know:

"What was my favorite show in 9th grade? If you don't answer it correctly, I swear to the goddess, I'll scream so loud the whole compound will hear it."

"Josh" released hold of Davina's arm, a confused frown upon his lips, "Uhh, that's a trick question, right?? You told me your mom only let you watch TV for "educational" purposes. I was the one who got you into binge-watching stuff for fun. Uhhhh, but hey, Davina, your books are-"

"List the three most embarrassing things you did in grade school. Your Sonic and Winx Club phase doesn't count."

"It SO does."

"Screaming in...three...two...one-"

"Okay!!!" The boy who might be Josh exclaimed, throwing both hands up in the air and conceding to her demands, "I stole a pack of cigarettes out of my homeroom teacher's purse on a dare then puked when I tried smoking too many of them to impress my crush. My mom made me wear this baby bear costume on Halloween and I had to go trick or treating in it. I accidentally sent nudes to my uncle-"

"Josh! It IS you!"

"I mean. Yeah, duh. Why wouldn't it be?? I texted you yesterday about coming over, remember??"

Despite being a vampire with heightened senses, Josh didn't see how fast Davina moved from her seat to pull him into a hug. And he was surprised by how hard she squeezed him, like he was a life raft, or buoy on some stormy sea. Josh took it all in stride, though. He knew Davina well enough to understand that she was going through Hell now that she was back with the Coven. But there was something...off...about her. Different than before. His eyes strayed to the steel table he'd found her crouched over and fast asleep upon. To the book pile she'd been thumbing through...

Every tome on the table was scorched. Strange writing had been scrawled across their pages in Davina's penmanship. Josh didn't recognize the language. The words seemed foreign. Unearthly. Almost alien. But there was one symbol he could decipher amidst the chaos; it was the number 7. It repeated (over and over again) in varying fonts and sizes.

Josh waited for Davina to pull away from the hug before asking if she was okay. Although, judging by the dark circles underneath her eyes, it was a safe bet to assume that she wasn't.

"I'm fine," Davina replied with a smile on her face, "Just passed out while studying these grimoires. They're super old-fashioned. Like, created in the Dark Ages or something. The Coven says they're mandated reading material for us Harvest Girls. But between you and me? I'd rather be studying Grapes of Wrath."

Josh grimaced in response, "Yeesh, that bad?"

"The worst, actually."

"They look, uhhh-"

Josh trailed off, trying to think of the right word to use, but ended up saying the one that was on the tip of his tongue:

"-crispy."

Davina pointedly ignored his comment. Instead, she offered Josh some tea with a tired sigh.

"I'm more into the red stuff these days...but sure. I'll have some if you do." He answered her, trying to keep his voice light and carefree, "Anything in those cabinets that'll help me walk in the sun??"

"Nope. Just peppermint."

"Damn! Foiled again!"

This merited a smirk from Davina. Josh took the win, following his friend across the conservatory, to a small alcove where an electric kettle and tea service was laid out for anyone's use. There was even a convection oven, accompanied by all the fixings for toast. Davina flipped the power button on the kettle. Silently, she watched as it began to heat up and boil their water. Josh tried filling the empty space with conversation.

"So, it looked like you were having a nightmare. A really bad one. Wanna talk about it?"

Davina made no comment besides a quick shrug and a grunt. She seemed more preoccupied with choosing the mugs they'd drink out of. Or the tea they'd make. Undeterred, Josh pressed the issue harder, hoping his friend would open up to him.

"You know," he continued speaking, "they say that telling a friend about your nightmares can help them seem less scary. Like, once you talk about it, you'll see how ridiculous the dream was. Sometimes, I still have nightmares about waking up in class buck naked, and Klaus is there..."

Davina rose an eyebrow, "Who's 'they'??"

An embarrassed laugh rolled out of Josh, cheeks reddening upon admittance that it came from a self-help book he was reading; 'The Dark Side of the Light Chasers' by Debbie Ford. He'd found it laying in a cardboard box on the side of the road somewhere. He'd been going through each of its chapters (sporadically) ever since he'd found it.

"I dunno, the author writes about meditation and meeting all your different selves inside your head like Doctor Strange. I did this one exercise at the end of a chapter about self-love and acceptance and uh, I met the "me" I was before. Before all the fangs and the blood and the suddenly burning in the sun. Fun times, haaa! Anyways, look. I'm here for you, Davina. If you need a shoulder to cry on? An ear to listen to you?? We're friends! And that's what a friend does! Well, uh. I guess that's what I think a friend should do-"

Josh frowned, then said quietly:

"-I haven't really heard a lot from you lately..."

The electric kettle shut off. The water was ready. Davina poured the boiling liquid into two, footed mugs that she had chosen. Then, dipped the tea sachets in with care. The aroma of mint filled the air and the space in-between where Josh waited patiently for Davina to say something. Anything! But she didn't. So, he continued to talk while she listened, hoping that his friend would participate eventually. He was starting to get a bit frustrated by how silent Davina was being.

"You know, there's this story in that book about a person who was also having trouble sleeping. His name was Jonah. That dude from the Bible. He'd heard the voice of God tell him to pass judgment on the city of Nineveh and he reeeally didn't want to. So, he ran. Then, a whale ate him, and literally only spat him up when he accepted what he was running from. I'm not a religious person but what I'm trying to say here is-"

"That I shouldn't go on boating trips?" Davina posited, finally adding to the conversation. She offered Josh his cup of tea afterward.

Josh made a sour face while accepting the tea. He obviously didn't appreciate her wry sense of humor here...

"No! That you shouldn't run away from the things you're afraid of because you'll just make it worse for yourself. And in the end, you'll have to face it anyway. But unlike Jonah, you don't have to face it alone, Davina. I know you're going through shit after dying and being resurrected. Who wouldn't be, right?? But lately, I've been feeling like you're shutting everyone out. You haven't texted me or Cami back in weeks. What's up with that, huh??"

Now, it was Davina's turn to make a sour face.

"I'm just really busy here, Josh. Being a Harvest Girl means I have responsibilities to the Coven."

"You hate the Coven!"

"I know, but...I'm still a Harvest Girl."

"And I'm your friend, Davina! Cami is too! Don't we deserve to at least know that you're okay?!"

"The Coven said I couldn't use my phone here in the compound. They said they want me to focus on studying and classes only. No distractions..."

"And you couldn't sneak on the phone to tell us? We've been worried about you! Cami and I have been worried sick! Fuck the Coven!"

Davina rubbed her temples in response, "Josh..."

"Davina."

"What's really going on?? You're acting weird as hell."

Josh sipped his peppermint tea nervously, then flinched. He'd misjudged how hot it still was and burnt the roof of his mouth in the process. "Mm, this sure is some great leaf juice you've brewed-"

"Josh!" Davina exclaimed, starting to run out of patience, "Enough stalling. Spill. Now. What's up with you?"

With grim reluctance, as if he were pulling teeth, Josh revealed the (true) reason for his visit. It all came down to one name. A name Davina should have guessed was involved from the very start:

"It's Marcel. I-I know you guys aren't on speaking terms right now, but uhh...he's been worried too. About you. About sending you back here. About pretty much everything, to be honest. He wants to know how you're doing? If you're doing okay? Aaaand...he needs your help with a spell."

Davina groaned, "UGH. Of course he does! When does he NOT need me to do his dirty work?!"

"This isn't for him. It's for Cami! The curse on her uncle is getting worse, Davina. He's going nuts in that church of his. Marcel was wondering if there was any way to reverse whatever the Coven put on him? I don't think he has much time left..."

At the mention of the Coven, Davina tensed. She placed her cup down on the alcove's table. There was an air of finality to the gesture.

"Josh, it's different now. I can't do magic for him anymore. I can't do magic for anyone anymore... The Ancestors won't allow me. And if I break the rules again?? They'll do worse things than what they did in that abyss to me. Marcel doesn't care because he's not going to die, Josh!! Neither will you! Father Kieran and Cami are going to Heaven but I only have one place to go after this!! I can't mess up my last chance with the Ancestors...or the Coven. I won't."

Davina expected Josh to argue. Clearly, he had a stake in whatever drama Marcel was cooking up. She could see it in his eyes. A quiet desperation, like a fly caught inside a clever spider's web. Why else would he be doing this? But to her surprise, Josh only nodded. He didn't fight to change her mind.

"I'll tell Marcel you're doing fine," Josh said, "No, scratch that. I'll tell him you're doing better than fine, you're doing awesome! And that...you can't help him anymore."

"Josh, I-"

"Davina, don't."

Soft arms wrapped around Davina unexpectedly and cut short whatever apology she planned on saying. Now, it was Josh's turn to give his friend a sudden hug.

"Don't ever apologize for setting a boundary. You don't owe me or Marcel or the world shit! Okay?? If anything, we owe you. I owe you. You saved me from Klaus. You gave me back my control."

He squeezed Davina tighter in his embrace.

"Promise me that you'll take care of yourself and if you need to talk, that you'll call me. Or text. Or Instagram works, too. I'm always there to listen. You're my best friend, Davina. And the strongest person I've ever met."

"You're pretty strong too, you know?"

Josh chuckled, "I'm starting to be. Couldn't have done it without your help, Super Witch."

The mood lightened. Josh and Davina spent the rest of their time together, reminiscing. Bonding over the good memories they had. Those sacred spaces in-between murderous witches, miracle babies, Machiavellism, and The Originals where they were allowed to just be kids. And do things that kids do. Although Josh's gaze strayed to the pile of scorched books once (or twice), he made no comment on them.

Josh left somewhere around midnight. The smile in her heart left along with him, returning Davina back to reality. She ruminated while she cleaned up the mess leftover from making tea. Images of the nightmare swirled inside her mind. Filled her with dread. She was no stranger to dark dreams or terrible visions, especially after her experience working for Marcel, but this one felt...different. It felt ominous. Like the first scream of a hurricane siren.

Davina...

Or the rumblings of a storm.

Find her, Davina Claire...

As she was shelving the last item away, the floor began to shake, and the walls trembled. Her ears rang with the sound of the voice. Nearly bled. Its volume had increased tenfold since the last time she'd heard it. Davina braced herself against the onslaught, using all her strength to ignore it. But the voice proved too powerful.

She fell upon her knees and shouted, "I CAN'T! I can't help you!! I can't do ANYTHING for anyone anymore!! Don't you understand?!? I am the girl bound in chains! I am shackled to a people who HATE me and control my every move! So, to Hell with New Orleans! Let this city be swallowed up! It's NOT a French Quarter Witch's problem!!"

There came a pause in the quaking and thunder. The stillness that came afterward was thick with tension. It was as if the entity was considering its next words carefully.

You are not a French Quarter Witch, fire maiden. You are a Prophet. Called to a higher purpose. To serve the light that burns within you...

Find her, Davina Claire, and together the two of you shall be free.

"W-wait, what?! I'll be...free?"

No further elaboration was given to Davina. She called out to the entity several times. All she got was silence and stillness in return. Davina stayed in the conservatory, amongst the potted plants, until dawn broke and colored the sky with hues of gentle pink, yellow, orange, and sky blue. And in a semi-stupor, Davina began to repeat a single word underneath her breath...

Free.

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