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luminnara · 10 months ago

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Protector | Feyd-Rautha x reader

ANON REQUEST: your marriage to Feyd-Rautha is an arranged one, and your only task is to provide an heir. When you finally become pregnant, your new husband suddenly grows obsessed with you—but does he care about you, or is he simply protective of his progeny?

Warnings: pregnancy, labor, and related talk; canon typical violence

MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Your marriage was one born out of duty, not love. You couldn’t even call it a marriage of convenience; there was nothing convenient about leaving your homeworld and traveling across an entire galaxy to marry someone you had never even met before. Yes, the Houses had agreed beforehand that you were to marry Feyd-Rautha, the Na-Baron of House Harkonnen, and immediately after the deal had been struck you had seen his face and read his writing, but you hadn’t met him until your wedding day.

You had chastised yourself for thinking it could be like the fairytales of Ancient Earth. You, a princess, your betrothed a handsome prince…in the stories of your childhood, he would have whisked you away, off to a great, shining palace full of magical wonders, and you would have lived happily ever after. Instead, your prince had proved to be disinterested in you, busying himself with his arena and his concubines, ignoring you most of the day. The Harkonnen fortress did not shine, nor did it hold any great wonders, and Giedi Prime felt far from magical, with its harsh black sun and polluted landscape.

After your vows, you had naively thought your wedding night would be full of romance. Perhaps you had been holding onto hope as a means to protect yourself, clinging to optimism to distract yourself from your harsh, sad reality. You had been all too eager to shed your dress and veil in Feyd-Rautha’s living quarters, though had not expected them to be ruined by his blade, and you had not expected him to greedily conquer you as if it were yet another battle in the arena. He had slept next to you that night, but had made it painfully obvious that he had no interest in holding you or even touching you, keeping far to his side of the bed while you remained far to yours. In the morning, you had awoken alone, and had realized that it was the beginning of a long and lonely road on your new planet.

Everyone expected an heir. That was the entire point of this marriage, a legitimate heir for the Harkonnen line. Anyone else could have done it—you were of fine breeding, yes, but any of the other Houses could have offered up a daughter to suffer at Feyd-Rautha’s side. Why it had to be you surely came down to the only things powerful men seemed to care about—money and spice. An allegiance with House Harkonnen protected your family, and your small share of spice harvesters on Arrakis added yet another drop into their vast bucket and one less smuggling operation to worry about. Your parents were happy. Baron Vladimir Harkonnen was happy.

And you were miserable.

Two months after your wedding, your monthly cycle continued as normal, and you were forced to shamefully inform the na-Baron. After an annoyed sound and a grimace, he bent you over the nearest table and took you for a second time, leaving you to clean yourself up and cry at your husband’s callousness. You didn’t know why he couldn’t bring himself to care. You supposed he already had everything he could possibly want; wealth, concubines, a throne to inherit…you brought nothing of real value to him, save for the ability to produce an heir.

Time passed, and it became clear that Feyd-Rautha would have to touch you more than once a month if he was to have any hope of fathering a child. You cursed yourself for your apparent inability to conceive—fertility had been one of your parents’ selling points when negotiating with the Baron, and now, you couldn’t even do the one thing that was expected of you. It brought you to tears every night, the stress of being reduced to this and yet still being unable to perform your task. It was maddening, though you knew you were hardly the first woman to find yourself in such a situation. You did worry, however, that you may have been the weakest.

One evening, as Feyd performed his husbandly duties, he noticed a tear slipping down your cheek and paused. You felt a rough hand cup the side of your face and opened your eyes to find your husband staring at you with dark eyes, his head tilted to suggest he was curious.

“Tears?” He asked in his raspy voice that was still so alien to you.

“My apologies, na-Baron,” you looked away from him.

“You are crying.”

You stifled an annoyed sigh. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Do not worry yourself with me, husband.” You said.

“Tell me.”

This was perhaps the longest conversation you had had since marrying him, and part of you didn’t want it to end. You looked at him once more, finding him still watching you with that unwavering, predatory gaze, and another tear rolled down your cheek and onto his hand.

“I am sorry I have not given you a child.” You whispered.

“Then let me put one into you.”

His tone sent a chill down your spine, frightening and exciting you all at once. That night, Feyd-Rautha did not let you sleep, shocking you with his determination. It was simply because the sooner you conceived, the sooner he could return to his own concerns, you reasoned.

Sure enough, your period did not arrive when expected, nor did the next. A medical test confirmed what you already knew—you were pregnant, with Feyd-Rautha’s child. A Harkonnen child, who would grow up to be just as ruthless and savage as its father, you thought.

Upon receiving the positive result, you immediately set off to tell the na-Baron. He should not be made to wait; you wanted him to know that the entire point of your union was finally achieved, and that you could both go back to ignoring each other as usual. As you walked, you had the worrying thought that he may not even keep you alive after the delivery.

“Na-Baron,” you addressed him upon finding him in his armory.

He looked up from the blade he was sharpening. “Wife.”

“I bring news,” you said, folding your hands in front of yourself.

“Then tell me, before I grow bored of waiting.” He returned to the hunting knife, looking away from you once more.

“I am with child.”

You watched as Feyd-Rautha paused, tilting his head to look at you. “My child?”

“Yes. Who else could it possibly belong to?” You asked, exasperated. “The physicians confirmed it just now. I wanted you to be the first to know.”

He nodded slowly, looking back at the knife in his hand as he thought. “I see.”

Whatever hopes you had once had for him to suddenly flip his entire personality at the news were quickly dashed by his lack of emotion. You left him there, a hand over your mouth as you tried not to cry, returning to your bed to be alone once more.

-0-

In those earlier days of pregnancy, you were often ill, sprinting from bed to the wash basin nearly every day to be sick. Usually, you were alone; Feyd-Rautha rose early, spending his mornings training and sometimes killing his instructors. Whenever that happened, he would come back, wearing blood and a grin on his face as if he had just won some great contest.

Today, however, he was enjoying a rare occasion of sleeping in. He had begun spending his nights in the center of the bed, crowding you as you attempted to stay away from him. One morning you had even woken up to find his arm throne over you, his body closer than ever. Now, he was sleeping, and you would have been content to let him remain there were you not busy launching yourself over him as you ran to the adjoining wash room.

You missed the way your husband sat up, eyes wide and frenzied as he pulled a dagger from beneath the pillows. When he found the room to be empty and free of danger, he grew confused…until he heard your retching in the next room, and slipped out of bed.

“Wife?” He asked from the doorway.

“What?” You groaned, leaning your cheek on the cool basin.

“…are you alright?”

You sighed. “No, na-Baron, I am not. I mean…I am, I just…”

“You are sick,” he pointed out.

It took every bit of willpower you possessed to swallow down the part of you that desperately wanted to throttle him. “Yes. I am. It’s the pregnancy, the pills from the doctors haven’t been working—“

“This has happened before?” He interrupted.

“Most days, yes,” you felt another wave of nausea coming over you and hunched your shoulders, preparing for the worst.

You never expected to feel a cool hand brushing your hair away from your forehead, nor the feeling of your husband’s chest against your back as he held you.

“Harkonnen women don’t have this problem,” he commented as he held your hair.

It was the least helpful statement he possibly could have made as you vomited once more, and yet it was also quite possibly the best.

“If Harkonnen women have no hair, then what do you pull?” You asked wryly, too ill and too exhausted to hold yourself back.

Feyd-Rautha stared you, unblinking, before a smirk found its way onto his lips. “If you are feeling brave, perhaps I will show you one day.”

You let out a laugh as the nausea ebbed, leaning back against him. “Perhaps one day I will finally stop seeing my lunch so many times, and then you can regale me.”

-0-

Your sickness faded as your pregnancy progressed, thankfully, but Feyd-Rautha’s company did not. By the time you were beginning to truly show, he was refusing to leave you alone, demanding your presence wherever he went. As a result, you sat in on many a sparring session, and he made up his mind to abandon the arena until after the baby was born. His sudden change in attitude was shocking; he had never paid so much attention to anything before, and now, his hands were constantly on you.

“I must keep you safe,” he had said when you first asked about it, and had acted as if it were the most obvious thing in the universe.

You assumed he was protective due to the baby, the precious new heir to the Harkonnen throne. As its vessel, you were afforded some luxuries, but you fully expected that to change after the birth. For now, though, you were content to receive any and all attention your husband saw fit to pay you.

“That went well,” you said one day after the doctor examined you.

“He should not have touched you like that.” Feyd-Rautha growled.

“What do you mean? He’s a doctor,” you laughed, somewhat nervously.

“I did not like it.” His voice was tense.

“I could tell.” You grumbled, dropping your happy façade. He had nearly chased the doctor out of the room, hunting knife in hand. “Examinations are unavoidable, I’m afraid.”

“No more.”

“But—“

“No more strangers touching you.”

"Doctors help," you protested. "Don't you want your child to be healthy?"

At that, Feyd paused in thought. "...You may have a Harkonnen midwife."

"Because a Harkonnen doctor is too much?" You asked dryly.

He glared at you briefly before looking away towards the door. "Come."

You audibly groaned, one hand on your lower back. "Na-Baron, I am tired. I wish to retire to bed."

He looked back at you, and you caught an expression of distress on his face. "I need to train."

"You train every day."

"Yes." he said it as if it were obvious, but something in his tone suggested more; he made it sound urgent, as if it were something he had to do daily, and missing a single session would be disastrous. "Come."

You heaved a sigh and followed him.

-0-

In the months that followed, your unborn child grew, as did your body. You found yourself becoming large and bloated, your gait slowing as your flexibility waned. New maternity gowns were brought to you, an interesting mix of styles--the flowing, heavy garments of your homeworld meeting the simple, stark aesthetics of Giedi Prime. You found them strange, but at that point, you really didn't care; you would have walked around naked if no one would have stopped you. You spent your days feeling uncomfortable and awkward, with swollen feet and a sore lumbar region. Harkonnen servants brought whatever you needed, and your husband ensured--no, demanded--that all of your food be tasted by someone else while you watched so that there could be no chance of poison passing between your lips.

You wondered if this was simply some aspect of Harkonnen culture that the other Houses weren't aware of or never cared to talk about. Perhaps on a planet as harsh and toxic as Giedi Prime, infertility and infant mortality were more commonplace than the rest of the known universe. Perhaps this possessiveness was common among Harkonnen men, if conception was more difficult for their people.

Whether your theory was correct or not, Feyd-Rautha had certainly become even more attached to you. Not a morning went by when he wasn’t there next to you in bed, and as of late, he had begun waking you up by reminding you exactly how you had ended up like this in the first place. Before your pregnancy, he had acted as though bedding you were a boorish duty he had no choice but to perform; now that you were heavy with child, however, he was more than interested in you physically, constantly touching you with those rough, murderous hands.

You enjoyed the attention, and you enjoyed the way he squeezed and massaged you with surprising gentleness. He didn’t want to break you, you supposed, not right now; after the child arrived, perhaps, but not now. That was a grim thought, and one you had often—what was to come of your after the birth? Would Feyd-Rautha want more children, in case this one died some horrible, brutal, Harkonnen death? Or would you be disposed of, no longer needed after his legacy was secured?

You tried not to dwell on it.

One morning, you roused on your own, without Feyd’s interference. Wondering if he was even still there, you reached out to the side, feeling for him—and you nearly jumped when you felt bare flesh beneath your hand. When you rolled onto your back with considerable effort and turned your head to the side, you saw that your husband was there, still sleeping, and that what you had felt was his exposed chest.

You took the moment to look at him, really look at him. He seemed so peaceful like this, when he wasn’t fighting and killing. You had seen him take lives so quickly that his victims hadn’t even known they had died, and you had wondered how someone could be so dismissive of those around them. The first time you had watched your husband slit a throat, you had nearly vomited, and he had found your revulsion amusing; the most recent, however, you had simply sighed and looked away. You were desensitized, it seemed, just like he was, and now, you slept just as easily after watching him commit horrendous acts of violence as he did now.

Feyd-Rautha was handsome as far as Harkonnens went. His skin was smooth like marble, free of the scars and bruises one might expect to see on a warrior. His face, usually so harsh during the waking hours, was relaxed now, and you realized he was beautiful. You couldn’t keep yourself from brushing your fingers over his lips and feeling how surprisingly soft they were, though in a way, this felt wrong. Feyd-Rautha didn’t strike you as the kind of person who would allow this sort of touch, but when would you have this opportunity again? He always rose first in the morning and slept last at night. You never caught him with his guard down, and you kept your hands to yourself during the day. This was the only time you could marvel at him like this.

As your fingers ghosted across his cheek, he twitched, and you froze. Then, to your horror, an eye cracked open, and you knew that he had been awake all along.

When you moved to pull away, he caught your wrist, then covered your hand in his. He held your gaze for several long, strange moments, and you realized that he hadn’t simply been awake—he had been allowing you to touch his face, to explore him in a way you had never been brave enough to before. It felt like a gift, in a way. In his way.

“I apologize,” you breathed, unable to look away from him.

“Why?” He asked, voice deep and rough with sleep.

“I should not have touched you without permission.”

“I am your husband,” he said. “And you are carrying my child. You do not need permission to touch me.”

Somehow, you knew his words carried a deeper meaning. You knew you were one of, if not the only, one on all of Giedi Prime whom he had said those words to. And for the first time since marrying him, you felt that Feyd-Rautha was truly your husband.

-0-

He was with you when the labor began.

You had been lounging in your shared chambers, enduring the final week of your pregnancy. It felt bittersweet, in a way; you had no way of knowing then if you would ever be experiencing this again, and a part of you desperately wanted to hold onto it while the rest was fed up with feeling massive and uncomfortable every day.

Feyd-Rautha had been agitated all morning. It was as if he had known something was about to happen, and he had spent his time barely containing himself as he paced and sharpened knives, attempting to keep to himself and leave you alone and doing a piss poor job of it. You had been ready to chase him out of the room—or at least attempt to—when you felt your waters go and the panic set in.

That had been three hours ago.

Now, you were in your bed, and a shockingly-diligent Harkonnen na-Baron had yet to leave your side. He had briefly stepped into the corridor to bellow at the nearest passerby and your midwife had arrived very quickly as a result, but after that, he had sat down next to you and refused to go anywhere else.

“Is it agony?” He asked as you stood.

You shot him a glare. “I would not wish this sensation on even you.”

He was taken aback by your tone, impressed, even, by the venom in it.

“A short walk about the room may help,” the midwife suggested. “I will assist—“

“No.” Feyd-Rautha was up and at your side in an instant, taking your elbow. “I will.”

You didn’t care who did what, you just wanted it to be over and done with. The labor was progressing quickly, the midwife assured after another check once you were back in bed, and soon, you were wailing and grunting, your face was sweaty, and the na-Baron was staring in awe. You were focused on the task set before you, one hand on Feyd’s arm as you pushed with all your might, and so you could not see the way your husband was looking at you.

When your son was born and crying at the top of his tiny lungs, Feyd-Rautha cut the umbilical cord with a hunting knife and then he stared. It seemed that the entire time, he was incapable of looking away, his eyes glued to either you or the new Harkonnen heir. You supposed he had been too enthralled to order the midwife out of the room, and the woman was smart enough not to push her luck—she did the necessary examinations as quickly as she could, then handed the baby off to you, busying herself with cleaning what looked like a murder scene and gathering the afterbirth when it came. Then, satisfied with her work and the health of the child, she left, and you were alone with your husband and son.

You cradled the infant, tucking him against your breast and pulling the edge of your robe over him in an attempt to keep him warm. He was born pale, like his father, but with a soft layer of hair that made you wonder how much he might grow to look like you. The midwife had said it before she slipped out, and you had to agree—he was beautiful, and you smiled down at him.

A thud startled you and you turned to see that Feyd-Rautha had fallen to his knees at your bedside, looking at you with a reverence you had never seen in anyone before.

“Feyd?” You asked.

He looked between you and your son, and you saw then that something had changed within him over those many months. Gone was the dismissive, uncaring husband you had wed; this Feyd-Rautha had grown to become a protector, one who would fight until his muscles tore from his bones, who would bleed himself dry for you.

“You are stronger than I knew,” he murmured, brushing a thumb over your cheek much the way you had with him all those nights ago.

You felt a lump in your throat. “Come here. Join us.”

He did.

Feyd-Rautha sat with you there, in your bed, the very bed your first child was born in. He watched as your son woke from his peaceful, short nap, and he was privy to the private, intimate moment of his first feeding. He held the baby, staring at him in wonder and what may have been a touch of fear, supporting the both of you as he helped you to the bathing room when you were well enough to stand.

“A son,” he said, watching the baby sleep that night.

“Yes.” You mumbled, exhausted and nearly asleep as well. “Are you pleased, husband?”

“I would have been just as pleased with a daughter.”

That surprised you, and you glanced over your shoulder to see him propped up on an elbow, watching your son as he slept in his simple Harkonnen manger. “Really?”

“Yes,” he said, never once taking his eyes off the child. “I can teach a daughter to fight just as well.” Finally, he looked down at you. “Are you well?”

“As well as can be expected.” You sighed.

“Are you happy?”

“Yes, I am,” you answered him, sleep already dragging you down.

You barely felt his lips as he pressed a kiss to your temple, and you barely heard his voice as he said,

“I am as well.”

-0-

You had expected Feyd-Rautha to grow cold in the weeks following your son’s birth, but he never had. He was attentive, caring for you in a way that suggested he felt some primal urge to drag back great beasts for dinner every night but modern living prohibited that.

Now, you watched as he stood before one of the massive windows within the Harkonnen palace. It was evening on Giedi Prime, but the black sun casted no shadows over the landscape. Feyd-Rautha held your son, whispering to him, and as you watched, you wished the moment could stretch on forever.

“Husband,” you said, approaching him.

“Wife,” he greeted you, turning.

“On your evening walk together, I see.”

He chuckled. “I am showing him everything he will one day rule over.”

“I am surprised you haven’t taken him into battle with you yet,” you said sarcastically.

“I will strap him to my chest so that he might taste the blood of House Atreides,” he said with a grin.

“The youngest Harkonnen warrior the world has ever seen.” You smiled, leaning in to check on what appeared to be a perfectly happy, albeit possibile bloodthirsty, baby.

“What are you doing walking alone?” Feyd-Rautha asked.

“Looking for you.”

“And now that you have found me, what do you intend to do?”

You leaned into your husband, resting your head on his shoulder. “Drop the baby off with the wet nurse, seduce you, take you to bed and then have my way with you.”

“You have my attention.”

“I thought you might be interested in trying for a girl this time…”

In a blink, he had spun you around and was dragging you down the corridor, and once the baby was safely tucked in with a nursemaid watching over him, you did indeed have your way with your husband. And again. And again. And you realized, as you retired to bed that night, that you were truly glad to have been arranged to marry Feyd-Rautha, heir to the Harkonnen throne and father of your children.

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd x reader #TW pregnancy #TW labor and delivery #dune x reader

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cressidagrey · 6 months ago

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Dust off your Highest Hopes - Part 1

Summary:

Eavesdroppers never hear anything good about themselves, goes the idiom.

When Solana hears an admission from the High Lord of Day, she’s ill-prepared for it. She doesn’t believe in fairytales any longer, but maybe there was a happily ever after for Solana and Helion somewhere.

Warnings:

Mention of Rape, Mention of Domestic Violence. It's all in the past, it's none graphic, but Solana is still dealing with it.

Notes:

This was supposed to be a one shot. One day I will find a way to be less wordy.

(thanks to @tsunami-of-tears for the super pretty dividers!)

When Solana grew up, she believed in fairytales.

Why shouldn’t she?

She had been raised as a daughter after two boys…raised to be the perfect lady, the perfect wife…and expected to climb society‘s ranks and find herself a proper husband.

And Solana had done that.

She had excelled at it, in fact.

Solana hadn’t just married any High Fae Male. She had married a High Lord’s son. Her mate.

And for just one moment…her fairytale had become reality. She had believed that she had found her happily ever after.

Not much later, she realised that she had been a lamb led to her slaughter.

Just that…a lamb…a lamb led to its slaughter…it was killed quickly. She wasn’t. It was death by a thousand cuts.

Solana may was Castor‘s mate, but she was not the female he loved.

And the mating bond snapping and the arranged marriage that had followed, pleasing both their families but neither of them…well, for the rest of Castor‘s life, that marriage was at fault for everything. Solana was at fault for everything else.

Solana could divide her life into three parts: before her marriage, during her marriage and after her marriage...

Before she had been a child.

During…during it she had been a prisoner.

Caged into her marriage…into her husband's whims.

Castor had stripped her of everything she held dear, of every bit of dignity she had possessed…he had done unspeakable acts to her, things that she couldn’t and wouldn’t ever talk about to anybody. Solana had been a spectacle for the court to watch, something to gawk at, watching as the years passed and her womb refused to swell with a child.

Some people had known what went on behind the closed doors of their marital chambers…others hadn’t. Nobody had put a stop to it…to what Castor had done to her in private and in public.

Nobody.

Not the servants. Though she didn’t give them the fault for that, because they couldn’t have done anything. They didn’t have the power.

Not the High Lord or the Lady of the Court. They had known too. And they hadn’t cared. Castor was their son. Solana was just his wife. She was supposed to adapt.

But how did one adapt to the daily torture he liked to dish out? Solana had tried. Solana had done her best. It had never been enough.

Regardless of what she had done, Castor had never stopped his torture of hers. Not in their marriage bed… nor out of it.

And then he had died.

And the After had started.

After two centuries of living in the hell that was her mating bond and marriage…Her tormenter was dead. Slain.

The one thing that bitch Amarantha had ever done well in her fucking life was to kill her husband, as far as Solana was concerned.

Being Castor’s widow was…the third part of her life. And the best.

She wore widow’s black and pearls for the better part of two decades. She shrouded herself in her grief so that nobody could ever doubt that she had loved him. (He owed her that. Even when hadn’t loved him anymore. Not at the end. Not after what he had done to her for centuries.)

Castor’s death had pleasant consequences for Solana. It left her as the only female in the High Lord’s immediate family.

It left her under Helion Spell-Cleaver‘s personal protection. It made Helion the only male that held any power over her. As long as Solana didn’t remarry, she was part of his family. Any suitor who wanted Solana’s hand in marriage needed to get through him.

(Good Luck with that.) Helion had promised her that as long as he drew breath, nobody would lay a hand on her again. And he had kept that promise.

In return, her unwavering loyalty laid firmly with him and his court.

50 years of Under The Mountain…but somehow she had kept that Court running in his absences. She had done that. For him.

And then Amarantha herself had died…bested by a human girl of all things.

Another monster slain.

They had spent 5 years rebuilding. Half a decade. Just a blink in the eyes of a fae.

It wasn’t enough. They weren’t done. They were so far from done. But they had a start. They had made a start.

Solana had loved every second of it.

Castor was dead. Her monster had been slain. And Solana…Solana finally had her freedom.

She could deal with everything else. It didn’t matter what else happened.

It didn’t matter if Helion admitted to a bastard-born son who ended up being his heir.

She would deal with it all. Because she was free.

Lucien turned out to be lovely and his mate Elain grew to be one of Solana’s favourite people.

It didn’t matter what Solana’s mother thought about her lack of interest in suitors… She was never going to put herself at another male's mercy ever again. Her mother’s opinion didn’t matter, because Helion turned down every request of her company without discussion.

She didn’t need to entertain anybody.

Unless she wanted to. And unless she went to Helion and told him that this was the male she wanted…everybody else got turned away in no uncertain terms.

It didn’t matter what anybody else in the Day Court thought of her. Thought of her taking on most of the duties of the Lady of the Court. It didn’t matter what kind of gossip they came up with now. She would do her duty to her High Lord.

And if it made his life even just a little bit easier to have her be the one who selected what courses to serve at the meals…who picked out the porcelain and the cutlery and the drapes…who redecorated, who checked the accounts on every ledger and ran the palace with diligently and carefully…she would do so gladly.

Until a time when she was no longer needed. (Elain was shaping up to be a worthy replacement soon enough, after all.)

It had taken her centuries, but Solana had finally found a place where she could be…content. No more worries of what horrid thing the next day would bring.

In a way…she could simply exist.

Solana could simply open her eyes when she woke up alone in her four-poster bed…the white sheets pristine and clean…and she could pull on a silk dressing gown over a nightgown that was never ripped apart nowadays, never sprinkled with her own blood.

There were no bruises on her body as she took a bath…No ripped-out hair or contusions…nothing.

She no longer needed to shroud herself in widow’s black…she could pick a buttercup yellow dress that bared her shoulders to the sun, not worrying about whatever anybody would see if she didn’t bother with a glamour.

She could pick long, hanging hearrings, without worrying about having them ripped out of her lobes…with fat pearls from the Summer Court. An indulging solstice gift from Helion himself.

Solana was content.

Sometimes it startled her how much. How she had somehow carved out that little corner of peace for herself.

Nia, her handmaiden, fussed with Solana’s curls that morning…pinning them up in her usual style and scattering a handful of pearl-headed pins throughout it to decorate the updo. It was pretty. Beautiful in fact. Solana thanked her with a smile, grabbing her usual lace-trimmed shawl to wrap around her shoulders before she made her way downstairs for breakfast.

These days, Solana no longer lived in the marital quarters that had been the place of much of her plight and agony…and instead she had her rooms in the main wing, above Helion’s.

He was her last line of defense, he had told her with a charming smile and she remembered how she had laughed at the pure ridiculousness of that statement. If somebody murdered their way through all the sentries they kept stationed…even a High Lord would have trouble stopping that invasion single-handedly, she imagined.

Her new rooms did put her up high in the Sunray Palace…named for its many, many spiky towers and the fact that the sun rose right behind it, falling through the many painted glass windows. It had been built into the luscious mountains and hills of the Day Court, with every level seemingly worked right out of the stone. The only beings that had rooms even higher than Solana were the Pegasi.

(And they had wings, so Solana supposed it was just fair that they had gotten the uppermost tower and the luscious planes of grass that covered the top of that mountain.)

Solana nodded a greeting to the few servants that she saw that morning, and then reached the door to the private dining room, where she was supposed to have dinner with Helion, Lucien and Elain.

Her hand was already on the doorknob as the voice from within made her hesitate for just a moment.

“Are you aware that you are in love with her?” Lucien asked, his voice bone dry.

What? That who was in love with whom?

Solana’s mind was immediately sent spinning, mentally sorting through the different possibilities.

If there was one thing that Solana was well versed in, then it would be the Day Court’s gossip.

She knew every bit of it.

She knew who hated who, who loved who, and who would give her whatever she wanted if she just twirled a strand of hair around her finger.

She knew who to ask for what. She knew what each noble family strived for, what they were ambitious about.

She knew about marriage alliances, and who was related to what family and how. She knew who would gladly stab their siblings in the back if that meant that they got a bigger slice of cake in the end.

Solana knew all of that.

She had played this game for centuries at this point.

Still…the last thing she had expected…the last thing she had expected to hear…that was Helion’s voice responding: “What?”

His voice was hoarse, thick with something that she couldn’t place.

Helion…Helion was in love with somebody? With whom? Her stomach lurched.

The late Lady of Autumn had been before her time…Lucien and Solana were just a few years apart in age, not enough for her to have been old enough to be privy to any gossip of that particular affair…

“Are you still stuck in denial?” Lucien continued, his voice lifting at the end. “Or are you in the *She’s my best friend and she’s the one thing that is keeping this court running and the servants adore her and we attend symphony performances together and we walk in the garden and my Pegasus loves her but it’s all totally platonic* phase?”

…what?

Solana’s heart jumped in her throat, thumping so harshly that it felt like it was going to shatter her ribcage from within.

No. Lucien couldn’t…Lucien couldn’t mean her. Right?

That was ridiculous.

She wasn’t the only Female on Helion’s small council after all!

But Solana was the only one that Helion attended symphony performances together with…with who he walked through the garden…the only one that Meallan liked. Liked well enough to let her brush his silky black coat and braid little golden rings in his mane if it struck her fancy…

This was ridiculous.

Helion didn’t love her. Helion didn’t…Helion had his myriad of different lovers and the less Solana knew about that, the better. That was the kind of gossip she didn’t want to touch with a ten-foot pole.

(And even if she did…if she did look at the males and females Helion took to his bed…one thing was obvious: They were all extraordinary in one way or another. And Solana…she didn’t fit that bill. Not at all.)

“Be nice, Lucien,” came the sweet voice of Elain. “We talked about this.” She said it pointedly like Lucien would know exactly what she was talking about.

“You talked about this,” Helion repeated flatly.

“Of course, we did,” Elain responded, sounding amused. “I spent nearly a month thinking Solana was your mistress until Lucien told me otherwise.”

Solana swallowed. Elain wasn’t the first person who had had that particular thought. Granted, that particular rumour had never gained legs because there was nothing to gossip about.

There had never happened anything between Helion and her that could be constructed as…romantic. Or as him being interested in her.

Why should he be?

Solana was…Solana was used goods in a sense. And before Lucien had taken care of Helion’s lack of an heir… it had been more than clear that she hadn’t been blessed with a particularly fruitful fertility either. Solana he was pretty much useful for that purpose.

She hadn’t given Castor a child in 300 years.

The one blessing of that marriage: no children had come out of it.

She hardly thought that that would change even if she would ever marry again.

Which wouldn’t happen, because alone the thought of what had happened in her marriage bed made a shiver work its way over her back. She couldn’t live through that again. Not even for Helion.

“I would never do that to her,” Helion said quietly, her ears just so managing to pick up the words. “This whole Court has failed her once already. I have failed her once. I will not be part of a second time.”

He thought he had failed her? Why?

He hadn’t failed her. He had been seemingly the one person who hadn’t failed her…throughout much of her marriage, he had been off in the Day Court’s military…He had never been there to see the day-to-day of what Castor had done to her. He hadn’t borne witness to much of it.

And she hadn’t expected him to protect her either. She had been her husband’s property, her mate’s… Castor had been supposed to be the one taking care of her…and instead, he had seemingly gotten a sick sense of satisfaction out of hurting her.

Solana had thought that that should have gone against every instinct of that Mating Bond…she had been wrong.

A Mating Bond didn’t promise a happily ever after.

Not for everybody. Some fae…Some fae met the love of their lives and they turned out to be happy…and some…like Solana…they had met…their undoing.

“Is that why the servants are that protective?” Lucien asked at that moment, thoughtfully.

“They couldn’t protect her against my brother. But they will protect her against any perceived threat on my part,” Helion answered, something akin to amusement in his voice. “They’ll choose her over me in a heartbeat. The Day Court needs Solana. I can be replaced. She can’t be.”

No. No, that wasn’t true. Any halfway intelligent fae could do what she did. She only tried to make herself useful. Nothing more. She wasn’t a High Lord, not even his right hand, not truly… She was just his…She was just…

She was just Solana.

“You haven’t answered the question,” Lucien pointed out quietly at that moment and Solana froze in place.

The question?

That question?

She couldn’t help but brace for an impact. She wasn’t sure what kind…She wasn’t even sure what answer would hurt less.

“Of course, I am in love with Solana,” Helion said. He said something else, but the blood was rushing in her ears and she couldn’t…she couldn’t listen to more.

Couldn’t stay here…couldn’t…

Not when seemingly every bit of safe, constant ground under her feet had just been ripped away, her breathing coming in sharp gaps as she turned and ran.

She needed…she needed…

She didn’t know what she needed.

Solana didn’t know what she was doing as she somehow managed to open one of the doors leading outside into one of the gardens…crossing the patio and leaning both of her hands onto the grey stone railing, her fingernails painfully biting into the stone, as she tried…tried.

Her breathing came in short, painful gasps, her knees buckling as she fought with her own…

She wasn’t sure what she was fighting with.

Solana didn’t know what to think, her mind swirling nearly painfully with a barrage of thoughts.

He was in love with her. Helion fancied himself in love with her.

She couldn’t understand why. She couldn’t for the life of her understood what he wanted with her. For every other male who wanted to court her…she was nothing but an…ego boost. Or a choice made out of arrogance or out of a desire to climb the ranks.

A desire to enforce their own influence onto the Day Court.

But Helion…none of that…none of that could possibly be the reason.

He was the High Lord. His word was law.

He could have anybody in his bed if he wanted to. And he took advantage of that and she had never faulted him for that either.

Solana had never…

Why? Why her? Why did he…

And if he did…if he truly did…then why had he never said anything to her? Why had he kept it a secret…a secret he admitted to before Elain and Lucien but not to her?

What was…

The loud neighing that was suddenly in front of her, startled her out of her thoughts and she couldn’t help but flinch as Meallan kicked the grass just feet in front of her, staring at her with dark eyes.

Half wild, half-tamed…still as much a creature of myth as actually in front of her. (Though right now he was demanding her attention and she knew that he was not going to stop destroying the landscaping until she gave in.)

She lifted her hands from the stone and stumbled her way down the stone steps to the middle of one of their many, many gardens. Meallan came trotting forward, lowering his proud head so that she could scratch him behind his ears with shaking hands.

“Good Morning to you,” Solana whispered, her voice shaking just as much as her hands.

Meallan gently snuffled over her hand in response and then stomped one of his front hooves down onto the grass, making a massive dent, the size of a dinner plate. She gave him a pointed look, but he was utterly unapologetic, stomping once more before he started to lay down.

The only way she could actually get on that bloody massive pegasus if she didn’t have a High Lord throwing her up there.

“You want to fly?” she asked him, surprised. He didn’t often come to her. It was much more likely he showed up on the balcony of Helion’s study and demanded his High Lord’s attention.

To Solana he only came when Helion wasn’t available for one reason or another.

It always had been like that.

If any Pegasus came to visit Solana, it was his mate, Clodagh. That sweet-natured mare that wasn’t so sweet-natured if anybody ever tried to ride her.

Clodagh came to visit Solana in the gardens and Solana offered her apples and brushed her perfectly white mane and tail and generally spoiled her rotten. In return, Clodagh followed along with her like a dog that turned out to be just a little bit too big.

Meallan turned his head towards his wings and then stared at her with dark eyes, waiting.

He was wearing neither a saddle nor a bridle, though Solana had long since thought that the bridle was absolutely useless anyway. Meallan did what Meallan wanted. Anything else was simply a suggestion to him anyway.

“Don’t let me fall,” she warned him, her voice weak as she carefully clambered up between these massive black-feathered wings, making sure that her dress covered her. She patted his neck before she wound that beautiful mane around her hands.

Meallan huffed in response like even that warning was preposterous from her, before he clambered up, shaking himself and then launched into the sky with one flap of these majestic wings.

All Solana needed to do, was to cling onto his back.

She had half expected him to fly the looping circles around the Day Court’s capital of Odeira like he usually did, but nothing of that sort happened. Instead, he turned towards the east side of the Palace, towards the highest tower…towards the Pegasi Stables.

That was unexpected.

Solana didn’t try to change his mind, letting him take the course and then land easily just inside that wide gaping door that the Pegasi used to let themselves in and out at all hours of the day.

Helion allowed them to roam free in Odeira, and while they mostly kept to the green plains of the Sunrise Palace, sometimes some of them went off flying on their own and then came back later.

Meallan stopped and she slid off his back, only for him to grip the fabric of her dress between his teeth…surprisingly gentle and then pull her with him.

“I am coming! I am coming!” she said with a laugh, letting him lead her to the pen that housed him and Clodagh.

It was right there in the back and everybody knew better than to try and walk into, unless it was Helion or Solana herself.

Only a moment later, she suddenly smelled the scent of blood, a gasp leaving her mouth as Meallan pushed her forward with his massive head…right in front of…

Clodagh.

Clodagh that was standing up, gently nuzzling a pitch-black newborn foal that was greedily nursing from their mother. So fresh, that it was still wet, long legs still shaking.

It had surprised them all when last year Clodagh had suddenly started to round with a foal and had started to bite at every poor long-suffering stablehand. The only ones allowed to feed her and Meallan were Solana and Helion. Meallan himself had spent months stomping and standing his ground if anybody even looked at his mate wrong.

After 3000 years…they had decided to have another baby.

And now it had arrived.

“Oh sweetheart, you had your baby?” she breathed and Clodagh whinnied softly like she was in agreement. “It’s so beautiful,” Solana said softly, not daring to approach.

Meallan’s massive head pushed her forward again and she stumbled right next to Clodagh’s head, which turned to nuzzle Solana for a moment. She immediately reached out to rub the mare’s forehead and press a kiss between her ears. “You did such a good job!” she praised her. “You did so well,” Solana cooed, just as the foal seemingly had enough milk and the long legs gave in so it could lay back down again.

She couldn’t help but stare at it in wonder, even as it mustered her in interest and she crouched down, shooting a hesitant look to Clodagh and Meallan, who seemed content to watch her. “I am Solana,” she introduced herself to the foal softly. “When you are old enough, I’ll bring you all the apples you want…and I’ll probably sneak you some sugar lumps,” she promised the foal, feeling the tears prickling in her eyes as she held out a hand…

Solana held her breath for just a moment, and then Clodagh’s baby pushed his or her head against her hand, nuzzling her softly. So soft. So sweet.

She gently traced her fingertips over the white mark on their forehead, a near-perfect sun…the emblem of the Day Court.

Somehow that was the thing that sent her over the edge.

She wasn’t sure why. Wasn’t sure why that was the thing that was suddenly making her start crying.

She didn’t cry. Not anymore.

Solan had shed so many tears in her life that she didn’t think she had any left. And now, there she was, collapsing into the ground right next to the foal and clinging to the straw as she cried her eyes out.

Clodagh whinnied, sounding worried but Solana didn’t even have it in herself to reassure her… the white mare leant her head down, and nuzzled her hair, nearly maternal…nearly…

Solana couldn’t remember her own mother ever doing anything like that. And she just cried harder.

Cried because she didn’t know what she was supposed to do. Didn’t know what she was supposed to even think. What she was supposed to feel?

It was churning deep in her gut.

What was she supposed to feel?

Castor had taken a lot from her. Including her ability to love.

She didn’t love anybody anymore.

Her brother? Would sell her for a handful of silver coins if that meant that he could climb the ranks.

Her mother? Would do the same, or throw her at another male if that made her look good.

She couldn’t love anymore. Castor had burned that out of her. He had twisted and strangled her with her love for him until nothing was left anymore.

Nothing good at least.

Helion deserved better than that. Helion deserved better than her.

#acotar fanfiction #helion x reader #helion x oc #Helion Fanfic #Helion fanfiction #Dust of your highest hopes

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gtinthepot · 8 months ago

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MASTER LIST OF GIANT/TINY CONTENT

Disclaimer, I have not looked up everything on this list and most of it was suggested from others. I cannot promise the accuracy of the content. Suggestions for the list are more than welcome, leave a comment on the post for people to browse through after checking to see if its on the list already :)

I’ll be editing and adding to it here and there, so some reblogs of the post might be outdated. I suggest clicking on the source /main post to get the newest version. The old list can be found here.

7 deadly sins

A bug's life

Aaahh!!! Real Monsters (some episodes)

Adventure time

Alice in Wonderland

Alvin and the chipmunks

Amour de poshe (the girl in his pocket)

Animorphs: #24

Ant bully

Ant man (1 and 2)

Antz

Archies weird mysteries (one ep)

Army of darkness

Art Attack

Arthur and the Invisibles

Athena complex (webcomic)

Attack of the 50 foot cheerleader.

Attack of the 50 Foot Woman

Attack of the puppet people

Barbie and the nut cracker

barbie movies (look up specifics)

Barbie Thumbelina

Beastars

Beatle juice

Berserk

Big man japan

Bottle Fairy

Bramble the mountain king. (video game)

Brave little tailor (mickey mouse)

Bugs life?

Captain America: Civil War

Card captor sakura (one ep and some scenes)

Christmas Stories: The Tin Soldier is a good one.

Clifford the big red dog

Cuphead: Don’t deal with the Devil (mostly with certain bosses)

Darby o’gill and the little people

David the Gnome

Disenchantment

Dollman

Downsizing

Dr cyclops

Dr who (one ep: into the dalek)

Dragon ball

Dungeon meshi (a few chapters)

Ella Enchanted

Elusive people.(video game)

Epic

Ernest and Celestine (more of a mini-giant/doll-sized tiny size dynamic)

Fairytale: a true story (1997)

Fantastic Planet

Fantastic voyage

Ferngully

Final space episode 5

Frame arms girl.

Futurama (some episodes)

Gelias and the giant

Gen V

George shrinks

Gods of Egypt

Godzilla

Grandpa in my pocket

Gravity falls (one episode)

Grounded (video game)

Guardians of the Galaxy (vol. 2 more so than the first one)

Gulliver's Children (webtoon)

Gullivers travels (1939, 1977, 2010) as a well as a mini-tv series

Happily Ever After: Fairy Tales for Every Child: Aladdin

Happily Ever After: Fairy Tales for Every Child: Season 2, Episode 2 thumbelina

Happily Ever After: Fairy Tales for Every Child: The shoemaker and the elves

Helmecrons

Help I shrunk my friends

Help I shrunk my parents

Help I shrunk my teacher

Here come the littles

Hilda

Honey I blew up the kid

Honey I shrunk the audience ride at Disneyland

Honey I shrunk the kids

Hornby sets

How to Keep a Mummy ( Miira no Kaikata)

Inch high private eye

Innerspace

Invincible (Some episodes)

It takes two (game)

Jack and the Beanstalk

Jack and the Beanstalk: The Real Story

Jack the giant slayer

Jackie Chan Adventures (one episode)

Jaimes and the giant peach

Jitsu wa watashi wa (mostly the 4th episode)

Journey 2 The Mysterious Island

King kong

Kubo and the two strings

Land of the giants

Legoland

Lilo and Stitch the series (two episodes)

Little (Grrl)

little nightmares 1 and 2 (game)

Littles

Lord of the rings

Macross sequel shows (-anime-)

Mars attacks!

Mickey and the bean stalk

Micro Machines

Micro Ventures

Militsioner (Video game)

Minami-Kun no Koibito (2015)

Minish cap (video game)

Moana

Modest Heroes Kanini and Kanino (Short film)

Monster (video game)

Monsters Vs Aliens

My hero Academia (some episodes)

My Little Lover

My Miniature Manual (webtoon)

My Monster Secret (specifically one character)

natsume yuujinchou

Nau-lmg

Night at the Museum

Nils holgersson

Ok Ko! lets be Heroes season 3 episode 9 Planet Vacation

One Punch Man (some episodes)

Onward (a few scenes)

Osmosis Jones

Ozzy and Drix

Pans labyrinth

Paper mario sticker star (Video game, two levels)

Peter pan

Pikmin 1, 2, and 3 (game)

Pinocchio

Pokemon sun/moon anime second season (one ep)

Ponyo

Rainbow Magic

Ratatouille

Rick n morty (one episode)

Robotech (-comic series; new ones-)

Robotech (season one/The Macross Saga) (-anime-)

Robotech Remix (-comic series-)

Super Danganronpa 2 (video game, final boss)

Shadow of the colossus (video game)

Shrunk the family (Onnelin ja Annelin talvi)

Small blessings (webcomic)

Small Lands Survive The Wilds (Video game)

Small soldiers (1998)

Smallfoot

Smurfs

Smurfs lost village

Snorks

Spirit of wonder: The shrinking of miss China

SpongeBob SquarePants (the wumbo episode)

Steven universe

Stormlight Archive (-book series; has tiny fae people-)

Strange days at blake holesy high (one episode)

Strange magic

Stuart Little

Sugar apple fairy tale.

Super giant robot brothers.

Tales to Astonish (comics)

Ted Hughes

Tentacular. (video game)

The 3 worlds of gulliver

The 7th voyage of sinbad

The amazing colossal man

The bee movie

The BFG

The bfg 1989

The borrowers (1973, 1993 1997, 2011)

The Borrowers (Arrietty)

The Borrowers exhibition at the Hancock Museum

The Boys (some episodes)

The dwarf and the giant 1901

The Fantastic Planet

The hobbit

The hulk

The incredible shrinking man

The incredible shrinking woman

The Indian in the cupboard

The iron giant

The iron man

The Journey.

The Last Guardian (video game)

The Last of the Huggermuggers by Christopher Pearse Cranch

The Little Bits

The littles

The magic school bus

The nut cracker

The owl house (one episode)

The phantom planet

The Rescuers

The return of the Borrowers 1992 and 1993 tv series

The Secret of Nimh

The secret world of Arrietty

The Selfish Giant by Oscar Wilde

The simsons (one episode)

The storyteller (one ep)

The Suspicion and #42

The Sword in the Stone

The tale of the princess kaguya

The ultimate avengers (1 & 2)

Thumbelina

Time loader. (video game)

Tinkerbell and The Great Fairy Rescue

Tinkerbell and The Pirate Fairy

Tinkerbell movies

Tinykin. (video game)

Tom and Jerry

Tomb thumb

Townsmen VR. (video game)

Toy story

Transformers

Transformers (old series)

Troll hunter

Troll in central park...??

Trolls

Trolls band together

Ultraman cosmos

Underdogs

Unravel. Porcelain tales. (video game)

Valkyrie Drive Mermaid (one episode.)

Village of the giants

Violet Goes to The Beach (webtoon)

VR Giants. (video game)

We’re Back! A dinosaur story

When the Dolls Woke (book)

Wild Kratts

Wild, wild planet

Wiplala

Wrath of the Titans (one scene)

Wreck it ralph

Yarn (video game)

Zootopia

#g/t #breezys post #masterlist #giant tiny #fandom #g/t masterlist #giant tiny masterlist #long post

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fairytale-poll · 6 months ago

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WORST MODERN ADAPTATION! ROUND 1B, MATCH 2 OUT OF 4!

The Frog Princess is based off the Frog Prince; Mahou no Mako-Chan (1970 - 1971) is based off The Little Mermaid.

Propaganda Under the Cut:

The Frog Princess:

This episode was disappointing. Cool that it adapted a more obscure story, but when every other episode tries to be a retelling for a different culture and this one was just the modern American South, it feels a lot less inspired

Mahou no Mako-Chan (1970 - 1971):

it's got cute designs, beautiful animation, and a fun 70s aesthetic but by god is Mako annoying. Also kinda a shame that after the first episode was a fairly faithful adaptation of the fairy tale and the second episode sets itself up as a magical girl show the show kinda forgets to be both until the last episode. Eryn Cerise on YouTube has a really good retrospective of the show if anyone unfamiliar wants to see just how bonkers (affectionate) it can get

#the frog princess #happily ever after: fairytales for every child #happily ever after fairytales for every child #mahou no mako chan #mahou no mako-chan #the frog prince #the little mermaid #fairytale #fairy tale #poll tournament #poll bracket #polls #round 1 #round 1b #worst modern bracket round 1 #worst modern bracket round 1b #worst modern bracket #modern fairytale adaptation polls

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fickleminder · 2 months ago

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the matchmaker

Happy birthday Barney woooooo 💜

- You’re a matchmaker who works mostly with nobles, seeing as they’re the ones still rooted in traditions and such. Personally you believe in marrying for love, but this pays the bills so…

- You’re damn good at your job too. You know how to read your clients; you can suss out what kind of demons they really are underneath whatever front they put on for you. You can tell which personality traits are likely to work well together, and if you’ve had a hand in helping lesser demons from bad families escape to safer and more comfortable lives, they would never tell.

- One day this little demon no more than several centuries old walks into your office asking for a marriage partner.

- “Not for me, for my big brother!” He clarifies while you’re mentally cursing the noble families who still follow child bride practices.

- Said big brother barges in not two seconds later apologizing for his rudeness and trying unsuccessfully to stop his sibling from spilling his entire life story.

- You recognize Mephistopheles immediately. Not only is his family well-known in your network, but you’ve done business with many of his associates and one of his underlings had interviewed you for an article before.

- Apparently he’s under pressure from his family to marry, despite not being open to the idea at this time. You know how messy noble politics can be, so you don’t pry and instead get him started on the process. At the very least, you can match him with someone he won’t completely detest. Best case scenario, he finds an accomplice to fake a relationship with.

- (After a preliminary screening, it seems like Mephisto’s ideal partner is Lord Diavolo himself, but rumor has it he’s already infatuated with one of his students, so he’s off the table. Not that you’d go anywhere near the prince, especially with that butler of his constantly by his side.)

- You soon discover that Mephisto is one tough customer. He finds fault in every single match you send his way, even when you suggest that he pick someone just for show. He insists that even a fake partner has to check all his boxes, but you suspect he’s being overly selective on purpose to delay any potential marriages.

- But he’s never rude about it either. His matches tell you about how he’s always the perfect gentlemen on their dates, how he’s polite even when turning them down at the end of the day. He’s essentially wasting everybody’s time, going through the process for the sake of it while trying to change his family’s mind, but he’s still paying you for your efforts despite everything, so you continue to do your job.

- You tweak Mephisto’s matches with every feedback he gives you, and you start to wonder if there’s anyone he’d be willing take a chance on, even if it’s to play pretend and get his family off his back.

- His little brother tries to help out. The little demon often visits you behind Mephisto’s back, telling you stories and sharing every tidbit of information he can think of to better help you help his brother find happiness. He doesn’t quite understand why Mephisto doesn’t want a partner (he’s used to fairytales with happily ever afters), but he’s determined to make sure his older brother gets his happy ending too.

- One day one of your old clients visits you out of the blue, looking much healthier than when you first found her taking shelter in your office building. She warns you that there’s been unsavory characters loitering in the area recently. She recognizes some of them from her old circles and warns you to be careful.

- You’re no stranger to this. There’s a reason nobles have entourages of bodyguards with them wherever they go, and working so closely with them has put more than one target on your back over the centuries. You always make sure to keep magical wards in the area to warn you when demons with malicious intent have entered the premises, and stash a few teleportation talismans for a quick getaway if needed.

- It’s during one of the days Mephisto’s brother drops by to chat with you that your wards go off. You don’t hesitate to grab the little demon before activating your talismans, teleporting both of you to safety. You don’t reappear in front of your house, no; you don’t know if your own home has been compromised, so you told the frightened demon in your arms to picture the safest place he could think of—

- You land in a puddle of mud in the middle of a nondescript field, barely managing to catch him before he gets all dirtied as well. There’s a stable nearby, and the guards stationed there immediately notice your arrival and surround the two of you.

- Things happen quickly after that. Mephisto’s brother vouches for you even as he’s crying for his sibling, and after verifying your identity and giving a brief rundown of what happened, the two of you are escorted to the family manor.

- Mephisto finds you within the hour, throwing decorum out the window and bursting through the main doors to rush to you and his brother. Poor kid wouldn’t let go of him for the longest time, while you stand quietly in one corner to let them have their moment, not wanting to track mud over the pristine marble floor more than you already have.

- “You kept him safe…” Mephisto acknowledges you with an indescribable look in his eyes and, to your surprise, grabs you in a hug as well, muddied clothes be damned. “Thank you.”

- He promises to personally fund and oversee the repairs, your office having been thoroughly thrashed by the attempted kidnappers when they had trespassed in search of his brother. They’d been stalking him for weeks and knew he often snuck away from his bodyguards to see you, and they thought it’d be a golden opportunity to ransom him for a hefty amount of Grimm.

- Mephisto also prepares a security detail for you, despite you insisting you’re not high profile enough to warrant one. He decides that so long as you’ll be working closely with his family, he’ll make sure you’re protected too.

- Business goes on as usual after that. Mephisto still meets with you to go through his matches, still turns everyone down at the end of the day, but somehow you get the feeling he’s already made up his mind. Sometimes he doesn’t even look at the documents you give him before rejecting the candidate, which kind of annoys you given how much work you’d put in—

- And then his brother tells you that their parents already backed off the marriage idea weeks ago. Whatever phase they were in had passed, and now they were focused on the next big thing in noble society.

- …Oh. Well then.

- The next time Mephisto meets you in your office, you bring up the subject of payment for your services. He confirms that your fee is scheduled to be deposited into your account at the end of the month as usual, but you suggest he takes you out for dinner instead.

- Mephisto pulls at his tie and looks away, only mumbling something about picking you up at 6 before marching out of your office with steam coming out of his ears.

#writing #obey me #obey me fanfic #obey me mephistopheles

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merp-blerp · 1 year ago

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YES! I loved this show growing up. A proper reboot, or a least regular reruns on TV and/or more exposure on streaming would make me so happy.

Since everyone keeps bringing up the 90s cartoon Happily Ever After: Fairytales for Every Child, I wrote out some ideas for a hypothetical reboot. My main focus are stories that haven't been done in the original.

The Swan Princess: In this African American twist set in a disco roller rink called The Pond, Odette, granddaughter of legendary MC The Swan King, receives his prized helmet but must keep it away from an evil witch (or so he calls ol' Miss Brewster). To make matters worse the town councilman R.J. Rothbart wants to make Odette his bride and hatches a scheme with his sister Odile to close the rink for good.

The Goose Girl: in this Ancient Egyptian take on the classic German fairytale, the daughter of the pharaoh is tricked by her advisor who swaps places with her. The Princess gathers all her wit and a few unlikely allies to end the deception.

The Red Shoes: in this story with a Southern Gospel flavor, the daughter of a preacher wants to go out with her friends instead of helping with an important event. When she spends donation money on a pair of shoes, she ends up on a journey that teaches her the meaning of charity and responsibility.

Gilgamesh and Enkidu: In this Mesopotamia legend, the arrogant warrior Gilgamesh meets his match in the humble Enkidu. A Story of good sportsmanship, friendship, and the importance of valuing life.

Eros and Psyche: in this Afro-Mediterranean fusion of the beloved myth, Psyche, a princess, cares for an mysterious & injured man. But after Psyche makes terrible mistakes she must earn back his trust by going through seemingly impossible tasks.

Romeo and Juliet: In this 80s rock n' roll take on the Shakespearean tale, the Montagues and Capulets are two warring music dynasties called the Monty and the Goos, & the Capital Letters respectively. The new generation of singers develop a crush on each other but will their new love overcome old hate?

The Wild Cranes: In this take on the Wild Swans set amidst the backdrop of the Gullah islands, a young girl must find a way to turn her 12 brothers back into human after they were turned into cranes.

John Henry: in the classic American Folktale set during the Great Migration, John Henry, a railroad worker, uses his kindness, wits and super strength to help families move up North.

Snow White and Rose Red: In this Romani take on the German story, Snow White and Rose Red are two beekeepers who befriend a talking bear. However when a huntsman pursues the bear, Snow and Rose escapes with their friend into the woods. They seek help from a friendly troll, but is there more to the story?

The Boy Who Cried Coyote! In This take on the classic Aesop, set on the mountains of Peru, a young alpaca herder decides to play tricks by claiming there is a coyote. But he gets a well deserved lesson in honesty when his pranks go too far...

Hades and Persephone: In this retelling of the Greek myth with a dash of 90s/2000s pop music, a lonely pop idol seeks comfort in a cafe barista, unaware that she is the daughter of a health food giant.

I also have ideas for episodes featuring the Mami Wata, Anansi the spider, Paul Bunyan, the Chupacabra, & Princess Savitri.

#happily ever after fairytales for every child #hbo #hbo jam

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nariism · 1 year ago

Text

something borrowed, something blue

pair. itoshi sae x gn!reader

content: childhood sweethearts, angst, angst, angst, NO COMFORT no happy ending i'm warning you, sae leaves for spain much later here, use of y/n once (1), not proofread

synopsis. it's his wedding day.

wc. 2.1k

everything you know about weddings comes from fairytale books.

you have fond memories of the days spent curled up in the lap of a woman whose name brings you to tears with nostalgia, kind and warm as she read to you.

the itoshi brothers' mother was good at painting pictures with words; animating true love's kiss, soulmates, princesses turning into frogs and back again.

even as a tiny child you knew they all ended the same way: wedding bells and happily ever after.

she was a poet in her own right, spelling out for you what love could possibly be. as a naive child, you believed her — put blind faith in the fact that love was always perfection, that it was something easy. it was something that fills you to the brim until you're overpouring, fantastical and rare and beautiful.

she sweet talked you into believing true love is something all people find one day.

it wasn't as simple as the stories she told you made it out to be. ironically, the person who taught you so always sat to her left at the dinner table.

itoshi sae was your first. he was your only. it wasn't a foreign or unknown emotion pounding at the confines of your ribcage every time he would take your hand and drag you along with him and rin to get ice cream.

it was cruelly familiar. an ode to their mother who was waiting on the front porch for them to return home to her. love.

you grew up next door to the itoshis. your most distant memories replay with the sounds of rin's laughter in the background. they were happy kids. happier than they ever would be again.

the window of your bedroom was directly across from sae's. it was there that secrets were whispered, falling on deaf ears to the sleeping world. things that only you and him would ever know. you spent seventeen summers sitting at your windowsill under starry night skies talking about menial things.

you planned your whole lives together at that conjunction of your homes; wooden furnishings in the kitchen with green accents, a garden full of hydrangeas, lanterns strung up amongst the trees. and he promised he would buy you anything and everything you wanted, lavish or not, "just because".

you spent your entire life in love with itoshi sae. with the idea of giving your heart and soul to him. that maybe he would do the same for you if given the chance.

when sae turned eighteen, he received a very, very important letter.

the paper was thick and fancy and lined with gold. there was an official seal at the bottom of it along with a signature he couldn't read.

you remember that day vividly. you'd relived his birthday for as many years as you were alive, after all.

he was sitting in front of his birthday cake with the candles blown out as he read it aloud. champagne popped, balloons flew, people clapped, the whole shebang. you made eye contact with him from where you were sat, directly across the table in your usual seat.

it was then that reality came crashing down on you.

you were always staring at his big back, and not once had he ever turned around. not once had he ever deemed you more important than his dreams. not once did he prove to you that he loved you like you loved him.

you fought that night. he broke your heart over a leftover slice of chocolate cake.

life goes on, as they say. every part of you yearned for sae like flowers wishing for rain. you left a piece of yourself in his bedroom all those years ago, half of your soul that you hoped would always haunt him.

(it did.)

it's a mundane tuesday afternoon when you get the text.

the number was saved on your phone from many years ago, but it's been so long since the chat was active that your previous messages have been automatically deleted.

rin: are you going?

your answer is instantaneous.

y/n: no. why?

it’s a long while before rin texts you back.

rin: mom wants you there

it's all the convincing you need. you would just have to grit your teeth and sit through it, no matter how painful. you don't blame their mother in the slightest; your relationship with sae was your best kept secret, after all. it would have created a mess if you dragged their mom into your fighting.

how could she have known that she was marrying off your one and only love to a complete stranger?

everything about him is beautiful today. he's rented out the biggest venue in the city, strung up with crystal chandeliers and fancy clothed tables. it's uptight and luxurious.

you can't help but realize that it looks absolutely nothing like what you used to talk about as kids.

"the colour scheme clashes with your eyes, you know."

you watch as he tenses up at your voice, eyes drifting from his suit to you in the reflection of the mirror.

"wasn't my choice," he tells you casually, as if nearly two decades of history doesn't exist between you.

"your tie is all messed up."

"it's good to see you, too."

you're quiet in response, sauntering over to him and reaching out to fix the knot in his tie. he allows you to touch him, for old time's sake. your fingers brush against his throat and he swallows.

sae knows everything about you. almost 90% of his childhood was spent by your side. he knows what colours you like, which ones you would have chosen for your own wedding theme. he knows what kind of cake you would have wanted, too.

he did his best to persuade his bride into choosing things that wouldn't remind him of you.

it was a futile attempt.

fate works in funny ways. no matter where he looks he sees you, and his shitty plan to make this wedding the complete opposite of what you would have wanted only made him miss you more.

what do you do with memories of someone who isn't yours anymore? he doesn’t know how to handle memorizing every part of you and not using it.

you were his biggest regret, without a doubt. if he hadn't accepted that team drafting, would you still be together? would you be laughing over chocolate cake and telling your friends how you and him are childhood sweethearts? soulmates?

sae has never been impulsive. he doesn't like to be. there's nothing beneficial about being reckless.

but then he sees you, and it feels like you were never apart. he's afraid he'll wake up only to find out you were just a dream built on distant memories. or maybe he'll wake up in your arms, seventeen again, as if the world never caught up to him.

he loves you and the gravity of that makes him weak in the knees.

his whole life has been carefully constructed, at least that's what most people think. the reality is that it's all a lie; carefully constructed doesn't matter if the house is made of wet paper.

there's something nostalgic about letting you fix his tie. it reminds him of when you were both ten and looked up online how to do a windsor knot, just for the fun of it.

silence fills the room as you fix his outfit, sloppily thrown together because he couldn't care less about how he looks when marrying someone he doesn't want. then he stupidly opens his mouth in a last ditch attempt to make you his, blaming this familiar feeling raging inside of him on the nostalgia you bring with you.

“can we talk?” he pleads quietly.

“what is there to talk about?”

“about us.”

“there is no us.” not anymore. he abandoned that notion many years ago on his eighteenth birthday.

he contemplates you for a moment, just staring at you with a finality in his eyes that you wish was there the night he broke your heart. if it was, maybe the story would have ended differently.

"run away with me. let's go somewhere far from here. i don't care what anyone else thinks anymore. i just need you. i need you."

he never stopped needing you, even when thousands of miles separated you.

you blink at him in surprise. there's consideration in your face as you look at him, completely dumbfounded by his sudden confession.

it's the first time you've spoken in years. in fact, it's the first time you've laid eyes on him since that night.

he's throwing everything away to be with you. your heart breaks because half of you knows you shouldn’t, and the other half of you screams to take his hand and start new again.

"sae..." there it is. a fondness sweet as honey clinging to your throat when you speak his name for the first time in years. there's an expression cast on his face when you call for him, as if he's been put under a spell, bewitched by your voice.

for a moment he genuinely believes you'll actually agree to do something so stupid and reckless. just once, pretending like your whole world isn't falling apart around you. hope glimmers in his eyes. but then:

"we can't." he’s too late.

"please," he begs, forehead knocking into yours. you recoil from him so fast that you take his breath and a piece of his soul away with you.

it's been years, yet here he stands with your heart clutched in his palms; greedy fingers digging into the rotten core of fruit. you belong to him — you always will, as sure as the sun rises every morning, as sure as the sky is blue.

he knows it, too. it only makes it hurt all the more.

there isn't a doubt in your mind that you love him still, utterly and all-consuming and never-ending. the very idea of being in love with itoshi sae after all this time makes you feel so sick you might keel over and throw up.

he's just a stranger standing in front of you. your heart shouldn't tug at the sight of his watering eyes.

"shut up and go get married, sae."

you leave him standing alone in that room. he lets you go.

it's not until he's standing at the altar that it dawns on him: sae doesn't know very much about weddings.

the more accurate truth would be that he doesn't know a lot of things outside of football. but he does know one thing: your wedding day is supposed to be the happiest day of your life.

so why does he feel like throwing up?

his bride-to-be doesn’t look at him. doesn’t speak to him. their relationship is obligatory and nothing else. a union rooted in their mothers’ old friendship. sae didn’t put up a fight when his mom called him over to introduce them. he didn’t say a word until they got up to leave.

(if he did open his mouth, he would have choked on his own vomit.

in all honesty he should have, because maybe he would have scared away his bride and this whole headache never would have happened.)

she’s pretty enough. but he doesn’t like her.

there are no feelings of love in his heart, no care for what his soon-to-be wife says or does. he’s surprised she hasn’t left him at the alter yet, considering how little they even acknowledge each other.

it’s a good enough reason to explain the emptiness inside of him; that he’s entering a loveless marriage because of his mom’s social networking. he has other reasons, but none of them mattered until you showed up at the door.

loneliness is a part of sae. something he grew familiar with, something that slept in the same empty bed as he did while he tripped over his own tongue learning how to speak spanish.

he never realized how disgustingly lonely he felt in his own relationship until he saw you again.

he's supposed to be happy. he's supposed to fall in love. but he can't. not when you're sitting ten feet away from him with your fingers clinging tightly to his mother's.

sae meets your eyes only for a moment. eighteen years of his life spent by your side rings in his ears; your laughter, your tears, every part of you painfully ripping through him.

you're his soulmate. it's always been you. there was only ever you. how could it be anyone else?

he swallows and it feels like a thousand nails dragging down his throat. regret melts his brain into mush. he wants to object his own marriage and you seem to sense that, because you give him the tiniest, most subtle shake of the head.

don’t, please.

sae’s stomach sinks. there’s only one acceptable answer he can give the officiant right now:

"i do."

maybe in the next lifetime.

#— whispers in the wind ✧#sorry not sorry (i am sorry please accept a hug)#blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #itoshi sae #itoshi rin #sae itoshi #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae x y/n #itoshi sae x you #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi x y/n #sae itoshi x you #bllk angst #itoshi sae angst

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jenosbliss · 1 year ago

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hihi!! i love how u write the dreamies 💝 yk how people talk abt having a third place? could u write about how theyre ur third place please? (if that makes sense!!)

thank u if u do this!

🍯 ⌇nct dream ! being your third place

pairing. gn!reader x nctdream | genre. fluff | wc. 926 | warnings. none

MARK.

Mark wasn't the first boy to make your heart skip a beat, nor the one who ignited the wildfire of first love. He was like the sunrise after a restless night, the warmth of a shared cup of coffee in the morning.

His love wasn't a fireworks display, but a slow burn, a steady support that kept you cosy even on the coldest days. He was the shoulder to cry on, the hand to hold when the world felt like it was spinning too fast.

Mark challenged you, pushed you to be your best self, even when you didn't believe in yourself. But beneath the driven exterior, there was a boy who loved fiercely, who wrote you clumsy poems and tucked wildflowers behind your ear. He was your cheerleader, your rock, your third place that felt a whole lot like first.

RENJUN.

Renjun wasn't the sun that blazed across your sky, but the moon that bathed your world in a soft, ethereal glow. His love was like a whispered melody woven from moonlight and starlight.

Renjun understood your silences, the unspoken worries that danced in your eyes. He could read your every mood in the curve of your smile, the tremor in your fingers. Hewas the confidante you never knew you needed, the one who listened without judgement, who offered solace with a gentle touch and a shared secret.

With Renjun, love wasn't a display, but a whispered promise, a bond of forever. He was the calm after the storm, a simple poem, your third place that felt like a whisper of forever.

JENO.

Jeno wasn't the wind that swept you off your feet, but the steady breeze that kept you grounded. He was the boy who held your hand through the darkness, his quiet strength a beacon in the unknown.

Jeno didn't need grand gestures to express his love. It was in the way he helped you carry groceries, the way he chased away your nightmares with a silent presence, the way he held your gaze. He was the quiet hero, the knight in shining armour who didn't need a parade.

With Jeno, love was a slow, steady burn, a fire that kept you warm from the inside out. He was the rock you could lean on, the lighthouse guiding you home, your third place that felt like an unbreakable promise.

HAECHAN.

Haechan wasn't the star that brightened your universe, but the playful comet that streaked across your sky, leaving a trail of laughter and stardust.

Haechan’s love was like sunshine and confetti, a melody that made you want to dance in the rain. He was the boy who turned every day into an adventure, who chased away your blues with a goofy grin and a contagious giggle.

Haechan taught you how to find joy in the little things, to laugh until your sides ached, to embrace the chaos with open arms. He was the reminder to never lose your inner child, to chase your dreams with reckless abandon, your third place that felt like a never-ending summer.

JAEMIN.

Jaemin wasn't the fairytale prince you swooned over, but the boy next door who held your hand under the streetlights. His love was a slow bloom, a promise written in shy glances and stolen kisses.

Jaemin was the one who made you believe in happily ever afters, who whispered sweet nothings in your ear under the starlit sky.He was the best friend who turned into something more, the shoulder to cry on who became your kiss in the rain.

Jaemin knew your favourite ice cream flavour, your deepest fears, the way your eyes sparkled when you were truly happy. He was the one who saw the beauty in your flaws, who cherished you for who you were, your third place that felt like falling in love all over again.

CHENLE.

Chenle wasn't the one who stole your breath away, but the one who poured you with impromptu tunes, his laughter filling the air like scattered notes. He was the sunshine after a thunderstorm, the sprinkle of sugar on a rainy day.

It was in the way Chenle hummed your favourite song while doing the dishes, the way he taught you silly dance moves in the kitchen, the way his eyes crinkled with mischief when he caught you off guard.

Chenle was the reminder to find joy in the simple things, to laugh until your stomach hurt, to dance like nobody was watching (even when they were). With him, love was like a pop song stuck on repeat, catchy and unforgettable. He was your third place that felt like an endless karaoke night, your heart forever warmed by the echoes of his laughter.

JISUNG.

Jisung’s love was a spark of electric energy, a playful banter that kept you on your toes. He was the one who challenged you to rap battles in the grocery store, who wrote you poems as funny as they were sweet, who could turn any dull moment into a cherished and beautiful one.

Jisung didn't shy away from expressing his feelings, but did it in his own unique way. He wrote you songs, baked you cookies shaped like hearts with funny uneven icing, told you you were beautiful with a smirk and a wink.

With Jisung, love wasn't a slow burn, but a firework display, each moment an explosion of laughter, joy and passion .He was the spark that ignited your own, the energy that propelled you forward, He was your third place that felt like a nonstop roller coaster ride.

a/n. hii anon i hope this is what you expected and Tysm for requesting 💖

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