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annghelicmars · 28 days ago

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Happy 100th fredrobin 🥳! Little Reflet 😭. I didn't see Frederick as a man with three kids but its honestly growing on me. The writing is as immaculate as always

(Happy 100th Fredrobin story!! Meet the newest member of the family..I've been plotting to add her into the fold for years U v U)

Five years passed since your self-sacrifice and subsequent return, and your lives changed rapidly in that small amount of time.

While you were welcomed back into your prestigious rank as Chief Tactician, Frederick had worked tirelessly in your absence, and found himself promoted from a mere captain to Lieutenant General. The new position also came with a handsome blue cape, which was terrible for your heart – as if he didn’t look valiant enough, already!

Perhaps this new outfit was what caused your family to suddenly balloon in size. Mere months after your return, you quickly became pregnant; Morgan was born happy and healthy that May, a spitting image of both his parents.

And only 18 months after he was born, you were surprised to find yourself pregnant with a daughter. Sweet Marc, while darling and precious in every way, was a difficult birth…one that was far too close a call for you or your husband’s comfort.

So you both made peace with the idea that your family would do fine with just two children. After a couple years passed, more Shepherds had offspring toddling about the courtyards when they came to visit. With young Laurent and Gerome entering the fray first, they were welcomed quickly into the fold of the Shepherd’s adoration.

They were naturally followed by Kjelle, Nah and Owen, with Cynthia and Severa just beginning to crawl in behind them. The rest of the children were either works in progress or yet to be conceived, but it was surely not going to be long before the entire future crew made its debut in the present.

And while you adored meeting the cute, miniature versions of your favored Shepherdlets, seeing so many cute kids running about the castle courtyards was a bad influence.

All of a sudden you could hardly keep your hands off Frederick.

And of course your husband wasn’t any better; in fact, you were certain Frederick was tempting you, what with lingering in the bedroom before he went into the bath…and he seemed to keep his very handsome armor and cape on a while longer before changing when he got home. And worst of all?

He insisted upon many more date nights where the children weren’t home. It was after the ninth date in two months that something happened. As a matter of fact, it was just after Morgan and Marc woke up, one morning.

The pair shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing their eyes and clutching their hand-knitted blankets. It was hard to understand what their mother and father were talking about, but they seemed to be bickering back and forth about something over the stove.

“I’m beginning to suspect you wanted this, General.”

“Lieutenant General, my sweet.” He reminded you, cheeky as ever, keeping his gaze focused on cooking eggs. “And I'm afraid I don't know what you’re referring to.”

“You know full well what I’m referring to– I saw that pleased look on your face when I told you I missed ‘it’, this month.”

“I was simply relieved to know you would not be in pain this week.” He responded smoothly, transferring the eggs to the waiting plate of sausage and bacon.

“Don’t be coy with me! I’ve already scheduled the appointment with Maribelle, so you may as well just admit this was your plan all along!”

“You speak as though it wasn’t also your plan. I seem to recall a number of mornings and evenings when you were rather brazen in your attempts to seduce me.”

“Oh? Does it bother you that I was able to seduce you more than you could, me?”

“Now that is ridiculous.” He scoffed, turning to set the food on the table, “We both know I am leagues above you when it comes to romance.”

“What’s ‘seduce’ mean?” Four-year-old Morgan yawned, nearly making both of you jump out of your skin. Frederick recovered first, fending off the pink blush before it could brighten into a sharp red across his face.

“It…means…something special that you say to your husband or wife. Once you have a partner, you’ll be able to say it.”

“So I can’t say it now?”

“Well, are you married?” Frederick asked simply, reaching for his little son and hoisting him to his hip.

“Hmm…am I?”

“You are not.”

“Oh.” Morgan’s brow furrowed as Frederick gently swept his hair from his little face, and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Will I know if I am?”

“I certainly hope so.” You chimed in, kissing Morgan’s cheek before you retrieved his little sister, who seemed content to blearily watch her family interact.

You squeezed her close, peppering her with much needed wake-up kisses. “Same goes for you, young lady. Though you’re only two…I doubt you can even pronounce the word yet.”

“I can help her!”

“No, Morgan.” You said in unison, prompting a sheepish chuckle from both his parents.

Of course the humor went far above his little head, but the questions were quickly forgotten once he was placed in front of a mountain of hot food ready to eat.

Marc was passed from mother to father, earning herself another round of kisses from her doting father before being set down beside her brother.

“What would you like first, children? Biscuits or bacon?” Frederick asked, his smile as warm and cheerful as ever. You brought over a basket of crumbly hot bread, jam and butter following while Frederick doled out the proteins.

It sounded silly, but your favorite time in the day was breakfast; watching two toddlers clumsily work through their food while half asleep was utterly adorable.

That, and Frederick was terribly handsome when he was cooking. Even if he was behaving like a sneaky little brat…

Ah, well. You would find out the answer to your accusation later in the day.

By the time you got your most pressing answer, you all but rushed for the royal barracks. Given the time of day, Frederick was likely in his office, prepping for the next meeting. It did not take very long before you were right at your husband’s door and rapping an impatient knuckle to the wood.

“Enter,” His commanding tone sent a shiver down your spine; gods, how many years had it been since he ordered you around like that?

“I do hope I’m not interrupting,” You peeked your head in, and immediately his expression shifted to one of gentle joy.

Frederick rose from his desk, gesturing for you to enter.

“Never. Not when it’s you.” He replied, crossing the room to take your hand and shut the door behind you. He locked it quickly, looking at you with very expectant eyes. “So? How are you feeling?”

“I’m…perfectly fine.” You smiled back, leading him to the small chaise by the office window. He followed you dutifully, helping you sit with just a hint of impatience in his movement. “Maribelle says there isn’t anything to worry about, I’m in perfect health.”

“That is very relieving to hear. And I’m certain you explained to her why the impromptu physical was necessary, yes?”

“I did,” You nodded, biting back a grin. Frederick’s eyes crinkled, fighting the urge to laugh.

“Pray tell, what was the diagnosis? Are you…only in perfect health?”

You tilted your head, raising six fingers.

“Six weeks.”

He gasped.

“Then-!”

You beamed, wiggling your fingers. “I’m six weeks along, Freddybear. We’re expecting!”

“My love!!” He nearly threw himself at you, engulfing you in a tight embrace and laughing with absolute joy.

You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck, as best you could in spite of his armor (and that damned handsome cape).

He squeezed you close, kiss after kiss laid into your hair, along the side of your face, anywhere he could reach while also refusing to let you go for even a second.

“Robin!! What wonderful news…oh, I can hardly believe it!”

“You can’t? I thought we were rather diligent in making sure it would happen,” The comment was received with a scoff and a chuckle, finally pulling himself back enough to look at you again.

“It does not make it any less electrifying, my sweet. To think we will have another child– a third little one! How could I be anything other than utterly euphoric!”

“I couldn’t agree more, I just…I do worry some about the delivery. Do you think it will be as hard as Marc’s was?” You asked softly, and Frederick paused, considering your worries.

“...It may be difficult, yes…but, that does not mean we will not come out the other side in one piece. I will be with you every step of the way, and I will consult every physician I know to discuss how to avoid the challenges and health risks we had last time. We will be all right, because we are wiser now. We will face it, together.”

“Do I have permission to break your fingers if it hurts too much?”

“You may break every finger with as many fractures as you wish. And if I run out of them, I have plenty of toes to offer, instead.”

“Oh, stop!” You laughed, feeling your worries melt away. To be fair, though, they didn’t stand much of a chance in the face of Frederick’s unfettered adoration.

“We will all be fine, my love.”

Tender fingers wiped away his tears that spilled over, Frederick’s deepest joys almost always driving him to tears. To think a third baby was coming had instantly made this man’s world brighter, even in spite of the trials that would inevitably come.

“Oh, darling…my dearest, darling Robin.” He kissed you sweetly, drawing you back into his arms. “To be blessed with two children was already my greatest joy. To think we would be given a third is….words cannot express how I feel. I love you, so very much.”

“I love you too, Frederick.” You closed the distance once more, pulling him down to your level with a tug on his chest plate. Frederick smiled against your lips, drawing you onto his lap without missing a beat.

A soft gasp separated you, and you swatted his chest (well, his armor). “Frederick! What if someone sees?”

“The door hasn’t a window, and was locked the moment you entered.” He reminded you devilishly, squeezing your arms, “Allow me to bask in our joy a little longer, hmm? I wish to stay in it for just a moment more.”

“I…suppose it will be fine for a little while longer. But I mustn’t dawdle– I left Marc in the care of Vaike, and you know how he lets her do whatever she wants…”

“Of course. We will be efficient.” You bit back a giggle, loosening the straps around his greaves. The metal clanked haphazardly to the floor. “Quietly, dear! They are blind to our foolishness, not deaf!”

“Pray forgive me-” He was breathless, his gloves and pauldrons removed so he might lower you gently onto the chaise, “But we lost far too much time, I wish to waste not a second more.”

And you kissed him, the two of you delirious with joy at the thought of your precious family growing once more. Excitement and happiness swirled through you- what could a third child possibly look like for the two of you?

Telling the children had been a daunting challenge at first, especially because the secret had to be under wraps for at least three months.

12 weeks was the recommended time frame to tell them, and given their age, you were unsure they’d understand exactly what was happening without having some sort of physical proof that there was something growing in their mother’s belly.

Morgan, of course, was somewhat suspicious. He had seen these patterns before. The whispering, the moving around of furniture, the explosion of yarn in his father’s basket, knitting the evening away when he returned home earlier than before…

That, paired with his mother suddenly avoiding foods she loved and the sudden rushes to the washroom…he began to suspect it.

“Mama,” He had suddenly paused his important painting, smears of color across his fingers and the parchment, “Is it happening again?”

“Is what happening, my dear?” You were half paying attention to him, looping Marc’s hair into wispy little buns while the two year old fiddled with a picture book in your lap.

“Is another baby coming?”

“What?”

“You and Papa are acting funny. Like you did when Marc was coming.” He continued to explain, “I need to know so I can add a baby to my painting.”

“....I see.” You tied off the second little bun, pulling Marc close. The little girl hummed, looking up at her mother’s pensive face. “If I said yes, would you be happy?”

Morgan considered the question, grabbing the little jar of red paint. “Prob’ly.”

“Probably?” You echoed, biting your lip. “Does that mean you might not be happy?”

“Well, if there’s two Marcs, and only one Morgan, it’s too many. I don’t think I can take care of two!”

“You won’t have to worry about taking care of another Marc, dearest. That’s what Papa and I are for.”

“But when it’s playtime, you don’t play with Marc like I do! It’s hard work!”

“Is it?”

“Yeah!” Morgan insisted, pressing painted palms to the stone floor to push himself up. “She’s a real good sword fighter, and if there’s two of her, I might lose!”

“Well, if it is another Marc, you will have plenty of time to get better at sword fighting until she can play with you two. Though I’m not sure you should be swordfighting with this Marc right now…”

“She’s real good, Mama.”

“Does Papa know?”

“We only get to train when Uncle Vaike’s taking care of us, so I don’t think so.” He answered in earnest, coming over to the two of you. Marc grinned at her brother, reaching out her hands.

“Mogi.”

“Sounds like I’ll need to have a word with Uncle Vaike,” You sighed, bouncing Marc gently on your lap. “But if it’s a boy, you’d be able to win against Marc more easily, right? Wouldn’t that be good?”

“Yeah, I guess. But it’s not gonna be a boy.” He said dismissively, grasping Marc’s hands with his painted fingers. You kissed the top of Marc’s head, setting her on the floor.

“And how do you know that?” Frederick’s voice suddenly came into the room, the door clicking shut behind him. You smiled to yourself; he must have snuck in when he heard all the chatter.

“Papa!!” Morgan and Marc both exclaimed, bouncing up to their father and launching onto his leg guards. He chuckled, lifting each one slowly after each other while he made a labored journey to you.

“Hello, everyone.” He came to a stop in front of you, pressing a delicate kiss to the top of your head. “Have you been resting well, my sweet?”

“I have, as per the doctor’s orders.” You confirmed, earning a pleased smile and a second kiss; properly on your lips, this time. “Morgan seems to understand the baby, but I wonder if little Marc does.”

“Then allow me to explain it to her. I’m sure she already suspects something is amiss; she is quite clever.”

“And I told her!” Morgan chimed in, “It’s gonna be another Marc just like her!”

“You mentioned that earlier; I’m afraid you’ll need to explain to me exactly why you’re so certain.” Frederick hummed, plucking his son up and kissing his nose.

“Because I’m a smart boy!” He declared triumphantly, wiggling in the air. Frederick set him down with an amused huff, replacing him with a tinier brunette girl who now hovered in front of him.

“Is Morgan really that smart, Marc?” He asked, and Marc nodded, suddenly quite serious.

“Mogi smart.”

“Well, if you think so then it must be true.” Frederick kissed her rosy cheeks, holding her to his chest. “Shall we make dinner for Mama and Mogi?”

“Yeah.”

“Then let’s get to work.” He headed off, the toddler happily perched in her father’s arms. You watched him with a gentle smile, Morgan trailing after them to give you some reprieve.

The time passed quickly, and the family grew more excited at the thought of a baby coming into the house.

Frederick had gotten into the habit of leaving home later and returning earlier, especially when you started showing. He wouldn’t leave unless you pushed him out!

An interesting and somewhat concerning development that came with his lingering in the home was that Marc was strikingly more mischievous.

She got into the habit of trailing behind her father by sneaking out the door before either of you noticed. Though to be fair, you were on bed rest; it wasn’t easy to follow her every move.

So while you were reading that morning, you heard the door open about an hour after Frederick had left for work. As the sound of his footsteps drew closer, it was accompanied closely by breathy giggles that were unmistakably your daughter’s.

Which only meant one thing.

“My love, are you awake?”

“Come in, dear.” You called back to him, the bookmark already set in the closing book. Frederick appeared in the doorway a beat after, holding up a very pleased little toddler in his grasp.

“Your daughter followed me to work again.”

"My daughter?” You arched an eyebrow, Marc wiggling in an effort to be put down. She scurried to the bedside as soon as her feet touched the floor, grasping the edge of your nightdress and burying her face in the fabric. “Marc, were you being naughty while I was distracted?”

“No, Mama.”

“Don’t lie to your mother, young lady. You know better than to leave by yourself.” Frederick’s voice was stern, joining the two of you and sitting on the bedside. He lifted the girl back up, setting her in his lap; no escape from the lecture now.

You shared an empathic glance with your daughter, who now attempted to hide from her father’s chiding by burying her face in his chestplate.

“What if you get lost in the castle, and nobody can find you? Or, gods forbid, if you get stolen away by a stranger?”

“But…” She grasped his armor, looking up at him with that terribly sad puppy look that was impossible to fight. “I…miss Papa.”

Your heart clenched, and you fought the urge to give her every pass in the book. “Is that why you followed him to work?”

“Yeah...I wanna play with Papa.”

“I guess I’m not much fun to play with if I’m in bed all day.” You figured with a sad smile, looking back to your husband. You could see guilt and joy fighting in his eyes; on the one hand he was worried about her safety if she chased after him, but on the other she loved him so much she wanted to spend more time with him…how could he possibly punish her for that?

With a deep breath, he steeled himself to continue his (not so harsh) lecture. “Regardless…it is not safe for you to wander alone, little one. Especially when your mother is looking after you, but she cannot leave the flat as easily.”

“Mm, good point. I’ll talk to the clerics about going on walks in the courtyards a little more often, Marc. Then we could have picnics and catch butterflies and beetles, and…oh, what fun we’ll have!”

“Picnics..!” Marc echoed, peeking at you with a cheeky little grin. You opened your arms, and she hurried away from Frederick’s scolding to fall into your hug.

“Let’s make sure not to sneak out of the flat anymore, then. Can you be a good girl for us, Marc? We don’t wanna worry Papa anymore.”

“We don’t.” She agreed with a grim nod, glancing back at her daddy who still seemed unconvinced.

“Then stay close and listen to your mother.” Frederick tousled her hair, “I’ll overlook it this time. But if I catch you sneaking about again, that’s no dessert for a week. Understood?”

“Yes, Papa.”

He rose from the bedside, taking care to kiss his daughter’s forehead, and then his beloved.

“I ought to head back. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to send for me.”

“Could I send-”

“-Not Marc.”

“Boo.” Marc pouted, but giggled when his sharp-ish gaze cut back to the mischievous little girl.

“Understood. I’ll let you know if something comes up…have a good day.” You squeezed his hand, which he returned with a kiss to your knuckles.

“Rest well. I’ll be home early, tonight.” The valiant husband swept his cape back and reluctantly left your side once more.

Marc decided it was time to bring you her favorite books to read to fill the time. The two of you had gentle fun while you waited for Frederick and Morgan.

Upon their return home, Frederick was thrilled to learn Marc spent the afternoon reading stories of gibberish and nonsense. She was happy to re-read them while he prepared dinner. Such days were sweet and filled with tender joy, even if the nerves around the baby’s due date was making things a little more chaotic.

The third trimester came with a vengeance, more challenging than with the prior pregnancies. You felt as though you were constantly struggling with some symptom.

Your emotions were a bit all over the place, your feet and ankles were prone to swelling if you so much as thought of stepping out of the flat, and nearly everything you used to enjoy eating or drinking simply smelled too overwhelming, or tasted miserable.

Tragically, even the metallic scent of Frederick’s armor was far too sharp on your sensitive nose. He was more than happy to remove the armor before he came home, but you lamented the loss of his handsome cape.

But Frederick seemed even more on edge than you. Since you were basically condemned to a chair or bed to delay delivery, he was nesting in your stead. The baby’s nursery was rearranged twice in one week, and he was doting on his two children so closely that even the quieter of the two was getting annoyed.

Morgan was able to escape the energy when he left for daycare. Marc longed to join him- but with a year until she was eligible, she was tragically the sole victim of her father’s antics. Which, unfortunately, meant she spent many mornings and evenings having her hair braided over and over by her father (they were pretty, to be fair).

It would all end soon, though. You were four weeks from the due date; a mantra you repeated over and over as you tried to eat the oatmeal and blueberries lovingly prepared by your husband. It was one of the last things you were able to eat without gagging, but…somehow it was still getting on your nerves.

Whatever possessed you in the past to have another child, you prayed it would never take hold of you again.

Your attention was drawn from the bowl when the bedroom door slowly pushed open, an unruly mop of brown hair sticking out from behind. Marc peeked into the room cautiously, scanning for her current arch-nemesis.

“Papa’s not in here, if that’s what you’re worried about.” You informed her between mouthfuls. Little shoulders sagged with relief; it seemed being doted on constantly was annoying her, too.

“No more braids.” She muttered, waddling up to the bed and climbing in beside you.

“I hear that.” You patted her back in understanding, “Though your hair is a rat’s nest this morning…did you go back to bed after breakfast?”

“Yeah.” Marc busied herself by smoothing her hands over your baby bump, feeling around gingerly for some movement just beneath the taut skin. “Mama okay?”

“Mama’s okay.” You tucked her hair behind her ear while her eyes sparkled, feeling her younger sibling kick against her palm. Softly you gazed at her, watching the curiosity fill her face as she pursued the game, searching for more fists and feet.

“Are you excited to be a big sister, Marc?”

She nodded, the wild hair that couldn’t be tucked away swaying with each motion. You bit back a giggle; she looked like a little animal.

“Could you please go get Mama’s brush from the washroom? Papa will be upset if I try to get it.” Marc eyed you warily, her hands pausing. “...I’m not going to braid your hair.”

“...Okay.” She slinked away, narrowed eyes not leaving you even as she clumsily climbed off the bed. It was hard not to laugh.

Marc disappeared into the bathroom in search of the hairbrush, but that was about where the fun stopped.

A sudden pain burst from your core, nearly setting you upright. Oatmeal spilled to the floor, the bowl clattering down. That was odd…and very uncomfortable.

“Marc…” You pushed up from the bed, managing to get your legs over the side before another, sharper pain hit. You doubled over, gasping sharply. “Marc!!”

“Mama?”

The little girl came back, her father’s comb in hand, seeing her mother’s body trembling with a sudden spasm.

“M-Marc,” Your voice shook, “Go get Papa. Tell him- ugh!”

Marc jumped when you suddenly bent again, your hand braced against your stomach.

“Go get Papa right now!”

The little girl could only do as she was told. She clung to the comb, bursting from the home and rushing down the corridor. She had followed her father’s path so many times she knew it by heart; even with the confused tears slowly filling her eyes. Why did you sound so upset? Why were you hurting? Everything was okay, then suddenly nothing was okay.

Marc rushed down the hallway, managing to make her way down to the courtyard on her own. Her father was in the midst of training new recruits as he always did this time of day. Marc fidgeted, remembering how he warned her not to follow him anymore.

What if he was upset she came down? Just because Mama told her to didn’t mean Papa would be happy…

But she would have little time to consider her options. Frederick happened to glance towards his office, and spotted a little girl standing in the middle of the breezeway, looking rather pale. He bit the inside of his cheek, willing himself not to lose his patience with her in front of the troops.

“At ease, soldiers! You’ve got 15 minutes to rest– not a moment longer!” He barked before striding over to the tiny tot all but trembling the closer her father came.

“Papa��”

“What are you doing down here, young lady? I told you not to come down here on your own!”

“Papa, i-it’s Mama!” She managed to squeak out, which was more than enough. Frederick froze, eyes wide when he saw the tears streaking faster down her cheeks. Willing himself to calm, he picked her up, trying to wipe away the tears.

“What’s wrong? Is Mama all right?”

“She’s h-hurt!” Marc gasped. That was all she had to say.

Two words Frederick had feared since the pregnancy began struck his ears. He broke into a sprint before the gasp left his lips. His comb flew from the poor girl’s hands in an attempt to hang onto his armor, leaving behind a mass of confused soldiers.

But the chaos didn’t stop there. Frederick made it to the apartment in less than a minute; your cries hit his ears first.

“Robin!!” He called out to you, the door having been left wide open from Marc’s initial rush out.

There were several maidservants already inside, having heard your pained groans from the corridor.

Frederick set Marc down, striding through the living room and making a beeline for the bed. The poor girl could only stand, shell-shocked, as she watched her father join the growing chaos in the bedroom.

“What’s going on?”

“I-i don’t know, sir–” One of the maids said, “We sent for the healers, but s-she started having pains suddenly just a few minuets ago. Really bad ones!”

His face drained of color. “No. It’s– we’re four weeks from the due date.”

“F-Frederick…” You reached out a shaking hand, your husband quick to your side and grasping it tightly. “Frederick, the baby’s coming right now.”

Your baby would be premature.

“We must get her to the medical wing immediately. The summoned healers should arrive shortly, but she needs to be prepared for examination by then. General, can you-?”

“I will take her there. Alert the royal family, and send for my son. We planned for Princess Lissa to watch over them when the delivery happened, but I don’t know if she-”

“Frederick, wait, Marc-” You gasped out, squeezing his hand as another contraction rolled through. His gaze locked to yours, fighting the urge to lift you from the bed then and there. “W-where’s Marc??”

“She’s here.”

“S-she needs to know i-it’s okay…she’ll n-need to go with someone to Lissa…!”

“Breathe, Robin. Slow, deep breaths.” Frederick coached, protocol from the last two births taking over. “Marc will be all right. If you can spare me a few seconds, I’ll arrange it, now.”

You nodded, biting your lip to suppress the urge to exclaim again. The muddled mess of pain and anxiety that your brain felt was barely being tamped down by your concern for Marc.

Morgan had been on a playdate with Owain and Cynthia when you went into labor with Marc. He didn’t have to see the pain and chaos that filled those initial hours. The thought of your daughter actively watching all of it with no clue what was happening made your heart wrench.

Frederick squeezed your hand once more before he left your side, returning to the living room. Marc was rooted to the spot, locked onto the scene unfolding in the bedroom. A pang of guilt struck Frederick- the last thing he’d said to the little girl was a reprimand for disobeying him.

All she was trying to do was help her mother. Frederick gingerly lifted Marc up, attempting to tuck her hair behind her ear.

“Mama is going to be all right.” He coaxed, tilting her face away from the source of her fears.

“B-but…she’s…”’

“She’s getting ready to have the baby. It hurts a lot when a baby is coming, but that’s normal. The reason everyone is, er…excited, is because the baby is earlier than we wanted. So we’re a little worried.”

“You’re really worried.”

“...Yes, perhaps.” He conceded, sitting on the couch with a body twice as stiff as his voice. It seemed he wasn’t a very convincing comforter, in spite of his carefully picked words.

“Marc, Mama needs my help. Can you be a good girl and let the maids take you to Morgan? Owain will come to meet you with his mother a little while after that.”

“Will you and Mama come get us?”

“I will come get you as soon as I can.” He promised, just as another cry broke through the noise. They both jumped, his hands clenching around the little girl, whose grip in turn tightened on his armor.

“P-Papa?”

“Marc, can you be a good girl and do that for me?”

Marc frowned, unconvinced he would be able to help much at all, but eventually she nodded.

“Yes, Papa.”

In the hours that followed, Frederick had whisked you out of the flat and straight to the medical wing, having the Exalt and the queen informed of the situation.

Morgan would be picked up from daycare by Lissa, who was gracious enough to watch after the children while you dealt with the early labor. Libra and Maribelle were summoned; the medical experts who had safely delivered your first two children.

But the risks associated with a premature birth were troubling even to them. Given how difficult the second delivery went, you and Frederick were already anxious.

He held your hand, squeezing tight with each contraction. They were washing over you more frequently, each one wracking your body with unfathomable pain. It was all he could do to watch, damning himself over and over for putting you back in this anxious situation in the first place.

The time passed far quicker in his mind; perhaps because there were so many things to worry about, it was impossible to tell what was going on around them. Not until Libra mentioned something about the sun setting did he realize evening had come.

A realization that was followed by a maidservant anxiously knocking at the delivery room door to inform the Lieutenant General that the princess had arrived.

Frederick managed to peel his eyes from your aching figure, catching a glimpse of blonde hair behind the woman.

“Milady must have brought the children.” He sighed softly, “Should I go check on them? Or would you prefer I stay?” Frederick asked you in as gentle a voice he could muster, in spite of the worry catching in his throat.

You managed a sharp nod; it hurt too much to speak. You were getting closer. Frederick rose from his place beside you, pecking your forehead swiftly when the nurses weren’t watching.

“I shall be quick. You are doing wonderfully– Just keep breathing.”

He straightened his vest, running a hand through wild hair in an attempt to look more put-together than he felt. As a matter of fact, he felt like he’d been torn to ribbons mentally. There was going to be another little one running around, any second. But first, he reminded himself as the door closed behind him, there were two little ones that needed tending to right now.

“Papa!!” Morgan exclaimed, tugging his hand free from Lissa’s to rush up to his father.

Frederick caught the boy, lifting him with a hug and a carefully crafted smile.

“Hello, children. Did you have fun today?”

“I did! I got to play with Cynthia and Owain a whole lot.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Milady,” Frederick offered a polite bow to his liege, who looked plenty more excited than he did. “Thank you for taking care of the children on such short notice. I apologize for any issues the sudden change must have caused.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble! I do love spending time with my little niece and nephew. Provided I get first visitation for the new baby, of course.”

“You may have to battle Lord Chrom for that opportunity, but I will do my best to ensure you see them first. Assuming everything will go well, of course…”

Lissa could see the anxiety rising on his face, troubled and grim. She put a comforting hand on his shoulder, offering a gentle smile.

“It will be all right, Frederick. Robin got through the first two deliveries; she can get through this one, too.”

“Yeah, Papa!” Morgan chirped, taking Frederick’s hand with a playful tug. “It’ll be okay! Me and Marc can help too!”

Frederick forced a smile on his face, trying to hide his worries. “Thank you, dear boy. The best thing you can do to help is look after Marc and Lord Owain; and listen to everything Princess Lissa tells you. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, sir.” Morgan saluted, offering his bravest grin. Frederick passed the boy to Lissa, just as the doors opened.

“Sir Frederick, Lady Maribelle requests your presence.”

The knight’s jaw clenched, the fearful sensation heavy in his chest. He glanced back to the trio.

“Milady, children…I will be back soon.”

“Bye-bye, Papa.” Marc waved shyly. With that, he disappeared back into the delivery room. Another pained cry was cut off when the doors shut.

Morgan grasped Lissa’s skirt tighter. “Papa’s never made that face before.”

Lissa shook her head, taking each of their hands. “It’s all right, Morgan. Your Papa’s just a bit worried because the baby’s earlier than expected.”

“Is that bad?” Morgan pressed. Lissa gently pulled them along, returning to the royal chambers.

“Well, it can be, sometimes. Having a baby is always hard, Morgan, but this little one was just more excited to meet you guys than we first thought. Unfortunately, that can sometimes cause problems for the baby, but…since Robin’s here with us, she should have a safe delivery.”

“So…Mama okay…?” Marc piped up, wide eyes boring into Lissa’s soul. Her gentle smile brought some relief to the concerned toddler.

“I’m sure she will be. And you know what? If she’s not, Auntie Lissa will swoop in and save the day! So how about we all take a deep breath and, oh, I don’t know…go get some sweets!!”

“Sweets?!” They exclaimed; Frederick never let them have sweets before dinner! Lissa laughed and rushed down the corridor, the children whooping with joy. The fears of whatever was going on beyond the doors were redirected quickly.

After all, what could they do but wait to hear back from the doctors? There was very little– but sharing pastries with Owain, Auntie Lissa and Uncle Lon’qu were definitely an acceptable pass-time.

Morgan didn’t remember falling asleep all too well. One moment he was “training” with his uncle to better fight Marc…the next he and Owain were carried to bed while Aunt Lissa giggled with his sister.

He recalled Lon’qu’s ears turning pink, but by the time the swordmaster tucked the boy in, Morgan was long gone into the realm of sleep.

What roused him from his hazy dreams was the sound of the bedroom door opening, and his father’s hand tender on his shoulder.

“…Are you awake, son?”

He squeezed his eyes tight, the sound of Frederick’s voice pulling him back into the land of the living. He yawned, rolling away from the still-sleeping Owain, only to blink up at his father crouched at the bedside.

“Mmn…Papa…?”

“Good morning, dear one. Did you sleep well?”

“Mm-hmm.” Morgan rubbed his eyes, slowly pushing himself up. “Why’re you here, Papa?”

“I came to bring you and Marc home. I thought you might want breakfast and a change of clothes before we go see Mama.”

That woke him right up.

“Mama?”

Frederick nodded, putting a finger to his lips when Owain stirred. “Yes, she’s doing just fine. Let’s get home so we can go see her. Then you’ll get to meet the new baby.”

As if Morgan needed another reason to scramble out of bed. He bid a swift good-bye to his auntie and uncle, trailing excitedly alongside his father, whose hands were full with his half-asleep sister. Marc was always slow to wake up, but perhaps meeting their new sibling could remedy that.

They dutifully ate all their food, washed their faces and changed into clean clothes (the matching teddy bear sweaters you loved seemed the best choice to Frederick). They were out of the flat within an hour.

Morgan practically vibrated with excitement, wholly unaware that the sun wasn’t even up yet. Marc, who clung to her father and had her head pressed to his shoulder, seemed to know she shouldn’t be up.

When they reached the medical wing, it was much calmer than the day before. All those people rushing about yesterday were long gone. No mess, no noise…just a very quiet space, which led into a quieter room with a sole occupant.

“There you all are.”

The children perked up when they heard your voice. Sitting up in the bed and looking quite tired, you still seemed happy to see them.

“Mama!!”

Frederick lowered Marc to the ground, and the pair scampered up to you, climbing onto the bed with huffs and giggles.

“Hi, Mama!!” Morgan made it first, throwing his arms around your neck.

“Hello, sweet boy. Were you good for Auntie Lissa!”

“I was! I was the best boy.”

“And Marc? Did you- oof!” The little girl had nearly launched herself into your chest, hugging your waist as tightly as she could. You could see Frederick’s panic spike across the room.

“Gentle, Marc! Gentle!” He hurried over, gingerly pulling Marc back to reveal the tears building in her eyes, fingers curled into your clothes.

“Mama o-okay?”

“Oh, baby, I’m okay. See? Just fine.” You promised, motioning for Frederick to let her come closer. She buried her face in your chest, trying terribly hard not to cry. “You must’ve been so worried, Marc…I’m sorry you had to see me hurting like that.”

You stroked her hair, Frederick carefully sitting beside you to put Morgan in his lap. Marc nodded weakly, refusing to move with a shaky exhale. Your touch was a soft comfort after all the chaos.

“You were so brave, running to go get Papa. I’m sure you were very scared.”

“Yes, you did so well, Marc.” Frederick chimed in, “If you hadn’t come to get me, Mama could’ve needed a lot more help. She’s fine thanks to you.”

Marc peeked up at her father, sniffling out, “Y-you’re not mad?”

Recalling the threat of no dessert for a week, Frederick laughed. “No, darling, of course not. You did the right thing, and now your mother and your baby sister are healthy and safe.”

The children’s eyes popped wide open.

“Baby sister?!” Morgan gasped, staring up at his father, “I knew it was another Marc!”

“Would you like to meet her?” You asked them both, earning a shy little nod and a very bouncy, giggly one.

Frederick settled Morgan in beside you, rising to retrieve the newest addition to the family. You pulled both children in close, hugging them tight. They watched eagerly as he reached into the small bassinet by the window, and lifted a bundle of soft, knitted blankets.

He returned to the bed, beaming with pride and held the swaddled babe for them all to see.

“Morgan, Marc, this is your baby sister…Reflet.”

The children gasped. Snoozing happily in her blankets was the pinkest, tiniest person either of them had ever seen. Well, what they could see was a little face, and a tuft of white hair sticking out from the hat her father sewed for her…but judging by how happy their parents were looking at her, this was definitely their new sister.

“Baby…!” Marc reached out, pressing her hand to the blankets, just below Reflet’s chin. Her eyes sparkled with delight; Reflet was so warm! And she smelled sweet, like powdered sugar.

“She’s so teeny tiny!” Morgan leaned into you, peering at Reflet from behind his sister. “She’s even tinier than Marc! And she was real small when she was a baby.”

“That’s right. Marc was…hmm, six pounds, four ounces when she was born. But Reflet is only four pounds, three ounces.”

“Why?”

“Well, she came earlier than she was supposed to.” You explained gently. Frederick carefully sat down beside you, and Marc crawled into his lap to get a closer look at this “early baby”.

“Oh. Is that bad?” Morgan tilted his head, reaching over to touch the blankets.

“It can be. She might grow up to be a little more fragile than you and Marc, but the doctors said that she seems pretty healthy. Just a little small. So long as she eats well and she can keep warm, Reflet will be just fine.”

“What if she doesn’t?”

“Then she’ll have to stay with the doctors for a little while until she’s strong enough to stay at home with us.” The explanation seemed lackluster to Morgan, brow furrowed as he stared at his littlest sister.

“She seems fine to me. Maybe a little sleepy.”

“A good observation, Dr. Morgan.” You giggled, poking his side. “She’ll be sleeping a lot the next few weeks. That means she’s growing. Think you can help me and Papa take care of her while she does?”

“Oh, sure! I can teach her how to sword fight when she’s awake.”

“I don’t think she’ll be able to hold a sword until she’s a little older, son.” Frederick glanced over at you warily.

“I help.” Marc declared in a quiet whisper, grasping Reflet’s hand. Frederick kissed the top of her head, holding his two little girls close.

“You will be an excellent help, I’m sure. I’m counting on both of you to help me take care of Mama and Reflet. Now that you’re a big brother and a big sister, you’ll have to be good role models.”

“We’ll be the very best!” Morgan assured him, slipping from your lap to join Frederick and Marc in fawning over the little girl. Your husband settled in beside you, arms full with not one, not two, but three of his children, resting his head atop yours.

The four of you fawned over the sleeping princess, her squeaks and squirms garnering laughter from her older siblings, who couldn’t believe this little pink thing was their new sister.

In the light of dawn, peace fell over the castle once more. The Lieutenant General and Chief Tactician’s family was as close as ever, wrapped around each other and their newest bundle of joy.

Little Reflet.

#frederick #robin #morgan #marc #fe awakening #fe 13 #fire emblem awakening #fredrobin #frederick x robin #f!robin #family fluff #pregnancy fluff #hurt and comfort #hurt/comfort #pregnancy #tw pregnancy #fic rec

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annghelicmars · 2 months ago

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My poor baby 😭. Something about Cater angst hits different

Omega!Cater x alpha headcanon

Hear me out, what if omega!Cater never liked nesting?

He didn't do it much as a kid, nesting materials are bulky after all, and they are difficult to transport as he moved between places. He's the only omega in the family and while his family tried to facilitate him, they impressed their own understanding on him, rather than actually listening to him.

His sisters and parents got him special cuddly toys and other cutesy stuff, because they were easy to transport, but Cater never actually liked soft toys, and all they did was take up space in transport that he could have used for nesting supplies he actually liked.

Not to mention, without an omega parent, he didn't have a parent's nest to use, and his sisters weren't good about respecting his privacy when he tried to make his own with what he had.

He kept trying for a few years to bring some of his special pieces with him, but eventually he just... stopped trying.

But when he gets to third year at NRC, he decides to try again. Mostly because cute aesthetic nests are super popular on MagiCam. He has his own room now, so why not?

He follows all his favourite trends and makes the coolest looking nest ever! He posts pictures of it all the time, staging hang outs and self-care evenings for his account... but he doesn't actually hang out in there. Whenever he tries... it just feels wrong. He thinks that maybe his childhood killed the instinct, or maybe he just doesn't like it. But he keeps up the façade because it does numbers on MagiCam.

And then one day, he's courting an alpha. He lets them into his nest essentially straight away to take pics of cute couple dates and make everyone jealous. But the alpha notices that something is off, that Cater doesn't actually seem happy or safe inside his nest. Some omegas are really chill about their nests like this, but Cater doesn't feel like he's actually comfortable.

So they decide to do an experiment.

They take him, under the guise of it being a fun relationship challenge, to a nesting shop, but they make him do the shopping blindfolded. He can't see the objects, he can only feel and smell them. Cater ends up with a terrible mismatch of colours and fabrics which he finds hilarious. It's decidedly a haul of not cute materials and things that are way out of fashion and pretty boring but still clashing horribly.

Alpha challenges him to try and make a nest out of these materials and Cater is all for the fun challenge. Each third year dorm comes with a small nesting room, but Cater had his original nest out in the main room, using the smaller room for storage, but alpha prompts him to try and use the nesting room. Cater agrees.

He only takes the base support futons from his original nest, and the rest has to be made only with his new materials. Alpha purposefully keeps their distance at the other side of the room. Eventually Cater shuts himself in while he constructs the nest, not seeming to even be aware of what he's doing.

Eventually, the alpha stops hearing movement from behind the door. But Cater doesn't come out. He's silent.

The alpha knocks on the door to check on him. Cater is dazed and a little overwhelmed, but the only thing pushed out of his mouth is a denial of entry. "You can't come in," he says, and he doesn't know why. He only knows that this is real and safe and no one is allowed in and he'll protect it with his life.

The alpha knows exactly what's happening, it's exactly as they had theorised, and they aren't upset at all at the denial. It was more abnormal for Cater to be so readily inviting them into his nest the first time. This is expected.

Gently, they excuse themselves to go and fetch him some snacks and water, telling him that they'll be right back.

And Cater is just sitting in his new, admittedly ugly nest alone, in a tiny room with no natural light, terrible for photography, with tears falling down his face, and he doesn't know why.

All he knows is that it feels safe and real and hidden and no one but him can see it and no one but the alpha knows it's there at all. And it feels right! Every fabric is right, it's positioned correctly, a little bizarre and haphazardly, but so correctly! Stress pours from him as the tears fall and he's getting hit with all sorts of emotions and chemicals that he's never felt before.

He's left his phone outside. He doesn't even notice.

#twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twst #omegaverse #a/b/o #twst omegaverse #twst cater #cater diamond #omega cater #omega character #alpha reader #cater x reader

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annghelicmars · 2 months ago

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Omega!Shikamaru x Alpha!Reader - The Little Octopus

Ask: Hello!! Could you write Shikamaru and their Alpha help their only pup make a nest? I think that would be so cute! Whether they go shopping together or maybe the pup gets a bit frustrated that it's not just right and something is off? Love your writing, have a good day/night!!!

Answer: Yes! Of course! This ask was super, super cute! I hope you like it!

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: None.

"This is dumb," Shikadai murmured, kicking at the floor. He looked tired as tired as you felt after an hour wandering around the nesting shop. "I want to go home."

Shikamaru looked just as tired as you, rolling his eyes as he dragged the still-empty floor basket behind him. "You're the one who wanted to come. And if we leave with nothing, I'm going to have to deal with your tantrum later. We aren't leaving until you pick something, so just do it."

Shikadai's lips pulled back into a snarl as he growled at his oma. Shikamaru didn't respond to the challenge, but he pinned his pup with an unimpressed look that only made the growling louder.

"Alright, alright," you soothed, running a hand over your son's head. His growl petered out as he turned to bury his face into your stomach. "That's enough, both of you."

Your poor baby had been struggling with the sudden onset of new emotions and instincts since he had turned twelve. He was a low maintenance child by temperament, but his nesting instincts had been making him irritable and territorial. And everytime you had taken him to buy nesting supplies, he had found nothing he liked, become frustrated, demanded to go home, and then inevitably been moody at his lack of nest, lashing out in every direction, but especially Shikamaru's, who had clearly reached the end of his rope.

It would probably help if Shikamaru had a nest Shikadai could use, but he was a minimal nester who didn't keep a permanent nest and was more than happy with a pillow and blanket thrown on the couch and a borrowed item of your clothing resting on his chest. Shikadai, for all that he was so very similar to his oma, clearly had much more particular tastes that he didn't know yet how to manage.

"Shikadai, we need to get you some nesting materials, even if it's just a few bits before we leave today, okay?" He whined and you shushed him again, scratching at the base of his head where his hair met the bare skin of his neck. "Shikamaru, stop being an asshole."

Shikadai giggled at the unexpected reprimand and your mate sent you an offended look.

"I'm not being-"

"Yes, yes you are," you cut him off, unimpressed. "You're his oma, you need to help him, not make this worse."

Shikamaru opened his mouth to argue, but you interrupted him once more.

"I'm not joking, Shikamaru."

The fight drained out of him at your serious look and a lot of the tension flowed out of his body with a sigh. He passed you the handle for the basket and crouched down beside Shikadai, who removed his head from your tummy when he felt his oma poke him on the back of the head. He bristled at the touch.

"Hey!"

Shikamaru ignored him, grabbing and holding the back of his neck and using the leverage to press both of their foreheads together. Shikadai quieted at the comforting gesture from his oma.

"Sorry," Shikamaru muttered. "Nesting stuff is complicated, okay, you aren't doing anything wrong. Everything you discard as wrong brings us closer to something that's right."

"But-"

"But nothing. You'll find something Shikadai, but no more growling, we're trying to help you."

Shikamaru squeezed where his hand still rested before he let go of Shikadai, who had suspiciously wet eyes and instead picked him up to hold in his arms. Your son laid his head on his oma's shoulder immediately.

"You're overtired, which is making everything worse, so don't worry about walking, we'll hand you stuff to try, and you focus on finding what you like, okay?"

"Okay, oma... sorry."

"Yeah, yeah, I know."

Potential crisis averted, you, Shikamaru, and Shikadai made your way around the store, slowly formulating a plan as you went by narrowing down your son's likes and dislikes as you went. It was certainly heavy on the dislikes, but every piece of information was welcome.

He didn't like wool. He didn't like silk. He actually recoiled at gauze-y fabrics. He wouldn't even touch any blanket that was too fluffy. And he appeared to despise anything with tassels or embroidered designs.

At least, as far as you could tell, he didn't seem to have colour preferences, which would certainly help if you ever managed to find a texture he could tolerate.

Unfortunately, Shikamaru's success at calming your pup down didn't last forever, and with every rejection, he was getting more and more frustrated.

"What about this one?" you said, handing him a small beige cushion. The cover was made of leather, something he hadn't tried yet.

He took the cushion in one hand, but you could immediately tell that it wasn't the right choice. His face fell and he dropped it back into your hands before burying his face in Shikamaru's neck.

"I hate this," he said, voice shaky. "I want to go home."

"I know you're stressed darling, but we're not going home until we've found at least one thing, that's the deal, Shikadai."

He growled and kicked out at you, but Shikamaru easily caught his leg.

"Do not kick your appa Shikadai," Shikamaru's voice was firm. He was a lax parent in pretty much every way, but you were still his obsession, and aggression towards you was not tolerated, even from his own pup. "If you do that again, I will double your chores list for a month."

Shikadai huffed, a weird petulant trilling noise escaping him before he buried his face even further into Shikamaru's shoulder.

You and Shikamaru exchanged exhausted looks over your pup's head. He had been the easiest toddler in existence and you seemed to be cashing in that karma for his pre-teen years.

You both continued walking, passing your way from cushions into cuddly toys. You stopped suddenly as your eyes landed on a little soft octopus toy. It was a warm peach colour, about the size of one of your hands, and much to your amusement, it had a little frown on it's face. You laughed softly and picked it up.

"Here Shikadai, this octopus is just as happy as you are to be here, you should be friends!"

He lifted his head up to scowl at you and then at the octopus toy in your hands.

"I'm twelve, not two."

"Aww, but he wants to be friends with you! I can tell," you teased, playfully running the octopus toy up his arm.

You expected him to push you away or provide you with some kind of damning pre-teen commentary on your teasing, but no such thing happened. Instead, the moment the toy made contact with his skin, Shikadai stiffened so abruptly that even Shikamaru startled. He stared at the toy like he'd never seen anything like it before.

You and Shikamaru exchanged an alarmed look, but before you could do anything, Shikadai snatched the octopus toy from your hand, clutched it to his chest, hid his face back in his oma's shoulder, and then dissolved into heavy, choking sobs.

Oh. Oh, your poor pup was struggling, wasn't he? Your heart melted at the sight. Shikamaru held onto your precious boy even tighter.

"Do you want the octopus, baby?" you said softly, rubbing at his back.

Shikadai nodded his head, but couldn't speak, any attempts at words drowned amongst the tears.

Shikamaru sighed in relief, "good, that's good, that's great Shikadai, good job. One thing is enough for today though, I think."

Shikadai was so grown up in so many ways, but it was moments like this that really highlighted how young he was. Letting him have a rest and some privacy was probably for the best.

"You're right, let's head home."

...

By the time you arrived at home, Shikadai was fast asleep in his oma's arms, the little octopus still clutched tightly to his chest. He hadn't let go of it for a second, even when the cashier had needed to scan it.

Shikamaru tucked him into his bed for a nap before returning downstairs to join you on the sofa. He collapsed on the cushions and then flopped sideways with a sigh, leaning his full weight on you. You shifted to accept him, sliding an arm around his shoulder.

"I thought this was supposed to get easier the older he got."

You snorted, "you wish. This was always going to happen. You don't remember being a moody teen?"

"I was not a moody teen."

"Lies!" You let out a surprised cackle, throwing your head back at the sheer audacity at making such a claim. "Lies and slander!"

"I was not!"

You laughed even harder as he glared up at you.

"Whatever you say, honey."

He huffed, clearly not willing to continue to argument as you laughed at him. You noticed the tips of his ears were pink.

The conversation fell into a lull for a few minutes as your laughter died down into nothing. Even then, the silence held as you each got lost in your own thoughts.

"You did good today," you commented idly, breaking the silence. "It was a bit of a rough start, but you redeemed it."

"Yeah..." Shikamaru said, sighing deeply. "It's been a rough few weeks at work and with him storming around the house and being a terror, I think I was starting to take my frustration out on him. I know I shouldn't do that... I won't do it again."

"You can apologise to him again after he wakes up. Besides, we only came away with a single cuddly toy, we'll be back in that nesting shop before long and you'll have a chance to do it right this time."

"Ugh, don't remind me."

"Sorry," you laughed, not sorry at all. "I take it that you also don't want me reminding you that even after we get the materials, we'll still have to help him build the damn thing then?"

There was a beat of silence as your words sank in.

"I hate you so much," he groaned, burying his face in your neck, not unlike the way Shikadai had been buried in his just twenty minutes earlier.

"No, you don't."

"No..." he whispered, pressing a kiss to the skin just below your jaw. "I don't."

#omegaverse #a/b/o #shikamaru x reader #shikamaru #omega shikamaru #alpha reader #nara obsessions

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annghelicmars · 2 months ago

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hot artists don't gatekeep

I've been resource gathering for YEARS so now I am going to share my dragons hoard

Floorplanner. Design and furnish a house for you to use for having a consistent background in your comic or anything! Free, you need an account, easy to use, and you can save multiple houses.

Comparing Heights. Input the heights of characters to see what the different is between them. Great for keeping consistency. Free.

Magma. Draw online with friends in real time. Great for practice or hanging out. Free, paid plan available, account preferred.

Smithsonian Open Access. Loads of free images. Free.

SketchDaily. Lots of pose references, massive library, is set on a timer so you can practice quick figure drawing. Free.

SculptGL. A sculpting tool which I am yet to master, but you should be able to make whatever 3d object you like with it. free.

Pexels. Free stock images. And the search engine is actually pretty good at pulling up what you want.

Figurosity. Great pose references, diverse body types, lots of "how to draw" videos directly on the site, the models are 3d and you can rotate the angle, but you can't make custom poses or edit body proportions. Free, account option, paid plans available.

Line of Action. More drawing references, this one also has a focus on expressions, hands/feet, animals, landscapes. Free.

Animal Photo. You pose a 3d skull model and select an animal species, and they give you a bunch of photo references for that animal at that angle. Super handy. Free.

Height Weight Chart. You ever see an OC listed as having a certain weight but then they look Wildly different than the number suggests? Well here's a site to avoid that! It shows real people at different weights and heights to give you a better idea of what these abstract numbers all look like. Free to use.

#art #reference #free resources #drawing #3d art

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annghelicmars · 2 months ago

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Unfollowing people I know but not hetalia meme pages that haven't posted anything since 2016

#hetalia #absolute vibe #highschool classmate is temporary hetalia meme page is forever

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annghelicmars · 3 months ago

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I've never seen a gif in this style before! It looks really beautiful

Bothersome beast, comforting friend

#2d animation #cat #art #animation #gif

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annghelicmars · 3 months ago

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These are all super cute 😭 I'm not usually a Sebek fan but his section was really charming

Hello! Can you please write about Lilia's first meeting with his daughter's first boyfriend (reader)? The boyfriend could be Leona, Vil, Azul or anyone else (whoever you like best)!

(I'm doing 6 characters + adding silver's reactions to the boyfriends) Papa Lilia + Brother Silver Reacting to Fem!Reader's boyfriend

🌙 LILIA + SILVER MEETING LEONA

Lilia: Lilia smirks behind his tea cup, amused by Leona lounging on the couch like it’s his kingdom.

"So, you're the one who's been stealing my little girl's naps, hm?" Lilia muses with that mischievous glint in his eyes.

Leona snorts. "She comes to me for naps. Big difference."

"Bold." Lilia leans in, crimson eyes sharp. "But can you protect her when she's vulnerable?"

Leona’s ears twitch. "I don’t plan to let anything get that far. I’ll be awake before she ever needs it."

That earns a small, genuine smile from Lilia. “Good. She likes the quiet types… until they're not."

Silver: Silver gives a long, slow blink as Leona yawns through dinner.

“You nap a lot,” Silver notes.

Leona shrugs. “So does your sister. We match.”

Silver tilts his head, “If you ever forget to wake up and she’s left waiting… I won’t.”

For the first time, Leona sits up straighter. "Noted."

🌙 LILIA + SILVER MEETING VIL

Lilia: Lilia watches Vil inspect a smudge on the mirror and chuckles.

“You know, it’s rare I meet someone who preens more than I did in my prime.”

Vil doesn’t even look away. “I’d say I’m still in mine.”

“Oho~ confidence.” Lilia’s fangs glint. “But what happens when she wakes up with a messy bun and drool? Still think she's beautiful?”

Vil straightens, voice firm. “More than ever. Her comfort matters more than polish.”

Lilia hums. "You're growing on me, peacock."

Silver: Silver examines Vil for a long moment. “You like perfection.”

Vil nods. “I strive for excellence. Your sister deserves no less.”

Silver smiles faintly. “She needs someone who sees her value, even in her worst days.”

Vil meets his gaze. “I do.”

Silver finally looks relaxed. “Then I won’t stand in your way.”

🌙 LILIA + SILVER MEETING AZUL

Lilia: Lilia spins a spoon in his coffee. “So… a businessman.”

Azul adjusts his glasses, nervous but composed. “Yes. I want to provide a future for her. Security, stability.”

Lilia leans forward. “She doesn’t want a contract, Azul. She wants someone who’ll hold her hand during storms.”

Azul’s face softens. “Then I’ll build the umbrella with her.”

Lilia chuckles. “Romantic and practical. Dangerous combo.”

Silver: Silver watches Azul fiddle with a pen during lunch.

“You’re nervous,” Silver states.

“I just want to be good enough,” Azul admits.

Silver nods slowly. “Then you’re already trying harder than most.”

He lets a small smile show. “Just don’t make her cry, or I’ll make you read those contracts backwards.”

🌙 LILIA + SILVER MEETING ROLLO

Lilia: Lilia stares at Rollo over his tea with a suspiciously pleasant smile. “A bishop’s boy, huh?”

Rollo doesn’t flinch. “I understand the reputation. But your daughter brings me peace I never knew I needed.”

“Oh?” Lilia raises a brow. “Even with her chaos?”

Rollo smiles—genuinely. “Especially then.”

Lilia blinks, surprised. “Huh. Maybe you’re not as stiff as I thought.”

Silver: Silver narrows his eyes at Rollo’s straight posture.

“You’re too perfect,” Silver mumbles.

Rollo tilts his head. “Is that… bad?”

Silver sighs. “She needs someone who lets her laugh. Can you?”

There’s a pause.

“I’m learning,” Rollo says quietly.

Silver watches him. “Then I’ll watch you, too.”

🌙 LILIA + SILVER MEETING RUGGIE

Lilia: Lilia eyes Ruggie over his steamy bowl of stew. “What’s your angle, hyena?”

Ruggie grins, scratching his head. “No angle, sir. She’s just real nice to me.”

Lilia leans in. “And when times get tough?”

“I’ve survived worse,” Ruggie says seriously. “I just wanna make her smile.”

Lilia's gaze softens. “Huh… streetwise with a soft spot. Just her type.”

Silver: Silver watches Ruggie steal the last bread roll and offer it to his sister.

“You steal from everyone?”

“Only the ones I like,” Ruggie jokes.

Silver cracks a tiny smile. “Then I’ll keep my wallet close.”

Ruggie laughs. “Better keep your sister closer then.”

🌙 LILIA + SILVER MEETING SEBEK (basically meeting boyfriend!sebek???)

Lilia: It’s a quiet afternoon in Diasomnia. Lilia’s halfway through his tea when Sebek enters the room with all the subtlety of a thunderstorm.

“LILIA-SAMA!” he bellows, back straight, eyes burning with intensity.

Lilia doesn’t even flinch. “Yes, Sebek? Did you burn the curtains again?”

“N-NO! I come bearing… A DECLARATION!”

That gets a brow raise. Lilia lowers his teacup, intrigued. “Oh? You're not usually this dramatic unless you’re quoting Malleus.”

Sebek inhales deeply. “I—SEBEK ZIGVOLT—AM DATING YOUR DAUGHTER.”

Silence.

Then—

Lilia blinks once. Twice.

“…That’s it?” he finally says. “I thought you were going to tell me the apocalypse had started.”

“I WANTED TO BE FORMAL!” Sebek defends, stiff with tension.

Lilia chuckles, amused. “Kiddo, you’ve known us your whole life. You were literally five when you declared you'd 'protect her with your toy sword.’ I figured this would happen eventually.”

Sebek flushes bright pink. “I—I take this seriously!”

“And I know you do,” Lilia says warmly. “Just remember she’s not a porcelain doll. Let her tease you back sometimes.”

“I… I will try!”

Silver: Silver looks up from brushing the family bird. “You’re only now making it official?”

Sebek startles. “Y-YES!”

Silver lets out a slow sigh. “You’ve carried her schoolbag since middle school. I figured you were either dating or auditioning for knighthood.”

Sebek turns red again. “I—I DID BOTH!”

Silver stands, walks over, and clasps Sebek’s shoulder. “Then take care of her. Not like a knight guarding a princess… but like a partner. Equal and honest.”

Sebek’s voice softens for the first time all day. “I will. I promise.”

“…Also, if I hear you yelling love declarations past curfew again, I’m locking you outside.”

“ACKNOWLEDGED!!”!

#twst x reader #twst #twst wonderland #papa lilia #lilia vanrouge #silver vanrouge #leona x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #vil schoenheit x you #rollo x reader #sebek x reader

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annghelicmars · 3 months ago

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All organic 100% rat, no preservatives

From the makers of rats full of soup, I am pleased to bring you soup full of rat 🥫🐀

#illustration #digital art #drawing #rat #soup #all organic 100% rat

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annghelicmars · 4 months ago

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It's so cute! Makes me happy just looking at it

finding solace 🌼

#drawing #art #ducks

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annghelicmars · 4 months ago

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annghelicmars · 4 months ago

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Shower Thoughts: Their bathing habits, with and without you.

Featuring: The Dateables x gn!Reader

NSFW // Content: Domestic fluff and non-explicit smut. Sharing a bath/shower together; sexual and non-sexual touching. 3k words

Read Part 1 (with the Demon Brothers) here.

DIAVOLO

It goes without saying that the Devildom's Crown Prince has a luxurious bathroom that would put some of the most popular spas to shame. It's been upgraded over time with modern amenities and incorporates trendy human world elements in its design. The large space, designed meticulously for Diavolo's comfort, is equipped with a large, ornate claw-foot tub and a spacious walk-in shower room, encased with frosted glass and furnished with rain shower heads and a large marble bench. Stepping into the space triggers magically-heated tiles; plush rugs throughout the space soak up excess water that may drip onto the floor. There's an entire cabinet full of clean, soft towels and the prince's favourite body care products. Along the far wall, impressive bay windows that offer a breath-taking view of the city and allow moonlight to illuminate the space in a bright, otherworldly glow. Only on the darkest and cloudiest days do the wall sconces need to be lit.

Diavolo enjoys the novelty of collecting body care from the human world. His collection of body wash, shampoo, and scented oils are an eclectic selection of items from all three realms. He even has a basket full of items taken from the Hotel Corvo: travel-sized bottles of the same items provided to guests, that he tested personally before selecting them for guests that visit the hotels.

Most of the time, he prefers to shower. The walk-in space is large enough to accommodate his impressive wingspan. It's more convenient. At the end of a long day, usually when he's weary from hosting yet another social function at his castle, he prefers to stretch his limbs and soak in a hot bath instead. It's also one of his tried-and-tested cures for late-night insomnia when endless responsibilities weigh heavy on his mind.

He's not a stranger to sharing his bed with a casual partner from time to time, but bathing with them is something he doesn't do. It's far too intimate. He simply allows them privacy and most know not to overstay their welcome.

Inviting you into his bathing chamber is a wholly unique experience and quickly becomes part of the routine when you spend nights with him at the castle. He makes the space more inviting for you too: stocking the cabinet with body care in your favourite scents as well as his own, and a shelf of monogrammed towels and linens specifically for your use.

When he's feeling nostalgic or whimsical, he likes sitting with you in the bath, enjoying your fluttery pulse beneath his fingertips when he wraps himself around you and holds you against his bare chest, or when he smooths fluffy suds across your skin and massages gently at the stiff muscles underneath until you melt into his embrace, boneless and content.

On nights when flirty touches and lingering glances make his heart race and his cock twitch just thinking of you in his bed, your sinful deeds ultimately lead you both into a hot shower. He drags his lips over the suckled marks and indentations of teeth littering your skin. The room fills with steam but you still shiver against the cool wall tiles when he smothers his body against your own. His hand trails down between your legs and seeks out the remnants of his spend smeared across the inside of your thighs. With sticky fingers, he pushes it back inside you before the water can wash it away completely.

(The marble bench is sturdy enough for both of you, should you whine and push your hips back against him and ask for more of him instead.)

BARBATOS

Perhaps it's his unique perspective on the passage of time that makes the thought of indulging in long baths or showers somewhat unappealing to a demon like Barbatos.

It's fitting that the Prince's butler may have better things to do with his time than indulge in longer showers or baths than necessary. He is extremely busy, the faithful shadow at Diavolo's side. When he's not with Diavolo, he's usually taking of other important tasks himself, seemingly everywhere and nowhere at once.

Barbatos' private washroom is located within the complex path of levels and staircases scattered throughout his living quarters, not too far from his bed but strangers to his room would easily climb past it without realizing it.

Like most bathrooms in the rest of the castle, this one has been modernized for comfort and efficiency too. However, it lacks the ornamental decadence found within the royal quarters or in some of the nicer guest suites.

More often than not, Barbatos prefers to shower at the beginning of his day. It's enough to rid him of the last traces of sleep that slow his limbs and helps him clear the fog of sleep that lingers behind his eyes, the confusing tangle of memories and possibilities of the past and the future that no one else can see.

Sometimes he finishes his day with another shower, quicker than the ones he usually takes in the mornings. It's enough to clean off the sweat and grime from a long day spent busting around the castle or RAD and the rest of the Devildom. (These showers can take longer than usual if there were any kitchen-related mishaps while baking with Luke or preparing dinner with the Little D's nearby. It wouldn't be the first time he had to carefully detangle bits of food or sticky-sweet syrup or sauce from the fringe of his hair.)

If someone (other than you) touches his tail by accident, he spends extra time and care scrubbing vigorously at the smooth, glossy skin until all traces of the unwanted scent is gone. He won't be able to sleep otherwise.

He rarely takes the time to draw himself a bath, except for the most frustrating days when even the hot water and lightly scented steam filling the air isn't always enough of a distraction from whatever is bothering him.

More often than he would like, some minor disagreement between the Little Ds leads to an all-out brawl that causes havoc in the kitchen. Barbatos rarely raises his voice with them, but that might be less terrifying than the sight of his tail whipping behind him erratically as his eyes glow ominous, like crackling thunder trapped in glittering emerald stones. But he can't stay mad at them for long, no matter how much he might want to.

Not long after he storms to his room and settles into the bath, he can sense their familiar brand of magic as a trickle of cool air settles somewhere near the foot of the tub. Seven pairs of shadowy claws hook over the edge of the tub as the Little Ds rise up slowly through the floor and materialize in his private bathroom. Entering his chambers without permission is something they wouldn't think to do except under the most dire of circumstances. They chatter amongst themselves quietly and rehearse their apology speech, but even that threatens to dissolve into chaos as No. 1 and No. 4 curse at each other and No. 7 has to try and stop No. 6 from eating a bar of soap. Barbatos, who pretends to be dozing in his bath, has to school his expression even though the corner of his mouth twitches with the urge not to smile at their increasingly ridiculous antics. By the time he pretends to "wake up" and assure them that all will be well between them tomorrow, he feels calm enough to try getting a decent night's sleep and leaves the bath not long after they disappear with seven little pops.

In the privacy of his private quarters, Barbatos prefers to spoil you with personal attention and all the indulgence you'll tolerate. His sparsely-decorated bathroom fills with bottles of your favourite body care products and scented candles to give the space a soft, romantic glow that the wall sconces alone can't offer.

Sometimes he prefers to start right there in the tub, where his intimate touches and quiet, affectionate words prepare you for what's to come later once he carries you to bed. He sits on a stool behind you, rolling up his sleeves to his elbows and plucking off his gloves one finger at a time so he can feel the gooseflesh erupt across your skin when bare hands trail gently down the curve of your neck. He rubs away the tension in your muscles and follows the path of his fingers with his mouth: water-slicked lips that kiss the dewy beads, inhaling the subtle scent of your skin between nips of needle-sharp fangs that draw delightful gasps from your throat. He ignores the small stack of washcloths in the cupboard and gathers fragrant suds between his palms as he smooths his hands over your shoulders and down your chest, and when he leans forward he listens to the moans and gasps you try to smother with your teeth dragging uselessly across your bottom lip. He hears it all, when he's close enough to turn his head and kiss the skin below your ear, and he feels it against his chest when your body shivers against him. Water sloshes and a bubbly cascade spills over the edge of the tub when his hands pry your legs apart, a tantalizing sight that chips away at his resolve, and when you trap his hands between your legs to keep him there, he thinks that perhaps you're clean enough for now. He has a feeling you'll both need another bath by the time he's finished with you, and he looks forward to doing this all over again.

SIMEON

Considering he shares the spacious bathroom with his dorm mates, Simeon doesn't have many complaints. Luke goes to bed much earlier than he does, and Solomon is up all hours of the night and often sneaks away when he wants to work on something without prying eyes. That leaves the bath and shower facilities free for Simeon to use most of the evening without worrying about interruptions or needing to rush.

There are novelties in the Devildom he appreciates - magic warming floor tiles, spells to keep the water clean and fragrant no matter how long he soaks in the tub.

In the Celestial Realm, hot showers are soothing after a long day in the gardens or an exhausting training session with the other warrior ranks. Sometimes he opts for cool baths when the realm's sun bears down mercilessly during the hottest season.

Unlike the Celestial Realm, the Devildom air is crisp with the slightest chill. It was difficult to adjust to at first, and he found himself retreating into hot baths every night when the lack of sunshine left his bones feeling brittle like icy glass.

Indulgent baths or overly-long showers are something he enjoys infrequently, a selfish treat when he knows he won't be interrupted by the other residents of Purgatory Hall. Sometimes he keeps a cup of tea on a stool near the edge of the tub while he flips lazily through a book on his reading list. Other times, he leans back and lets the ends of his hair float like wispy tendrils across the bath water's surface while he thinks about his next writing project.

He enjoys those rare moments of peace and quiet. Nothing is more frustrating than skimming the edges of sleep only to be startled to full consciousness by the unexpected bang of an explosion coming from Solomon's room, or Luke calling for him after an upsetting nightmare woke him up. Sometimes he wants to be selfish and ignore them; sometimes it would be easier if he could, but that would make him a poor angel and an even poorer friend, would it not?

He grows infinitely more selfish when the idea of sharing his bath time with you tempts him to do the unthinkable: find reasons to send Luke to the castle or the House of Lamentation for an overnight visit when Solomon also happens to be gone for the evening.

Simeon loves the idea of bathing with you. Pressing his bare chest against your back while he holds you close, feeling your fingers smooth through his hair while you scrub shampoo onto his scalp, watching candlelight flicker in your eyes when he leans forward to inhale the alluring combination of bath oils and your natural scent before brushing his lips against yours.

Simeon might not be a perfect angel, but the temptation of seeing you naked and having you in arm's reach is often too much for him to bear. Would he trade sunny skies for endless night for all eternity? Perhaps he would; the fire flickering in your gaze is more than enough to keep him warm.

SOLOMON

For someone that spends so much time elbows-deep in whatever magical experiment tickles his fancy, access to adequate bathing chambers is essential. Potions have a habit of getting messy - and sometimes there’s an unexpected explosion or two - and it’s important to clean any lingering stains or fumes as quickly as possible.

Purgatory Hall isn’t the best place for Solomon to conduct some of the experiments he considers risky or dangerous, so he goes to his home in the human world where he can tinker without distractions or collateral damage nearby.

His home, like many houses in the Devildom, has been upgraded over time. Whatever feature can’t be easily acquired with the wonders of modern-day plumbing or carpentry, he can replicate with a bit of magical engineering instead.

The shared bathroom of Purgatory Hall is satisfactory when efficiency trumps luxury. Although he wondered about having to share the space with the others that live in that dorm, his late-night schedule usually means he can shower or soak at his leisure long after the others have gone to sleep - so long as he’s not too noisy. He tries to be a considerate roommate, most of the time.

When he wants to indulge, or if he simply wants the privacy and space he rarely has at Purgatory Hall, he makes a short trip back to his estate in the human world.

Tucked away in a corner of the world, the ancient stone ruins he’s rebuilt and calls home is one of the last existing tributes to his reign over a long-forgotten kingdom, a reminder of who he was before woven with the man that exists today.

His private bathroom is a unique blend of ancient practicality and modern comfort. The stone walls and windows are fortified with magic to prevent cold drafts, and the floor heats up with a simple enchantment. His collection of body care - some of his own creation, some gifts from Asmodeus and other friends in the Devildom - litter the shelves nearby.

Always a charmer, Solomon can’t help but show off the casual majesty of his beloved home when he invites you to see it. He goes out of his way to ensure you have your own rooms near his own, so that he's always close should his adorable apprentice need him. Making room for you in his life, when he's grown accustomed to being alone, is something he does willingly for you and for no one else.

You could use your own private bath when you visit him there, but his is so much more enticing — probably by design. He amazes you with charms that cause the stone walls to shimmer and fade away so you can see the starlit night sky through them instead, and he shows off his magical whimsy by filling the room with bubbles that float in the air but never burst as they carry the fragrant scent of bath oil and disperse it all around you. He calls them simple tricks; you call it showing off. (You get the feeling that both of you are correct.)

The glorified bathtub that looks more like a large stone pool than a tub, built into the floor and could easily fit a dozen others, holds crystal clear water that warms to the perfect temperature and never cools or grows cloudy no matter how much shampoo or soap suds drip from your skin. Another effortless trick, a wave of his hand and a spell so simple he merely needs to think of the words. He could teach it to you, but why do that when this gives him an excuse to stay close? Your eyes light up with wonder and amazement when he charms you with the simplest things, and even the smallest bit of praise fulfills him.

Perhaps that's why he finds more and more excuses — ahem, reasons — to whisk you away from the Devildom to the private paradise in the human world where he can have you all to himself. The demons and angels and occasional reaper complain, but they can't argue when he declares that there's some ritual you need to practice, a spell you need concentration to master, some obscure elixir he wants you to brew. You'll always be his darling apprentice and the life of a sorcerer is like that of a student. "You're always learning, always striving to improve," he tells you one day in his library, surrounded by books older than you by several lifetimes. "The good ones do, anyway, and my dear, you're already one of the best."

His joyful mood and playful banter make it hard to resist him, even if your back aches from leaning over the desk in his lab. Your nose twitches from the slightly acrid fumes rising from the small cauldron simmering over the fire, the thin veil of smoke curling in the air around you. Solomon makes sure you're always wearing protective gear when handling anything even the least bit dangerous, but there's still a singe mark in your protective apron where a splash of something burned through the thick fibers. Your clothes remain intact, but the heavy scent of tonight's experiment clings to your skin. Wiping his sweaty brow with his bare arm, white shirt sleeves unbuttoned and rolled up haphazardly to his elbow, Solomon manages to smudge ash across his cheek as he breaks out into one of his Cheshire grins. His offer to shower together sounds far too good to resist, and as you follow him out of the workshop and down the hall to his bathing chamber, pretending it's merely a conscious effort to conserve water.

(A blatant lie, and not one you'll risk voicing out loud; not when showering alone takes fifteen minutes at most, but with Solomon, the better part of an hour has usually passed before his greedy touches finally relent and he wraps you in a fluffy towel - only to begin with renewed vigor once he nods shamelessly towards his bed where you'll be much more comfortable for what he has in store for you next.)

Read More: Obey Me Masterlist

#obey me headcanons #obey me x reader #obey me diavolo x reader #obey me barbatos x reader #obey me simeon x reader #obey me solomon x reader

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annghelicmars · 4 months ago

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The world building in terms of fae and fae culture is super cool! I'm a big fan of malleus going "lizard brain" mode and falling into a trance with mc.

Enchanting a Fae - Malleus x Reader

A random Malleus x Reader

Malleus isn't sure why he comes to your dorm so often. His booted feet take him there automatically, he supposes. If Lilia were to ask him, he's just making the rounds on his usual haunts and looking for pieces of forgotten grotesques and gargoyles in need of cleaning. Ramshackle was a prime destination for all things forgotten and dusty, after all.

Perhaps it can also be a home to things muddy and sopping.

A small smile twists the edges of Malleus' lips as he blinks rain from his emerald eyes. It's ironic that he, future King of Briar Valley and fifth most powerful mage in the world, was caught unaware by the weather.

How very human. It's a beautiful experience, to drown in the quiet hush of rain.

He steps lightly but with purpose, long shadow breezing up the walkway to your door. It swells as lightning tap-dances behind him. Thunder rumbles, much like the sound he tries to swallow down as you crack the door open hesitantly, face melting into one of welcome.

Oh, child of man...Malleus feels the warm swirl in his chest tighten as you take his hand and pull him inside. He ducks his head, finally remembering to pull his horns down enough so they don't scrape the frame like they have in the past.. "Fae are supposed to be invited in," he reminds you. "And I told you, you always have a standing invitation." you say with a gentle dismissiveness that both humbles and endears him. You continue to show him that you care not for his title or his princely demands. You treat him like all the others. He does his best to stand on the welcome mat you thrifted, afraid the water will rot the ancient floor and leave you with something else to fix. You scurry back with towels and some spare clothes that smell like human. Not you, but human. Malleus can't stop the angry rumble in his throat as he realizes that smell is probably from your human friends at Heartslabyul. Clothes for other men? Disgusting. You always forget he has another set of vocal chords and he excuses the noise as 'clearing his throat'. "It's all I have," you murmur, unsure now if you should take the offer back. He can tell you're still debating that uncouth noise, the slip of the tongue.

"I accept your generosity." Malleus knows it won't be a perfect fit, but it would do better than your clothes. Not that he didn't like the idea of adorning himself in your scent. Turning away from you a little, Malleus removes the purple striped belt at his waist and undoes the many gold buttons on his curious coat. You can't tell what the black shirt is underneath but it sticks to him and you find yourself trying to tear your eyes away and commit him to memory all at once.

Not in the creepy way! Just in the 'I've never seen Malleus in just gloves, a shirt, pants, and boots before' kind of way. He's none the wiser, realizing he has a real problem on his hands. The gloves he chose are water resistant but they've somehow gone flush against his slick skin and feel more like a seal than a savior. His draconian nails cannot save him, blunted and useless in the leather. Should he use his teeth? What if he hooked them on the edge of a horn and just shimmied it off? You can practically read his mind and grab his hand before he can raise it near his head. "Don't do that! You'll ruin them!" you give a huffy laugh at his simple, boyish logic and it takes every ounce of control from all his decades of walking upright to keep his tail from smashing a hole in your floor.

He watches you drape the loaner clothes around your neck like some sort of scarf as you motion for his hand.

Your hands are almost cartoonishly small in his as they trace the stitching and try to feel for any buttons or ridges. Small, but so considerate and so warm. Dragons run warm from the fire and magic in their blood but he cannot explain why your touch is absolutely radiating and searing him in the most comforting way through the leather. He almost hopes you never figure out how to take them off so you can just fiddle with his hands forever. Malleus relaxes into your touch, basking in the care and attention.

His hopes are dashed when the glove separates slightly from his lax wrist and you free his hand. You pull off the other one. If he had no shame, he'd make a cool request for you to hold them and warm them. "Boots off, then change." you give him a small rag for his hands and point to his feet. Delighted and somewhat surprised to be your willing subject, Malleus obeys and starts to take off his boots.

He braces himself against your wall with one hand, mindful not to put himself through it like he almost did the mine tunnel at Beanfest. One boot off, he wrestles blindly with the other. Malleus is much more interested in how you tend to the pitiful fire in your fireplace. Your back is to him and whatever you're wearing leaves you shapeless but cozy. The embers crackle in the hearth, the light dancing across your face in a way that makes something baser claw at the pit of his stomach.

Shiny thing. Dragons like shiny things. You would be a most gorgeous shiny thing. Always ethereal, no matter what you're wearing or doing. If you would permit him, you would be his most valued treasure.

His heart sings at the thought, almost tying itself in a knot. That low, tingling feeling comes back to him and Malleus wants to croon his Dragon Song. It would fall on deaf ears, so to speak, as you have no dragon blood to appeal to. "Your eyes are doing that thing again." Malleus flinched a little, green fire sparking in his mouth as a warning puff of smoke dissipated between you. He didn't realize you'd come upon him again. The dragon relaxed, turning his head away as he exhaled the building smoke through his nose before it could send him into an undignified coughing fit.

Lilia had been consulting his grandmother on some behaviors as of late and both arrived to the same conclusion: he's experiencing draconian puberty. 'The thing' his eyes do are a sign of said puberty. It is the unfurling of all his emotions, the dilation of his eyes signaling his interest and trying to draw you ever deeper to him. In a way, it is a thrall, but it leaves him at your mercy as much as it should leave you in his.

Somehow, you don't take it as hard. If his world wasn't a sudden explosion of the scent of your skin and soap, the heat of your body, and the curious fondness with which you look at him, he would ponder this injustice further.

But he does not. Right now he can't even find the words for a simple lie, a diversion, as he breathes in the smell of you and tries not to melt. To have you touch him right now would be the worst thing but he's never wanted it more. He wants so badly to sink his fangs into your wrist, your neck, and let you wear the affectionate bruises like a family crest. His family crest.

"You're supposed to be getting changed," you admonish him.

"Mmm, but I can't," Malleus refrains from snuggling into the small towel you're blotting against his face. He closes his eyes and tries to sense the heat of your hand through the fabric as you move carefully around his lashes. "I'm being tended to and it would be rude to interrupt," he teases.

"No point in giving you dry clothes if you're going to get them wet putting them on." you laugh. He swallows thickly as you brush his throat dry. "Now go change," you swat him with the rag. Body towel and clothes in one hand, damp footprints follow Malleus to a spare room.

As he suspected, the clothes were ill-fit for his frame. Spade and Trappola were smaller than he was, being human and all. It was another thing entirely to get the shirt over his head without shredding it on his horns. He's afraid to move his arms too much and hopes he's not offending you by pulling the pants low enough to give his tail room. You've just finished laying his clothes out on dry towels before the fire and he's grateful.

It is a dying fire. You have a small supply of kindling and old papers to feed it but he doesn't think it will be enough. "I would like to repay your generosity with a gift. May I?" "You know you don't have to get me anything," you wave him off. He's not sure if it's a human trait or a you trait but you don't take easily to gifts.

"But it is practical and will serve us both," he knows he's caught your attention. He can see you trying to figure out what kind of gift that would be. Malleus approaches the fire, kneels down, and breathes it in. Dragons who can breathe fire, like himself, can convert outside sources of heat to their fire on rare occasions. You jump when he spits out a green flame and it roars to life, casting the walls in jeweled light and emitting a heat you didn't know you missed.

"Cozy!" you chirp. It was a gentle kind of heat that would be perfect for snuggling under a blanket. He sits on the other end of the sofa, a respectful cushion between you, and rests his head on a hand as he looks at you.

"And it will last much longer! You needn't fret about it getting out of control, either. It is my fire, and I can control it." he sees the beginning of sleep on you. Malleus grew up with Silver and was all too familiar with the slow descent into a nap. You make a valiant effort, he will give you that. You're in the middle of a soft argument about being rude to company and Malleus laughs despite himself.

He dropped in uninvited. Certainly that's more rude, yes?

The two of you lapse into a comfortable silence, the fae more amused than he has been in a long time as your eyes get heavier. You look stunning in the green glow and he can't help but think you'd look just as ravishing in black.

In a crown. On a throne. In his bed. All of these things have the Dragon Song welling up in him again. The buzzing in his chest closes off his ears; Malleus jumps to alertness as you tug gently on the ends of his dark hair. "You let your hair down. It'll get weird if it dries in a ponytail holder."

It takes some effort, but he untangles it from his hair. "What shall I do about you, Child of Man?" he muses. "I will be forever indebted to your attentiveness."

"Did you find anything cool on your walk? You always show me." your eyes twinkle with the vestiges of consciousness. This is your one final push before succumbing to sleep, he can tell. He did, in fact, find things to show you and had forgotten them until now. When you're drenched, everything just feels heavy and soaked through. Malleus fishes the random items from his coat pocket and settles back down on the couch.

You've seen all manner of things at this point--feathers, polished rocks, twisted roots that looked interesting, pieces of statues, actual gems--and it never gets old. He presents you with a rock carved into the shape of a bear, a chunk of what might have been an old cup, and a ring.

The ring doesn't catch your eye right away. You're too busy playing with the bear. He wiggles his hand so the firelight catches it and you still. Malleus takes the bear from you, flipping your hand over to slide it on your finger. "A gift, my dearest."

"Malleus, I--" you start to protest.

"We fae are no strangers to offerings, both giving and receiving. It would be a disservice to present you with anything less." he speaks over you, his words gentle but commanding. He kisses your hand.

You'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought of dating him. It just seemed a little silly--a random no-name person and the fae prince? What kind of cliche was this?

A handsome one that was staring you right in the face.

"If you'd like more, the best I can offer you is a kingdom." he teases, lounging back against the sofa. He said it so casually that it caught you off guard. You're face is almost unbearably hot and Malleus chuckles.

"A whole kingdom?" you finally recover. "I'll take it."

Oh, there it went. Malleus felt the trap snap shut on his heart. This was the lethal moment Lilia warned him. He was helplessly smitten and enchanted. Irreversibly so.

"Truly?" he's before you in a second, one hand around your waist and the other holding the one with the ring. "Now is not the time to jest, Child of Man. I offer you my heart in earnest and the reply must be just as true!" he's staring up at you through his bangs and you swear you see more scales on his forehead.

"W-Well, yeah," you stutter. "I wouldn't mind. Just kind of thought we would do more dates and stuff first," your face was heating up again.

"We shall, as many as you like!" he's scooped you up in one arm, cradling you to his chest. You threw your legs around him so you didn't fall backwards but he doesn't notice, pulling your other hand over his shoulder. "Every day, even! As soon as the weather clears, in fact!" "But it'll be dark out!" you protest. Malleus probably could change the weather if he wanted but that wouldn't stop the ground from squelching and things being nasty. He stopped excitedly rambling about walks and things to do.

"We've walked in the dark before?" he doesn't understand why you don't want to go out this particular time. "And I have seen you to your door, safe and sound every time."

"But we're already here. Together. Inside." you explain slowly. "Maybe we could...cuddle...a little."

Oh yes. Splendid idea! Malleus all but dives for the couch at the suggestion. It is a paltry nest but it's yours. You're still recovering from the recoil, glad he fell back first and didn't squish you.

Did you just hear something rip? You hope he didn't break the couch. You don't get much time to think about it as he pulls you close and tucks you under his chin like he's been rehearsing it with a pillow. He's just the right combination of soft and muscle, of guard and gentle as he figures out where to put his hands. He settles for one supporting his head and the other cradling yours.

It's very awkward because he's mostly off the couch but he can't be bothered. You're slowly drifting to sleep in his arms and he's never felt more joy. He watches with deep interested, practically holding his breath as you sleep. Faes don't need as much sleep as humans but he doesn't think he could sleep if he tried because you've been courted by him!

Malleus is roused by his phone sometime later. The couch is small and cumbersome to him but it's held up. He begrudgingly untangled himself from you to answer it, long arm just reaching it on the table.

"Yes?"

It's Lilia. "Where are you, young man? We've been trying to reach you!"

He had fifteen missed calls from Sebek, eight from Lilia, and some text messages from Silver.

"Ensnared, I fear." Malleus smiles into the crown of your head. "I'm doomed to languish in absolute bliss. It's a very powerful enchantment, you see."

"Taken the leap, have you, Malleus?" he could hear the smile in Lilia's voice.

"I have, and I've landed in something quite wonderful."

"We fae are supposed to trick and trap, not the other way around! But...at least you're safe. Make it known that I will not tolerate--"

"Any eggs before marriage." Malleus rolled his eyes. He'd only heard that a million times recently.

"If you're not back at Diasomnia in two hours, I'll break that enchantment myself. Understood?"

"And if I object?" Malleus challenged, patting your head as you began to move.

There was a moment of silence. "I shall tell your grandmother."

Malleus hung up.

That might do the trick, he thought, brows raised. His grandmother was from an older generation of fae who were still entrenched in anti-human beliefs. Would she love you because he did? Could you enchant her, too? One look at your sleeping face, so at peace and pressed up against him, had him convinced.

Yes, he was pretty sure you could enchant any fae. It certainly worked on him.

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x reader

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annghelicmars · 4 months ago

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I'm a really big fan of the eldritch reader revealing their true name headcanons, something about the intimacy of it really hits.

(separate) Zalgo & Candy Pop with an Eldritch (I think thats what it was called). S/o who tells them their real name? thank you 💛.

(i hope im not too late haha)

For anyone who doesn't know or might have forgotten, Eldritch beings in my canon keep their given birth names a secret, because referring to an Eldritch being with their given name allows you to issue commands to them they can't refuse to do. There are some stipulations, but that's the general gist :p

I hope you enjoy! :)

Zalgo:

The one main advantage Zalgo has over every Eldritch being in the Underworld is that, as the blood ruler of the Underworld, he knows every Eldritch being's given name. A safeguard provided to the ruler of the Underworld, one that technically allowed him to already know your name from the moment the two of you started dating. While you knew this fact, it was still a gigantic step in your relationship for you to willingly say your given birth name in front of him, one that both of you had waited quite a long time for. You'd asked him for a moment of his time, saying you had something very important to tell him, and while he has an inkling of idea about what it was going to be, he still felt a bit nervous, and so did you. Shifting nervously in front of him, you said that this was a long time coming, but that you felt so happy with Zalgo, and you were certain you wanted to remain with him forever, if possible, and so it was finally time for you to say it out loud, despite him already knowing it... your real name. While he's usually not that emotional, it brings a few tears to his eyes for you to share your name with him so openly, and he's got you in his arms in a big, tight hug before you can even process it. He tells you that he's so, so unbelievably thankful that you feel so close to him, that you love him just as much as he loves you, and he's going to treasure this moment for the rest of your lives. When it comes to calling you by your given name, Zalgo is already quite good at not using it (considering he's already been doing so from the moment you met), and I think he'd make sure to only call you by it with your expressed permission in moments when you say it's truly okay. He loves you just the same regardless of what you want him to call you, and he will protect both you and your name with every ounce of power he has.

Candy:

Candy is incredibly patient when it comes to you telling him what your real name is. Everyone in the Underworld is aware of the power an Eldritch being's given name holds, and so he understands why you're so private about telling your name to others, and he would never, ever pressure you to tell him, and despite being a clown and a jokester, he wouldn't even make jokes about it. He wants you to feel completely safe and relaxed with him (despite the fact that you're the incredibly strong one in the relationship and you'd think it would be the other way around), so he waits patiently until the day you decide you feel ready enough to tell him what your name is. That day to be frank comes much sooner than he was expecting, to be quite honest, but he's not complaining. I think it would happen when the two of you were relaxing together, laughing at some stupid joke Candy might have told you, and everything would just feel so right. Your name just rolls off your tongue once the two of you calm down, something Candy nealy misses, and he feels as though surely he must have understood you, right? But no, you tell him that he heard you right, that he heard your name, and he practically bursts into tears, pulling you into his side and cradling you there, hugging you as tight as he can as he cries happy tears into your hair. He thanks you for it, thanks you for feeling so safe with him, thanks you for feeling so comfortable with him (and Terrors too, as he would be getting your name as well), and he promises that both of them are going to keep your name safe, just as they've kept you safe all this time. The first time he says your name he's practically vibrating with happiness, and he covers you in what feels like a million kisses. He doesn't really ever say your true name, as it's a secret he treasures and feels should be kept as private as possible and used only on the most special occasions.

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta x reader #candy pop headcanons #candy pop x reader #zalgo headcanons #zalgo x reader

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annghelicmars · 5 months ago

Text

Getting Kidnapped was Not on the List [Lilia x Reader]

Mentioned this forever ago, but the idea is you get kidnapped by some crusty, stubborn 'ye olde fae' that thinks humans are gross. The boys come to save you :)

I'm not kidding when I say 'ye old fae'. I had A LOT of fun looking up fae names and doing generators. Same fae in all three pieces, btw.

Warning for violence because Pepaw hurts the enemy.

Not proofread because it's three AM and I have to be up in about 6 hours for work >w<

**Malleus and Sebek to follow at a later date. Could only get Lilia out before I have to go to bed :/. May be able to get Malleus and Sebek out by 3/13 or 3/14**

You didn't always go alone on your weekly grocery trips into town but you'd started to put your foot down. This was your fifth time going alone and it was nice to be by yourself for a bit. For all the things you couldn't control--the overblots, having no magic, a sneeze away from your dorm collapsing--you had total autonomy at the store. Ruggie taught you how to budget in Twisted Wonderland, sharing every coupon and ethical hack he knew. Azul usually picked up a few odds and ends with larger orders to give you some wiggle room (and he got a discount, being a business).

Armed with sturdy bags from Sam's and a buss pass from Crowley, earrings from Lilia and a necklace from Malleus, you felt like you could handle anything in the city. It's like you had people with you anyways! Sure, you didn't have magic but you had all the training and safety tips from your world and that was enough.

You were wrong. Very wrong.

You never expected the older man to turn into something else. Or to disappear from the city as soon as you stepped out of the automatic doors of the grocery store.

He was a fae, and he'd made some kind of portal deep into the forest. Despite the dangerous squeeze of your heart, you hoped it was the same forest around the school. You were cursing yourself for not paying more attention to the trees on campus.

Were these the same ones? Were you somewhere totally different?

Where WERE you? And why?

The bags drop to the ground, your hands going slack with surprise. You feel fruit bouncing around your feet and something hit your toe but you don't dare look away. Liquid sloshes as the bread bag gives a pathetic wheeze. Eggshells crack. You're shocked that the fae isn't impossibly tall like Malleus but that doesn't make him any less fearsome.

Faes come in all shapes and sizes, after all.

This one sheds his middle-aged appearance; beard disappearing completely as tied-back blonde hair darkens to chestnut. The wrinkles firm up into smooth skin but there's no youthful bounce or fullness like Lilia has. It's just unblemished skin and high cheekbones with a firm brow. He doesn't have freckles but there's a hint of a scar peeking beneath his shirt, running over his shoulder and almost touching his neck. His lips are thin and his teeth are sharp.

Very sharp.

He's probably the first fae you've seen with teeth like Floyd or Jade. You're not sure what his real eye color is; he's trying to make you uncomfortable by staring at you with shiny, dark eyes. All at once his irises flare a burning red and it kicks your brain back into gear.

You think of bending down to grab something frozen, something you can throw, but the unhuman noise coming out of his throat tells you not to.

There's an icy feeling slithering all over your back, almost to the point of making it spasm. It's like a warning. If you take your eyes off of him, you're dead.

All you can do is keep your eyes on him, blindly reaching for your phone. You hold it up so you can see it out of the corner of your eye, not daring to break its gaze.

You call him, your most-recent contact. He'll know what to do!

----

He dusted, mopped, finished the laundry, did a bit of homework, and made some snacks for the boys. Lilia felt like he'd earned a bit of gaming time. He'd just settled into his gaming chair with a snack when you called. "A call from my beloved! To wh--"

"Lilia! I need your help!" the sheer panic in your voice had him on alert. He'd been the cause of such a tone many years ago and he couldn't fathom something doing the same to you. "Stay on the phone with me, okay? Don't leave me!"

"Where are you?" Lilia jumped out of his gaming chair fast enough for it to fly back against the wall. Maybe put a crack in it. "What's going on?"

His eyes dart around the room, looking for quick things to grab. Things that would make a decent weapon. For a moment, all he sees are knickknacks and things that prove he's gone soft and sentimental. It's almost enough to make him sneer, his old self shaking his head in disappointment at the unpreparedness of it all.

"Would that be Vanrouge? I hope so. But if not, getting rid of another nasty human is never a bad thing."

That spurns him to action and something tickles his brain; Lilia practically rips apart the grand chest in his closet to look for his old gear. He feels like he's heard that voice before. Especially the 'nasty human' part. It was once a misguided sentiment he shared but that voice, the inflection and hiss on nasty, was like a blast from the past.

Lilia shoves himself into the black long-sleeved underlayer, fishing blindly for the chainmail vest he felt seconds ago. He's halfway into enchanted pants--lots of pockets for lots of weapons--when it hits him.

"Elm? Elm Leafdance?"

"You remember me? I'm touched." his laugh was as dry and cruel as he remembered.

"Hard to forget the man who tried to kill my son." Lilia hisses into the phone, stomping into his old boots. These were enchanted, too. There's a beat of silence between them, Lilia standing still to listen for any hint of sound on the other line.

"Seems you still have a habit of picking up these dirty things." Elm tuts. "I couldn't end that one, but I'll get this one."

Quicker than humans could ever perceive, Lilia had broken the false bottom in one of his desk drawers and grabbed various daggers. He punches through the hidden panel in the grand drawer to grab bags of powders. Teleporting into the storage room cuts off some rumbly, squeaking sound that makes his stomach drop.

"Lilia!" Sevens, he hopes he never hears anyone scream like that again! He breaks the glamor over his magearm, strapping it to his back. Hardly anyone in Diasomnia gave the random slab of polished wood a second glance, assuming it was an expander piece for the dining table.

"I'm coming!" Lilia shouts.

He always tells you to grab your earrings when you go somewhere without them, and when he focuses he can feel the weight in his ears. And something stabbing at him. There's a lingering, burning pain that's starting to build. Lilia shuts all of that out as he calls back to the enchantment and feels himself being pulled to wherever you are.

When a fae gives you a gift, it's a connection as much as a blessing.

Elm has a good six inches on him but Lilia is unconcerned, staring up at him sharply. His glamor is totally gone, cheekbones high and face more angular than his boyish appearance. It's impossible to get his bangs to behave after Malleus burned them but his hair is still as long and wild as ever. The untamed reserves of magic he possesses have dwindled with age and time, now dimmed with control, but still flare with disgust as if to challenge Elm on its own.

"Where are they?" he growls, magearm at the ready.

"Behind you." Elm grins, all vicious teeth. Lilia risks a glance over his shoulder and he's in absolute shock. He doesn't even feel the kick to the chest, letting his body skid back to where you are. You're tangled in giant roots that remind him that Elm's talents are solely for earth and grass. It's almost as if a tree is trying to grow around you.

Trying to consume you.

He can see one arm sticking out and the hand is slack. Lilia rolls, dodging another kick as his hands scramble for purchase. He hears a blade rip out of a sheath, staking into the earth where he'd once been. The roots are moving in real time, thickening and twisting. It's a lattice-like pattern that allows him glimpses of you and he finds one of your eyes.

It's a blank look and he can only hope that you're unconscious. Hoping for paralysis would be too cruel. You're human and you have no magic so this root is feeding on your very life essence. Possibly trying to crush you at the same time.

Lilia takes a slice to the back and spins with pure rage, magearm causing a small ditch.

From then on, it's an honest battle. Elm has the advantage, given his power is from earth and grass, but Lilia remembers him being assigned to the court and lacking in battle skills. He was more of a scholar type with staunch beliefs in fae purity. Lilia has the upper hand in terms of actual battle experience and the fact that he hasn't seen Elm in over ten years. Even when he rescued Silver, it was with pure might and weaponry.

Elm doesn't know the kind of magic he can do now.

Elm thinks he'll have the upper hand with smaller weapons, overconfident with the one wound he gave Lilia, but it will not save him in the face of pure bloodlust. The only advantage he has is the fact that Lilia has to angle himself after a swing and leaves himself open from the side he swings on.

That won't do much to help him. Not as much as he thinks.

Lilia feels the grass trying to knot around his shoes, roots trying to grab him, but he rips himself free. Elm continues to dance around him, trying fruitlessly to slice him again. He counters with the magearm, using it as a shield and something to prop himself up as he launches a fire spell at the ground. Being connected to the grass and earth, this will throw Elm off and prevent him from seeding smaller magic into the ground to influence the battle.

As expected, Elm is stunned for a second. Lilia throws himself around the handle of the magearm, spinning his whole body so his foot connects solidly with Elm's face. It's enough to knock the fae on his back but he's not down for long. The two start flinging spells at each other and Lilia doesn't miss the way Elm tries to distance himself, or the way the he casts more spells when he tries to get close to his magearm.

Always a bit of a coward, that man.

Lilia's not worried about the magearm being taken from him. Someone like Elm could never wield it.

"You're not getting away from me again. It was a mistake to let you live the last time!" Lilia tilts his head to avoid a spray of razor-sharp leaves, sending a blast of fire his way. As expected, Elm counters with a water spell. Though weak, it creates steam that Lilia takes advantage of. He breaches the steam like Elm's worst nightmare, magearm in front of him like a shield. A dagger skips off the twisting vine design, almost knicking the tip of Lilia's ear as Elm falls back under the weight of Lilia and his weapon.

One arm pinned beneath him, Elm slashes frantically at the air with the dagger. He tries to squirm out from under the magearm but he can't. Lilia kneels on the magearm, tilting it with his body so the bladed edge digs into Elm.

With luck, he'll just split him in half.

As he stares down at the man who tried to take his boy, and now his lover, Lilia feels what little pity and understanding he had drain from him. He lets it go with no complaints. Lilia angles himself back, allowing the blade to rest against Elm's ribs instead of pressing into them.

There's light and disbelief in Elm's eyes. Lilia can see his mind racing, trying to figure out if anything's broken or how deep the wound is. Elm stays still, much like prey in the mouth of a predator. Lilia grabs Elm's wrist in one hand and his throat in the other. Elm lurches against him and Lilia wonders for a brief moment that if he just squeezed with no restraints, which one would break first?

Elm gasps and gurgles beneath him as Lilia leans forward, magearm once again digging into him. His wrist snaps first and once Lilia is confident Elm's hand cannot be raised against him, he grabs at the fae's throat with both hands and squeezes him.

He squeezes him like he tried to squeeze Silver. Lilia thinks of his poor boy in that sack, sobbing for his papa and not understanding why he was taken or why the man was being mean. He remembers the two, three hits Elm gave that sack after throwing Silver back in; it was before he realized Lilia had tracked him down and it's enough to make Lilia start punching him.

The tangle of roots at the edge of his vision starts to writhe and shrink. It cannot sustain itself without Elm.

Elm's clothes darken with blood. He doesn't look conscious anymore. Lilia pauses, mid-punch, when that scar comes into view. Much like now, he and Elm resorted to grappling those many years ago. Lilia unsheathes the same dagger, tracing the near-fatal wound. The blade finishes it's path and Lilia sinks it deep into the hollow of his neck.

Elm doesn't make a sound but the wound gushes. Lilia slides his magearm off the man's body, overcome with rage and the desire to hurt him. Not just for Silver, but for you.

And perhaps for himself.

Back then he wasn't totally okay with letting him live but Lilia had convinced himself it was fine. He'd made his point and he was a different person for Malleus, Silver, and Sebek.

He stabs the knife into his chest over and over. Lilia vents his frustration and makes sure the threat is truly dead, listening to the bones crack under the jab of the blade. The roots fall to pieces and your bruised body looks like it's laying in a nest. Breathing heavily, Lilia drags his magearm over to look at you.

Most definitely unconscious and he hopes you don't wake up any time soon. The roots had created smaller feelers and he could see where they'd stabbed into you like needles to leech your lifeforce. You were littered with scratches and poke wounds. There were purplish-red marks where the roots had wound around you; you'll definitely need to be looked at. It'd be a miracle if nothing was broken.

When he realized you could be bleeding internally, Lilia made quick work of the corpse. Fae were tricky and fae who died in their natural element might be able to repair themselves. He sets up a summoning circle for Malleus but doesn't activate it until he's hacked Elm to pieces and doused the bits in various powders.

"We've been searching for you for--!" Malleus stops short, unconcerned that he hadn't fully formed in the summoning circle or that green flames hadn't totally cleared from his vision. He watched Lilia dig a deep pit with his magearm and toss meaty pieces in. There was a flurry of powder and a great, roaring fire that died after a few seconds. Grunting, Lilia smoothed the earth over the pit before salting, powdering, and burning it again. Before it could die this time, he grabbed armfuls of the roots and dropped them in the fire.

Malleus took the hint, helping Lilia grab every twig, seed, and bulb from around you. He sprinkled the bits into the fire as Lilia checked you carefully for any traces of the roots. You were slack in his arms but Lilia felt like you'd be okay. There was a bit of warmth in his ears so surely you still had some life in you.

"Will they be okay?" Lilia looks up at Malleus and can't help but laugh. The future king may be over six foot tall but he's still definitely a youngling. Malleus is looking at you like a nervous child.

"I think so." Lilia smiles. "Here, hold them a moment." Malleus accepts you gingerly, watching Lilia etch something into the ground around the fire and some nearby trees. Lilia takes you back, crowding Malleus' summoning circle with three bodies. He shifts you into one arm, shooting a ball of fire at one of the marked trees. The area hums with magic and explodes with fire; the heat kisses your faces but does little else since the summoning circle has taken them back to where Malleus last stood.

The future king of Briar Valley had been in his room when he was summoned. Likely writing to his grandmother or reading. Lilia hears a great commotion outside the door, motioning for Malleus to open it. Silver and Sebek burst into the room, tripping over each other physically and with questions. Lila shushes them calmly, saying he'll explain everything after you're in the infirmary.

They follow him silently, bursting with questions. Lilia isn't your guardian and the school doesn't give much allowance to partners, but he's allowed to sit in your room with you after a scan and some vitals were taken. He thinks he hears the nurses say you have a few fractures but they're being careful. You're fast asleep and unaware that you've been given fluids and vitamins.

It's possible that you'll need blood but they're unsure and they'll need to run some tests. Lilia tells the boys about Elm and isn't too surprised that Silver doesn't remember the incident. Mrs. Zigvolt did well to veil those memories. The somberness turns quite amusing when he recounts that Sebek refused to leave Silver alone for almost a whole month after, and had a mighty tantrum that Baur was impressed with.

Little Sebek had such an adamant grip on Lilia's dining table that each Zigvolt tried their hand at removing him. Hell, even Malleus tried! Only Baur came close, and it was at the risk of bringing said table leg home with them.

The boys leave to fetch you and Lilia some food, hoping it will wake you up, when the nurses begin to give them too many looks. Too many people in your room, Lilia could tell. He leans back in the chair, facing the door but staying at your side, and wonders if he should ask Mrs. Zigvolt to veil your memories, too.

How much would you even remember?

He's dozing, body sore from battle and beginning to bruise from the spells that weren't totally blocked. The wound in Lilia's back has healed itself but the pain is relatively fresh and makes him wince when he sags in the chair wrong. Snoring slightly, Lilia starts awake when you lurch in bed.

You're slurring and incoherent. You look like you're trying to swim through mud. He can't help but laugh when you try to pick your head up and fail. "Easy, beastie," Lilia soothes, leaning over you. He kisses your brow and you relax. "Easy."

"My eggs are going to rot," you look at him with sleepy eyes, like you're not totally awake. "I have to get them in the fridge. Can't eat rotten eggs." you're almost wailing now.

"If they rot, we'll just buy new ones." Lilia's petting your hair. He's trying to calm you so the nurses don't sedate you. They're hovering at the doorway.

"Is my list in my pocket?"

Probably not, no. Your clothes were as ripped and scratched as you!

"I think you lost it. We'll make another one when you wake up from your nap."

"Okay."

And just like that you're out again. If you could remember what you bought when you were taken, he most definitely needs to get Mrs. Zigvolt to the school. He doesn't want you going through night terrors and things like Silver did.

The boys return with food and Lilia accepts it happily. You don't rouse at the scent of food and that's just as well. Lilia eats like he's young again, only this time he's not burdened by rations or whatever they can find in the field. He shoos them off to their studies after some time, insistent on keeping watch. They're reluctant but he's content to keep his post.

The earrings glitter in your ear and he feels the warmth of you in his chest. Lilia sighs happily, pulling the sheets over you as he settles back in the chair to keep watch. He falls asleep an hour later, soothed by the heartbeat he can hear from your bed.

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #Lilia x reader #general lilia vanrouge #love when general lilia makes an appearance in any form

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annghelicmars · 5 months ago

Text

I'm a sucker for jealousy headcanons 🤭

SUMMARY: what the ghouls are like at their most jealous.

COMMENTS: I BEAT UP CARPAL TUNNEL!!!!!!! JEALOUSY HEADCANONS UPON THEE!!!!!!!!!

Jin finds it hard to express how he feels in the moment, watching you play chess with Tohma. He doesn’t like the way Tohma’s whole body is facing yours, or the way he laughs when you make a good move. So, he storms over and wraps his arms around your shoulders, enveloping you from behind. Tohma doesn’t miss the withering glare Jin sends his way when he asks what you two are doing.

Tohma feels his eyelid twitch when Alan pats your head. He slides his way into the space by your side, wrapping a strong arm around your waist and pulling you close. With a meaningful smile, he asks what Alan thinks he’s doing, touching you like that. Alan looks between the two of you and something seems to click in his head. He apologizes, bowing his head before promptly leaving. Tohma does not let you out of his sight for the rest of the day.

Luca doesn’t think much of it. You’re such a kind person, of course people would like to spend time around you! But there’s still a gnawing feeling in his stomach as Kaito flirts with you, making passes at you despite your relationship with him and your obvious discomfort. It becomes too much during lunch, and Luca cannot let his honor as your knight stand if he doesn’t say something now. “Kaito,” Luca snaps, brow furrowed as he glares, “Stop it, if you please.” He doesn’t miss the way you suck in a breath and look at him with wide eyes and parted lips. He’s glad he doesn’t scare you, but Luca definitely didn’t account for this.

Kaito has a jealousy problem. You knew this even before you started dating. He hated you being around other men, especially Luca. Something as little as him smiling at you wrong has him screaming his throat hoarse, and it takes you grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him into a rough kiss to shut him up. He’s just dazed enough afterwards to be silent for hours.

Alan finds safety in your arms, in everything that you are. It’s hard for him to doubt you, but sometimes he gets a little worried when he sees you with Leo. The younger man has you posted up in front of his phone more often than not, despite your rapid fire protests. Even then, Alan knows you don’t like Leo the same way you like him, but it still makes something unpleasant twinge in his gut. And so he whisks you away, keeping it brief, something about needing you for something. Leo scoffs, but Alan doesn’t mind, finally being able to breathe again now that you’re looking at him.

Sho is another man who doesn’t get jealous very easily. He knows you have male friends and he knows you know the women who order from his food truck aren’t ordering him. But, like any normal relationship, he can find himself twisted up with jealousy if he sees someone touch you who he isn’t familiar with. He knows Luca is fine, Kaito is iffy, the captain is fine, but this guy? His eyes narrow. Who the fuck is he?

Leo likes to think he wouldn’t bat an eye at another guy talking to you, because why would he? Obviously nobody would be interested in someone as plain and simple as you! ...Wait, why is the captain touching you like that? You can try and tell him that Alan has always patted your head like that, that it doesn’t mean anything, that he’s leaned in way closer to take selfies with his fans, but he won’t listen. You’re his partner!

Haru keeps the smile on his face, but if you look hard enough, you can see his brow furrowing. It’s not like him to get jealous, really! And maybe it is because of the drinks, but why are you letting Rui cozy up to you like that!? He throws his arms around you and whines, nuzzling your neck and placing wet kisses on every inch of skin he can reach. Please, take him home. He needs to find solace in you anyway.

Towa gets jealous! He does! And you will know immediately just by looking up at the suddenly stormy skies. He appears behind you and snatches you away from Ren, glaring daggers at the poor guy. Ren grumbles something about how he was only showing you something on his phone and that Towa doesn’t need to be so annoying but then lightning strikes nearby and he rushes away from you. You can pout at Towa all you want, but he wont stop glaring at any part of you Ren happened to touch, brushing off his filth with his own hands.

Ren doesn’t like to think about how happy you look when you’re with Haru. He buries his face further into his phone, trying to tune out your laughs until he can’t anymore. “If you’re going to go flirt with each other, can’t you do it somewhere else?” he snaps, glaring daggers at the two of you. He does feel a little guilty when you face falls, but when you come rushing to his side with apologies and reassurance he feels ten times worse. Ugh, this is so stupid. How could he ever doubt you? There’s no way you could like that clown...even if he doesn’t understand why you like him.

Taiga simply grabs you by the waist, pulling you into his side with a yawn. The second his mouth snaps shut, hiding the sharpened fangs from the perpetrators view, he glares. “You have ten seconds to get the hell away from them,” he says coldly, reaching for his gun, “You’ll do it if you know what’s good for you.” If there’s one thing Taiga doesn’t mess around with, it’s you.

Romeo thinks jealousy is beneath him. There’s no way any poor bastard would be brave enough to try and take his partner. You are his, and he is yours. At least, that is what he believed until he saw someone getting a little too close for comfort, no doubt complimenting your formal wear which Romeo bought just so you could match with him. He storms to your side in a fury, yelling at the top of his lungs about how you’re TGFT and how they should GTFO!

Ritsu likes to think of himself as a very practical man. He doesn’t let his emotions guide him, he only looks to facts. And the fact of the matter is, this person is getting way too close to you for comfort. He approaches you and clears his throat, holding back the urge to thrust his arm in between the two of you and separate you by force. “They are spoken for,” he says coolly, linking his arm with yours, “If you wish to be frivolous and debauched, perhaps try your luck elsewhere.”

Subaru tries his best to laugh it off as he scoots closer to you, not quite close enough to touch you but closer than he should be. The other person doesn’t seem to notice his discomfort, continuing to make you laugh and smile and talk to you. Subaru’s polite smile slowly transforms into a cold, dead stare. Rest assured, the second the other person sees it, they’ll back off. It’s impolite to stick around when you’re unwanted, you know?

Haku doesn’t doubt you, but he doubts every other guy around you. You’re his favorite, you know? He has to look out for you, which is why he slides himself in between you as the other person as smoothly as if he’d always be there. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and places his other hand high up on your thigh, stroking the skin with his thumb. Now, what were you two talking about? He’d love to be in on this conversation.

Zenji is another man who doesn’t get jealous very easily. The most he will do is feel hurt when you’re touching someone a bit too much, because he isn’t able to actually feel you. He gets insecure in that way, but it’s nothing some verbal affection can’t fix. Excuse yourself, go somewhere more private, and sit with Zenji for a little while. Although he wants nothing more than to take you into his arms, he settles for staring into your eyes with his own watery ones.

Edward is an enigma. He’s lived so long that he doesn’t quite feel sparks of jealousy anymore, but maybe you’re the exception. A once in a lifetime chance to feel. And so, when he has the opportunity to shower you with all of his affections in public, he will take it, whether it’s genuine jealousy or not. He snatches you up and dips you low, kissing you until you run out of breath and are pliant in his arms. There, that wasn’t so hard, now was it? You should only pay attention to him from now on.

Rui, much like Zenji, is jealous of those who get to touch you. If he sees someone getting too cozy, he’ll change the subject to get their attention on him and away from you. There is always an ache, a fear that you will get sick of not being able to hold him and leave. Once the bar has closed down and his emotions show clearly on his face, talk him through how he feels and reassure him that he really is the one you want. He’ll be putty in front of you.

Lyca doesn’t know the name for the feeling he is experiencing, but he knows he doesn’t like it. You’re going to have to have a long talk to him so he doesn’t start any fights on your behalf. You should know better than anyone that Lyca will bite and kick and scratch if it means keeping you safe. He’d do it in a heartbeat. Lyca doesn’t want to be this close to anyone else ever, and he hopes you feel the same.

Yuri will stew in his jealousy until it eats him alive and he blows up at you. The most likely candidates are Frostheim students such as Luca or Kaito, so if you’ve been hanging out with them make sure you give your boyfriend some extra loving! He might act like he doesn’t need it nor want it, but he kisses you back like he’s been starved of it, swallowing every breath and sigh from your mouth with his own. Won’t you keep loving him like this? Please?

Jiro is very blunt and honest with how he feels when jealous. He’ll just come right out and ask you “Why are you so close to them? “Is there a reason you’re smiling and laughing so much?” “For some reason, I feel pretty bad when you speak to them.” It’ll be pretty obvious to you, and getting him to understand how he feels will be just as easy. He won’t hold onto the emotion after it’s left. It was a silly thing to worry about when he’s yours and you are his.

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