And, finally, a free pass for any character + any ask game that you so desire! 💕💗💕 Have fun~
Last, but not least- something to make our dear Jojo happy too 💝(or mad. Honestly, both options are available dahajlfhsljahdf)
Comforting Sentence Starters
"I understand that what you’re going through must be painful."
To say that Archie is surprised to open the door to his office and find Eliana standing there would be an euphemism.
The girl hasn't willingly sought him out in- well, in a long while, all things considered. Since the wardrobe, like as not. She hasn't taken the events leading up to the curse very well, and understandably so, if Archie were to be honest with himself. It's an unexpected turn of events, that she would change her mind so abruptly.
Eliana must catch on his line of thought almost immediately, though, for her neutral expression turns into a scowl before his very eyes, and she starts rummaging through her bag, finally fishing out a thin hard-cover book. "August left this at my house," she says, flatly, all but slamming it in the doctor's hands. "He says he borrowed it from you. Don't worry, I know he's done it on purpose. I'll make sure it doesn't happen again."
Well, Archie thinks, repressing a sigh. There are two people who are getting along just as fine as they've ever done, at least. "It's...It's alright, Eliana. Thank you. Did you want to come in?"
"Depends. Is Pongo there?"
"Unless he has left on his own in the last two minutes, I dare say yes."
She nods brusquely and steps inside, brushing past him in her beeline for Archie's dog. Archie himself, for his part, watches her go as a something clenches at his chest and squeezes, threatening to cut his breath off entirely.
Pongo, bless him, doesn't seem to be aware of the tension that has flooded the room all of a sudden, and wags his tail fiercely as he raises from his cushion, padding closer to nose at Eliana's face and neck. She breaks into a soft smile, a rare enough occurrence for her, and that's perhaps why Archie ends up closing the door behind himself, instead of leaving it open and waiting for her to leave, and attempts to speak up again, after a long stretch of silence. "How's your father?"
Eliana stops mid-fur stroke, but she doesn't look up just yet. "I wouldn't know. How's yours?"
It's a venomous jab, tailored to hurt and fester in his skin, but the doctor refuses to let it linger more than half a second before waving it away, and makes an effort to keep his voice mild. "I understand that what you went through must have been painful, Eliana, but I really think that you should talk to him. This situation isn't doing any good to either of you."
"I very much doubt it."
"He hasn't changed as much as you think, even with the curse-"
"That's not what I meant." This time she does look up, and her eyes flash dangerously as she does so, her words coming out through gritted teeth. "What I meant is, I very much doubt you understand. At all."
The problem, Archie has occasionally caught himself thinking despite his best intentions, is that while each line on August's face is a reminder of how much they've all failed him, it also makes it easier to forget who he is, from time to time. He looks so different from the boy he was that if Archie focuses hard enough, he can almost pretend it's just a common patient he's talking to, just a man from town like any other.
Eliana, though, is all Marco from top to foot, even where her features betray who her mother is. The way she speaks, the way she juts her chin out defiantly - Archie can see her father in every detail, and what's worse, he can see her during easier times, too, sixteen and dancing a mad jig with Ruby during a country fair, six and coming home in a daze after being led away by the Dark One. It's like he's still arguing with that little girl who used to trust him implicitly, or with another child, decades and decades earlier, sad and mourning and raging.
It makes it all the harder for him to begrudge her even a smidge of her anger, even when she's acting like this, radiating fury from every pore.
"You're right," he says, picking his words carefully. "I don't understand everything. And you're allowed to resent us for what happened- I will never deny it, you know that. "
"I don't need your fucking permission to be mad," Eliana spits out, raising to her feet with the deliberate slowness of predator ready to strike. "I don't need your fucking permission to do anything, Jiminy. You're not my conscience anymore- if you ever were, that is. Have never been your top priority, now, have I?"
"That's not fair and you know it, but- I'll take it. I'd rather take all that anger instead of watching you pour it on your father. He was only trying to do what he thought was best."
"Best for who?" She snorts, shaking her head. "And I've got plenty of anger for all of you, don't trouble yourself with that. For you, for him, for my mother- Any of you could have stopped this. Emma could have had at least one parent. My baby brother could have been here! Safe! With me!"
"I know." Archie can't negate her words, much as it pains him. How could he? She's right. She's always had the right of it. "I regret it as much as you do. More, even. I couldn't stop your father, but I hoped you would, until the last minute."
"Believe me, if I'd been there, I would have."
"Why? Where were you?"
"Where do you think?" Eliana lets out a sharp laugh, bitter and resentful even from afar. "I was the closest thing they had to a damn midwife. Without me, our dear Savior would have been pulled out by dwarves alone. Can you imagine? They've never seen a gap that's not bearded."
"I...I didn't know." He's not lying. Not that he was before, but - this is genuine news to him, in a way her recriminations or her exaggerated crassness, made to offend and infuriate, could never be.
"It's not like they're going around advertising that. I made sure that Snow White wouldn't be having a breech birth, and now that cunt looks down at me like I'm a bad influence on her daughter, and goes asking for Rumpelstiltskin's help. Rumpelstiltskin! There's a laugh."
"I don't think that-"
"Meanwhile, I haven't heard a single apology from my father in thirty years, my mother is now a religious leader, my brother's in shambles, and you're saying you were expecting me to fix everything? What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"Eliana-"
"But of course, that's what's expected of me, right? Stay out of the story, Lia, help with the birth, Lia, hold back and sweep the floors while your Papa's out on a suicide mission, and don't even think about complaining, gods be good, because you're not the one that matters here-"
"Eliana, enough." Finally, Archie manages to wedge himself in her monologue, and grabs her tentatively by the shoulders, steadying her. "You're right. You and August have been wronged so many times I don't know where to begin fixing it. But you're only hurting yourself now. Breathe."
He half expects her to pull away, but to her great surprise, she doesn't. She merely looks up at him, hair wild and dishevelled, her chest heaving raggedly - he always forgets how small she seems, now that she can't swat him away with a single hand any longer, and rage has brought colour to her cheeks, making her appear oh-so-young, younger even than the age printed on her paperwork here in Storybrooke, which has never been accurate and likely never will be.
It strikes Archie that while August might have tricked her into coming to the office today, she could have left at any time, with his approval or not. She was never one to let herself be stopped by a mere locked door, Eliana. The doctor remembers more than one night spent pacing and fuming after she'd climbed out her bedroom window, torn between warning Geppetto and ensuring she didn't run into any trouble - coercing her into staying wouldn't have gone anywhere, then as well as now. There must be a part of her that needed these words to tumble out of her mouth, that wanted him to listen to them, no matter how small or how deeply hidden inside Eliana.
It's not nearly as comforting as one would be led to think, that realization. He thinks that if he could, he'd willingly trade this moment for any of those terrible days from her teenage years, when her rage would make the milk curdle all around the village and Archie would despair of her ever getting better.
"I needed you," she says simply, hollowly. Her voice has evened out now, calm and controlled, but he can tell it's a thin veneer, a lid being pressed onto a boiling pot. "August needed you both, but I did, too. I thought you could make Father see sense, and then the curse broke and we were right where we started. We thought you were dead, Jiminy. I had to stand at the back of the crowd and watch him give you an eulogy and my brother was still missing and it wasn't fair. You hear me? It wasn't. For any of us."
"I know. I'm sorry. I know apologizing will never be enough, but I am sorry, Eliana. Even for the things I couldn't control."
"I don't want apologies." To his great surprise, the shadow of a grin flashes on her face, fleeting but there all the same. "I want the Dark One's head on a spike, and my mother to piss off the face of Earth, and to smack August on the head for this stupid little game he played. Can you speed up any of those, Dr. Hopper?"
An entirely different brand of tiredness falls onto Archie's shoulders, a familiar one, sure, but heavy nonetheless. If there's one thing Eliana has in common with her brother, it's the fact that they have always had a knack for giving him white hair, even before he had any hair to speak of. "You know I can't approve of your plans. As a therapist, and as your friend."
"Yes, well, it would be better if you were actually my friend." Eliana releases a long, tremulous exhale, closing her eyes for a moment before glancing up at him again, as though steadying herself. "Tragically, you're family. It'd be easier to be angry at you and Father, if you weren't."
"What about your mother and brother?"
This time the smile lingers a bit longer on her lips, something approaching her customary fire in it. "That woman's no family of mine. She should have bitten the bullet and kept me around, if she'd wanted to be. They say wet nurses love fairy babies, but I think Nova would have done well, and she'd have been happy. And August..." She hesitates, pressing her lips together, then clears her throat, shaking her head stiffly. "I don't care what he's done in this world. That's for Emma to forgive, and she did. He's not to blame for any of the bad things that happened to us since he was born."
She fixes that burning purple gaze of hers on him, her fingers fidgeting with the strap of her bag. "Can you say the same for yourself, Jiminy? Or for my father?"
For all his experience, Archie has no answer for that question. Eliana must know it as well as him, because after a long moment she nods to herself, then ducks her head and leaves, leaving the door ajar and Pongo whining with his tail tucked between his legs, calling after his playmate.
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i just think that leon could be railing tf you, like rearranging your guts and making you cry……... all while holding your hand and stroking your hair n stuff :(( yeah
A hot tear rolls down your cheek. You’ve never had him like this before. This hard. This rough. Leon has always been careful with you, but tonight, you asked him not to be. Looked up at him through your lashes and asked him to ruin you, as you’d put it.
And well, you’re getting what you asked for.
“You okay, pretty?” He says, gripping your hips hard as he pushes into you, hips landing flush against your ass. It’s a rhetorical question; he knows you’re enjoying this. He only made you repeat the safe word close to a dozen times before pinning you onto the bed and having his way with you. “This what you wanted?”
Your hands clutch onto the bedsheets for life, head impossibly hazy from how Leon has utterly abused your cunt for the past thirty minutes. Swiping over your clit with his thumb and pulling away when your thighs start to shake. Rutting into you hard and fast, but never keeping up the pace enough for you to climax.
It’s pain and it’s torture, but fuck it feels good.
He wraps a hand around one of your thighs, pushing it over his shoulder, eliciting a broken whine from you. He’s buried deeper inside you now, somehow. Stuffed like you’ve never known.
“N-Need to cum, Leon,” You look up at him, glossy eyed and pouting. “Please.”
“You’ll get to cum,” He grunts simply, lifting a hand to push some hair away from your face, his thumb tenderly stroking your temple. “You’re— fuck. You’re gorgeous like this.”
Truthfully, Leon wasn’t totally convinced by the idea. Fucking you until you cried, until you begged. But you’re clenching tightly around him, making the most wonderful sounds… you’re ruined. Ruined beautifully by the pleasure only he can grant you.
His free hand moves so he’s thumbing at your clit again, and you cry out at the pleasure shooting through your core. One of your hands moves from the sheets to clutch at his shoulder, but Leon is quick to envelop it in his own, lacing his fingers with yours and pushing your hand back against the pillow. You’re sure you’re squeezing it uncomfortably tight, but if you are, Leon doesn’t mention it.
And fuck, you’re crying again. You’re overwhelmed and overstimulated but somehow none of it is enough, your orgasm impending yet too far away with the game Leon seems to be playing.
This is what you wanted, after all. And well, you’re not complaining.
Upon seeing your cheeks wet and your eyes wide and blinking away tears, Leon leans down, never slowing his torturous ruts into your cunt as he presses his lips to the salty liquid on your skin.
“You’re taking this— mm, so well…” He utters against your cheek, hissing as you tighten around him. “So pretty getting fucked like this.”
His lips are soft and comforting, along with the hand that’s squeezing yours in reassurance.
When your eyes meet his, they’re heavy and dark. Plagued with desire and a thirst for your pleasure.
You don’t think this is the last time you’ll have Leon like this. It’s a thrilling thought.
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Goofy and erratic villian with an exasperated and somewhat uptight hero who has a crush on the villain? Maybe the villain says something vaguely flirty on accident and the hero has to pretend they don’t like it (and fails miserably)
“Come on.” The villain grabbed the hero’s hands and pulled them towards the dance floor. Eyes glinting, excitement filled up the villain. “Fight me.”
Utterly unimpressed, the hero just rolled their eyes.
“No interest.”
“That’s not very diplomatic of you. Refusing the enemy’s suggestion to resolve our issues? Come on, it’ll be fun. Just a little bit of combat.” They pulled the hero close, grip tight around them as they led the hero through the song. “Or are you scared?”
“We’re calling combat ‘resolving issues’ now?” Their eyes went through the crowd, concentrating. Professional. Obviously, the hero didn’t have time for their nemesis but the villain didn’t care.
At this point, they took whatever fell into their hands. The hero was a master at hiding, at avoiding people and the villain was not going to let them slip through their fingers that easily.
“It’s like couples therapy for crazy people, don’t you think?” the villain asked. They tried to redirect the hero every time they spotted the supervillain among the many millionaires.
Admittedly, the villain had been on their hands and knees when they’d discovered that the hero was going to be here. They’d begged the supervillain to take them with them and thank god, the villain had been assigned to distract the hero.
It was their favourite activity.
“I can’t argue with that, I suppose.” The hero shrugged. “I am not interested in making a scene, though.”
“But it’s so much fun...” Again, the villain pulled them closer, staring through half-lidded eyes at that heroic face.
One time, the hero’s hard shell had cracked in front of the villain. Ever since, the villain tried to crack it again, not because they wanted to torment the hero but because they needed the hero to know that being imperfect and vulnerable was normal.
The hero forgot that they were human sometimes.
“You’re aware that I am going to crush you like a beetle, right?”
And the villain had seen other people lose their mind to that.
“Oh, I’d love that, baby,” the villain answered. The hero’s face remained emotionless.
“If you think that you can distract me with your cheap tricks, then you’re blithely unaware of the fact that I am the best in this business.”
The hero tried to get out of the villain’s grip but the villain knew the supervillain wasn’t done with their investigation yet. So, the villain had to get creative.
“I know you’re the best, that’s why I want to fight you again. Gives me a kick.” The villain brushed the hero’s ear with their lips. “It feels good.”
“Ugh, you’re annoying.” The hero grabbed the villain’s jaw and turned their head away from them. The villain had to giggle at that.
However. The villain also caught a glimpse of their red ears.
The hero was embarrassed.
“Come on, grumpy…you love me.” They couldn’t help but smirk. Annoying the hero was a hobby the villain would never be able to let go of. Sometimes, they committed a crime just for the hero to show up.
“I’m wasting my time with you.”
Unfortunately, the villain spotted their superior. Giving them a sign to go back to the lair.
“You mean you’re having fun,” they mumbled.
The hero was quiet and looked (as usual) quite dissatisfied as they let the villain guide them. They didn’t seem to be passionate about dancing at all. They didn’t seem to loathe it, either.
“Let me invite you on a date, then. You. Me. Tomorrow. Bring your best weapon,” the villain said. They squeezed the hero’s hip, making the other’s eyes widen and somehow, the hero seemed much more human with their red face and their avoidant gaze.
Almost as if they did like the villain after all.
The villain could live with that, though.
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