nana

multifandom

[sirenedusud]

the titles master list:

hellboy

lab rat (nuada x fem!reader)

show me my fate (nuada x fem!reader)

interview with the vampire

nsfw. theatre des amoureux (santiago x fem!reader)

queen of the damned

don’t let the vampire in (lestat x fem!reader)

midnight mass

nsfw. dreams of prey (paul x fem!reader)

one piece

nsfw. to starboard (shanks x fem!reader)

the rings of power

once more to see you (adar x elf!reader)

[sirenedusud]

some of my silly little fanfics gaining traction out of nowhere is so lit would yall mind if i write a super long francesco pazzi angsty arranged marriage fanfic LMAOOO

[sirenedusud]

i finished sabrina and….netlfix you can count your fucking days

[sirenedusud]

does one write bullseye fanfic with the threat of wilson bethel finding it hanging overhead? (yes.)

[sirenedusud]

lab rat (nuada x fem!reader)

in which a vengeful elf prince pries open a mortal.

AN: sorry guys this is straight up me defiling us readers because I feel unworthy of any implication of Nuada liking us as a human and also I’m freaked out I guess and also dgaf.

AN II: gore, torture, surgery??, Nuada is aroused by human pain…

3.8k words

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"Manning wants you with Hellboy," an agent with a high, nasally voice blurts out as he passes you in the hallway, hardly looking up from his dossier to acknowledge you further. He was a thin and constantly sneering man, inflated with self-importance at being Manning's little minion. You pause a moment at this abrupt report then immediately furrow your eyebrows, bounding after him before he slinks away.

"What do you mean he wants me with Hellboy? I don't go out on those missions," you question the agent, moving him to finally look at you, but only in annoyance at the fact that he has to speak any further on the memo he was given. The agent just shrugs and repeats what he says like it was final before leaving you to figure the rest out. The hall bustled around you with other agents in dark attire and scientists carting around paranormal species in slumber. You pitied them in this state, limp and unknowing, having no clue the only reason they were strapped to metal tables for experimentation was because they were not human. You snap out of your thoughts and head to the boardroom where you hoped to find the director. Lo and behold, Tom Manning stood at the front of the room with an exasperated look on his face as he spoke with someone. He catches you watching him and motions you inside.

"Agent! Get in, get in," Manning hisses at you until you shuffle in more awkwardly than you would like, gluing yourself to the wall while Manning shuts the door. Sure, you were an agent of the Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense, and you could be directed to go on ground missions as you did receive tactical training like anybody else, but you were simply used to the paperwork end of things to the point of comfort. Manning then motions you to close in with the other two agents in the room around him. You peel yourself off the wall and do as he asks.

"You all must be wondering what caused this impromptu meeting between the director and some employees who hardly ever talk to me, well," Manning ducks his head down as he continues, "I want you three to be all eyes and ears for me, you hear me?" he now whispers frantically, "I don't trust Red OR Blue to stick to protocol anymore, they undermine me, they don't listen, they—" Manning restrains himself from going on his age old rant and pops a Tums in his mouth with a hand on his chest.

"Just report to me anything…that would seem against my judgement on this channel," for the rest of the secretive meeting, Manning demonstrates the radio channel to dial him on and gives a lengthy list of all of the things he deems not BPRD protocol. You glance at the other two agents frequently, expecting them to want to refuse Manning at some point. They were young, fresh-faced, and determined to please. You almost scoff at them, but then Manning finally dismisses the group and you quickly jump on the opportunity to weasel yourself out of this ordeal.

"Director Manning! Yeah, hi, so I'm guessing since you put me on this mission you have read my entire file," you begin, "I don't go out for these big things, with um, Hellboy and Abe. I've been on shorter jobs, like lower threat level missions..?" Manning looks at you like he didn't understand the issue you had with him pulling you out of the air to spy on his own special agents; you twist your hands together as he just chews his Tums with that confused look on his face.

"Yeah well, I'm not asking you to stand in the middle of a shootout; I just need you to lay low and um, watch Hellboy." You gape at him, and he takes the silence as an answer, slapping your shoulder with one hand and fleeing from the boardroom straight after. Hours earlier a special agent, who was more like a German ghost in an old diving suit, arrived at HQ to lead the supernaturals on their next mission to investigate some evil elf prince—Nuada— who was hellbent on annihilating humanity, and now you were being told you had to join that same mission. Shit.

***

"Just watch this perimeter for me okay?" Liz points to a street corner where she posted a couple of cameras, Manning meanwhile winks at you knowingly from the back of the Bureau van. You turn away to roll your eyes. Little did he know you intended on doing nothing about Hellboy. Liz had eased your anxiety over the ride to the bridge too after you aired out your grievances to her; never, and you meant never, have you had to join the special agents anywhere in your seven years at the Bureau. You spent the entire ride in the van glancing at Abe and Hellboy cautiously, then nearly burning up in embarrassment when Hellboy finally caught you rather irked. Those other two agents who were in the meeting with Manning held their chins up haughtily the entire ride.

They would shit their pants if they knew the shit BPRD had to deal with before sticking it in the lab. Hellboy, Abe, and Krauss now cross the street with gadgets you've never seen before strapped onto their heads, this Bureau got weirder everyday and you wondered why you stuck around so long. You pace around in small circles in your corner. You realize that you could clearly see the special agents from where you stood, but chose to keep the private channel on your radio off. You were no spy.

"Hanging in there?" Liz's voice comes from behind you and you spin towards her, trying not to look so much like some surprised puppy.

"Yeah, just keepin' my eye on things," you rock back and forth on your heels. Liz didn't make you feel awkward or inferior, so you manage to converse with her lightly; being two of the very small percent of women working in the BPRD helped too. Time flies with her, and the night seems almost pleasant. What were you worried about again?

"What was that?" one of the fresh faces asks as he crosses the street towards you and Liz.

"What was what?" she replies; then it happens. The ground rumbles violently, an earthquake in Brooklyn? You spin towards the last place you saw Hellboy and your eyes double in size as the concrete splits open into several deep crags. A large green stalk sprouts out from the earth causing chaos to erupt up and down the street. Pedestrians start shrieking left and right, cars honk at each other, then stop one after the other as drivers jump out of their cars entirely to make a run for it. You click into action and motion at the civilians to head towards the undisturbed streets. But more people keep appearing out of nowhere and you fall in with the panic in the air to the point of being caught in surprise at the monstrous plant out on the street. It towers over the buildings and its strange roar felt like drums beating in your head. You finally focus on a large red man jumping from car to car—Hellboy—and scaling the side of a building. The swarm of people were watching the scene too rather than fleeing, much to your annoyance, and both Krauss and Manning were shouting incoherently at Hellboy. You do all you can and yell at people to get further back, but a part of you wanted to watch the action too. You whip your head around to see Hellboy on top of a sign letter with a large gun in hand and a baby wrapped in his tail. You nearly smack your palm on your own face, talk about decreasing casualties.

"SHOOT IT!" Krauss shrieks from beside you. You glance at him and back to Hellboy and the plant monster. A small part of you hoped it would decide to turn away and submerge itself into the ocean or perhaps take a hike to the upstate. It shouldn't have to die. Someone else catches your eye too, a pale, glowing man on the rooftop speaking to Hellboy. The world seems to pause around you, people's voices and Manning's whining going into slow motion as you set your gaze upon the pale man. This must be the target. You felt ridiculous for thinking how attractive he was even from afar. Before you knew it, Hellboy blew a hole into the monster's head and the elf disappeared. The monster shrieks in agony, more in fear rather than anger, and stumbles backwards until it crashes into one building's side. You immediately focus back on the situation and urge the crowd of civilians to leave, but they would not listen. The aftermath was silence, then people kicked back up in a frenzy and threw slanderous words at Hellboy; blaming him for everything as if he weren't the one to eliminate the threat. You give up and choose to stare at the pavement as it was being carpeted rapidly by lush grass and delicate flowers from the monster's green blood.

***

Your body hurt like hell. You drag your feet beneath you while you direct some BPRD men to clean up the debris of the night's events. Dawn was hours away, but the deep blue sky slowly blended into a lighter purple. Hellboy and the other supernaturals had left a while ago, along with Manning and his trained dogs. You on the other hand decided to stay on the ground to actually make a tangible difference. The whole street was in shambles, the pavement was blasted throughout and several buildings were caved in on, not to mention all of the flattened vehicles standing silently too. All of the stander-bys had their information collected and were told they would be compensated at some point. You sit on the curb and glare at two scientists in white suits scraping up the greenery that spilled out of the monster after it died. Another two were jabbing the monster's decaying body with more tools; scraping, pulling, sampling anything they could take.

"Are you proud of this?" a silver voice hisses at you and you look over your shoulder slowly, too tired to think twice, but then jump up off the curb when you spot the elf standing in the alley. Were you really that tired or was the literal point of this entire mission standing several feet away from you? You begin to tremble and shake your head no.

"I thought not, you people are poison, you know that? Poison," he sneers at you while you nod in agreement. What else were you going to do? He reaches his hand behind him and you finally bristle in alarm. You pull out your rubber baton as he unsheathes a blade. Was he really going to fight you now? There isn't a moment to think as he lunges at you, you dodge by nearly hurtling yourself into the stone wall. He grins like some wild hyena then lunges again, weapon ready to cut you down. You dodge him again and this time smack the blade away from you as it nearly slices into your arm. It was like a dance meant to tire you out, and it did, after the sixth round of dodging and blocking, you trip over trash bags on the floor into the alleyway. Your throat felt so constricted from hyper-vigilance that it only made you more voiceless, unable to call for help. The elf's eyes bear down into you like prey stalking his kill, but before he slices you open, you smash the blade to the floor with your baton one last time. The spear suddenly springs open from the force and the blade shoots into your right thigh. You gape at your leg in shock before shrieking at the pain sparking throughout your entire body. The blood pools around you quickly, it hit the major artery, making your head feel faint and sight turn blurry. Nuada nudges your leg with his foot, causing you to whimper in pain and lash towards him with your baton. He smacks the baton out of your hand and squats beside you. 

“Tch-tch, nobody’s here to help the little officer anymore,” Nuada grins wickedly over your now slumping body. Through groggy eyes you watch him seeming to wonder what to do with you, to let you die here in the street or…something else? As your senses begin to slip away, the last thing you recall is him picking you up with one arm under your legs and the other holding your back.

***

A dream—a nightmare—of the events that had just passed make you jolt wide awake into a wince. You try to look at your leg, which still throbbed in pain, but you were strapped to a metal table. Your head is fixed facing the ceiling, which was made of rough stone; the only light source was a dim and flickering one placed around you. It was as if you were in some kind of ancient dungeon or cave. You try to wriggle around but the straps on your forehead, chest, and limbs were very taut.

Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck fuck—

"Awake are we?" the elf's voice makes your panic stop and ramp back up again as he comes into eyesight. He looks down at you and you can finally see him clearly all at once. His eyes were large and yellow like that of a hawk's, his skin was etched with lines similar to tree bark, his complexion was pale, and hair paler. You naively wonder how someone so enchanting could be so evil, but the thought is snatched right out of you the moment Nuada presses his palm on your wounded leg. You cry out and cringe at the sensation, hot tears stream down your temples and into your hair. Nuada keeps pressing into your leg with his eyes fixed on yours. You reach the point of howling wildly, eyes rolling around in every direction. He finally pulls away and you let out several trembling breaths. Your thigh muscles spasm from the pain and only cause more pain to jolt down to your knee. He leaves your bedside, walking over to one end of the room until you hear him push a metal cart towards you, its' wheels scraping the stone floor. He begins picking up various items, inspecting one before placing it back down and moving on to the next.

"Please let me go…" you beg meekly. Nuada slams the scalpel in his hand down onto the metal tray and rushes over to your side, peering at you intently. The face you once thought beautiful now turned very eerie and haunting.

"What was that?" he asks almost excitedly.

"I said let me go please," you begin to blubber, "I didn't even do anything! I wasn't even supposed to be on this mission, I didn't even wanna be here, I—" you cry like an idiot to the elf and he simply smiles down at you without remorse.

"Of course that's all true, I'm sure, but anyone can just say that can't they? They didn't want to be here, they didn't mean for things to go this way, but they still participate in it don't they?" he begins in a mocking tone and ends with a menacing one, fury taking over him the more he thought about humans destroying his world. You stop your crying with a gulp and stare at Nuada now. There was not an inkling of mercy in him, so you begin to accept your fate in silence and shut your eyes.

"Uh-uh-uh, open your eyes for me," he sticks a finger inside your wound and you immediately yell at him to stop. He digs around in your open flesh, causing your wailing to stop and start sporadically. The pain makes you feel sick. Bouts of nausea and dizziness wave over you and you ball your hands into fists to the point of your palms stinging from your nails digging into the skin. He finally stops and you breathe out in deep gasps. You were beginning to sweat; you felt your hair sticking to your neck and forehead. You needed to just die at this point, the pain was unbearable and the room seemed sealed shut from the whole world.

"Now let's take a look…" Nuada walks over to the other side of the table you were strapped onto and turns a crank. You feel yourself tilting forward and finally see the room you're in now. It was in fact some sort of cave, but full of technology foreign to you. A row of tanks with floating specimen, plants of unusually dark shades of blue and purple, and other biomedical machines. With great difficulty you peer down at your leg and wince at the blood pouring out now that you're angled more upright. What made you even more prepared to die then was the trolley right beside you. It was stacked with various knives, saws, pliers, scissors, tubes, and other unpleasant things. Things you recalled being used back in BPRD on the paranormals. It seemed that you were paying humanity's karma alone. You almost begin to relax from the momentary release from torture, but the elf comes back into your peripheral view and your heart beats wildly. He taps on the metal table before him, drumming his fingers on it repeatedly to make the objects rattle. He then finally grabs needle and thread and returns to your side. Nuada slides a finger over your wound, making you hiss through your teeth; then, to your surprise, he begins to mend your leg, without painkillers of course. You groan as the needle slides through your skin, Nuada slowly criss-crosses the thread over the giant gash in your outer thigh. He uses his other hand to press the sides of the gash together as he goes further down, ignoring all of your winces and gasps. Nuada's breath grows ragged while he stares into his handiwork. He reaches down a couple of times to adjust his pants, accompanying the motion with a soft sound from his throat. The stitching stretches on for an eternity in your mind and you reach the point of fainting from the searing pain.

"Shh, it's over now, shh," Nuada seems to soothe himself more than you as you finally pant out in relief from the sharp torture ending. All that was left was a throbbing in your leg and dizziness in your head. Through your growing fatigue you keep a weary eye on Nuada's back. For a moment you think you see him suck your blood off of his fingers. You grimace as he lets out a soft groan from tasting the blood. Silence falls over the two of you and you wonder if you would just die anyway from the loss of blood. You blink in and out of consciousness and lose track of Nuada's movements in the room. He hooks something into your elbow crease and another into your thigh, and later rummages through your stuff he had stripped off of you and put in a bag at the far end of the room. The white gauzey cloth you were wrapped in was stained with sweat down the chest and stomach, the gross sensation now entering your awareness after the pain in your leg becomes more dull. At some point you finally fall asleep.

***

You wake up, regrettably, in a new room. It was well lit due to a wall of arched windows facing a hallway full of torches. Your mind was still fresh from the sickening procedure conducted in the cave and so you sat, to your surprise, upright in a low narrow bed. You yank the thin sheet off of you and inspect your thigh to suddenly gasp at what you find. It was a miracle. The once festering, dark gash in your thigh was nothing but a long, pink scar. You carefully poke and prod your own leg, bracing for any pain, and sigh when you feel nothing at all. You almost become too relieved and begin to swing your legs over to the side of the bed, but find your ankles chained to the ground.

"Do you see what I am holding?" Nuada's voice echoes into the room and you look around frantically to find him perched on the window sill. He was holding a slim vial of dark red liquid. Your blood. The color on your face drains and you simply stare at him.

"I am going to wash the earth with this," Nuada jumps into the room and shakes the vial in your face, "yours and all of mankinds. I will purify the land for the old ones." He awaits your reaction with a twisted gleefulness.

"Why haven't you killed me..?" you ask weakly, pulling the thin blanket right back over your legs. He breaks his stare away from the bottle of blood and narrows his yellow eyes at you like you were stupid.

"You are my hostage, do you understand? Those mortals have someone I want, so I will keep one of their own," you were going to live. A rushing sense of relief begins to calm you down and you slump into the bed which you now accepted as your prison cell. At least it was a bright and warm one.

"What do you want from the Bureau?" you ask him, nearly biting your tongue as his intense gaze continues to insult you in its own way. You had to know though, and you assumed the worst of it was over.

"My sister," Nuada states and stalks out of the room without another word. He almost seemed disappointed at your lack of fear, but in truth you were too tired at this point and also imagined that Liz or Hellboy might save you. You wondered if it was finally day yet. Minutes pass by before a larger elf in black armor enters the room and smashes your chains open, causing you to yelp in surprise. The elf then drags you to stand up and pushes you out of the room. You begin to protest but are then bound and gagged by two more armored elves and finally shoved in Nuada's direction. The elf prince licks his lips, his eyes take their time to drag over your body. Your hands were tied at the wrist and a chain linked them to a heavy ring of metal around your neck, thick rope gagged you to the point of hurting your mouth and jaw. You were pushed further out of the foreign room until you were outside, which was just an old factory in the city to your surprise. It was dark out, and cold, the wind easily passed through your garment and chilled you to the bone. Nuada looks back at you and only grins.

[sirenedusud]

what if I burned a CD of all my saved TikTok edits ever

[ladypaperwriterson]

What if you were BLACK and GAY and a PIMP in early 20th century Louisiana, and you FELL IN LOVE with your super hot STALKER, and you got MARRIED, and he wants to CHEAT, but he doesn't want YOU cheating, and you want a DAUGHTER, and she's THE BEST, but she HATES your husband, and she wants you to KILL him and his sidepiece, and so you DO that, but then he HAUNTS you, and then you MISS him, and then you go to PARIS, and you meet MORE gays there, and their leader is HOT, and you FALL FOR HIM TOO, but then your husband comes BACK, and EVERYONE wants your daughter DEAD, and they KILL her, and you completely LOSE it, and you burn EVERYONE, and you get a DIVORCE, and you marry YOUR EX HUSBAND'S EX, and then in the 70s you decide to have someone INTERVIEW you, but you lose it AGAIN, and it all goes to SHIT, and then everything is a BLUR, and then it's 2020, and there's COVID, and you decide you want to be interviewed AGAIN, and you discover your current husband BRAINWASHED YOU, so you get ANOTHER divorce, and you're now TWICE divorced before you're even 150, and you run back to your first ex, but then that fuckass reporter PUBLISHES your interview as a BOOK, and your ex is MAD, and you want him BACK, but he decides to become a ROCKSTAR, THEN WHAT

Lestat Claudia Armand Daniel Santiago

[shuploc]

Lestat de Lioncourt, the wolf killer 🐺

[donutsdiah]

I can't be the only one who thinks this is better than those naked mods. He's hot because of that goddamn shirt istg

[i-will-write]

first time writing fanfiction of a character : uughh i hope this is all canon accurate... it cant be canon innacurate at all or the enitire fandom will throw rocks at me...

10057th time writing the character: heres them working at a mcdonalds

[i-will-write]

The fandom keep throwing rocks at you btw, you just get better at dodging

[icantspellthings]

You're not a real evil character enjoyer if you need them to have a redemption arc, I love my evil bitch with no remorse who dosen't feel like they've did anything wrong and will never say sorry.

[kylorengarbagedump]

god nothing annoys me more than when someone loves a villain but is secretly ashamed of it so every time they post about him they go 'omg i love him BUT i don't support the things he does #myproblematicman'

well, i do bitch. i support everything he has ever done and ever will do #myperfectman

[be-xkyy]

I really have a type 👀

(Handsome men with long white/blonde hair🧝🏻‍♂️😏)

[kjscottwrites]

[consolecadet]

These remind me of this drawing by Franz Kafka from the 1900s. We've been feeling this way for a long time.

[sirenedusud]

nsfw. théâtre des amoureux (santiago x fem!reader)

a budding psychic is caught in the crossfire of a crumbling vampire coven.

AN: hai everybody…is it obvious I only write once for a single character I like after I watch a show or film…

AN II: blood mention, queasy bellies be gone, little bit gory, lotta bit sexy, explicit sex

4.9k words

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The entrance of the Theatre des Vampires is often swarming with young couples, raucous drunkards, and antsy tourists alike. The red and golden entrance lights bouncing around the walls of the street buildings and the lively music invites curious people whom wander the streets. You were one of those curious bystanders tonight and so you entered the line alone, but felt the collective effervescence of the excited crowd consume you too. The man at the ticket stand, wearing rather old-fashioned attire, winks a glowing eye at you after you pass him.

Black-and-white posters of previous shows hang on every side of the entrance room, seemingly to hide the tattered stone walls beneath; tobacco, incense, mixed colognes, and drunken laughter fills the atmosphere as you venture further inside. You pass by a young man whispering something to his date, a giggling woman, by the theatre doors, and almost blush at catching some of it. You find your seat, only four rows from the stage, and smile to yourself; the chaos was inviting nonetheless. Out of habit for any sort of waiting period, you pop out a slim floral case from your silver beaded purse and light a thin cigarette from it. A few men, who have already become increasingly drunk, throw vulgar insults at each other at the back seats, an eccentric group in white face paint and over done clown makeup giggle amongst each other in the front row, and a few quieter elderly couples sit in your direct vicinity. After several more minutes, the seats finally fill up and the small orchestra erupts into lively music. The painted faces in the front row howl and the rest of the room claps as a smartly-dressed man enters the stage from the left. Your breath hitches in your throat the moment the spotlight floods onto him. He was probably twice your age but entirely too seductive even from where you sat. His hair is short, and ice-blond, styled with mousse, his thin lips were sparsely shaded pink, and his bright green eyes were rimmed with kohl.

“Welcome, to the displacement of reason and excretion of pathetic desires,” he begins melodramatically. Your stomach jumps while his eyes set upon you before flickering across the rest of the crowd and landing onto the fans directly before him. He proceeds to speak in a deep and sonorous voice about the debauchery of this theatre all while a rope lifts him above the crowd and back. The audience cheers the more wicked his words become. As he finally reaches the stage and plants his feet on the ground, his face suddenly twists from salacious delight to solemn rigidity.

“Everything you are about to see…is real. Remember that when you leave here tonight, you are complicit,” though your brain told you that this was simply a part of the act, your heart leapt at the look in his eyes as if you truly believed him.

“…and I welcome you! Even as you disgust me!”

The first act was a dark comedy; you quickly forgot the fear that the head actor Santiago instilled in you as you laughed along. Before you know it, the actors scurry off stage, the backdrop changing for the second act to begin. A lumberjack appears on stage cutting wood for a while before Santiago, dressed in black with a scythe slung over his shoulder, floats back and forth calling to the woodcutter. Suddenly, a shriek emits from the side stage and a disheveled woman with her hands bound together runs out to the center. She immediately shrieks at the sight of Santiago and turns to the audience pleadingly. Your blood runs cold at the sight of her, her face was stained with her makeup and her clothes nearly fell off her shoulders, but the audience continued to laugh as Santiago begins to toy with the woman with his cunning words. She breaks down into tears and says something in her native tongue, unknown to everyone there. You couldn’t understand her, but her eyes carried such fear in them that you believed her regardless. The way Santiago circled her only made you more uncomfortable by the second.

“If we were to let you go, we’d have to replace you.”

“Have you made up your mind?”

You jump and swivel your body around when a second voice speaks at the same exact time as Santiago. Nobody around you pays you any mind though, and you face the stage in puzzlement.

Huh, great, I'm hearing things, weird, you think to yourself. Santiago’s eyes then trail up above all of the audience and you follow, spotting a dark-skinned man looking below from the gallery seats. You begin to tilt your head but then suddenly hear it again.

“Calm down my child.”

“Have you forgotten your place? That I am the leader of this coven?”

Though the voices seem to speak simultaneously, this time the second one did not sound like Santiago. You furrow your brows in utter confusion and look around the people seated nearest to you again.

What is happening?

“Who was that?”

“Death awaits everyone, everywhere. So why not here?” Santiago breaks his focus from the trembling woman to scan over the crowd. He seemed to become increasingly annoyed at something, you shrink down in your seat instinctively and afraid. The man in the gallery continues to bear his eyes down at Santiago.

“Do you know what it means to be loved by death?”

“You have made that clear mètre.”

“No pain.”

Your eyes grow wide in astonishment as Santiago dips his fangs into the woman’s neck, the woman seeming to have been hypnotized into a numb quietude after shrieking for help moments ago.

Have I gone mad? You think inside your head quietly, but as soon as Santiago pops his mouth off of the woman’s neck and a gaggle of other actors jump onto her, his eyes immediately jump onto you.

“Who are you?” a male voice, his voice, bellows inside your mind and you react without thought by jumping out of your seat and bolting out of the theatre right when the audience cheers over the screams of the woman. You burst into the small lobby and clutch at the wall to steady yourself a moment. The cheers inside the theatre die down as the actors accept the final round of applause, then people begin to trickle out into the lobby and onto the street outside. You remain in your corner and watch everyone leave, remaining wary of any more rogue voices inside your mind. When only the overdressed fans are left in the lobby begging for a look at Santiago, you march towards the exit.

“Mademoiselle?” The word emits from a voice singular in its velvety tone. Your hands grow clammy. You weren’t even a foot out the door, and therefore couldn’t just pretend not to hear him, so you turn with a nervous smile to face Santiago, who was unfortunately ever more enticing so up close. His hair was hanging loosely now; his eyes did not seem exhausted from the long show at all, they only seemed more fired up as he absorbed you in a way that worried you but made your lower stomach buzz.

“Yes?” You squeak out a reply and curse yourself internally. Santiago pauses for a moment, and breaks into a smile unlike the seductive one he had on stage.

“You left us right before the finale; did you not enjoy the show?” His question is simple yet his eyes seem to say he was holding back much more.

“No, um, I did like it very much,” you fumble about with your words all while trying to keep your mind steady, “you were amazing.” This pleases Santiago and he gestures his hand in a manner as if it say “I know.”

The group of painted faces squawk amongst themselves as they finally head out of the theatre and the doors swing shut behind you with a loud blasting sound.

Oh good god.

“So it is you.” Santiago’s voice conjures inside your mind and a chain of his laughter follows, then to your horror his laugh inside your mind blends with his live one. You back away as slowly as you can from him, trembling like a leaf the entire time.

Whatever in fresh hell this is I need to book it now.

“Come now, this is so much fun,” Santiago replies almost immediately, “I’ve never met anyone like you, so ordinary looking yet so…extraordinary.” He laughs again and you remain petrified. It only occurs to you then that you were completely frozen, you could no longer back away to the doors. You couldn’t turn even your head if you wanted to. From the shadows of the lobby, the dark-skinned man approaches you and Santiago. He wears a fine tailored gray suit, his dark glossy hair brushes his shoulders, and he has a set of unhuman red eyes. You only widen your own eyes in response and internally shriek in frustration.

“Oh let her go I don’t want to hear that,” Santiago cringes as your mental scream reaches him, and suddenly you are released from the air prison. You gasp and clutch at yourself and your purse.

“Please forgive me, but we couldn’t help hearing you in the theatre and simply had to take a look at this anomaly up close” The red-eyed man begins, “do forgive me, je m'appelle Armand.” He bows his head politely and you only gulp. Santiago frowns at you as you stand there unresponsively before the two men.

“I…need to go home,” you finally say with some conviction. Santiago scoffs and paces away from you before coming back with his arms crossed. Armand gives you a tight-lipped, understanding smile.

“Of course you do, but just after we get to know you,” he replies. You stand still for a beat with a false smile plastered onto your face, then take your shot and scurry towards the doors. You frantically pull at one knob then the other, but it was no use: you were locked inside. Sweat trickles down your back since the room seemed increasingly stuffier to you now. With no option left now, you turn to face the men with your hands still grasping the door behind you. Santiago looks more menacing than before, as if he were restraining himself from all but pouncing onto you like some jackal. Armand, on the other hand, lets out a sympathetic yet mocking tut-tut and reaches his hand out for you to take.

“Do not be afraid mademoiselle. How lovely you are, please, we would like to have you for a while,” something involuntarily tugs you forward and you take Armand’s hand. Before you know it, you are whisked backstage where the other actors put on their costumes and makeup. You allow yourself to get dragged into a small office in the corner of the rehearsal room, and soon enough Armand shuts the door behind you with a soft click and gestures for you to sit before a shabby office desk. He takes the seat behind the desk while Santiago sits on the edge of it, the old wood creaking under his weight. You take your own seat gingerly, keeping your face as fixed on Armand as possible as Santiago’s position had his crotch wide open in your direction. The vulgarity makes your ears turn hot and pink in embarrassment.

Like I’m doing anything wrong, you frown as your attention is tested dearly.

“That! Now how is it that a mortal like you can do that,” Armand clasps his hands together enthusiastically, you feel Santiago cross his arms and lean closer to you. You quirk an eyebrow in confusion.

“What do you mean mortal? Are you not supposed to be one too? Is this vampire act thing running backstage too?” you ask suddenly with an offended tone. You make a quick glance to Santiago too but immediately regret it as his eyes seem to be relishing in your discomfort.

“Well, my dear, it seems we let our secret slip during the play,” Armand rises from the seat, walking around the desk to grab at your hands, his are steely cold.

“We are vampires.” Santiago’s bored tone rumbles in your mind. Your head swivels between him and Armand, once, twice, then you feel your brow line and hands perspire worse than ever.

“Am I going to die,” you ask, rather state, matter-of-factly. Armand shooes Santiago off of the desk, then proceeds to dab at your browline with a red handkerchief he conjured out from his breast pocket.

"Why no, no, no we would not harm a fellow…well supernatural. You are gifted my love, and so lucky to have ended up on our doorstep.” The words do not soothe you, they rather deepen your worry. Armand tried his best to show himself as sympathetic to you, but deep down you could feel his deception. It was only in brief instances of a look in his eyes or a sound in his voice. How lovely it would have been to be tucked in your own bed by now with a hot tea in hand; only the fantasies of Santiago with you, not the very palpable and dangerous man staring you down from the corner of Armand’s dingy office in the basement of a den of beasts.

“We could feed on her if she cracks.”

“Santiago stop.” Armand’s sweet smile drops and he whips his head around.

“What do you mean feed?!” You jump out of the chair and wince as Armand’s grip tightens on your wrist. His other hand had abandoned your brow, he clenches the handkerchief with an anger his face would not reveal. Santiago only shrugs and backs off, again; he only enjoyed tugging at your fears and knew exactly how to keep on triggering it. Little did you know that while you tried to keep your mind verbally quiet, that the images that passed through it were still very perceptible to him. He watched as your mind flickered between him on the stage, your escape plans, and your lewd fantasies of him from earlier like some pictoral slideshow. This entire ordeal amused him completely out of his anger at Armand for allowing Louis de Pont du Lac to roam in Paris without swearing into the coven.

“Nothing, he meant nothing by it. As I said, you have a gift. We need to keep close, us gifted ones,” Armand turns back to you after giving Santiago a threatening glare. He somehow coaxes you back into sitting down and remains fixed before you.

“So, when did you first find out you could do it? Are you a witch? Is your mother a witch? A clairvoyant? Well?” Armand asks excitedly and you gape at him. You didn’t know a damned thing about any of that, you hardly had time to live such an imaginative youth. But now that you thought more deeply about the matter, partly because of the pressure Armand put on you, memories of knowing things prematurely begin to come back to you.

“Well, I sort of always could hear people’s inner thoughts, but it never occurred to me as much as it had tonight,” you begin tentatively, “I accounted it to some kind of intuition all this time.” Armand nods understandingly. Santiago meanwhile rakes through your mind to spot out any falsehood, but to his surprise you were telling the truth. He nearly called you an idiot in his own mind, but held it back as he figured you would hear it. You turn your head to Santiago anyway, sensing him holding back something to say. He just winks at you and you immediately drop your eyes in embarrassment.

Why can’t I just get it together and leave?

“Is the little miss, perhaps, enjoying herself here?” Santiago whispers inside your mind, unbeknownst to Armand.

“I’m sorry but I really have to get back home,” you nearly beg Armand as you feel yourself growing more trapped by the two alluring men. Armand holds you with his gaze a moment, something quizzical yet dangerous passing in his eyes, before hopping up and leading you over to the door as pleasantly as possible.

“Of course, we wouldn’t want to tire out our new acquaintance,” he begins to open the door, much to your relief, then halts halfway, “Santiago will take you back; it is late now and we want to see you home safe and sound.” Your stomach does its final stretch of somersaults before landing into a pit of both dread and feverish delight. Armand seems triumphant with himself. With Santiago now beside you, your eyes slowly trail up from his chest and into his face. He remains unshakeable, still smiling coyly down at you like a half-snarling wolf.

“I think I’ll be alright-“

“Nonsense!” Your mouth clamps shut as Armand spins back on you with an irked tone, and so you accept the demanded offer. Without another word, you are marched back up the stairs into the theatre gallery with Santiago leading the way and Armand close behind you. The other vampires meanwhile grin and wave at you as if you are a circus animal being paraded around. You stare dumbfoundedly back into their glowing eyes with newfound perspective, their unmistakeable fangs now glinting between their smiling lips. Back at the entrance, Santiago swings the front door open for you and bows sardonically for you to go out first.

“After you, madamoiselle,” he says in a low voice. You hesitate and look back at Armand for the last time, you think you catch him nodding to Santiago, but his eyes return your look immediately instead.

“Sweet dreams.” Armand whispers in your mind.

Your heart leaps and you step outside curtly, suddenly breathing in the cool air with a deep inhale. The scent of wet stone, cigarettes, and even old cat piss bring you more comfort than you could imagine. You almost feel utter relief until you are brought back to Santiago’s presence as he falls into step with you. You walk in silence, your mind even more purposefully silent.

“Why don’t you make things easier and just let me in?” Santiago speaks again in that low voice seemingly only reserved for your ears. You feel a prickling sensation down your spine and straighten up unconsciously.

“Before tonight I thought I was free inside my own mind, but now I find that even in there I have no privacy,” you retort, “not exactly something I can accept as quickly as you all want me to.” Santiago chuckles at your sudden cattiness. He yearned to draw the real you out after growing bored to death with your prior meekness.

"But we’re friends now no?” His voice seems to dip lower as it echoes in your mind. You squeeze your eyes shut for a beat as if to push him out, and glance at him sidelong. His skin and hair glow silver in the moonlight. The rise and fall of his chest and the muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt were now more evident without his suit jacket on. You feel a spark down your stomach and between your legs.

Oh god.

“God won’t help you from me, madamoiselle.”

You stop walking abruptly. Santiago doesn’t seem bothered by it, instead he lazily rests a hand on his hip. You stare at the building door before you: it was yours, but you only partially hoped this would be over now.

“This is me,” you say with a tone of uncertainty and suddenly felt pathetic. Santiago doesn’t seem to be moved by this either.

“Won’t invite me in? We were getting so familiar just now.” Santiago suddenly plants his palm on the door, leaning towards you as if to lure you entirely by his voice.

“It’s late.” You reply sternly this time even as excitement was all but tearing your heart to shreds.

“Does the madamoiselle take her beauty sleep seriously?” You blink at him.

“Sir, please-“

“Santiago.” His voice rips through your head and you shut your eyes instinctively. How is he so loud inside of you?

“I can help you sleep better,” you open your eyes cautiously to hear Santiago speaking softly now. He drifts closer to you, smiling playfully, while your legs are frozen in place on their own accord. His free arm snakes around your waist and he presses you into his solid body, he pushes one thigh between your skirts and legs and you stifle a gasp from the pleasure you felt. Your own hips betray you in the moment as you hungrily rock on his leg. For a second you regain control over yourself and you plant your hands on his chest to anchor yourself from crumbling in his arms, but he only goes further now that he has you. His mouth finds your neck and he trails cold kisses down your nape. You muffle your damned gaping mouth into his shoulder as his other hand now comes to trace down your side to grab your ass.

“You know, Armand only sent me with you to kill you.” He says in your mind, he keeps moving your body against his; he kisses sloppily along your ear then jaw, hovering over your lips before going down your other cheek. You only stare dumbfoundedly at the starry sky. “But I have a better idea…I think I’m going to turn you.”

God yes do anything to me. You lazily reply more to yourself than to him, as none of this felt real at all.

“What did I say about that god?” Santiago pulls away from you and speaks aloud. You drop your head back down to meet his eyes, your mouth still gapes open and you're nearly drooling. You were entirely too enraptured to even answer anymore.

“I…,” In one swift move, Santiago rises up off of the sidewalk, tightening his grip on you against him, and bursts through your bedroom window on the third floor. He releases you for a moment and you stumble around as if the room were strange to you, finally making your way in the dark to a lamp by the bedside. For some reason, turning the lamp on made you wonder if Santiago would no longer be there and that you only had awoken from a vivid dream. But as the soft light illuminates the walls, Santiago’s shadow stretches across the ceiling too. He is immediately back onto you. His arm traps your waist again from behind this time and his other hand strokes through your hair, loosening the pins from it. He rocks you as if in a waltz, and you let him swing you back and forth.

“We could have so much fun, you and I. This could be our secret.”

“But wouldn’t Armand know soon enough? He seems so…powerful,” you mumble back. Santiago’s face twitches in annoyance, unknown to you though, and he spins you around to face him. His hands grip your arms with a deadly force, and you grow limp under the pressure.

“You don’t need to worry about Armand, little girl,” Santiago scoffs and tightens his grip, “what I do in my off hours is none of his business, not like he knows how to control anything anymore. He’s pathetic.” Santiago nearly spits out the last word and his eyes flash with anger. You wish you could fight back, but instantly fall back into that hazy state as Santiago relaxes his grip and finds your waist again.

“It won’t hurt, turning you. Remember the play?” He reassures you, but you sense trickery behind his softness. You begin to actually contemplate the only option presented to you. To become a vampire? Your solitary world wouldn’t change much really. You would have him as your maker, is that what he meant by not bothering looking to god?

“What will I do? I will lose all sense of normalcy…” You press, hoping to delay the inevitable.

“Well would you rather die? How is that for losing it all,” he shoots back at you dryly and you grimace, trying to turn your face away from him. He takes the chance to lick the edge of your earlobe, causing you to feel that horrible ripple effect down your body.

“Listen to me, there will be no pain. I promise this.” He chuckles before continuing, whether or not deliberately, “what other choice do you have?”

You open your mouth to protest but then feel it, or rather stop feeling. A sort of bliss spreads across your mind and body. The only thing anchoring you to the world is Santiago’s arms around your body. He tilts your head back and you oblige, eyes drifting up to the ceiling in a serene acceptance. You feel Santiago's hot breath on your nape, and then the prick of his canines breaking into your skin. You feel it all, but not in the way you expect. The pain radiates from jaw to collarbone, but you are mentally so distant from this moment as if you are merely observing it all. A light giggle leaves your lips as you grow dizzy from the total loss of blood.

Santiago unlatches himself from you, the entire lower third of his face glistens cherry red and his eyes roll back in delight from the flavor. Your blood was sweet, sweeter than all he's ever tasted. It was as if you were filled with golden syrup, not the usual iron and minerals. He looks down at you strung across his arms, a silly smiling girl unaware that she could die if he hadn't desired possessing her. He lays you down your bed and slits his wrist with a long index nail, bringing it forth to your lips. You flinch at the first drop of blood hitting your lips, then swallow it and feel the hunger rise within you. Suddenly spurned wide awake, you grasp his wrist with two weak hands and feverishly lap at his blood. It repulsed a small part of you, the texture and scent of blood, but the warm liquid called to you and satiated a new appetite you developed.

"Enough!" Santiago uses his free hand to push you back by your head and you go back down flat on your bed. Another stupidly ecstatic smile stretches across your face as you hug yourself. You feel your senses return to you with more intensity than before, the world becomes clearer, louder, bare to you. Santiago nurses his wrist back to normal, with an eye on you rolling around your bed in a fit of giggles. For a brief moment he wonders if he misjudged turning you and keeping you to himself, you seemed much to delighted now, but that was one part of it. The new reality of the vampire, the power, no more humanity and its trivial rules. You finally pop back up from the bed, your eyes landing on Santiago who was propped on an ottoman pouf before your small vanity. He licks his lips to get the last catch of your blood, his eyes curiously gazing upon his newest fledgling.

"I want more of it," you get on your knees and crawl before him, Santiago's chest rises with a chuckle.

"Shall I take you on a hunt?" He gets down on the floor with you, his hands momentarily turn your head to the side to check on the bite marks. As he returns your face to look straight into his, you pounce on him.

I want more of yours, you straddle him and rock your hips into his a couple of times. Santiago's eyes widen in bewilderment for a beat but his suddenly needy hands find your hips anyway. He moves you gently against him and the both of you groan.

"What happened to that mouse we picked up after the play?" Santiago replies, a hint of anxiousness behind the lust that was also overtaking him.

"She is long gone," you dip your head down and pepper his neck and collar with kisses, unbuttoning his black shirt slowly until he swats your hands away and rips it off and tosses it aside. The two of you begin to claw at each other there on the floor until you and he are left bare and panting. Without another thought you plunge your fangs into his chest, right over his heart, where the purest formula pumped. Santiago gasps in pleasure, followed by a deep rumbling in his throat as he stifles moaning outright. It went on for hours. He let you drink on him before turning you right over. An entanglement of two bodies drenched in more blood than sweat. Had it not been dead of night the neighbors would have spread the word of the shameless sounds of lovemaking splitting down the halls of your building. Santiago's fingers found every part of you: mouth, tongue, throat, breast, nipple, clit, cunt. His cock slid into you with just enough of a stretch to make you feel the lack of it long after he was done fucking you. At the end of it you were back on your bed. It was a long way until dawn but the sounds of early workmen wavered up into your bedroom window. Santiago, the usually pompous and self-indulgent actor, was breathless. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling as he mindlessly stroked your hair. However was he going to conceal you from the others.

[wlfb0ygrl]

saying “i want him” about the character but not in a romantic or sexual way . i just Require him i need to Obtain him

[whispy-witch]

i want this man in my inventory

[sirenedusud]

show me my fate (nuada x fem!reader)

when the prince of elves asks a sorceress for help.

AN: oh yeah motherfuckers i been cooking this one up in my mind palace for a hot minute so it’s not canon at all. well in my head it’s set like MONTHS before nuada steals the first crown piece, and it's still not…canon. i watched the golden army like three days in a row, and thought, well this can’t get any weirder let me just write fanfiction that only two people will read!

AN II: angsty as fucc, happy ending if you squint

6.7k words

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In a dark imperial cloak, Nuada stalks across the troll market with his usual air of superiority; a troll by the name of Mr. Wink trails after him with thundering steps. The market buzzes with creatures and conversations as usual, leaving everyone so enraptured in their own business that they pay no heed to the elf prince in his rather too exquisite disguise.

“Remember, Mr. Wink, we’re here for one thing,” Nuada remarks over his shoulder just as the troll's attention drifted towards a trolley full of caged pixies. Nuada’s yellow eyes dart around from beneath the cloak, scanning for any sign of the sorcerers he heard could see into the future. At the same time, a little ways down a quiet alley, a woman crowned in a pale blue veil slinks about inside an apothecary.

“Found anything you like miss?” the goblin running the shop inquires from behind you. You spin on your heel abruptly as you had been disturbed out of your thoughts, with a twinkling from the small silver bells on your ankles, and you squint in annoyance at the old creature before switching to a tight smile.

“Oh I’m coming along just fine, thank you,” you reply and with a faint flick of your wrist the goblin automatically turns back to tinkering away behind his register. You sigh and settle back into your thoughts. What you needed was no disturbance, but the raucous troll market was the only place that carried the magical herbs for your craft. The coven you resided in had also turned you into a bit of an errand-girl, not that you cared though since it let you venture outside of the stuffy manor full of an odd mix of witches and wizards.

“Ahem,” you cough and snap the goblin out of his mindless spell. He gives you a toothy, yellow grin as he rings you up and gives a small bow of his head while you turn to leave. You tuck the satchel under your arm and skip out of the apothecary. With your hands full and mind racing with new spells to try, you remain unaware of Nuada's attention on you as you shoulder past each other in the alleyway. But a couple seconds after passing him, you turn your head over your shoulder, suddenly irritated upon realizing someone is watching you. The cloaked prince hadn’t moved from his spot, but swiftly walks away after you return his attentive gaze. With your eyes following the cloaked figure in curiosity, you fail to move out of Mr. Wink’s way, and he being as large as he was meant he took up over half the alley. You cry out an angry “hey!” after he nearly crushes you against the grimey brick wall. Wink only shrugs in apology and keeps on his way.

“Brainless animal,” you mutter before returning to your way home. You take several winding turns, leaving the busier parts of the market behind. The sense of someone looming behind you returns though, and you quicken your pace to find the portal to the coven. The manor was not physically here in the market but elsewhere, but the way it was charmed was as if it were in the market, each window looking out into different streets. Finally, a small fountain of a woman pouring from a jug waits for you at the end of an alley. You were still being followed though, you make a turn elsewhere rather petrified.

“What the hell am I doing? I should show them who they’ve decided to pickpocket,” you turn a sharp corner and snap your fingers, turning into a light and wispy apparition, appearing like fog to the average eye. Nuada halts at the crossing where he last spotted you, spinning around toward every path in frustration.

“Go look for her!” he urges Wink down one way and heads towards the opposite way, but the fog settles before him and he slows his pace. He drops the head of his cloak to take a closer look and your heart drops. Before you stood the Nuada. The elf prince who swore to return from exile when his people needed him most. So, the prince of elves had been following you all this time. That couldn’t be good, had you done something to offend him? Why was he back? What did he want?

“Why are you following me?” you ask him, your voice like a whisper tickling his ear as you remain in the guise of mist. Nuada turns his head about, trying to pinpoint you in your transient form.

“I know what you are, come out into the light witch,” he nearly spat out that last word, much to your offense. But you laugh at this instead, your voice bouncing off of the walls all around him. He bares his teeth in annoyance like a growling dog.

“And why would I do that? I don’t owe any allegiance to you, little prince,” you knew better but you wanted to mess with him anyway, considering his apparent aversion to your own kind. Unbeknownst to you, Mr. Wink appears from behind and waves his metal hand around in your mist to clear the space before him. Your foggy form shudders and drifts to the side, meanwhile Nuada’s eyes slowly train to make you out.

“I need you to tell me if my…decision is right,” he continues, “what my fate is.”

“Fate!” What was it that made everyone think witches were just fortune-telling broom riders? You lash about in agitation then float above the two fae, Nuada’s eyes now carefully following you. You ponder for a moment.

“There’s going to be a price for that,” you say elusively.

“I will pay however I must, I just need to know.”

How easy was that, you could set any price and the prince would gladly oblige. Maybe this meant you could leave the dreary coven too. With a swoosh towards a shaded corner, you return to your physical form and approach Nuada in the lantern light. He looks at you curiously through your thin veil. Without a word, you hold out your hand with your palm face up. He looks down at your hand then back to you, hesitatingly resting his own hand into yours. With all the energy you have left, you travel to the manor without the aid of the portal. After what felt like several seconds of a whirlwind of blinding light and heat, you and Nuada stumble into a dimly lit foyer, leaving Wink behind in the troll market.

“Who is it? Is that you? Did you bring my stuff? Ah, yes you did,” an old gray-bearded man in velvety robes pads swiftly across the wooden floors to snatch away the satchel from you, completely oblivious to Nuada towering mere inches behind you.

“Sir, I was going to use the silver room if you don’t mi-“ you begin but the old man waves you away and heads upstairs without a word. Feeling slightly foolish at the moment, you turn to face Nuada with as much of an air of importance. You pull your veil up and over your head, it dissipates in the air to fully reveal you. Your hair is long, soft, and well-kept, some strands twinkling like starlight. Your face is also radiant; mischief and curiosity dance about in your glowing eyes. Nuada takes you in all at once in more pleasure than he would ever admit. He knew you were above the average human due to your powers, but he couldn’t help feeling drawn to your physical form as well; an odd sense of trust and safety filled his heart which only then alarmed him.

“Follow me,” you turn away from Nuada and walk to the back kitchen. The stoney room is filled with the scent of cinnamon and cloves and a fire from the hearth roars under a large cauldron. You lead him to the side of the room where a staircase leads into the cellar. Another quiet trek in the cellar between shelves of potions and concoctions and you finally reach an arched doorway. Inside is an octagonal room, each wall is a mirror, so too the ceiling. A faint blue glow emits from an unknown source, keeping the room well-lit but not too bright. You walk into the middle of the room, light bounces from all the mirrors onto you. Nuada stands dumbfounded at the archway, gazing into each panel on the wall before finally stepping towards you cautiously. You point to a bird fountain in the center of the room. In it is a pool of silvery water so motionless that it seemed to be solid glass like the walls.

“What is this?” Nuada asks in annoyance after only catching a glance of his reflection in the sink. You roll your eyes.

“Think long and hard what it is you’re asking, then dip your face into the water,” you reply. He gives you a distrustful look before sighing and doing as you say. He closes his eyes, pictures himself taking the crown pieces, controlling the golden army, and annihilating the entire human race. Simple enough. He slowly lowers his face closer and closer to the water. He hesitates again for a moment, but catches you looking at him curiously in the reflection, then sinks his face in entirely. He first sees nothing but a soft light, as if he were at the bottom of a pool and the sun was shining through weak rays of light. All at once, the world around him comes to life in vivid colors. He watches himself secure the crown and successfully claim all three pieces, but a dreadful feeling looms over him throughout the entire vision. Nuada suddenly reels through spurts of visions of his father and sister and a red demon and more, these snippets of moments horrify him without him even fully grasping why. With a gasp, he backs away from the fountain and stumbles to his knees. He catches his breath then jumps up to his feet.

“I need to see that again,” he shoots towards you only to see a rickety wooden table in place of the water fountain. You click your tongue.

“Where is it?” he asks bewildered. He circles the entire room as if it would summon the looking glass again.

“Only one vision per person, sorry,” you step towards the exit but Nuada blocks you. His yellow eyes, at first looking to you in anguish, now burn with rage.

“Show it to me again, witch,” his hand begins cupping the hilt of his blade. Your eyes dart down and back up into his, you let out a tut-tut.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” you warn as you step back. Nuada only steps closer to you, much to your annoyance.

“If you do not do as I ask you,” Nuada’s voice drops dangerously low as he corners you, “then I will cut through your entire infested den until you obey.” With this you haughtily push forward. He begins to draw his blade and you thrust your hands towards him.

“Get out!” you shout, sending Nuada into a portal, before sinking to the ground in exhaustion. Hopefully you sent him back to the troll market. Wait. Why did it matter where he went? He was threatening to kill your people over a stupid vision. It was a shame you couldn’t see what he had seen. Curiosity beating your better judgement, you flick your hand at a mirror closest to you to observe Nuada. You sigh in relief after recognizing the place he had landed in. You watch him now snatch his cloak from Mr. Wink who scratched his own big scaly head in confusion.

In that dark alleyway where he first found you, Nuada swings his blade at the stone walls with a roar. After finding himself back in the troll market, he called for Mr. Wink to track down every witch who donned a veil. He wanted answers, and you gave them to him, but now he only bubbled with more.

***

"Let this remind you why you once feared the dark," a wicked grin spreads across Nuada's face as he watches the fairies devour the flesh off of the humans. He raises the crown piece up to his face, his eyes enchanted by the meticulous work of gold. Screams and gurgling noises fill the auction room.

"Why are you watching that elf?" you jump out of your skin and wave away the horrifying vision in the mirror before facing the speaker. A witch, not much older than you, taps her foot questioningly.

"I...got curious," you falter at making an excuse and creep up to the doorway, your hands clasped behind your back. The witch arches an eyebrow, she wasn't convinced. You feel her begin to pry into your mind, but you only boot her out in frustration. She narrows her eyes at you in distrust.

"It’s been going on for weeks now, you don’t think we all know?" she goes on, "I'm starting to think you like that little elf." At this she laughs, "but really, if you don't get a grip, I don't think I can help you stay here much longer." She doesn’t give you a chance to reply and stalks away, leaving you fuming. That wicked viper always acted like she was second in command in this down-trodden coven. As if getting kicked out was even such a bad thing. Anger bubbles up inside of you, but you recall the other thing she had said. "Like" was an understatement; you were infatuated with Nuada. His strength was like no other and it perplexed you when any witch mocked him. What were your spells and tonics to his ancient power? You sigh with a heavy heart and return upstairs to the stuffy, candlelit sitting room.

You glance at the softly ticking clock on the mantel then melt into a velvet sofa to stare into the fireplace before you. Murmurs in the background lull you into a mindless contemplation. Your eyelids grow heavy but you keep your eyes fixed on the flames. The fire suddenly flickers wildly and takes shape into two figures. One flame resembles Nuada with a crown upon his silver head; the other flame is a much larger man or beast, with horns that have been shaved down to stumps. Suddenly, the beast beats Nuada to the ground, only then do you jump towards the fire with a loud "no!" escaping your lips. A pair of witches in the room give you a troubled look before shuffling away to a different room. Feeling flustered, you watch them leave but quickly turn back to the fireplace. You felt deep within your soul that what you had seen was the truth.

***

With one piece of the crown tucked into his robe, Nuada walks with a lighter conscience and glowering pride. He knew now he had to return to his people’s kingdom to finish the crown. He pats the place where he hid the piece and recalls the witch, the gazing mirror, and what transpired in his visions. When he watched himself finish the crown he felt debilitating guilt, but now with one piece in his possession he only felt confident.

She was wrong. I will not fail. Nuada pushes the doubt out of his mind and enters the troll market. He preferred this place over the cold halls that the elves had turned into their home, out of sight from human eyes. His mind wanders back to you as he walks idlely. He only now realizes what you reminded him of: starlight. Back when elves could roam outdoors without worry and the sky was as clear as ever, free from light pollution from manmade cities, the stars blazed the sky in sheer brilliance. That night he first met you you shone the same way as those stars had in the old world. His heart leaps and he curses himself. You were not a star, you were a human who played with magic. Still, he ponders. He had heard of people who were gifted, who really did have more good in them, who had been persecuted by their own kind for having those gifts.

A clattering noise removes him from his thoughts and Nuada whips his head towards it. Mr. Wink, his ever so loyal companion, had knocked someone and all their belongings over. The troll apologizes in his own unintelligible language and tries picking the things up, but his large and few-fingered hands keep dropping them back down again.

"Oh leave it! Leave it!" you swat the troll's hands away and rise from the ground. With you, your things float up into your large bag.

“See?" you tell the troll and turn away haughtily to leave.

"You?" Nuada's voice freezes you over.

"Oh no," you begin to snap your fingers, but the prince had already snatched your hand midair, reaching your side swiftly. You look at him in panic as he brings your hands between you.

"Don't run, I want to talk," Nuada grits his teeth as he struggles to keep your hand in his, you squirm in defiance.

"Last time we spoke you pulled out your sword, not very conversational if you ask me," you finally give up as his grip tightens. You look up at him fearfully, but he didn't seem angry. You soften as his yellow eyes seem to search back into yours.

"I am sorry but I just need a moment, and besides, I never paid you." You think it over, or at least pretend to. There wasn't anything special waiting for you back home.

"Alright, but just a few minutes," you return Nuada's gaze again and he releases you from his iron grip. He nearly smiles, then nods his head towards a large fountain in the midst of the market. You sit on the edge of the fountain, eyeing Nuada warily as he settles next to you. The two of you make a brief glance at the deadly creatures slithering at the bottom of the marble fountain. Nuada adjusts his sword on his back and motions at Mr. Wink to stand guard.

"I wanted to say that what you showed me that day was wrong," you look at Nuada incredulously.

"I didn't show you anything, the mirror showed you something you asked to see," you begin, "and please spare me the insults about witches and their tricks." Nuada narrows his eyes at you, but falters into a somber look as he loses himself in your beauty. You were wearing a light grey gown this time with strands of glittering stones atop your head. You glimmered like the Venusian star at the last hour of the night. You didn’t know what made you more uncomfortable then, the silence or Nuada seeming to just stare at you with nearly squinting eyes. You think of what to say next to end this silence.

"I saw something too…recently," you recall, "in a fire, I saw you." Nuada focuses again and tilts his head slightly in confusion.

"So now you're going to tell me that you can see my fate and not some puddle?” Did he want to sting you with his words? You shrug.

"I didn't think I could, okay? But I was gazing into a fireplace, and suddenly it came to life. I wasn't dreaming or anything, I know what I saw I-," you hesitate and lower your voice, "I saw you lose in combat." Nuada sits up straighter.

"What did he look like? Like a demon? Was he a big red thing?" Nuada suddenly pours out. You look at him stunned.

"Yes, only his horns were shaved off…" the two of you stare at each other warily, realizing you shared the same vision as him. Nuada's fears return and he rises from his seat, you follow.

"I must go, I'm sure you'll be glad to be free from me now," Nuada begins to stalk away but you grab his arm, a light gasp escapes his lips as you tug him back.

"Do not finish this crown," you hiss so as to not be heard by passerbys, "we both saw it, you will die in the end of all this." Nuada doesn't move for several seconds, his chest rises in deep breaths. He then shrugs your hand off and storms away with Mr. Wink trailing behind. You stand at the fountain in disbelief then huff.

Let him see for himself! A heaviness toils in your mind though as you sweep up your belongings and go your own way. You glance into your bag to double check only to find a coin of gold added to your things.

***

It was done. Nuada retrieved the second crown piece, his eyes welled with tears once he found a moment of solitude. He had sent Mr. Wink after Nuala for the final piece, and he remained behind to grieve his father who he had no choice but to kill for the crown. Nuada stumbles down a hallway, gripping the wall to steady himself. He began to panic as the prophecy unfolded in his mind once more. What once seemed like meaningless fragments now pieced together. Your face flashes across his mind. He balls his hand into a fist and smashes it against the wall.

***

He had to find you, he needed to find you. The purpose of this mission he wasn’t entirely clear on, but surely you could cheat destiny? Anything to aid him. Anything at all. Nuala was now long out of Nuada’s reach. Mr. Wink failed to capture her, losing his life in the process. A small creature had just left Nuada with the news of his friend’s tragic end. He rose from his place beneath the bridge and searched for you across the market in wild desperation. He was alone now, so alone.

Several days had gone by since your last meeting with the elf prince, and you assumed he was done with you once and for all now that he had paid you as well. The troll market has grown more frenzied than usual due to recent events much to your annoyance. You were horror struck when just moments ago a fight broke out in which a demon, the demon from your visions at that, killed Mr. Wink right before your eyes.

“I’m leaving this place,” you mumble to yourself as you lug yet another delivery for the mages back at the coven, “I don’t like the feeling of any of this, and who knows, maybe everyone connected to this elf prince will die just because they talked to the damn guy.” Just then fate plays you like a fiddle and you slam into Nuada’s frozen body. You stumble back in several steps as he remains solid like a wall before you.

“I need you,” he says. You gawk at him and shake your head angrily.

“No! I won’t have any part in this,” you put your hands on your hips and raise your voice in agitation, “it was you who called me a liar anyways.” Nuada hesitates. He casts his eyes down onto the stone floor beneath him, his eyes glistening ever so slightly. He looks back up to you and steps forward.

“I know now I’ve been wrong, but I need to finish this and I cannot afford any more loss,” he begins. You squint in suspicion, you couldn’t guess what this was leading up to in the slightest.

“Perhaps the visions haven’t accounted for any interference of magic, you could cast some protection on me, couldn’t you? I’ll pay you double I’ll-“

“Stop, just stop.” Your head spins at the thought. What has been written cannot be challenged, you couldn’t change his fate. But he seemed to just threaten his way into getting what he wanted. Nuada’s face grew angrier, and you were afraid he would cut you down right then and there.

“I mean…there is no guaranteeing that it’ll change the end result, that much power is out of my hands, hell it’s even out of my mentor’s hands.” You measure your words to assuage him.

“So you’ll do it? Help me finish the crown?” Nuada stares at you excitedly. How he enraptured you with those yellow eyes. You close your eyes in a half prayer that the gods would help you and nod. Nuada steals your hand immediately and drags you out of the market, across the city, and to his dominion.

***

The outside of his kingdom had at first frightened you as it looked like an abandoned factory, then the golden light that filled the inside inspired awe in you. But you don’t have much time to absorb everything as Nuada was still dragging you further inside.

“Wait a minute, Nuada, wait!” You steal your hand back and nearly tumble forward. He flashes an annoyed look at you as you sooth your wrist in your other hand.

“You’ve dragged me across half the city to this place, there’s things I need to be able to do this,” you look around in your sack of packages, “I need to go back, I need-“

“You will find everything you need here I’m sure,” Nuada rolls his eyes at you and struts down one hall, he turns and urges you to come. He leads you down several corridors before stopping at a pair of ancient bronze doors. He watches your face as he pushes the doors open to reveal a highly advanced laboratory, your eyes widen in curiosity. You step in hesitatingly, then lunge at a book you recognized.

“How is this possible! This was said to be destroyed,” that old yearning student in you returns after so long and you circle the room repeatedly to observe all of the magical artefacts. You return to Nuada, smiling at him as if he had gifted you with something just for showing you the room. The corners of his lips turn upward, but he feels the weight of the crown on his body and turns solemn again.

“So will you do it? Protect me so I can finish this?” Your smile falters, the memory of the vision in the fire returns to you. He seemed so desperate beneath all that bravado he put on before you. Your heart ached but you knew you were partially under his mercy at this point. He seemed to always find you anyway. And something even deeper inside of you wanted him to need you.

“I will.”

***

“Drink this,” you hand Nuada a vial full of inky black liquid. You poured your entire self into it. You referred to texts you’d only ever dreamed of reading and petitioned with beings from other worlds. But none of them would help you, their reason all being the same: Nuada was ultimately going to die and there was no point in trying to play with time.

Any frustration you felt you hid with guilt because Nuada watched you intently as you worked. He was mesmerized by the way you, a human, manipulated energy for your own kind of magic. Now spent from all physical and mental energy, you lean with one hand on the stone table and rest the other on your hip, eager for Nuada to speak. He observes the vial and grimaces at the crackling fumes.

“Well?” You tilt your head to the side, trying to stifle a yawn. Nuada glances at you and lurches forward to grab your waist as you sway too suddenly to the side.

“I’m fine, just drink it,” you stiffen upright in embarrassment and feel yourself blush. You walk around the table with your back to him. Nuada sighs and takes another look into the bottle. Seeing that you weren’t going to acknowledge him, he tilts his head back and swallows it whole. His throat burns for a moment, his eyes and ears searing hot, before an icy sensation follows. Nuada lets out a fit of coughs, dropping the vial to the floor. You wince at every sound he makes, knowing it probably hurt, then finally turn around when he falls silent.

“How do you feel?” you ask. He looks at you a little irked, his chest rising and falling in shaky breaths. You see the liquid begin its effects as Nuada searches for his answer; black swirls blossom on his neck and hands, snaking around his skin like a spiderweb before dissolving. He glances at his hands just as the webs fade and he chuckles lightly.

“Come, you are tired, I can see it,” he beckons you to him and out of the lab without a word about the potion.

***

When he first brought you here, he was mercilessly dragging you across the halls, now the two of you drifted slowly back the way you came. He leads you to a small, quiet room with a few bookshelves on one side and a daybed by two long arched windows on the other. You plop down onto the chaise, finally releasing a yawn and stretching your arms up to the ceiling. Nuada sits at the edge of the daybed by your feet, looking solemnly at the side of your face as you peer out into the courtyard where pairs of elves whisk back and forth. Your smile falters after you turn to him. The rays of the setting sun pour into the room now.

“What’s wrong?” You scoot an inch closer to him and clasp your hands onto your knees.

“I cannot stop the doubt I harbor inside over this, the losses I’ve already been dealt…but I cannot stop or it will all have been for nothing,” Nuada says defeatedly. Your stomach drops at the thought of the cursed vision.

“Maybe this uncontrollable feeling you have is simply fate toying with you,” you hesitate to not stoke his ego, “I mean, do you really think you would intentionally sacrifice your friend, all of your own volition? Don't you think you can turn back and stop from making things worse?”

“Stop,” Nuada sneers and rises from the daybed. You jump up after him, suddenly feeling defiant.

“Nuada,” He turns back to you, you walked up behind him so quickly that the both of you gasp in synchronicity. You stand quietly for a moment, feeling the air between each other as if your souls were deciphering one another. You’re so close to him that you feel Nuada’s breath on your cheek.

“I…do this for my people, it is not for some personal gain,” he says shakily, “our lands, our kind, it is all for them.” Your eyes trail up from where they were fixated on his chest to his lips and then his eyes. He was fighting something internally, you could easily tell.

“At the cost of your loved ones?” you reply quietly. His eyes gleam, you knew that if you got him while he was so conflicted that you could end his vengeance against humanity and prevent his death entirely. You slide your hand slowly into his, he shudders at your touch, but allows you to interlock your fingers together.

He softens at the warmth of your hands, you were like a fire in an inviting hearth. You were so lovely in that moment, Nuada’s eyes traced your delicate features. He wanted to stay with you, let you comfort him, tell him he wasn’t at fault for the bad things that had happened in the past several days.

Please, please, please, please. You plead in your head over and over again, seeming to affect him little by little. Nuada takes a step into you, his entire body suddenly hungry for your light. The scent of petrol wafts into the room suddenly, snapping Nuada out of his daze. He drops your hand, his face now beyond furious. The only thing that filled his mind now was the rage he felt for humans whom destroyed the planet. You feel his energy shift and back away from him nervously.

“You are tired, I will let you rest,” he spins and leaves the room, almost entirely disappearing from the corridor as well. Internally panicking, you circle around the room. You didn’t know your way around this place, there wasn’t a soul outside, and you were too tired to think straight anymore. You sink into the daybed once more, your mind flaring with anxiety over Nuada’s whereabouts. You drift into an uneasy sleep.

***

“You may have mused in the past: am I mortal?” Nuada plunges his spear into Hellboy’s heart, “you are now.” The demon collapses to the floor and Nuada swiftly drags his sister to his side as everyone scrambles towards him. He threatens the fish-man, Abe, to bring him the final piece of the crown if he wanted to see Nuala again, then disappears from the room.

He returns to the elven throne room, dropping Nuala’s arm down in disgust, before having two guards keep her in her quarters until their departure for the entrance to the golden army. Nuada looks at his hands, watching the black liquid ripple beneath the surface of his skin. His mind jumps to you and he races down the hallway, a glimmer of hope in his heart that you were still tucked away in that small room. He slows his pace before the door and slides in quietly. You are nowhere to be found. In a fit of rage, Nuada unsheathes his spear and stabs the daybed mattress, causing plumes of feathers to burst out. As the feathers clear from the air, settling around Nuada in a white ring, he fixes his eyes outside the arched windows. There are elves promenading as usual, but he catches a head of hair distinct from the others. He watches you intently, you seem to be measuring up the courtyard. Nuada lets out a small huff of amusement, then collects himself to meet you.

"I thought I left you in that room," you were in fact attempting to measure how high the stone walls of the courtyard were when Nuada's voice surprises you from behind.

"I didn't know I was following any orders," you clasp your hands at your back. The prince eyes you up, seeming to fight a smile as well.

"That's not what I meant, forgive me," Nuada replies, "What were you doing here anyway? Does a witch like you need to climb a wall to escape from here?" Your face flushes.

"Well no I'm just amazed at how high the walls are here, I um, thought that if somebody were to scale it, you know," you trail off and wander towards the center of the courtyard. Nuada remains close on your heels.

"Come with me to the golden army," he blurts out. You whip around, the perplexed look on your face so fierce that Nuada looks away.

"Why? What for?" He doesn't answer, the wind picks up and his icy blond hair lashes about.

"I feel that when you are near..." he hesitates, the wind obscures his words so you step closer, "that I am more confident in my capabilities."

"That's not true, you just think that way because of the potion," you reason. He shakes his head and faces you again. You were like his guiding star, but he couldn't say that. He wished you could read his heart and make it easier for him, the way his sister could read his feelings and pain. The crackle of lightning chases the two of you back inside. You stare out into the now drizzling courtyard. You could feel the heat of Nuada's body emanating dangerously close to you, so you feign not noticing him. Obviously you wanted him to take you away, but what good would it do to go visit the place he was going to die in? No. You would stay put and forget the past several days had ever happened.

"I have no one else," he steps closer, you try backing away but your back hits a pillar and you look up at him. His large, hawklike eyes spoke more than he ever could.

"I can’t go with you Nuada..."

"Why not?" he snaps almost childishly. You frown and shrug your shoulders.

"Say you die there, what the hell will I be doing stranded in a place full of your enemies?" he looks down then back up, as if an idea popped into his mind.

"Why would I die? I will not fail to awaken the golden army. You can stay by my side during the war, I won't let any harm come to you-"

"But I am human," you cut him off, "what will I do in a world without anyone like me left in it?" Sure, people were shit to deal with, witches and normies alike, but in what world was genocide the answer? Nuada huffs in frustration. Slowly, you take a step towards him, he watches you eagerly. You raise a hand hesitatingly and hover it over his cheek. He leans into your palm absentmindedly, closing his eyes at the warmth of your skin.

Can he make this any harder? You bring your lips close to the other side of his face and plant a soft kiss above his jaw near his ear.

"I wish you luck, little prince," you whisper and step away quickly, using all of your energy to transport yourself outside of the elves' dwelling. You fly up and through the courtyard then back down to a quiet street. Between several gulping breaths you grab onto a nearby lamp post.

Please forgive me.

***

"If we die, then the world will be poorer for it," Nuada strains out his last words in pain. The wound in his chest pierced his heart, golden blood spilling out onto his clothes. Hellboy held him as he spoke, the demon looking regrettably at the prince's face. Nuala had sacrificed herself to stop her brother, now the two of them withered away in the golden army's chamber. The prince pushes himself away from Hellboy and stumbles towards his sister. Before he says anything more, he falls to his knees.

***

A soft light filters through Nuada's eyelids. He opens as the light grows stronger. What was this? He finds himself in an empty field. Soft warm wind blows over the long blades of grass and thousands of stars shine brightly above him. The edge of the eastern horizon was pink, soon the sun would rise. Nuada rises from the ground and gazes above in awe. There was such peace in his heart, the memories from before seemed trivial now as they drained away from his mind.

"Nuada," he whips his head towards your familiar voice. You stood before him, twinkling ever so slightly like the sky above.

"Is this real?" he asks as his hand grazes your hair.

"Yes, I'm sorry I wasn't there, but I don’t think I could have stopped it from even happening, I'm so sorry," your eyes begin to well up with tears. You had watched Nuada die through the gazing mirrors, and in grief you shattered the entire silver room into bits of glass, then were asked to leave the coven.

"Do not fret. None of that matters now," Nuada replies in a cooing manner, "tell me this instead, how is it possible that we are both here?" He wipes your tears from your cheeks.

"Well, I’m only dreaming, but you really are here, forever, and later you may find your father and sister, and maybe Mr. Wink," you laugh a little at the thought of the troll in this serene afterlife and wipe the remaining tears from your eyes. Another warm wind passes and Nuada takes a deep breath in. He seemed so different to you now. That once prideful and angry prince was gone, even the deep forehead ridges he had when he was alive were softer now. The sun was slowly breaking through the horizon, an orange glow filling half of the sky.

"I wish I could have known you in the past," Nuada says reluctantly. He knew since he was dead that seeing you would be next to rare now. You smile and step towards him, the two of you seeming to intertwine in each others arms like branches.

"You can know me now," you reply softly, "time is even more different for us than it was on earth, but soon I'll join you, me being mortal and all." He pulls you into an embrace while the sun climbs higher. Nuada breathes in your scent, trying to memorize you before you fade with the break of day.