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kneelingshadowsalome · 9 months ago

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Salome!

"La Belle Dame sans Mercy" ("The Beautiful Lady Without Mercy") - A ballad by John Keats

"The poem is about a fairy who condemns a knight to an unpleasant fate after she seduces him with her eyes and singing." please

This screams Knight!König x Fairy!Reader to me.

I just know König would gladly die by the hand of such an ethereal being.

"She looked at me as she did love, and made a sweet moan."

"And sure in language strange she said—'I love thee true.'"

That’s it. Thank you.

I swear this artwork kills me everytime I see it....

Ok this became the silliest fairytale ever 🩷✨️

CW: Historical AU blending with mythical/supernatural AU. König being a dreamy mess of a knight who doesn't fit in "normal" society. Reader is part of faefolk. Heavy Arthurian Romance vibes.

König returns to the castle one day. The son of a great liege lord, a warrior through and through, but some people say he should’ve been a poet: so dreamily he looks beyond the battlements at times, sighs after drinking too much wine, stares off into dark corners of the room while tending to his sword and armour as if he can see little pixies dancing there.

His siblings sometimes hit him on the back of his head, or wave a hand over his eyes when he’s about to slip into the fairy world, a forgotten plane that is not supposed to reach the castle. But the castle stones were taken from the moors and the woods, the old land not bending to the priest’s will no matter how many crosses they brought here. Fragile souls are wanton prey for the elves and the fairies who would take them to their land the moment they drop down their guard, and only prayer and fasting hold them at bay. In the fairylands, there is no toil or sorrow; the food is golden honey and wine, the dance and love everlasting, and the fae girls more beautiful than any human maid.

It sounded too good to be true, and it was: God had created men to work and women to give birth, and all the land was theirs to use and cultivate, it was not made to simply run and frolic upon. Some say that these were just old tales and that Christ would banish these creatures away, turn the land to yielding crops and tame firewood.

But some still believed.

When he was a child, the mighty son of the feared lord took porridge and almonds to the woods. “For the fairy people,” he said with bright, trusting eyes. Stole food from under the mistress’s nose, and no one ever dared to say anything about it.

But when this nonsense carried on to adulthood, people had to intervene. There was work to be done, war, harvest and building, and no matter how many coins this man paid to the visiting bards, it would never turn their stories true.

His arm was strong and his strike was true, but his head seemed to be filled with dandelion wine, even when he hadn’t been drinking. Sighed after this maiden or that, wished to travel to foreign lands, courted every nobleman’s daughter who visited the castle, but no one ever took him seriously.

This man had to watch how lady after lady chose some other valiant knight as their husband, some men whose heads were not filled with fairytales and dreams. They did flirt with him, for who could’ve resisted the temptation of making this giant a little sweaty under all that armor? Armor that demanded plate for two people, and a smith who had the talent to forge such a beastly thing.

Nevertheless, he was always left without a warm embrace, and so he was usually found outside, looking at the full moon or spending time in taverns, choosing the company of thieves and rascals over his serious kin.

And now he has returned from the woods, having been gone for months.

People thought he had finally left to fight for some other lord, posing as a simple footsoldier, a disguise that would relieve him of his tedious duties as a knight. Or to court some “lovely peasant girl” he always talked about – such talks were usually crushed by his father, demanding him to be sensible for once in his life.

But he doesn’t prattle about peasant girls now, nor does he ramble about screaming ships at the bottom of the sea. He doesn’t hold a speech about forgotten stone circles in the forest, the ones that already grow moss. No, he has finally lost it completely.

His eyes are wild, as is his hair; his armour is nowhere to be seen, and his sword is without its sheath. He doesn’t talk about what he saw in that forest to anyone, nor is he willing to tell where he has even been these past few moons.

He seems very shaken when he’s told they were worried he wouldn’t make it to the May Day feast, and asks for how long he was gone, drives a hand through dishevelled hair when he hears that he was away for three full months.

“Three months…” he mutters to himself, then leaves to his room, the huge sword dragging against the stone floor as he goes. He has always, always made sure it wouldn’t dull, but now he’s treating it like it’s become a part of him, confused and lost.

He doesn’t eat, hardly speaks after that.

The food tastes like ash, he says, and the ale tastes like bile. But the following evening, when his mother orders someone to pour her poor son some more wine, he looks up helplessly like a child.

“I have to go back,” he says.

A clamour arises, huffed exclaims of “What on earth is he on about” and “Sir, you only just got back!” His father rises from his chair and orders him to stop this nonsense at once. But this time, there is no embarrassed sweep of hand through hair, no red colour that rises on this peculiar knight’s cheeks. His lips only make a thin line before he rises as well and leaves the hall with a weight on his shoulders and dark determination in his stare.

At the stables, a stout Moorland pony and poor stable boy get to witness the drunken bawls of a forlorn knight. The wine sack almost slips from his hands to the dirt as he slumps against the timber of the stall, distorted face coming to rest against a wide, shaky palm.

Luckily, a friend of his knows where to look, and the stable boy sneaks into the shadows, slightly scared of the sorrow of such a big, intimidating man.

But even the companion who always listened to every enthusiastic story since they were kids and ran across the moors, throwing little rocks at his father’s soldiers and laughing when their helmets made a funny clinky sound, can not understand the drunken babble that comes out of König’s mouth this time.

He starts from the middle, which is highly unusual, and talks in strings of sentences that don’t make sense. “She was real, I just know it,” he repeats, over and over again in the middle of confessions about how beautiful she was, how her hair was like the softest spun yarn, her body incredible, naked and wild when she came to him. That her laugh was like the chime of little bells or the sound of the loveliest harp, a song on its own when she walked to him.

She was fascinated with his sword, especially the pommel and the handle interested her, and the curve in the middle of the blade she brushed with her fingers as if it was an entire vale.

He had never seen a woman touch his sword like that… They were never interested in such things, but she was, and she asked him so many questions.

Had he ever felled a tree?

Did he like squirrels?

Were his thighs as hairy as his chest?

She took him down the river, or he followed her; he can’t remember. Her step was so light it didn’t make a sound, and the moss seemed to turn brighter every time her little foot stepped on it. Her hands were tiny too when she wrapped them around his neck, pressed her body against his, and kissed him until there was nothing left of him: no helmet, no sword, nothing but sun and her, her hands and her lips.

Her mouth was still on his when she whispered she didn’t like his armour because it was so hard and rigid and cold, oh, she wondered if there was a man inside there at all.

So of course he showed her.

She giggled at the sight of him, especially his thighs, knelt down on the moss to see how hairy they were.

And would you believe the way she touched him then? It makes him heady even now…

Yes, he took her. But not the way a man takes a woman. She came to straddle him and laughed again, and the things they did together… He can’t even speak about them, but he knows the sun always shined when they rolled on the grass. Her giggles and moans surrounded him, her soft little thighs were stronger than they looked, her breasts so round and soft, so perfect he swore he had gone to heaven.

He bathed in her, with her, all day long. And the nights… You wouldn’t believe the nights: there was song and dance and more giggling women, and also a man dressed all in leaves, so big and thick he first thought he was a tree. An old king, she said, nothing he should worry about. And the wine tasted like summer and honey and gold; it was red, perhaps, but also like sea amber and sun…

She fed him flowers and laughed, caressed his face and said he’s the biggest and hairiest human she had ever seen. She let him lick honey from her fingertips and caressed him with heather and ivy, opened her mouth before feeding him a soft, sweet piece of cake, showing him how he needed to open his mouth as well if he wanted it on his tongue.

She kissed the crumbs from his lips and trailed a finger down his chest, all the way down, until…

Oh, he can’t talk about it.

It was better than he ever even imagined: better than the stories they tell in the taverns. It was like his wedding night, over and over again, it was like he was Lancelot, and she was his Guinevere.

No, no, she was not an enchantress, although everything about her was enchanting... All the stories came alive with her, even the moon was bigger than anywhere he’d ever seen, the deers ran past them while they made love, and the birds sang even at night.

He told her he loved her, but she didn’t know what it meant. When he explained it to her, she looked at him gently, so gently…

He cried from joy then, but she never mocked him. She only said it’s a sign that he’s hers. That he will never forget her. She said he’ll always find her, even when he’s old: she will make him young again. He’s welcome here if he wants: she has so many places to show him.

He thanked all the saints for having found her, Saint George and Saint Mary first, but stopped when her little brows furrowed with sorrow. Her eyes, filled with starlight and love, turned so sad that his heart couldn’t bear it, not for one beat.

The sea is far wilder here: he should come and see the ocean as it was at the dawn of time. The ivy is so strong you can use it to climb the trees and see the whole world from atop the tree, the whole land, covered in forest, such as it was before humans came. There’s no smoke or fire or war: just green everywhere, wild rippling streams and honey bees and berries and fish for everyone who ever feels hungry... They can make love day and night, and she’ll teach him all the songs of old. Humans only remember bits and pieces, but she knows how things really happened, she can tell him everything about heroes, kings and queens.

She said she wanted to sleep, and so he took her from the feast and laid her on the grass… She might’ve sung to him, he can’t remember, but it was like an angel’s caress all over him, somber and sweet before the dreams took him, a dream within a dream.

He slept for ages, it seemed, saw so many dreams, each more beautiful than the last until he woke up and saw that the forest had turned grey.

There was no maiden in his lap, no dance and song in the distance, no scent of flowers and dreams and springs to be found. The sun was up in the sky, but it didn’t paint all the colours with gold or fill the streams with light. The forest was half dead to him, just old, thick trees around him, a green-grey forest floor and a shaggy squirrel who chirped and squeaked at him as if it was his fault that the fae folk were gone.

He searched for her, called for her, but she didn’t answer, and how could she have? He didn’t even know her name. He only knew how lovely she felt, how soft her hair was when it fell to cover him like a veil, how adorable her sighs and tiny little gasps were when he filled her, over and over again.

His armour was nowhere to be found, and his sword was somewhere downstream, half covered with leaves and dirt, rusty and beaten by the wind. It was early spring when he came here; the land was still barren and grey, but now, everything was green. Still, it was not the green he wanted. It was not the green that filled his vision entirely, bright, blooming green that pulsed with lush joy. It was just… earth and grass and dirt.

So you see, he has to go back. He has to find her, whatever it takes. She promised he could always come back… She promised…

He cries once more, head bowed and mighty shoulders trembling from the force of his sorrow, and it is no use to tell him that the fae folk are evil. That they’re from the Devil and only want to make good, decent men like them forget. Forget their duty, their laws, their Christ.

It’s no use to tell him that it is not natural, the place he has seen. No doubt he has been somewhere, but it cannot be anything good… No man can survive on flowers and spring water for three months; they cannot frolic with the faeries for days on end without losing their mind and soul.

And König is already lost; he was lost since he was a child, rambling about how he received flowers, sticks and stones as tokens of the faefolk’s gratitude because he brought them food.

He tries to tell the boy who never grew up, the mightiest man in this kingdom, the dreamiest knight there ever was, that he needs to return to the real world. No fae woman would have him as a husband, they are only after his soul. But surely some human lady would take him into her bed, think about it, for God’s sake, please... He has duties here, people who love him, his father would make him a lord if he only put himself together. What kind of knight would abandon his sword, helmet and armour for the sake of an elf who despises the saints...?

But in the morn, König is gone.

His rusty sword is on the floor, the wooden cross taken off the wall. There lies a honeycomb and a flower on his window, a blossom so sweet it cannot be plucked from any field around here. Too exotic and bright, especially when placed atop the rough, grey stones, it looks like it could never wither from how beautifully it blooms.

The peasants now tell a tale of a man that haunts the woods: a huge giant dressed all in green, donning a leaf cloak of some sort and a beard that grows ivy. But they say he is not evil: he only shows himself to hunters who are about to fall a deer, or children who remember the land with little gifts.

Old men say they saw a green man when they were kids and brought bread and milk to the faeries, they swear to this day they saw a man who greeted them with a smile. And when they looked again, there was nothing but a tree where this giant stook, a young oak, sighing with the wind...

#könig x reader #könig x you #mythology au #arthurian au #historical au

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just-j-really · 1 year ago

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Another Dreamling fic I'm probably not going to write: amnesia AU, but played for comedy/fluff. Hob forgets everything from the night he met Dream onward because of some sort of curse. Dream decides to look after him until the curse wears off, because he is Being a Good Friend.

So from Hob's perspective, a Mysterious Hot Guy told him he'd see him in 100 years time and then he woke up in the future, with the Mysterious Hot Guy refusing to let him out of his sight.

Hob is under the impression he's being kidnapped/seduced by some fey creature, and "show him the delights the future has to offer" is just how this guy flirts.

Hob is not opposed.

Meanwhile Dream is being dragged along on a whirlwind tour of the year 2023 by a Manic Pixie Dream Medieval Peasant who wants to see absolutely everything there is to see in the future right now immediately.

(I am a little bit thinking of the festival dance scene in Tangled, with Hob as Rapunzel. Only instead of Festival Activities he is enthusiastically dragging Dream around to the various Sights of modern London.)

The Sights in Question are this bizarre mix of 'things a modern person would consider an attraction in modern London' and 'entirely banal parts of modern London' and Hob is having the time of his life. The future has stores full of more food than he's seen??? And types of food he's never seen??? And spices and off-season fruit just sitting there??? And fabric is so soft now???? And medication and pest control are just??? Available??? Life is so rich!!!!

(And on the other hand like. This man was excited about playing cards. Someone please show him an arcade. He is forcing Dream to play every multiplayer game available. Especially the driving ones. Neither of them knows how to drive.)

(Dream takes him to a museum and he's staring at a display from the 14-1500s marveling at how futuristic the technology is. He's actually more excited about that stuff than he is about the whole 'computers' thing because it's close enough for him to have some point of reference.)

(Also sidebar from the comedy- Maybe Dream shows Hob the ruins of the White Horse. Hob stares at the building for a long time, then starts crying. Not outright sobs, just tears steadily slipping down his face like he's not really aware of them. Dream panics and tries to comfort him, mentally kicking himself for showing Hob the one connection to the life he knows in ruins. But Hob, laughing now, explains that this was the first time it really hit him? That he's actually 600 years in the future, not in some fairyland Dream created. And that means that all the disease and starvation and war and world-ending horror he was staring down 600-odd years ago didn't. He was going to grit his teeth and live no matter what but the fact that the world made it here along with him? That humanity's still here? And managed to create antibiotics and planes and chimneys in the meantime? That's a goddamn miracle.)

And Dream is getting dragged along with Hob, at first reluctantly, but slowly falling for Hob's enthusiasm throughout the day/week/whatever. And this version of Hob is like. Outright flirting with him. He's outright flirting with a lot of people, fair, but Dream especially. And of course Dream's having a feeling about it, because of course the version of Hob who doesn't actually know him, doesn't know how cruel he was over the centuries, is the one who'd be interested in him.

The Manic Pixie Dream Medieval Peasant Tour of London ends up taking on a decidedly romantic note, after a few days. And one night, after an evening in a restaurant that Dream knows is one of Hob's favorites, where everyone around them was silently willing them to get a room because the tension between two people who are very carefully sitting on opposite sides of the table and not actually touching, just talking to each other, was far too palpable, Hob caves, and drags Dream into a kiss the second they get back to his flat.

It's a good kiss, and Dream lets himself enjoy it for a moment, because he'll never get to kiss Hob again so at least he can have the memory of this one. Then he gently breaks the kiss and tells Hob, equally gently, that they can't. That Hob doesn't remember the majority of their relationship, how cruel Dream has been to him. That his present self doesn't feel the same way.

And then Hob, who's been staring starry-eyed at Dream this whole conversation, says "I do, though."

And Dream is like "Yes I know you like me now with but the you with your memory intact does not."

And Hob's like "No, I do. I got my memory back right when I kissed you."

And there is, unfortunately, more confusion (Hob explaining that yes he has always liked Dream it's just that 600 years have made him minutely less reckless and also the current him remembers that they are friends and doesn't want to ruin that. But no, Dream is wrong on all counts, he remembers every moment of their friendship and he does like Dream the same way and holy shit??? There is a 'same way'???? Dream wanted to keep kissing him????)

And then they clear all that up and live happily ever after.

(Yes it was a True Love's Kiss thing)

#dreamling #hob gadling #my fic

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gerec · 6 months ago

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Do you have any canon movie fics to recommend? (could be canon divergence too)

the best ones of course

Hi Anon,

It's impossible to define 'best ones' when it comes to fic as everyone has their own set of preferences but I'm happy to share some of my personal favourites. :D And this list barely scratches the surface of all the incredible fic we've been blessed with in this fandom so def. do your own search on ao3 and filter for your preferred tropes! Also, feel free to check out some of my previous fic recs posts on my blog for more options! Happy reading!

XMFC

never too late to be who you might have been by acetamide Erik wakes suddenly and takes a deep breath, and realises that there is nothing.

Replay by SlightWeasel (series) After Magneto of an X2-ish future succeeds in the unthinkable, Charles sends his consciousness back to 1962 to guide Erik away from the path that will lead to the genocide of the human race forty years hence.Charles knows that Erik has always loved him, and intends to use this knowledge + sex to seduce Erik away from his ideals in his youth.There’s no way this well-thought-out, sensible, debugged and 100% bulletproof plan can possibly go wrong.

When We Two Parted by nekosmuse At the end of X3, a still depowered Erik travels back in time to meet 1962 Charles. Cue angst, desperate kissing and happy endings for all. Written for the x-men kink meme.

Lucid Dreaming by listerinezero Magneto finds himself in 1962, on the morning they go to Cuba, in the bed of the young Charles who’d spent months letting him think they were in love before breaking his heart. But he is not the same man he was forty years earlier, and as he gets to know young Charles again, he discovers that things might not have been exactly the way he remembered them after all.

Time to Grow by zarah5 In which you'll find chess dates which aren't dates (or maybe Charles is wrong about that). -- Based on First Class, this turns (slightly) AU during the beach scene.

Not Half As Blinding by keire-ke Cuban beach AU. Charles discovers that death does, in fact, solve everything.

Blood and Steel and Miles Between by dreamlittleyo (Post-movie AU.) On a beach in Cuba, Charles manages to talk Erik down from the edge. But even after the missiles have been diverted, compromise is impossible. There are two different futures to build, and Erik and Charles will always be separated by their principles. But when Charles is kidnapped and the X-Men can't find him, Erik will get him back no matter the consequences.

Homecoming by nekosmuse Five years after they part ways on a beach in Cuba, Charles sends a telepathic message: We are under attack.. Erik drops everything to rush to Charles' side. In which battles are fought, war is avoided, a middle ground is found, and happily ever afters do exist.

how near to fairyland by ikeracity Since childhood, Charles has kept all the things he can't let go of in a beautiful room in his head. Cuba brings his precarious balancing act crashing down.

The Line in the Sand by ikeracity The CIA agents on the base are bullying the children, mocking them for their mutations. Charles will not tolerate it.

DOFP

Hope by daymarket A near-decade of hatred can't be wiped out with a single summer, no matter how eventful that summer might be. When Erik shows up uninvited at the mansion, Charles is just barely civil enough to not throw him out, but that doesn't mean he'll let him stay.

Mile High by cygnaut There’s only so much time you can spend sublimating your emotions into chess.

Spark Me Up by blarfkey “This is Erik raw. This is Erik lost. This is Erik looking at Charles like he is the only piece of wreckage in a vast ocean. The only star in the sky.

And such a look does things to Charles.”

After ten years, they are both starving for each other.

XMA

third time's the charm by Gerec XMA ficlets and missing scenes

Regrets by SlightWeasel After Apocalypse, Charles and Erik sleep together—but it’s way too soon for Erik.

as it arcs towards the sun by pearl_o

night by night by pearl_o

things worth fearing by pearl_o

Dark Phoenix

After the End of the World (One Bad Day) by kianspo Set during and immediately after the events of X-Men: Dark Phoenix. Everyone deals with the aftermath of Jean's transformation and everything that comes with it in their own way. Could there be found a measure of peace and happiness after everything they've lost?

Never a Place by kianspo It takes some getting used to. Charles hasn’t seen Erik cheerful, actually cheerful without a homicidal intent of some sort in a very long time—perhaps never. Or. Charles takes Erik up on his offer while trying to process everything. Erik is remarkably patient until he isn't.

rue de la paix by Ireliss Post Dark Phoenix. Charles, Erik, and the winding road towards peace.

The First Move by TurtleTotem Charles and Erik live together now, in Genosha. They get up together, spend the day together. And then... go to sleep in their separate beds.

Charles is going quietly crazy.

#gerec rambles #fic rec #gerec's fic rec #canon fic #canon divergent fic #cherik

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autisticandroids · 3 months ago

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free space: "i forgor"

this is for fics that should have been on my other reclists for @spnficrecfest but, well, i forgor.

my other reclists are in this tag.

this list will be ordered by wordcount, but it will also be by category.

should have been on my season six reclist:

what a brave little ant you are by withthekeyisking, 2k

dean goes about his life. cas pops in, from time to time. dean is soooooo mad about it. the salmondean of it all is good too. great stuff. destiel.

there are no lies on your body by tiptoe39, 6k

post godstiel, cas is a poor little meow meow. dean's poor little meow meow. destiel.

the law of conservation of energy by peroxidepest17, 90k

an oldschool "what if cas capitulated in the man who would be king and they had to come up with a different plan" type fic. im kind of obsessed with this one. like the ways in which it's good and the ways in which it's weird. destiel.

should have been on my season nine reclist:

i shall not want by domesticadventures, 20k

a little season nine bunker depressionfic with good brother conflict.

should have been on my true au reclist:

après moi, le deluge by allthismusic, 11k

dean is an innocent hiker, and after he messes up his foot, he and his brother happen upon a nice cabin with a friendly cas inside. destiel. horror.

the fix by luulapants, 12k so far, chose not to warn

an au where dean is a conservative politician and cas is a fixer. this is like, the fic i have been longing for for literal years, and i can't think of a better author to take on the topic. wip, but my experience is that luulapants will finish what she starts. destiel

lillith's fayre by all_the_damned_vampires, 17k, chose not to warn

a strange and wonderful fic with a lot of fun character stuff. meg is the main character, and she's joined by casey and lenore, two favorite side characters from the early seasons. and cas, of course. it's a whole polycule thing. they're in the circus in the nineties. the demon circus. i was particularly compelled by lenore's characterization.

should have been on my canon-a-little-to-the-left reclist:

in the twilight kingdom by argentnoelle, 48k, violence and noncon warnings plus chose not to warn

so i am actually currently enjoying this fic right now and im not done with it. i'm like halfway through? which is maybe against the spirit of things. but im REALLY liking it so far. it's a rewrite of seasons four and five which takes place mainly in hell. deanalastair, destiel, megstiel, and deancasmeg. the deanalastair parts are particularly compelling to me because they're like written like, you know. it reads like a sugar daddy thing. except of course you know how things started. you KNOW. sickeninggggg. and of course dean and meg are brainwashing themselves a castiel. which i'm greatly enjoying so far.

should have been on my rarepair reclist:

a rock with a hole in it by de_nugis, 11k

cas has an interlude with soulless sam in fairyland. a kind of fascinating, unsettling pastoralism. and it's not even set in season six. sastiel, unrequited destiel.

should have been on my outsider pov reclist:

leave my body, moving up to higher ground by trieduntrue, 17k

post godstiel, cas has to switch vessels. an adventure from the point of view of the vessel. i'm kind of obsessed with this author. the vessel character is so charming to me, i enjoy her. yes: this is a female vessel cas fic, lol. destiel.

#spnficrecfest #spn

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destieltropecollection · 6 months ago

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Destiel Trope Collection 2024 | Day 24: Fluff

Animal | @ididitallofitforyou Rating: General Word Count: 1,014 Main Tags/Warnings: Fluff, Established Relationship, Kid Fic Summary: Cas and the kids stumble over a pet adoption event

The Bliss | @blessyoushondahurley Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,223 Main Tags/Warnings: established relationship, domestic fluff, halloween Summary: A fluffy domestic day in the life of a happy, settled, married, post-hunter Dean Winchester and family.

Kiss it better | @tami-ryver Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,332 Main Tags/Warnings: Season/Series 09, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Human Castiel in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Sick Castiel (Supernatural), Caretaker Dean Winchester, Fluff, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cuddling Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Takes Care of Castiel Summary: Cas is sleeping soundly, and Dean tries his forehead; it's not as hot as it was before. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and smiles. Cas is indeed in good hands, and Dean is going to make sure he is healthy as soon as possible. Because if there is one thing he doesn't like, it's when the people he loves are in pain. Wait, loves? He loves Cas? Oh. Oh.

Early Morning | @ididitallofitforyou Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,378 Main Tags/Warnings: Fluff, Post Canon, Boys Kissing, Established Relationship, Retired Dean and Cas, Baker Dean, Bookstore Owner Cas Summary: When Dean’s alarm goes off, he quickly silences it and groans as he falls back against his pillow. Before he can talk himself out of bed, Cas rolls over and snuggles up against him, head on his shoulder, arm around his waist. Dean leans down to nuzzle Cas’ hair as he slowly rubs his hand across Cas’ back and shoulder. How did he - Dean Winchester, hunter extraordinaire, the guy with nothing but a GED and a give ‘em hell attitude - get so lucky as to end up here? Married to his not-quite-an-angel-anymore, best-friend-turned-love-of-his-life. He’s so goddamned happy he doesn’t know what to do with himself sometimes. Dean huffs an incredulous laugh and shakes his head. He’s got to get moving or he’s going to be late.

loving on island time | @deancaskiss Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2,015 Main Tags/Warnings: Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural), Kissing, Boys Kissing, French Kissing, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Established Relationship, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Married Castiel/Dean Winchester, Anniversary, Day At The Beach, Beaches, Sunsets, Road Trips, POV Castiel (Supernatural), Surprises, Surprise Kissing, Flirting, Castiel/Dean Winchester Flirting, Romance, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Roses, Alcohol Summary: Cas slipped a note into the handle of Dean’s coffee mug, set it on the bedside table, and placed a kiss against Dean’s temple. 'Let’s go on a road trip. I’ll drive.’

Hot & Cold | @macy2me Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2,064 Main Tags/Warnings: Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Marriage Proposal, Castiel Proposes Marriage to Dean Winchester, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human Summary: When Dean accidentally finds out that there is an engagement ring hidden in the house, he plays a game of Hot & Cold with Cas to find it. Short fic created as part of the Love & Winchesters birthday drabble exchange.

Fairy Cake Shop | @verobatto Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2,546 Main Tags/Warnings: Fantasy, love at first sight, fairy!Dean, human!Cas, modern setting Summary: Dean, Charlie and Benny are unpaid fairies working for Fairyland collecting human's emotions like pearls. To do this work, they run together a cake shop that fullfils human's good wishes. One day Dean meets Castiel, a widower father, and his life changes for ever.

The Starlight | @Velvethopewrites Rating: General Word Count: 3,803 Main Tags/Warnings: Meet-cute, AU, shy!Cas, awkward!Cas, fluff, bartender!Dean, human AU, pre-slash Summary: A cold and rainy night brings two people together.

The Way to a Man's Heart (In a Blizzard) | @thefandomsinhalor Rating: General Word Count: 4,344 Main Tags/Warnings: Neighbors AU, Dean Has a Crush on Castiel, Snowed In, Baker Castiel, Sweet Dean, Happy Ending Summary: Determined to spend the weekend on his own as a snow storm hits the city, Dean may change his mind when a handsome neighbor knocks on his door. Propositioning him with delicious food, no less.

One Way Mirror | @starstiels Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 5,312 Main Tags/Warnings: outsider pov, fluff, didn't know they were dating, protective dean, protective castiel, episode: s12e01, episode: s12e02, cas and dean use their words Summary: When Mary comes back from the dead, she didn't expect her 4-year-old to be 37. She also didn't expect him to be a hunter and married to an angel. AU where deancas are just slightly more openly affectionate and Mary immediately assumes they're married.

The Royally Unexpected Jollification of Two Princes | @thefandomsinhalor Rating: General Word Count: 6,096 Main Tags/Warnings: Royalty AU, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Temporary Meg/Castiel, Helpful Sam Summary: Prince Dean has a lot of feelings to sort out when he hears the unexpected news that best friend Prince Castiel is engaged. Unsure if he’s upset about not having been told the news by his own friend—or perhaps because of another elusive reason—he plans on clarifying the situation. Good thing his friend is set to arrive at the castle on that very afternoon, unaware that an important discussion is awaiting him.

Their Own Personal Eden | @thisisapaige Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 7,394 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Divergence After Episode: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, Gardener Castiel, Gardener Dean Winchester, Inspired by Draft Script for Episode: s13e06 Tombstone, Language of Flowers, Fix It Summary: Years ago, Dean lost Cas and spread his ashes across a meadow with a windmill, a brook, and a garden. Years later, Dean loses Cas again and returns there to plant flowers in his honour. One day, while Dean lies in the meadow now full of forget-me-nots, a portal opens and Cas returns. With the help of soil, seeds, and the language of flowers— and perhaps a little meadow miracle— Dean and Cas learn how to navigate their relationship in the new, Chuck-free world.

#destiel trope collection #destiel trope collection 2024 #destiel #fanfic #supernatural #fluff

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veronicaphoenix · 4 months ago

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fairy dust series ✨ au — part three: the girl whose blood turned into fairy dust | wc: 3.1k

— previous part: the seducing kitsune

pairing: fae!oliver x ivy (ofc) x kitsune!noah tags & trigger warnings: self-indulgence (don't mind me), age gap (but it's also understood that in fairyland no one ages), no angst (just brief mentions of ivy feeling insecure about her body in the past), recurrent mentions of noah shifting back and forth from his kitsune form, fluff, noah loves to tickle ivy, oliver likes to have his hair pulled, implied/suggested sexual scenarios including the following: ivy's first time, handjobs, oral sex, intercourse, threesome, and a bunch of mentions about fluids 👀 my works 🌙

The Girl Whose Blood Turned Into Fairy Dust ೃ༄*ੈ

When Ivy wakes up, she feels a faint ache between her legs. It’s the first sensation her consciousness registers as she emerges from her dreamlike state.

Next, she becomes aware of the warmth of two bodies beside her, but it’s not just their presence that keeps her warm. Noah’s nine tails are enveloping her like a soft, protective cocoon, shielding her from the cold. Although their warmth is gentle, it’s exactly what she needs after the night’s activities and her subsequent drop in body temperature. Noah, with an instinctive understanding of her needs, had covered her with his fur just as she was about to drift off.

She is, of course, naked.

As she opens her eyes and adjusts to the soft morning light filtering through the trees, Ivy feels Noah’s tails gliding delicately over her skin. When her eyes locate him, she just sees a man, naked and sprawled on his stomach, with silky brown hair cascading over his face. His lips are relaxed, and his breathing is calm. He looks even younger than Ivy had perceived him the day before.

On her other side, Oliver also sleeps peacefully and just as naked. His hand rests gently on his chest, and his head is turned toward her, his lips slightly parted. Despite his longer hair, it remains neatly away from his face, allowing Ivy to admire the ethereal glow of his skin. It seems as though his entire body is dusted with a shimmering blanket of stardust. The sight is almost surreal, but Ivy knows this is not a dream, especially after the experiences she shared with both of them last night.

This is her world now, a place where she can spend as much time as she wishes admiring Oliver’s glowing skin, savoring the tender touches of Noah’s tails, and discovering all the secrets this world is keeping from her.

Stretching her limbs and awakening her body, so used and gloriously spent, Ivy rises with grace. She takes a moment to survey her surroundings, her face lighting up with a smile as she realizes she remains in this idyllic paradise that feels like home.

It’s home.

The gentle breeze kisses her cheeks, and two small yellow birds flutter around her, their cheerful chirping filling the air. They soon fly away, disappearing among the lush treetops, which seem to gently bow as if in gratitude for her presence in their world.

As Ivy brushes her hair from her shoulders, she notices a sprinkling of glitter falling onto her feet. The glitter, likely from Oliver’s fairy dust, has adhered to her skin, which, along with her hair, now gleams with a warmer, more radiant hue.

Feeling content, Ivy moves toward the edge of the large pond. She allows the crystal-clear water to gently lap at her feet. Gradually, she wades in, letting the cool, refreshing water envelop her. Once she is submerged up to her shoulders, she takes a deep breath and dips her head beneath the surface.

The water feels divine.

Ivy glides through the water with grace toward the opposite end, where the waterfall cascades majestically from the mountaintop. The mist rising from the cool, tumbling water envelops her in a refreshing embrace. The force of the waterfall is both intense and invigorating, massaging her body in a way that makes her burst into laughter from sheer delight. She feels as if the water is not just embracing her, but liberating her from all her insecurities and fears.

In her adolescence, the reflection in the mirror had often been her harshest critic, but now, as she recalls the admiration and love in Oliver and Noah’s eyes, in their touch, her old wounds begin to heal. The vulnerability she once felt has been replaced by a glowing, confident self-assurance. She feels no discomfort in her nakedness; rather, she feels empowered, her skin radiating.

As Ivy revels in the soothing bath, she closes her eyes and allows herself to immerse in the water, letting the waterfall envelop her completely. Around her, vibrant goldfish dart through the water like living jewels—gold, blue, and green. Their scales catch the sunlight, creating a dazzling display that complements the luminous quality of her own skin. Below her, the aquatic plants sway gently with the current.

A few minutes go by, and suddenly, Ivy senses a presence behind the cascading curtain of water. The emerald green eyes that have lingered in her memory meet hers, causing her heart to race with excitement. Oliver emerges from behind the curtain, his laughter a crystal-clear melody that fills the space and makes her smile even wider.

He joins her beneath the waterfall, wrapping her in a welcoming hug. His lips brush against her shoulders, chin, and cheeks with a tenderness that fills Ivy with a profound sense of joy. The connection between them feels so palpable that she can almost reach out and touch it.

With deliberate care, Ivy begins to massage Oliver’s hair, her fingers gliding through the silky strands. The ability to give him pleasure and comfort, just as he did for her during the night, brings her immense satisfaction.

After enjoying this moment, Ivy wonders about Noah, realizing that she won’t be able to feel that complete unless both of them are around. “Where’s Noah?”

“He can’t ever be too far,” he replies. With a confident motion, he takes her hand and guides her away from the waterfall. “Look,” he says, pointing to a spot in the forest.

Following his gesture, Ivy’s eyes land on a tree.

Perched on a tree branch is Noah in his kitsune form. His nine tails form an enchanting halo around him making him appear majestic. His dark eyes watch her attentively as he licks his muzzle.

With a nimble, graceful leap, the creature drops into a clump of bushes below.

When Noah emerges from the foliage, he’s back in his human form, naked and wearing a wicked grin. His confident, seductive stride sends a wave of excitement through Ivy. She’s certain that if Oliver weren’t by her side, she might stagger with excitement.

Noah approaches her with large strides, stepping into the water with a feline grace. His gaze is a potent mix of dominance and affection that makes Ivy’s skin tingle.

In an instant, Ivy finds herself swimming toward him, and as she reaches him, Noah scoops her up with a strength and tenderness that makes her feel utterly cherished. Her sweet laughter mingles with Oliver’s from behind. She nuzzles her head into Noah’s neck, tightening her arms around his shoulders.

Hours later, Ivy sits on the sand, feeling its warm, soft texture beneath her bare feet. She is wearing a short green dress with delicate thin straps that drape gracefully over her shoulders. Oliver sits between her legs as she carefully combs his long brown hair, the strands shimmering with an etheral glow in the light.

Behind Ivy, Noah lounges comfortably on the sand, propped up on one elbow, shirtless, his tanned skin glowing in the sunlight. He playfully tugs at the straps of Ivy’s dress, and each time his fingers touch her skin, Ivy squirms, her giggles bubbling forth.

“Stop it,” she protests.

“You don’t mean that,” he replies with a husky voice, fully aware of the effect he has on her. He obeys, though, replacing his fingers with his lips, his smile widening into a broad grin as he revels in her reaction.

“I can’t braid Oliver’s hair if you keep doing that!”

“Liar,” he mutters.

“I’m not—” Ivy starts to say, but Noah interrupts by nibbling at her neck while his hand slips around her waist and under the skirt of her dress.

Ivy erupts in laughter, accidentally tugging at Oliver’s hair as she falls back. Noah catches her in his arms, drowning in the joy of making her laugh.

“Ouch,” Oliver complains, rubbing his scalp, smiling nonetheless. “I love having my hair pulled, but not like this.”

“You’re also a liar,” Noah tells him, continuing to shower Ivy with gentle nibbles and affectionate kisses on her shoulders and clavicle. Each touch feels like a warm spark on Ivy’s skin, and her laughter blends with the soft whispers of the breeze that drifts from the nearby pond. “Look at him, Ivy.” Noah grabs Ivy’s chin and guides her head towards Oliver’s spot between his legs. “You caused that by just pulling at his hair accidentally. Imagine how much harder you could get him if you did it on purpose.”

Oliver’s gaze is heated as it meets hers.

“Why didn’t you ask for it last night?” Ivy asks, fluttering her eyelashes at him. She’s still a bit shy about what they did the night before—at the things she let them do to her.

“Because last night was all about you.”

Before she can reply, Noah’s voice is in her ear.

“Did we please you, Ivy?”

He knows they did; he just wants to hear her say it.

“You did,” she breathes out. “A lot.”

At her answer, both Oliver and Noah smile.

Still behind her, Noah reaches around to move a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear before placing a tender kiss on her earlobe.

“You were really, really sweet.”

She melts.

She leans back against his chest, letting Oliver reposition himself at the front so that he can touch her thighs. Maybe they’ll cover her in flowers again, later replacing them by kisses and licks here and there.

No one had ever shown so much reverence to her as Noah and Oliver do. She’s only been here for a few hours, but she already feels so entertained, so cherished and loved.

Before Ivy began combing Oliver’s hair, she and Noah had been engrossed in what she’s learnt is Noah’s favorite game. He can never play hide-and-seek with Oliver because he always knows where he is, and all the other creatures in the realm show little interest. But Ivy? Oh, Ivy is thrilled to play with him, whether it’s hide-and-seek or something else. With his kitsune agility, Noah makes the game challenging, speeding away from her and hiding in places he knows better than anyone else. Ivy spent what felt like hours running around barefoot, squirming through trees and plants she’d never seen before, peering into the bushes, and looking up the trees. Just as she was about to give up, Noah had appeared behind her, in human form, wrapping her in his arms and surprising her with a playful tickling attack of his lips and nose against her neck. He loved tickling her—she had learned that much by now. He caught her and laid her down in the sand, their laughter mingling as she squirmed with delight.

It was only when she felt a different kind of tickling on her arm that she realized she had been hurt—perhaps by a broken branch or a thorn hidden beneath the sand. Instead of blood, what emerged from her skin was fairy dust, drifting down to form a small, glittery pile beside her.

Her eyes widened in astonishment as she looked at the shimmering dust. Noah’s expression turned to one of concern, while Oliver, standing nearby, simply smiled.

He knew everything had finally fallen into place, and Ivy belonged to them just as they belonged to her.

Years later

Ivy stands in the water, which reaches only up to her navel, the breeze gently caressing her bare breasts. Her hands move in the water in a slow, cadent dance as her eyes remain fixed on the scene unfolding in front of her, on the sand. Ivy is biting her lip, her eyes darkening with a growing hunger and desire, the heat between her legs growing more scorching with every second despite being in the water.

On the shore, Noah and Oliver are playing with each other, stealing caresses, kisses, moans. Their hands are exploring each other’s bodies, their lips grazing each other’s skin. It’s an idyllic image, and while Ivy longs to be a part of it, she also finds a certain satisfaction in being an observer.

Of course, this isn��t the first time she’s seen Oliver and Noah like this.

They engage in such scenarios quite often, and they do it with her too, whether it’s by the pond, in a clearing in the woods, or in one of those castle rooms that appear and disappear at will, where the mattresses are the most comfortable imaginable, covered with soft pillows, and with streams of different vibrant colors filtering through the wide windows.

Ivy recalls the last time she was there, in one of those rooms. Noah and Oliver had instructed her to get on all fours, and she had complied obediently. One of them positioned himself in front of her, while the other took his place behind.

During those intimate moments, it’s almost transcendent how their bodies come together; the sensations so profound that it’s hard to distinguish where one body ends and the other begins.

When Ivy is between them, she feels a deep sense of completeness and an unexplainable self-confidence.

No matter how many caresses and kisses Noah and Oliver bestow upon her, they continually amplify that feeling, mirroring the crescendo of her orgasms. She’s never able to keep her eyes open when they happen, but Oliver has often told her that her body emits a magnificent glow when she comes—like watching the sunrise without any of the pain. He has called it the most beautiful sight he has ever seen.

Ivy remembers how different she was when she first got there. The girl she once was has been replaced by someone confident in her own skin, who embraces every curve and imperfection. Oliver and Noah have shown her the value of her body and soul, but it is her own effort that has shaped her into the confident person she is today, and now, years later, no one compares to the confidence Ivy exudes. You can see it in her eyes, in that determined, fierce gaze with which she watches like a hawk every touch Noah and Oliver give each other. She observes intently as Noah frowns and closes his eyes with every tug Oliver gives him. He’s about to come.

When Ivy emerges from the water and approaches them, Noah is lying on his back, the remnants of his orgasm on his stomach, glistening under the sun, his breathing still ragged. Oliver lies beside him on his side, nibbling on Noah’s shoulder and tracing delicate patterns on his right pec. The picture is tripping, and Ivy’s smile, still teasingly nibbling on her lip, widens as Noah opens his eyes and greets her with an ecstatic smile.

There’s nothing prettier than seeing Noah in a post-orgasmic state, smiling, eyes shining, hair tousled, with his own semen smeared across his navel. And beside him, Oliver, lovingly tending to him, clearly eager to give him another orgasm as soon as he’s ready for it.

“Hi there, our pretty girl,” Oliver says to Ivy when he notices Ivy. He pulls back and props himself up on his forearms, fully exposing himself. His erection is powerful, still glowing as brightly as it did the first time Ivy saw him naked. He looks as delicious as Noah, and Ivy fantasizes about getting Oliver in the same state as Noah, and have them both lying exhausted on the sand, covered in their own sticky release and with those satisfied expressions on their faces.

She knows she can get them like that, and it fuels her confidence. However, she can’t deny her enjoyment of how they treat her with care and indulgence, with softness and delicacy. After reaching out to her, Oliver makes some space for Ivy to settle in between them, her body still covered in water droplets glistening in the rays of sunlight falling on her body.

Hours pass unnoticed. Time behaves differently here, and Ivy struggles to keep track of it with their hands and tongues working their magic on her, making her mind feel soft and hazy.

She lets them play with her, touch her, lick her.

They know how to taunt her. Oliver’s fingers glide down the valley between her breasts. He traces patterns all over her stomach. He watches as Ivy’s skin reacts with goosebumps and flushes. He wants her to beg him to go lower. When she does, the touch is already so familiar to her, but it never fails to elicit moans that Oliver says remind him of songs he’s heard in the past.

Meanwhile, Noah keeps his grasp on her chin, ensuring her face remains turned towards him so he can savor every expression she makes while Oliver touches her.

After a while, as Ivy’s most intimate spot becomes slick with her own release, Noah nuzzles her neck with his nose. Unexpectedly, he offers her a peach.

He holds it out for her. As she bites into it, keeping her eyes locked on Noah’s, the juice drips down her chin and onto her chest.

Noah moves his hand away and gestures for Oliver to hold the peach. He then lowers his lips to Ivy’s breasts and drinks the sweet juice that has dribbled onto her skin. As he sucks and licks, he’s intoxicated by the combined sweetness of the fruit and the softness of her nipples. He’s aware he’s going to come, even without her having to touch him. She has a power that he’s never encountered before, and he’s thankful that Oliver decided to wait ten years to get Ivy to come here by choice.

After some more time on the sand and then in the water, their bodies sated, stomachs full, and muscles tired, they find comfort under a large oak tree. Ivy and Oliver craft flower crowns together while Noah lies on his stomach, a pencil in hand, his eyes shifting between Oliver and Ivy and the paper on the ground. He keeps his drawings private, hiding them in a hole in the ground when he’s finished, planning to gift them to Ivy someday, perhaps in a book with a cover made of leaves.

The sun sets one more time. Ivy curls up against Noah’s fur and lays her head on Oliver’s chest, so that she can fall asleep to his heartbeat. She has learned that Noah used to sleep on Oliver’s back, but since she joined them, the kitsune tattoo on Oliver’s back has not reappeared, leaving his skin a blank canvas. She understood long ago that this change signified that their bond had grown into a trio, and when they snuggle close at night, she swears she can touch the love they share.

Author's note ✍🏼: this is it! I looooooved writing this little thing and i'm so glad I got to share it with you all. Thank you so much for reading it and dropping a comment or message me after. It means the world and I love engaging with readers and other writers to discuss stories. I'm forever thankful <3

my works 🌙 Taglist:

@somebodyels3 | @respectfulrebel | @poppy-in-the-woods | @blessedwithabadomen | @dsireland86

@bluestdai | @poisongirl616 | @lma1986 | @shilohrosechicken | @fadingangelwisp

@dominuslunae | @sunsshinesunny

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