#not that its impossible for fanfictions to have something to them

[playingonedchess]

and this is why fanfiction isnt the same as proper books

[cheeseanonioncrisps]

It's a weird fucking feeling realising that you actually have to plan ahead for and schedule in the things you like to do, as well as the things you have to do.

I don't mean the complicated stuff, that's a given.

If I'm going to the cinema, then I accept I'm going to have to look up film times and buy tickets and figure out when I'm going to leave the house. If I'm going to visit a friend who lives in a different county, then I accept that I'm going to probably be looking up travel times and planning activities and where to eat and what time we'll be doing what, for possibly days beforehand.

But its even the fucking lowkey stuff. If I want to watch a tv show, I have to plan time out of my day to do it, and I don't always get round to it. If I have a whole day free for some reason, and I decide I want to watch a film (at home, on the sofa) and I don't lay out a plan for when I'm going to do that and how long I'm going to take, then it just won't happen.

If I want to go for a walk just around my local area before it gets dark, or eat something with a slightly longer cooking time, or write my diary, or read a book I've been looking forward to reading, or even read fucking fanfiction that is longer than about 8000 words, then I have to set some sort of plan beforehand.

Like, I know intellectually that executive dysfunction affects more than just the things you don't enjoy doing. But fuck it doesn't really hit you until you realise that you haven't sat down to watch an episode of that show you like for over a week, even though you can't really name any activities you've been doing or commitments you have that would make it impossible to do so.

Anyway, this is a reminder to people who struggle with that sort of thing: schedule your days off, lest they be swallowed by the Pit before you get the chance to do anything fun with them.

[kujiba]

★MAY THE LAND CONCEAL YOU, DEAR GRACE

୨୧ — ꒰ gn!reader | they/them prounouns | Sagau | cultish behavior

୨୧ — ꒰ wowee, thanks alot for 100+ likes on part one! Hope you enjoy part two :]

[PART ONE

PART THREE

PART FOUR

PART FIVE

-YOU DIDNT NEED TO BE A GENIUS to get an idea of what was happening. Your lower body brushed against the soft yet sharp grass, it felt all too real. Your (e/c) eyes narrowed its way to a tree. An ordinary tree with many ripe fruits; one of it being able to take your attention.

Your hand circled on one of the fruits bottom and plucked it carefully, it matched exactly as your expectation. A plump fruit that seemed to be full of its juice and taste, an appearance that resembled a beautiful like sunset furthermore having a sweet and gentle aroma that is able to energize an individual.

Your lips slowly made its way near the side of the familiar fruit, the texture and feeling were soft yet hard. The aroma itself made your mouth faintly water, you swallowed your saliva having a high expectation out of this. After all, you always wanted to see what it really tasted like after collecting so many.

"Thank you for the meal." You lastly said and took a bite.

Your eyes widened a bit, this was far more than what you expected. The flavor was sweet but not too much to be like a candy. It was juicy enough to make you feel more hydrated than ever. It didn't take you long to start devouring the whole fruit at once

"Better than i had thought." Your back laid against the tree, all of its fruits gone for it was rapidly consumed by someone (you).

You wiped off the fluid on the side of your face. A small smile looming over your lips "I feel more.. Refreshed than ever." Your tone consisted of slight suprise and satisfaction "Still, i cant seem to get my head wrapped around whats happening.." You mumbled quietly to yourself, having your fair share of the internet you were well aware on the many fanfictions and AU the game GENSHIN IMPACT had, but it having to actually become a real life situation is something too impossible to even happen.

Your feelings felt too mixed and unorganized. Half of what you felt was being thankful, because out of all the things you were gonna reincarnate in. The gods or whoever did it brought you into a more PG game; sure it had killing.. And some questionable things but as long as you live like an NPC things will go in the right track!.

With a goal set in mind you dusted off your hands following with walking down the dirt path that led to the gates of the iconic town MONDSTADT. you could remember it like it was just yesterday when you first played genshin. A feeling crept up to you, something similar - that you've walked down this path for millions of times and that muscle memory just took in. Deja vu didn't leave your mind until you were met with two guards infront of you.

"Halt. Who are you and what is your business here in mondstat" One of the guards spoke up, eyeing you up and down incase you were bringing any dangerous or threatening items to the city.

The guards other companion putted his hand on top of his friends shoulder "Wait, ___. They look familiar dont they?" His tone filled with suspicion, he couldn't shake it off as just a normal coincidence.

"What? What are you even saying ____. I believe you're making a far stretch in this one, i clearly remember that they have (opposite color) hair." The guards companion replied back with confidence in his answer. And it soon didn't take long for it to turn to a long and repeating argument on what was the appearance of the person they were arguing about.

"Jeez, who even is the person their saying. They must seem complicated" You thought to yourself while at the same time, was rubbing the back of your head - all you wanted was to slip into the city of Mondstadt but it seems to be much harder than you had thought in mind.

During the time the two guards were still rambling about the appearance of a certain someone. a silhouette of a girl with long silky brown hair, complimenting her appearance with a bright crimson bow that anybody could see from a mile away.

"Huh? I wonder whats going on over there.. Better go check it out!" The mysterious girl exclaimed, swiftly jumping down the soaring cliff. The moment her feet left the ground, wing like designs appeared behind her back which helped her safely land on the ground yet again.

"Whats going on here?" The mysterious girl walked between the two guards to stop their argument. Both her hands placed on her waist as she looked at the two with confusion.

"Oh- Outrider amber. Good to see you today" The guard greeted the named girl, AMBER. Amber exchanged the guards greeting with a smile "Good to see you today too. Now, will anyone care to explain what's going on?" She questioned, her hazel eyes glancing at the three people infront of her; You noticed how her gaze seemed too be longer on yours - as if she had something on her mind.

"I'll explain"

"Let me explain"

"So basically.."

You and the other two guards were caught off guard by the sudden synchronization. "Uhm, I can explain the situation" You spoke up while (e/c) eyes looked at the two.

"No, I've got a more grip and understanding standing on the situation, allow me" One of the guards replied back, his other companion raised a brow on what the other had just said.

"Please. I remember the details on the situation more clearly, I'll be telling you what happened Outrider Amber." His companion argued back to the other

"I'm doing you a favor so allow me."

"You're gonna leave out some parts so just let me do it"

"I'll do it"

"No, I'll do it"

"Guys.."

"So.. What you're all saying is that this person just wanted to get inside mondstadt?" Amber questioned;it took a long while till you just decided to explain to amber what really happened. Still, you couldn't shake off the feeling how intensely she was staring at you for - it creeped you out badly but you tried not to make it too obvious.

"Thats basically what happened" You confirmed giving her a small nod. Amber's expression seemed to be in deep thought for some moments till she gave you a smile in return.

"Seems like theres no problem then! You don't seem to pose as a threat, uhm.." Amber trailed off not really having to get your name yet. "Oh! It's (Name), pleasure to meet you" You kindly greeted her

You expected a positive greeting back but instead, your body jolted slightly. Seeing her shocked expression staring at you deeply for a moment and soon returned to normal.

Amber's expression calmed down and she gave you a apologetic smile "Oh sorry bout that... Just go right ahead" She offered, her fingertips gently wrapping around the back of her neck as her gaze were on the floor. You questioned her abnormal behavior earlier but the thought of going inside THE city of Mondstadt that you've dreamed ever since you first played made you ecstatic. Not to mention that you just met with one of the main side characters (amber) made you forget her strange activity just a few seconds ago.

You gave her a nod "Alright. Thank you!" And without hesitating you quickly walked inside the city of Mondstadt. The aroma of dandelions waved through the surroundings as people were joyful and free; something that you've craved since your 'previous' life.

Today is a brand new page in a book, where you're the one holding the pen and get to be able to write whatever you desire! WELCOME TO MONDSTADT

Two pairs of hazel colored eyes followed your body whilst you gleefully strolled from shop to shop. Her gaze not leaving you for even a second, for fear shrouded over her. Fear that you again would leave her sight.

".. They can't be..."

"You've felt it too huh?"

"... Get the others.

"We can't let them get away"

[A/N: HOPE YALL ENJOY PART 2. SORRY IT SEEMED SHORT, I'LL TRY TO MAKE PART 3 LONGER. ANYWAYS PROLOUGE IS DONE, MONDSTADT ARC WILL START NOW

[kallypsowrites]

I feel like I've seen so many TV cancellation announcements for stuff that I might've watched but now might not. And it really just emphasizes how much the current system is eating itself.

Binge culture means that people are expected to consume a show right as it drops. Because so many shows are binged now, even weekly shows are held to the same standard. If they don't perform well during the initial release, they are written off because binge numbers are the numbers that matter.

So you get more and more people who are afraid to get invested in shows because it might get canceled on a cliffhanger. Because of that, they don't tune in to watch something until they're sure its going to continue. So the next bingeable show gets less viewers. It gets canceled. More people join the 'I'm not going to watch yet because I'm afraid to get invested' crowd. Less people watch TV.

And it sucks because people like this are often the most ardent fans of a work--the ones who will write fanfiction and make fanart and write long analytical posts convincing people to watch a show. The people who will make a new show their whole personality because that's how hyperfixation works. I am amongst that crowd. I can't let myself get invested in something anymore unless I know that I'm going to get emotional payoff.

TV execs have been continuously breaking trust with fandom spaces for the past several years. They don't give shows a chance to find their legs, to grow an audience, to gain a cult following. They kill something in it's cradle in service to the numbers.

And it's not just the fans who suffer because of this. It's writer's rooms. I'm going to school right now for screenwriting and its BAD out there. So many writers who pour their heart and soul into a concept only to never get to bring it to fruition. There's no room for slow burns. For thoughtful storytelling. For trusting the audience. There's no room for real creativity. So the shows that do get renewed are often competent but uninspired or sequel/franchise content. Cause that's what gets views.

I cannot imagine how disheartening it is as a writer to start so many projects and never get to finish them. Think about your own writing. If you were working on a fanfiction but knew at any moment someone could stop you updating because you aren't getting enough hits/kudos, would you find joy in that anymore? I sure wouldn't.

I believe that a lot of the best storytelling is going to come out of indie spaces in the next few years--writers and artists moving outside of Hollywood and making their own low budget stories. Because it's almost impossible to thrive within the current system.

It's not the writer's fault. It's not the fan's fault. It's the way TV has become. And its going to crash and burn and I'm sure execs will find a way to blame anything but the system they created.

[svsss-fanon-exposed]

Exposing SVSSS Fanon: 24/∞

APHRODISIAC-PRODUCING PLANTS ARE AN EVER-PRESENT DANGER IN THE WORLD OF PIDW

Rating: FANON - UNSUPPORTED

One of the most common tropes that I have ever seen all across SVSSS fanfiction is the use of aphrodisiac-releasing plants or "fuck-or-die" plants, as a plot device in order to get two characters together. Surprisingly enough, however, there is not a single mention of such plants existing in PIDW.

I debated on whether to rate this as neutral or unsupported, since typically I will choose neutral when there isn't any kind of evidence for or against something-- however, in this case, I chose unsupported due to the sheer amount of times that SQQ's narration references the sex scenes and plot devices in PIDW, and the fact that not once was any specifically sex-related plant mentioned among them.

We do know that there are all sorts of rare plants used as plot devices in PIDW:

"Do you still remember creating a plant that only appears every thousand years?” Shang Qinghua was speechless. “Your description is way too broad. Bing-ge’s eaten at least eighty, if not a hundred plants like that.” (7 Seas, Ch. 5)

and

...the number of mythical flowers in Proud Immortal Demon Way numbered at least in the hundreds, and every single one was at least a thousand years old, and when you added on all the mythical grasses and mythical trees, who the hell could remember all those names?! (7 Seas, Ch. 3)

Naturally, we also do not know all of these plants, so it cannot be said with certainty what sort of plants are included or excluded from the set. However, the effects of the plants we do know of are as follows:

Thousand-Leaves Snow Petal Lotus

"This flower has grown within the depths of Jue Di Gorge for thousands of years. Its spiritual qi is extraordinary, and furthermore, it is the natural bane of creatures from the Demon Realm. It emits an innate barrier that repels demonic beasts." (7 Seas, Ch. 4)

Additionally, when Luo Binghe absorbed the flower, it increased his abilities, likely due to the spiritual qi contained within it:

Incidentally, he even absorbed the nutrients of the mythical flower the girl had just eaten, and so his martial ability once again made great progress (7 Seas, Ch. 3)

Sun-Moon Dew Mushroom

The Sun-Moon Dew Mushroom was also called the “flesh mushroom,” and this name was entirely literal. Though this mushroom wasn’t especially useful for cultivating, it still grew by collecting spiritual energy from nature along with essence from the sun and moon. If you planted its sprout in soil rich with spiritual energy, nurtured it, meticulously sculpted it, and watered it with blood and qi, once it matured, you could cultivate a living body of flesh. The body could grow just fine, but it was impossible to also create a soul via this method. That was to say, you could only grow a soulless, empty shell. (7 Seas, Ch. 9)

This is by far the most well-known of the mystical plants of SVSSS, considering the fact that it directly contributes to a major plotline. It is also notable that this plant was not used by Luo Binghe in PIDW:

In [SQQ's] defense, this mushroom wasn’t reserved for Luo Binghe. Rather, it was supposed to be for one of his opponents... ...If it were a thing that affected the main plotline, or if it were some mystical flower or herb meant to provide one of Luo Binghe’s power-ups, he wouldn’t have had the guts to try and steal it. (7 Seas, Ch. 5)

Also notable here is the mention of mystical flowers and herbs providing Luo Binghe's power-ups-- this is seemingly the primary purpose of mystical plants in PIDW.

The Ties That Bind

This is the final mystical plant mentioned in SVSSS-- and also the only one with a negative effect:

This plant sowed its seeds in the bodies of living beings, and they were especially attracted to people who gave off energy. Recklessly deploying one’s spiritual or demonic energy attracted these seeds to oneself. That was why Shen Qingqiu had stuck to physical combat as much as possible and avoided using his spiritual energy. When Ties That Bind seeds entered one’s flesh, they didn’t hurt, only faintly itched. But once they sprouted from the flesh that was their soil and burst forth through the skin, every inch of rent flesh from which they grew erupted in violent agony. Furthermore, the more you used your spiritual energy, the faster they grew. If you went as far as to use a spiritual blast, they would sprout like mad, budding in an instant. (7 Seas, Ch. 16)

Now, obviously, since there are only three of these plants mentioned within SVSSS, it is far from the eighty to a hundred mystical flowers, plus the additional trees and grasses, which we know nothing about at all. It wouldn't at all be unlikely for one of these many plants to have an aphrodisiac effect, or to produce a fuck-or-die poison-- but I personally feel that it would be likely for Shen Qingqiu to mention this directly in his narration had it been as common trope in PIDW as many fanworks imply.

Of course, it isn't unreasonable for fandom to come to the conclusion that such plants were present in the PIDW world-- after all, sex pollen is a fairly common trope, and PIDW contained a great variety of sex scenes. However, here it is important to note that Proud Immortal Demon Way WAS NOT purely an erotica, porn, or hentai novel. Fundamentally, it is a power fantasy-- and papapa scenes are just one part of that power fantasy.

In the original text, it is described as "YY", which is a slang term that literally translates to something like "mind masturbation"-- but that doesn't mean purely sexual content, instead it refers to a wish-fulfillment, escapist setting, a non-academic fantasy world, where the primary focus is on the main character becoming more and more powerful, overcoming more obstacles-- in Luo Binghe's case, this includes defeating all of his past enemies and marrying all of the beautiful women he came across. The sex scenes were just one part of the power fantasy-- erotica for erotica's sake was not the goal.

That isn't to say that PIDW didn't feature an abundance of sex scenes-- after all, that was one of if not the most-desired plotlines, and Airplane was made to cut backstory content in favor of them:

"And back then, everyone in the comments section was saying they wanted to see the other plotline, right? The one where Bing-ge bravely conquered a hundred flowers, you understand. A whole hundred holy flower spirits who had from their birth never laid eyes on a man, and all of them virgins. Cucumber-bro, how I suffered while writing the chapter of the hundred flower buds’ first mass-blooming! And still you roast me…” (7 Seas, Ch. 14)

Still, the power-fantasy of PIDW encompassed many different factors-- the battles and revenge against the villains and the ever-increasing power level as stronger and stronger enemies were defeated were just as important as the sex scenes and harem plotlines to the overall effect of the story.

My hypothesis for the origin of the theory that "the world of PIDW is full of fuck-or-die plants" is that it comes from the common sex-pollen trope in erotica and fanfiction, PIDW's reputation as containing quite a lot of erotic material, as well as a few select passages of SVSSS which link plants and flowers with sex-- one of which is the passage above, regarding the hundred flower spirits. I think that the more significant root for this theory, though, is the curing of Without a Cure through sex.

In SVSSS fanfiction, I have found it most common that the sex-inducing plants are specifically of the fuck-or-die variety (therefore, able to be categorized as poison) rather than the pure aphrodisiac variety. This lines up quite well with Qin Wanyue's affliction by Without a Cure in PIDW-- and its subsequent cure:

Then, in the end, how was the poison cured? After the down and dirty scene, the girl’s poison was naturally cured! Was it ridiculous? Cliché? Implausible? …But it was satisfying, right? Ridiculously satisfying, so ridiculously satisfying, ha ha ha ha… Look, Luo Binghe was of both human and demon blood, right? And the demon half of his bloodline came from their number one Saintly Ruler—from the heavenly demons of old! A wee little demonic poison wasn’t even strong enough to get stuck between Luo Binghe’s teeth, and he instantly absorbed and digested it during their you know. (7 Seas, Ch. 3)

However, the poison itself had little to do with either flowers or sex-- it was simply an incurable poison, which just so happened to be cured by dual-cultivation with a half-Heavenly Demon. There's a debate to be had as to whether the sex itself was the cure, or if it was Luo Binghe's bodily fluids in any form (curable by his blood as well), but that is all a topic for another post. Regardless, though this created a fuck-or-die scenario, it had nothing to do with fuck-or-die plants. Even in this scenario, the sex was only coincidentally a cure, with the characters not aware of it until afterwards:

The girl thought, “Since I’m about to die, I must leave behind some memories to ensure that my life won’t have been in vain. I don’t have many days left, after all, so I won’t suppress my feelings anymore.” Then, using her weak and fragile body, she pushed Luo Binghe down. (7 Seas, Ch. 3)

Now, we do know that aphrodisiacs do exist in the world of PIDW, but only one aphrodisiac is actually mentioned, which is produced by succubi:

Even if he was Great Master Liu, being poisoned by the succubi’s natural, innate Mesmerizing Fragrance—or in other words, their aphrodisiac, was profoundly…not good! (7 Seas, Ch. 23)

It's perfectly likely for other aphrodisiacs to exist in the world of PIDW, and for plants with aphrodisiac effects to exist, and it wouldn't be a stretch to say that such plants may have been used in some of the many, many harem plotlines. However, the aphrodisiac here is an ability belonging to a certain type of demon rather than a plant, and this is the only time where it is mentioned that some external cause is meant to induce lust in someone (Xin Mo is a matter for a future post as well). Rather, it seems that harem members are mainly drawn in by Luo Binghe's power, talent, looks, and generally magnetic appeal, rather than being forcibly drawn in through aphrodisiac plants or specifically fuck-or-die poisons.

Everything in PIDW was about bringing satisfaction to the (male) readers-- so, to determine whether fuck-or-die plants would have been a common plot device, we would need to ask would this plot device provide such satisfaction? It could-- but that would also depend on how it is portrayed. In fanfiction, both parties are often rendered helpless by whichever plot-device plant is being used as a means to get the characters together. In PIDW, though, I feel like it might play out a little more differently-- likely, there would be more plotlines in which Bing-ge himself was not affected, but instead generously helped out whichever maiden was currently afflicted and suffering, through which the romantic relationship was established.

Of course, it would still depend a lot on the specific plotline being followed, so this is more of just a suggestion to consider how the mechanics of such a plant would work to provide satisfaction to PIDW's target demographic, and whether to follow or subvert those expectations and tropes. Alternatively, because of the genre shift that occured during SVSSS, it wouldn't be out of place to include tropes more common to danmei, or to fanfiction, in that universe-- where it may be more common to have scenarios where both parties (especially the POV character) are incapacitated and affected. Every writer, of course, has the freedom to explore whichever tropes and plotlines they wish to-- but it could be interesting to look into genre tropes and see how they may or may not apply.

Typically, these arguments would lead to a neutral rating, rather than unsupported, since there is no direct evidence against the existence of such plants-- however, this post is not primarily meant to address the existence, but rather the prevelence. The existence of aphrodisiac or fuck-or-die plants in the world of PIDW would be neutral or even somewhat likely, but the topic being analyzed is the common fanfiction trope that within the world of PIDW, fuck-or-die plants appear frequently and are a well-known, common threat that the cultivation world's inhabitants must be prepared to face at any time.

I think that if that were the case in PIDW, there would have at least been one single mention in Shen Qingqiu's narration of a fuck-or-die or even an aphrodisiac plant-- perhaps as something that he himself would need to prepare for and worry about after transmigrating. However, there is no such mention-- therefore, while they may exist, it is not likely that sex-inducing plants are an overly common sight in the world of PIDW. The mystical plants seen in SVSSS are either poisons, power-ups, or utilities, and it is implied that most of the many other plants in PIDW would also fall into that category.

[justadeadreaper]

TW: Hair pulling, DUBCON, Manipulation, Crying, Sadistic tendencies, "Experiments", Being a "pet", Hinting at further actions/NONCON, Past kidnapping, Kidnapped, Please tell me if anything that should be put as a warning was not, thanks.

Being the pet of Angel!König is not the worst fate you could have found yourself in. On one hand, you were guaranteed a spot in Heaven for the rest of eternity, which was a fate that most people dream of, while on the other hand, it meant you were never able to see your friends or family again unless they somehow made the criteria to make it into Heaven but knowing them you thought it to be impossible.

He is nice, well, as nice as he can be for an Angel who keeps you as a pet.

The Common Angels that cared for you when he was busy were the ones to gossip, and they gossiped loudly. You knew the jist of why you were there even if you did not have all the details. Apparently, most of the First Heirarchy Angels, such as Seraphim and Cherubim, tended to have a fascination with humans even if they were to never to act on it like previous ones, such as Lucifer had done. And this included Angel!König, who was the most fascinated by humans out of them all; you did not know what he had gone, but he had done something which allowed him to be granted one gift by the Almighty, and unluckily Angel!König only had his eyes on one human out of all of the ones that resided on Earth.

That human just had to be you.

You had been stolen away in your sleep and dragged away to a palace. It was grand and incredibly vast. At one point, you thought it was larger than all of Earth as it seemed never-ending as you continued to walk through its many halls. It was made up of a collection of star matter, clouds, and gold to form its walls, ceilings, balconies, staircases, floors, shelves, and anything else you could think of. You could never get bored inside of it as every time you opened a door; it showed you a room that was filled with anything you wanted to entertain yourself. Most of the time, you found yourself reading in the library as not only were their books in there, but the fanfiction you also enjoyed reading had been formed into books, and many series that you had wished to have finished were fully finished even if it would have never been possible on Earth. Another point that made the palace a dream was how the kitchen was filled with food. Like how the bathroom and closets were filled with any clothes you wanted or skin care items needed, the cupboards, fridges, and freezers were all filled to the brim with all the foods in existence that never seemed to go rotten or end. You could make anything you wanted, but most days, you would just open the doors to the dining room to find a feast already prepared for you.

You did not think as to why a being like an Angel would have all of those things as they should not need them, but you tried not to think about it. You had learnt that it was better not to think of such things.

Overall, your life seemed great. You were trapped like a bird in a cage. No matter how appealing the cage was or how glamorous it was, you were still trapped, and there was nothing you could do about it. The only thing you could do was accept your new luxurious life, as there was no point in fighting back.

In return, all you had to do was appease your new master, which was not too hard. Angel!König did not ask for much when he was around you after doing the duties he was appointed to do. For his size, he was surprisingly gentle; he never tried to harm you, at least not on purpose or if he was not doing one of his experiments. He had a few simple rules that you had to follow.

One: No asking questions, but if you have to, not too many.

This rule was only implemented due to how you kept pissing him off by asking him too many questions and screaming at him for what he had done. He banned you from asking questions after that point unless it was necessary due to you being an utterly clueless human in Heaven.

Two: Always listen to him.

Not too hard as most of what he told you to do were simple commands, but when he did start ranting to you and telling you everything about the things he found interesting, which mainly was just about killing Demons.

Three: Always do what he wants you to do.

It was the one rule you hated the most, but he somehow always guilted you into complying by saying how he was just curious and wanted to learn as he had never met a human before.

Four: Be nice and compliant.

You wanted to fight back, and at times, you tried to, but you packed that in once he had brought a Demon back to show you and told you what terrible things they would do to a human like you. You also learnt the valuable lesson of not trying to test him that day when you saw how easily he crushed that Demon’s skull in his hand.

Five: Never try to escape.

Probably the easiest rule to follow as it was impossible to escape the damn palace anyway.

The rules most of the time were not a problem. It was his experiments that were your biggest problem. They were not even real experiments, it was just his excuse to be able to do what he wanted with you.

It started off small, nothing much really. All he asked was that he could play with your hair, he said that he enjoyed playing with it as the texture was so different from Angel hair and the material that made up their wings. It was simple, just him holding a clump of hair in his hand as he seemed to study it. He even enjoyed styling your hair and helping you through your care routine for it. But, it progressed. After a while, he began to tug and pull at it, you would cry and ask why but all he would say was that he wanted to see what would happen when he did it. That was when you learned about his sadistic side as he never stopped pulling your hair, he just loved to see you cry.

From your hair, it turned into touches. He would fondle and squish at your body as he made demeaning comments about how soft and delicate mortals were compared to Angels like him. It made you feel pathetic but at the same time, it was relaxing. The heat in his palms would radiate into your muscles, helping them to relax, getting rid of all the knots that tended to plague you. He made you melt into his arms, making you complacent putty in his hands. But those touches moved to more intimate areas. It started with him toying with your nipples, pulling at the delicate flesh until you choked on tears. Then soon enough his hand went lower finding your most sensitive part. He would rub it, the callouses on the tips of his fingers made the feeling somewhat odd but it felt all the better. He would rub, flick, pull, anything he could at it until you were a crying, overstimulated mess who could barely say your own name as the sheets were covered with your own cum; he would stare at you with glossed-out eyes, deep in thought like this was all new to him.

Unfortunately, you did not know that soon he would take it further then you could have guessed. It would be an actual experiment. One to make the perfect hybrid.

Taglist: @frogchiro @diejager @suimon @konigsblog

I am so sorry for not posting in a while I have just been busy with a big project that has taken over my brain and is my main focus, plus I have had exams. Hopefully, I can post soon and start posting the project, warning some of you may be emotionally devastated or want to kill a certain character (*cough cough* like two of my friends who already are waiting in line to have a little "talk", you know who you are *cough cough*). I may come back and edit this later.

[lenavonschweetz]

Hunter Insert

Dean Winchester x Reader

Synopsis: You really didn’t mean to, but somehow you’d stumbled upon something called Tumblr - and in turn fanfiction. You may or may not get addicted to reader inserts featuring your favorite teammate. You may or may not get caught.

Warnings: Smut, second-hand embarrassment, adorable Dean, fanfiction cliches, fanfiction cliches turned on their heads, fluffy smut.  It’s ok (and quite adorable, honestly) to laugh during sexytimes.

A/N: This is just a reworking of one of my most popular Bucky x reader fics!  Tweaked for the Supernatural world and storyline. No Beta, so be kind!

You’d had a thing for Dean Winchester for longer than you could remember.

It probably all started when you met Sam Winchester at school.  The tall goober took to you immediately.  Your calming presence and warm smile lured him in and you became fast friends, giving Sam a bond he hadn’t felt in a long time.  You were the only one he trusted enough to tell the truth about his family and their business.  He spoke of his older brother with bucket loads of admiration, though he would never admit it to the man in question.  When he told stories of their shenanigans back in the day, his eyes would light up but then his smile would fall just as quickly when he also recalled his father.  You fell in love with the idea of a man glorious enough to make even displaced, ‘unwanted’ (his words, not yours), and jaded Sam smile like the kid he never got to be.

They say reality never lives up to the stories, but lord almighty were they wrong.

You first met Dean when the business of his dad’s disappearance was in full swing.  A regular weekly movie night at Sam and Jessica’s place having turned tense when an unknown figure had broken in.  You remember your eyes had wandered to his dark figure, speaking to Sam in hushed tones, head reeling as you realized this was the man who haunted your dreams. The infamous older brother and monster hunter, Dean Winchester.

You hadn’t believed in love at first sight, but the way his impossibly hazel eyes made your heart clench… Well, there was no denying this is exactly what was happening.  

After Jessica had died you sat out the first leg of their search for their father, wanting to let them catch up.  It wasn’t until after their father was long dead, and the apocalypse was well on its way that you joined back in - or rather, were dragged back in.  Being the only woman currently in Sam’s life - though platonically, of course - the universe seemed to have it out for you and after having to save you from demons at least twice, the brothers claimed teaching you how to defend yourself and dragging you along with them would be safer than leaving you to whatever fate there was to be had.  You even became an incredibly capable hunter.  Though this was all after Sam had effectively ended the world with a demon lover who screwed him over, Dean died then came back thanks to the help of an angel - Castiel - who joined in your asinine little game, and the apocalypse really started.  Because life with the Winchesters was never simple.

And through all your years together, there was always the looming reality - or rather, fantasy - of the Supernatural books by Chuck Shurley.

At first, the fans were harmless.  There was the convention incident where reality and fantasy got a little too close, but Chuck assured you he was going to stop writing the books.  

He lied, obviously.

Still, the fandom was mostly benign - and rather small, actually, with only some fanatics here and there. Although perhaps your favorite attention to come from the ‘fame’ was from Tumblr.

Folks from all over the world posted about the boys - or rather their ‘fictional’ counterparts. Artists’ work would pop up from time to time, usually of the boys, but yours were there - even if they were pretty scarce. 

The art was amazing.  Some funny comics, some lewd drawings, some gorgeous renders - all talent.  But somehow, from Chuck’s descriptions of you and the boys, these artists rendered the most flattering, wonderful, and accurate works.  It was incredibly humbling and awe-inspiring all at once.  It even got you to start reading the books!

And you couldn’t blame them for the way the brothers were almost always shirtless or naked. They were like Greek statues, for God sake!

Your character was pretty popular, up until Chuck’s latest book where he started hinting at your little crush on the older brother.  Thank God the boys never read them, or you’d be in deep shit.

Some users sided with you “she’s only human! And he is just so…well, look at him!” Lewd pictures were attached to that post.  Others condemned you. “Seriously? How could he ever notice someone like her? #DeanDeservesBetter” “What’s Chuck thinking?”, “Worst.  Ship. EVER!”

Those stung, you’d admit. But if growing up in the 21st century taught you anything, it’s that fans were only jealous and no one was safe. You could ignore the hate though.

What you couldn’t ignore was the fanfiction.

Oh goodness, the fanfiction.

What seemed to be most popular were the reader inserts with your gorgeous teammate, and you didn’t mind indulging in them one little bit. Some were sweet and cute, others left you dashing for a cold shower after. It stunned you that these writers were able to capture Dean’s mannerisms and personality so well! And these works were just so addicting!

It became a daily thing, finding a new fic, and reading it in the safety of your room where no one could see or judge. You read reader inserts, stories with original characters, and may or may not have found a guilty pleasure in a teensy bit of Destiel (who could deny the two perfect specimens would be hot as hell together?? But you would never tell them).  You steered clear of the Dean x Lisa fics, though, like your life depended on it.

That was one torture you just couldn’t expose yourself to.

Then you stumbled over the one that changed everything. A new fic by one of your favorite authors that featured Dean (of course) and…you. It was a prompt you hadn’t read before, one where the two of you had to share a motel room with only one bed and things got hot and heavy. Your heart raced as you indulged in this fantasy, thinking of all the times you had to share a room with your teammates, though there was always more than one bed. You had never shared with Dean, as he usually bunked on the couch while you and Sam each bunked alone, but a girl can dream can’t she?

And dream you did.  Especially with Dean’s constant flirting and sexual innuendos.

The story became a constant thought in the back of your mind and when Sam hangs back at the bunker and leaves you and Dean to take on a duet hunt together, you felt your heart stop. At the motel when checking in, you were given one room and your mind ran ramped.  Had he read your phone’s history? Did he find your Tumblr? What if he had read the sinful story you’d found and wanted to live out the fantasy with you (another of your favorite prompts). The thoughts had you following silently behind your partner, heart racing as he smiled at you while his deft fingers unlocked the door. Steeling yourself as you walked inside behind him, you dropped your bags and spun around to find… 2 beds.

Oh.

Well, you supposed your dirty fantasies were just that; Fantasies.

----------

The night crawled on with no notable incidents -unfortunately-, and when it was finally time to call it a night, you both fell into your own beds.

Sleep evaded you for hours. The thought of that perfect body lying just feet away from you swam in the back of your mind. You could easily get up, crawl into bed with him, and make all your dreams come true. The fantasies that filled your head made you anything but tired.

Well, that, and the fact that Dean was snoring like a mother fucking buzz saw.

Your wide, dry eyes stared up at the ceiling as the loud rumbles filled the room. Dean had come a long way - with your help - and no longer had nightly episodes or memories of hell. Of course, they still happened on occasion, but they were a rare occurrence now.  The hunter often found himself sleeping soundly through most nights, including this one.

He was the only one who would, it seemed, as you tossed and turned, doing your best to tune out the irritating sound. You put earplugs in, then headphones playing music, then even tracks of white noise.  A forest, a stream, the ocean each one louder than the last.  They all usually knocked you right out on a hunt.

But Dean snored over all of them.

You did your best to ignore it, you really did, but when he rolled over onto his back and started with a newfound volume, you’d decided you’d had enough.

“Dee.”  You say lowly, hoping that he’ll sleep through the disturbance, but that his subconscious will hear his name and disturb his sleep just enough that he’ll shut the hell up.

The resounding snort proves that theory wrong.

“Dee!”  You snap, louder now.  Nothing.  “Dean!”

A few moments pass…

Nothing…

Maybe it worked!  Maybe-

Yeah, no,  there he goes again.

Groaning loudly, you sit up and reach for your phone.  Fine, if his hard-sleeping-ass can sleep through all that, then he could sleep with the light from your phone filling the room as well.

You open your favorite app, the blue screen greeting your tired eyes.  Switching over from the homepage feed, you type ‘Dean x reader’ into the app’s search bar and your screen is immediately flooded with fic after fic.  Pursing your lips, you decide to narrow your search.  It doesn’t seem like you’ll be falling asleep any time soon, so what would the harm be?  You let your thumbs fly over the screen’s keyboard.

Dean x reader smut.

Happy with your amendment, you hit ‘search’ once more and decide to take a walk on the wild side.

Immediately, your screen is flooded with sin and you bite back a smile.  With your screen’s light as low as it’ll go, you click on the first story and settle into a comfortable position, facing away from Dean and the window as you immerse yourself in the fic.

You’ve probably been reading for about an hour or so when your bladder decides it’s time for you to get up.  Sighing quietly, you leave your phone on your pillow, creeping through the silent room.  As soon as you’ve taken care of business and washed up, you tiptoe back to bed.  As you all but fall into the sheets, feeling like you can finally sleep, you realize your phone is not where you left it.

Hell, it’s not even in the bed.

Sitting up in fright, your eyes dart across the room and the sleeping man in the bed opposite yours.  When you see the dimly glowing screen on the bedside table, you sigh in relief, telling yourself that your sleep-deprived brain probably just didn’t register you putting it away.  Locking the screen with sleepy eyes, you drift off to sleep with visions of Dean trailing kisses down your neck flitting behind your eyes.

----------

The morning comes much too quickly for your taste, but you push yourself out of bed to face the day ahead.

You grab your bag quickly, packing up all your belongings as you and Dean prepare for your hunt.  He’s uncharacteristically quiet this morning, barely meeting your eyes as you two embark from the motel room.  Shrugging it off, you follow behind him and before you know it, the two of you are standing before the doors to a known haunted office building.  It’s far too early for anyone to be there, so breaking in is easier than you’d expected and the two of you don’t run into any trouble as you make your way to the top floor.

Once there, you put your plan into motion, Dean taking a defensive position as you sneak into the manager’s office.  You find the haunted artifact like you’ve done a million times before, and you note the sudden shift in the air once you touch it.  It’s almost too quiet as you do your work, but by the way Dean hasn’t even flinched in his spot is a good indicator that things are - miraculously - still going as planned.

Finally, your work is done - the artifact turned to ash and the ghost successfully placated.

----------

You don’t allow yourself to breathe until you and Dean walk into yet another motel, this one only a few towns over from your rendezvous point with Sam.  You’d spend the night here before making the remainder of the journey in the morning.  Exhaustion hits you like a freight train as you trudge to the room, and you find yourself hoping against hope once more that your favorite fics may come to life.  But when your eyes fall on two beds once more those hopes are dashed.

“You can take the king,”  Dean says, and you suddenly realize those are the first words he’s spoken to you all day aside from the business of the break-in earlier.  There hadn’t even been one famous Dean innuendo all day.  “I’ll take the queen.”

You raise your eyebrow at that but don’t argue, even though you know damn well that the man who is almost twice your size probably needs the larger bed more than you do.

No more words are passed between the two of you as you prepare for bed, each taking their turn in the bathroom and shower before turning the lights out and settling down to sleep.  It doesn’t take long for sleep to tickle at your eyelids, but it’s chased away almost instantly when Dean’s buzz saw snores kick to life again.

Groaning quietly, you toss a pillow at the human-grizzly bear before rolling over to grab your phone and headphones from the bedside table.  He continues, of course, and you go to your favorite app once more.  Using your phone this late at night and right before you sleep is bad, you know, but how the hell are you supposed to sleep with that man rumbling only several feet from you.

You open a new fanfic, this one’s warnings staring you down as you read “smut, language, NSFW gifs” and you can’t fight back the smirk that plays on your lips.  Again, you roll onto your side, back towards Dean, as you get to reading.

You know your breathing has picked up pace as you get past the fic’s casual banter between friends and the sexual tension sets in.  Your legs squeeze together of their own accord, your chest warming in arousal as you envision Dean speaking to you the way he’s speaking to Y/N in this fic.

Within a few minutes - and a few lines - the sexual tension explodes into a full-on kiss, the smut slowly building as a result.  You scroll quickly, devouring every detail before your fingers slow as the top of a gif comes into view.  It’s sinful, to say the least.  You watch the way the man’s hips swivel into his lover’s, her head thrown back as he buries his head against her throat and himself deep into her.

Your lip is back between your teeth and you can’t bring yourself to scroll on just yet.  Instead, you let yourself take every detail in as the image loops, again and again, your arousal growing with every second.  Oh, what you wouldn’t give to have Dean moving against you that way.  His heavy breath fanning over your collarbone as he grinds against your most sensitive skin.  You have to bite your tongue so as to not moan into the silent room.

Wait…

Silent.

You realize at that moment that the violent snores from the other side of the room have died completely, silence overtaking their absence.  A silence that has you tentatively glancing over your shoulder and only to immediately regret it.

Even in the dark, your eyes find the hazel ones that are only inches away.  Hazel eyes that are damn near swallowed with lust.

Oh.  

Oh, Jesus.

“Whatcha lookin’ at, Kiddo?”  His deep voice rumbles in the quiet room, sending your heart galloping as you jump up to sitting, desperately burying your phone against your breast in an effort to hide its contents from him.

“Nothing.”  You say, your voice scarcely above a whisper.  You don’t miss the smirk on his face and frantically reevaluate the past several minutes in your brain.  When had he woken up?  When had he snuck up behind you?  How much had he read over your shoulder?

“Doesn’t look like nothing to me.”  He says, teeth dragging over his lower lip and it seems for a moment that he’s debating on whether or not he wants to take this any further.  When he speaks again though, he makes his choice very clear.  “Looks like you’re being a very bad girl.”

The room is so fucking quiet that the lump that you gulp down is painfully audible.

He didn’t just say that…did he?  You chuckle humorlessly, trying desperately to break the obvious tension and play off of the joke he is so obviously playing on you.  Dean makes comments like that all the time.  That’s just how he is with you!  Any moment now he’ll chuckle like he always does.

But then he doesn’t laugh with you.  Just stares as he scoots closer on his knees until his frame is right against the bed, pulling you by your thighs until he’s encasing you - palms on either side of your legs that are now thrown over the side of the bed.

You’reDreamingYou’reDreamingYou’reDreaming…

“That…that was too far, wasn’t it?”  He suddenly asks, rocking his weight back on his heels.  Bless him, he looks so uncharacteristically shy and you must look completely dumbfounded.  He waits with bated breath as you open and close your mouth uselessly, desperately searching for words.

Finally, you spit out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Did you just quote the fanfiction I read last night?”  OH MY GOD, you mentally scream.  Why the fuck would you expose yourself like that?? What if he just thought of that himself??

But then what if he didn’t?  Because that line had definitely stuck out to you when reading the night before…and suddenly, you remember why it had.  That was the last line before you left your phone to go to the bathroom.  The last line you’d read with tired eyes before you set your phone down, unlocked, on your pillow and - ohmygod!

“You read that!?”  You screech, gripping your phone tighter.  You gasp so hard you damn near swallow your tongue.  “You put my phone on the bedside table! Dean, you totally snooped while I was peeing!”  Alright, you could’ve kept that bit to yourself.

He’s biting that damn lip again, and you know he can tell that’s exactly where your eyes are zeroed in on.

“Maybe?”  He says, voice small as he admits his secret to you.  “I didn’t mean to!  I just…I woke up when you shut the bathroom door, and the screen was shining right in my face - I just-I got up to lock it so it wouldn’t bother me, but then I saw what you were looking at and…”  He clears his throat.  “Y/N, I…were you reading porn…about me?”

Your face is no doubt a thousand degrees of embarrassment.

“It’s not porn!! It’s fanfiction, and-”

“It literally talks about me fucking you.”  He deadpans, eyebrows raised.  “In explicit detail.  It’s porn.”

You’re silent for a few moments, staring him down as you wait for him to back down.

Of course, he doesn’t.

“Ok, fine!  It’s porn, are you happy?”  You huff, crossing your arms and finally ditching your phone to the pillow beside you.  A sudden terrifying thought causes you to freeze. “So…are you going to tell Sam?”

“Why the fuck would I tell him?!”

“I don’t know!”

“Do you honestly think I’d tell him something so personal?!”

“I don’t know!”  You repeat, floundering as you toss your hands up before crossing them again in a pout.  “It’s embarrassing.  You know I tend to jump to the worst-case scenarios…”

“Y/N, I would never out you like that.”  You would have to be blind to miss the way his eyes drag over you in your nightclothes, and you are suddenly very aware of your lack of bra and just how cold it is in the room.

He seems to notice too, his eyes zeroing in on your breasts and the way your nipples are pressing against the soft fabric encasing them.

“Do you…do you want me like that?”  He asks, his voice dropping back into the husky tone it had been before his awkward detour.

“No, Dee, I was just reading porn of you for the fuck of it.”  He chuckles at that, his palms coming to rest on your thighs as the embarrassment between you two eases - making way for a choking tension.

“Really?  Ah, well, then I guess I can just go back to bed, then.”

“Don’tyoudare!”  The words are out before you can stop them, but at this point, you don’t much care.

“Oh?  Then what should I do?”  His hazel eyes are dark, gazing at you from below thick lashes as his hands creep higher up your thighs, pushing your oversized t-shirt up to expose the soft cotton covering you from his gaze.  “Should I do this?”

Your breath catches in your throat, eyes widening as he leans forward, lips pressing against the soft skin on the inside of your thigh.

“Oh, please.”  You beg, arms falling at your sides to support you as his mouth grows closer to where you really want him.  Only he doesn’t quite reach, his eyes twinkling playfully at you.

“Words, Y/N.”  He grumbles lowly, splayed hands pushing your legs wider to give himself better access to your heat.

“Dean, please-”  A squeal escapes you when his teeth drag across your hip bone.  “Put your mouth on me.”

Nothing you’ve ever read could’ve prepared you for the way Dean touches you.

He moves slowly, his palms running from your inner thighs to behind your knees to pull your legs over his shoulders.  The movement has your stomach flipping, eyes never leaving his as he drags his tongue up the material hiding your core from him.

He chuckles at your moan, eyes batting as he presses the point of his tongue against your clit beneath your panties.  To be honest, you’re not sure which one of you is enjoying this more what with the way his fingers tighten against your legs, his eyes closing in concentration as he laps at you.

In your wildest dreams, you never thought Dean would be touching you like this - at least not outside of the fiction you were reading.  But, oh, is he touching you - playing you, more like it, plucking your strings until you’re practically singing for him.

You could cum just like this, light pets of his tongue teasing your sensitive skin, but then he’s tugging the panties from your form, diving right back into your bare skin and you’re keening at the contact, your fingers knotting in his long hair.  He groans in response to your moans, forearm flung lazily across your hips to keep you still as he wreaks havoc on you.

You open your mouth, ready to chastise him but the words instantly make way for cries as he finally swipes his tongue through your folds - fucking you with his mouth as he watches your form writhe.

“God, you taste amazing.”  He moans, and you have to hold back a giggle.  “What’s so funny?”  Do you admit that you’d read him saying those very words far too many times to keep count?

But then he’s pulling away, leaving you whimpering at the precipice of release and the sight of his strong torso being revealed to your ends any thoughts you may have had.  Especially when he reaches down and rids you of your own shirt, kissing across your collar bones once they’re exposed.

“You got any protection?”  He asks suddenly, teeth scraping at your throat and you are suddenly aware of the fact that this is real life, not a fic, and wow you’d lost count of how many bareback smuts you’d read.

Not that the thought of Dean cumming inside you wasn’t the hottest thing ever, but the idea of pregnancy was something you didn’t even want to entertain at the moment.

So, begrudgingly, you pushed him off gently, bending down to rifle through your bag - hey, it never hurts to be prepared.  You roll your eyes at his chuckle as you bend over, shaking your exposed backside at him - where he has taken your seat on the mattress - before rising to hand him the small, metallic square.

He toys with it for a few seconds, watching as you stand with a lip tugged gently between your teeth and your eyes flicker to the semi-hard shaft against his thighs. Long fingers enter your line of sight, coming to cup himself, stroking a few times as you watch him.

“See something you like, baby?”  He asks, free hand coming up to run his thumb against your lips.  You nod slowly, shivering at the new pet name, eyes never tearing from where he teases his cock.  You flick your tongue out to wet your lips, Dean’s thumb accidentally catching where it had been against your lips and then he’s growling and pulling you to him.

Your lips crash together, a flash of pain as your teeth clack momentarily, but you’re far too lost in Dean’s intoxicating proximity to care.  He seems to share the sentiment as your hands weave through his hair, pulling him closer as he moans and strokes himself faster before you straddle his strong thighs.

You consider grinding down against the taut muscle momentarily, but then Dean’s rolling the condom down his shaft, his knuckles brushing your folds as he does and all you want is for him to fill you up to the brim.

The desperation is clear on your face, wrapped in hooded eyes and a deep flush as you inhale deeply every time Dean’s knuckles brush you.

“Oh, my god!”  You huff, getting ever so impatient.  He chuckles at your tone, tugging you higher on his lap so that - finally - you’re aligned.  A brief moment passes as you two eye each other hesitantly, your nerves on fire as you consider what it is you’re about to do.  

You’re about to fuck one of your partners, one of your best friends…the man you’ve been fantasizing about for years.

“Ready?”  He asks softly, testing the waters as he runs the head of his cock through your lips.  Any hesitation you may have had melts with the shiver that travels your spine, and then some when Dean growls as you bare your nails into his shoulder blades.

“Dean, I swear to god, if you don’t fu-ck me!”  You squeal the tail end of your sentence, Dean’s own groan disappearing into the skin of your shoulder as he slides home.  Pain and pleasure flood your senses and suddenly you are highly aware of just how long it’s been.

“Shiiit,” Dean sighs at the tight fit, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips and holding you still as he struggles to hold himself off.

It’s been a while for him, too.

“Jesus, you’re tight.”  He hisses between his teeth, his brow as scrunched as yours no doubt is at the moment.

“And you’re huge.”  He laughs then, the movement of his abs against your sensitive skin enough to have you sighing.  “I, uh, think you’re good to move.”  You say quietly, testing this theory with a slight brush forward of your hips.  When delicious friction reaches your clit at the action you moan lowly.  “Oh, yeah.  Very good to move.”

And move he does, giving you a few moments as he slowly builds up the pace before falling back and letting you take the reigns.  Your hands find his strong pecs as you fall forward at the sudden shift, and a shit-eating grin crosses your face.  Dean misses this, however, as his eyes are screwed shut with pleasure.

“Fuck!”  He groans when you begin to rut against him, dragging your clit against his adonis belt as his cock head catches against your insides perfectly.  He doesn’t seem to mind this change, panting openly and quite vocally.  Well, that is until his hands find your thighs and hold on tight.  “Shit, slow down, baby…I don’t know how long I can last if you keep that up.”

You’re about to apologize, a flush very evident on your skin before Dean is manhandling you onto your back, your legs cast wide in his grasp.

“Let’s slow things down a little.”  He teases, kissing your nose as you giggle and let him set the pace.

When he does, it’s dizzyingly slow, his teeth dragging against your skin as do his fingertips and after a few minutes of sinfully slow rocks of his hips, he is very quickly stringing you towards the edge.

“Dean,”  You whimper, your walls beginning to flutter around him.  The groan that milks from his chest is nothing short of sexy and you return one of your own.  His name becomes a chant on your lips as pleasure rushes through your bloodstream, your nails digging into his taut back and after a few more thrusts of his own, he’s emptying inside the condom.

The high fades slowly, your skin buzzing in sated pleasure as a lazy smile takes place on your face.  Dean is quiet, almost shy as he retreats to the restroom to clean himself and dispose of the condom.  You snicker quietly to yourself at the thought that this detail is often left out of the fics you read, but the pleasant ache between your legs certainly isn’t.

“Well,”  He says as he returns, slipping under the covers with you.  As you shift, something digs into your side and when you bring the offending object above the covers do you realize that your phone had remained in the sheets that whole time.  You hand it off to him as he tugs you closer, waving him to put it on the bedside table.  “Aren’t you glad I decided to snoop?”  He teases as he takes the contraption from you.

“Yeah, Yeah, Dee.  But not as glad as I am that we can save on rooms by just booking us one bed from now on!”

You both chuckle at the jest, your giggles soon dying into labored breathing as your energy drains quickly against the warmth of Dean’s body wrapped around yours.  Your eyes drift shut of their own accord, not noticing how Dean hesitates at placing your phone on the charger…again.

“Hey, baby?”  He asks hesitantly, his eyes widening as he scrolls through your Tumblr feed and exposed to all sorts of sin.

“Hmm?”  You hum, sleep tickling at your mind.   That is until your eyes fly open wide at his following question.

“What’s Destiel?”

FIN

[spoiledblogif]

This is the development blog for the interactive fiction called "The Second Sight", which you can find on itch.io at the link above!

This is my first IF project, although I've been writing original stories and fanfiction for years.

I've included the story description and character profiles from the itch page below the cut.

This blog will be a combination of development info, images and music that I associate with the story, and other musings.

Fair warning, there might be spoilers from the latest chapters here, so I recommend catching up before reading too far.

Asks and submissions are always open.

You’re an urban legend in a county full of them.  When you were thirteen, you were found passed out in the road by one of the local cops. No missing persons report. No fingerprints on file. No memories. Just a name.

Oh, and some bizarre psychic powers.  You're content with simplicity. You like your isolated cabin and helping Carter track down missing persons.  You know that in theory there are more people like you out there, but you've never wanted to look behind the curtain to find out.

However, with the disappearance of a local teen named Casey Powell and a recent attempt on your foster father's life, your serene, isolated life comes abruptly to its end and a new chapter begins.

✤✤✤

The Second Sight is an urban fantasy story, where you step into the role of a psychic whose strange powers have always separated them from others. Those same powers will drag you down the rabbit hole and into a world that is both the familiar and foreign to everything you know. A world filled with magic, witches, fae, demons, and the unknown.

You can immerse yourself in the story by customizing your protagonist's general appearance, choosing how they interact with others, and whether you lean on logic or intuition to problem solve. There are three love interests planned (more may be added depending on player reception and feedback), the genders of which will be selected by the player upon meeting them.

Characters

Jacob Carter

Age: Late forties

Race: Human. Definitely.

Gender: Male

Temperament: Carter radiates grizzled, old bastard energy and despite being the least paternal person in the world, he is your adoptive father. While harsh and aloof on the surface, he is also fiercely protective of you and has bent over backwards to give a decent life to a kid that isn't even his. He doesn't talk about his life before coming to Herman County and you haven't asked him, though that might change soon enough...

✤✤✤

Zander/Zora

Age: Late twenties.

Race: Human.

Appearance: Umber brown skin, black locs, grey eyes

Temperament: Gentle and resolute, Z isn't what you imagine when you think of an agent of the mysterious Magic and Anomalies Bureau. Kind, soft-spoken, and exceedingly polite, Z is Carter's former apprentice and something about them puts the old man on edge.

✤✤✤ Renard/Rowan

Age: Appears to be in their late twenties or early thirties

Race: Human. Maybe.

Appearance: Tall and slender, white-blonde hair, and gold eyes.

Temperament: Playful and flirtatious, talking to R always feels like a game of cat and mouse and you can never be sure which role is yours. Part sad clown, part trickster, and always maddening to work with, the only things you can be certain of with R is that they probably know what they're doing. Everything else is up in the air.

✤✤✤

Unknown aka "The Kestrel"

Age: ???

Race: Definitely not human.

Appearance: Tall, beautiful, elegant, with black hair and black eyes.

Temperament: The Kestrel is a complete unknown. It's impossible to say whether they are a lethal ally or deadly enemy, but either way they are a powerful dreamwalker. You don't know how long they've been watching you, but you're willing to bet that it's been longer than you're comfortable with.

[ohnoitstbskyen]

On God of War and "canon" in Norse mythology

Playing God of War: Ragnarök and reading writing about it reminds me of something a lot of people have trouble internalizing about Norse myth, which is is that

The vast, overwhelming majority of Norse mythology is lost and

There is no "canon" in Norse mythology

The concept of "canon" in religion is, at least in the west, very much a Christian thing (yes, it's also a feature of other religions). The idea that there is an authorized, central, divinely ordained, "official" central set of facts which are true, and everything else is fanfiction at best or heresy at worst.

And this is something we've taken with us into our general media criticism, hundreds of thousands of words exchanged between people debating which parts of Star Wars or the MCU are canon, or endlessly cycling through interpretations of what parts of Tolkien's mythos apply to each part of the Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit. I've participated in those discussions, and they can be a lot of fun, but it's worth remembering that this is only one of multiple ways to approach writing and narrative.

Norse mythology has no canon. There is no set of texts that have been declared by any central authority to be "the truth" of the Allfather, or the most correct depiction of Thor. Even in its own time, before its suppression by Christianity, Viking-age sailors, farmers and warriors would not have understood their religious practise as bounded by a finite and defined set of stories. It was an oral tradition, transmitted by telling and re-telling.

Your skjald knows some stories of the gods, maybe the guy the next town over knows some different ones, and maybe you go on a trading journey with a guy from Norway who knows completely different stories and you take those home with you where they become a part of the local rotation.

The primary sources for most Norse mythology (and certainly for God of War: Ragnarök) are the Prose Edda and Poetic Edda, two collections of texts compiled in the 13th century in Iceland by Snorri Sturluson, a Christian poet and politician, as well as possibly other contributors at the same time.

They are limited by their geography, consisting only of those stories that survived in Iceland, and limited by their time period. The Viking Age is generally considered to have ended around 1050 CE, so Sturluson was compiling these stories two hundred years after the time when Norse paganism would have been the dominant religious practise in Scandinavia or indeed Iceland.

We have other sources than the Eddas, of course, but they are painfully limited: Runestones and archeological artifacts, as well as stories told about the Vikings by people who weren't them, which obviously comes with a lot of biases. The Viking-era Scandinavians themselves simply didn't leave any substantial body of written sources that survived.

Sturluson being a Christian, writing for Christian audiences, also introduces a lot of suspicion of tampering. He might have had incentive to avoid recording certain stories, for fear of being accused of spreading heresy, and he may have edited or altered aspects of the stories he did record to make them palatable to his audience, or to serve his own political purposes. This, of course, is a concern with any author writing anything ever, but since Sturluson is quite literally our only source for so many of these stories, it is impossible to check his work against competing narratives.

The consequence of all of this is that the vast majority of Norse mythology is lost. We do not know the vast majority of what that old religious practise was, we do not know the vast majority of its stories. This was a set of beliefs and stories told and transmitted across populations ranging from what is now the inland plains of Germany to the heights of the mountains of Norway to the shores and harbors of Denmark to parts of modern day Russia. These disparate populations would have had an absolutely enormous range of shared and local religious practises, they would have emphasized and cared about different gods, they would have absorbed and incorporated stories from neighboring religious groups.

This has a couple of consequences. For one thing, the whiny pissbabies crying about Angrboða being portrayed as a person of color in God of War: Ragnarök because "there were no black people in Norse mythology!" are, indeed, full of piss and expired baby oil. They don't know that, because nobody knows that.

Viking sailors made it as far as Constantinople and old Norse was once spoken in parts of Crimea. They even managed to make it across the goddamn Atlantic to found a settlement in Newfoundland, so the idea that old Norse peoples wouldn't know what a person of color is or tell stories about them is just absurd on the face of it. We have no direct evidence that they told stories about gods of color, but to look at the tiny snapshot provided by one Christian poet writing for a Christian audience in Iceland two hundred years after the Christianization of Scandinavia and confidently concluding that people of color couldn't possibly have existed in the Norse imagination is like finding the Q key off a keyboard lying on the ground and concluding there can be no such thing as vowels or the letter L.

The tiny sliver of Norse mythology that has survived to the modern day should to a modern reader be a prompt to imagine the vast possibility of what has been lost, not a reason to reduce the entire culture of my ancestors to whatever bits that were left by the time some dude in Iceland found it interesting and convenient to write them down.

Which leads us on to the other interesting consequence of the facts of Norse mythology.

It is an oral tradition, with no central canon and no central authority, whose religious practises were local and varied, whose stories were designed to be shared and picked up by whoever finds them compelling. Which means that any story we tell, now, about the gods that we find compelling is every bit as "canon" as anything that survives in the Eddas.

Which is to say: not canon at all, unless you decide to believe in it. Or, hell, even if you just find it enjoyable.

God of War: Ragnarök is as canon as Neil Gaiman's Norse Mythology is as canon as Jul i Valhal that ran on Danish TV in 2005 is as canon as the MCU Thor, is as canon as the Prose Edda, is as canon as the half-remembered re-telling of Norse myth I heard from my Danish teacher in class in 1998.

It is often very difficult for a lot of modern audiences to free themselves from the idea of "canon." We seem to instinctively want a certain set of stories to be "the real ones," a certain narrative to be the "official" one, and set adrift without that sense of central authority to guide us, a lot of people exhibit what I would call an almost resentful anxiety. If none of it is definitely true, then what is even the point of any of it? If you can't know for sure which story is the most real, then all of it must be meaningless!

And yeah. It's easy to feel that way. We live in the Age of Canon, the era of the cinematic universe and the franchise, the epoch of copyright. But that is only one way to understand stories and narrative.

If you listen to the stories of the old gods, whether out of the Eddas or re-told in pop culture, and you take some of that with you, and you pass the good bits on to someone else, then you are participating in the oldest and most sacred tradition of Norse mythology. These stories do not belong to any one author (especially not the goddamn Mouse!) or even to any one people. They were telling stories of Thor along the rivers of Russia a thousand years ago, Viking sailors scratched their names in runes in the Hagia Sophia, Islamic artifacts have been found in Viking burials. Those who look at the tradition of my ancestors and feel compelled to do enclosure around them are fools and charlatans, fearful and small-minded.

Our stories are monopolized these days by capital. Canon to them is a tool of enclosure, a way to shut people out of participating in the modern mythology they are trying to build, except with their permission and profit in mind. But there is another way.

Listen to the stories and pass them on. The story you believe in won't be the one everyone likes, and the version you tell won't be the same version someone else passes on from you. But every telling takes the soul of the teller with it, and the stories we weave together in communal tradition become a picture of every storyteller who has contributed to them. And you spite the fucking Mouse.

[virgo-dream]

virgo-dream’s dreamling masterpost

In honour of @mr-sadman’s Dreaming Week 2024, I have compiled this masterpost of all my fics and fanart!

I highly recommend checking the Dreamling Week tag to see some of the amazing fanworks created by this fandom.

Happy Dreamling Week! ☁️✨

☁️ fanfiction ☁️

✨ one shots ✨

golden hour

rated G / 695 words / fluff

Hob had two favourite times during the day: dawn and dusk. Opposite in their purpose but equal in their beauty, dawn brought new life to restful spirits every morning, while dusk tucked them in gently every night. Hob loved the soft, lilac tones that shifted into golden, that faded into oranges, purples and deep blues, over and over again, marking the passage of never ending time.

Another thing he liked, dearly, was seeing Morpheus under the light of the golden hour.

metaphors

rated G / 2.5k words / idiots to lovers

the one where Dream is fucking dense and Hob is desperately in love.

the night of the storm

rated G / 2.6k+ words / hurt/comfort

across from the shadow figure sitting on his armchair, and offered the best smile he could muster. “…rough day? I feel like you’re not doing very well. Don’t ask me why.”

Are you not afraid, Hob Gadling?

or: Hob Gadling comes home to find the shadows need a shoulder to cry on.

freely given

rated G / 4k+ words / whump, hurt + comfort

Dream had no idea how he intended to help Hob. It was the right thing to do. He had stumbled into enough of Hob Gadling's nightmares to know for a fact that disease wasn't something he took lightly.

daisy chains

rated G / 589 words / tooth-rotting fluff, idiots in love

Hob tells him to use the door but doesn't mind when his friend just shows up uninvited because to Hob, Dream will always be welcome. Dream, on the other end, wants to know more about Hob, be a part of his life, even if it means spending more time in the Waking World. And then, like every good thing, the physicality starts small: a pat on the back, a hand on the shoulder.

or: they don't know it, but they're falling in love.

spring roll for your thoughts

rated G / 2.3k+ words / domestic fluff

Dream and Hob both need a moment to rest after a long day at work. They both find comfort eating reheated leftovers and daydreaming about the future.

the miracle of song

rated G / 1k+ words / christmas fic

Dream of The Endless has a long standing history with avoiding music since the loss of his only son, Orpheus. His relationship with Hob Gadling might make him change his mind.

A story about love, loss, bad karaoke and Christmas miracles.

one of their own

rated G / 3.6k+ words / queer themes, first kiss

Hob Gadling invites Dream to a meeting of the uni's queer clubs at the New Inn. Dream learns more about his own gender identity, and that he's very much in love with his best friend.

glitter glue and butterfly stickers

rated G / 1k+ words / dreamling parents, tooth-rotting fluff

Hob and Dream have been married for over 10 years and are raising a daughter together. After a long day working on his thesis, Hob receives a letter from his 7 year old daughter Lucy, detailing her thoughts on an article he’d written.

safety net: a bolt in the blue story

rated T / 3.1k words / fic of a fic, mutual pining (set in the universe of @valeriianz’s bolt in the blue)

Endless is in the middle of its first headline tour, and Dream has been doing his best to hold his own in the ever changing routine of touring. After one particularly intense concert, Dream finds himself extremely overwhelmed, and relies on the help of his trusted bass tech, Hob Gadling, to ground himself again. In the process, he finds that a few feelings have become impossible to ignore.

some mornings: a man of good fortune story

rated G / 1.1k+ words / domestic fluff, omegaverse (set in the universe of @softest-punk’s a man of good fortune)

Some mornings are easier than others, when one finds themselves in the state Dream is currently in. He remembers how mornings were when he was pregnant with Orpheus. As winter slowly approached their home by the sea, some mornings became harder than most for Hob.

A story of finding new purpose, switching roles and falling in love again and again. The moon is also there.

✨ multi-chapter ✨

when I wake up, there are only your eyes to greet mine (complete)

rated M / 14.2k+ words / victorian soldiers au

Five times Sergeant Robert Gadling woke up to Captain Morpheus Apeiron. One time Morpheus woke up to Hob.

A very unlucky battalion finds itself in the command of one Captain Morpheus Apeiron. He doesn't seem particularly worried with their survival, but mostly with ending the war as soon as possible. Sergeant Robert Gadling seems to be the only thing keeping all these young and inexperienced soldiers alive. After one particularly heated fight between them, Hob ends up discovering there is much more to his Captain than meets the eye, but is he seeing Morpheus as he truly is, or through the prism of his own desire?

may dream (incomplete)

rated M / 7.5k+ words posted / hurt/comfort

It's been 10 days since Dream of The Endless was rescued from Fawney Rig by one Hob Gadling, who takes it upon himself to see to Dream's recovery. While with Hob, Dream is provided with something he'd been missing even before his imprisonment: to be cared for.

☁️ fan art ☁️

he’s wearing the north face jacket

change or die magical girl

happy birthday dream sketch

thursday night at the drag bar

Halley’s Comet mini comic

come here often?

softest-punk’s witcher au fanart

avelera’s giving sanctuary fic cover

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

With the last breath

Word count: 1577

Warnings: depression, suicide attempt

Part II

At first, I'm sorry for my English. It isn't my native language, so there are mistakes and maybe it wouldn't give sense. Writing this was a real challenge and it showed me my (language) limits😅

For the first actual fanfiction I post here I'd say it's quite dark. I wrote it after fight with husband as kind of distraction. Well, it served its purpose.

Declaration: I write just for fun✌️

One day you were on a way to deliver some documents to Rhysand. He sent a request to the library to look for certain information he urgently needed and when everything he asked for was collected, Clotho asked you to deliver it to him. As the only person who from time to time didn't mind to go out, you had a good relationship him and knew all of the members of the inner circle. You often worked with them and helped them as you knew the library so well as the back of your hand.

Entering the River House you headed to his office. Clotho had sent him a notice of your visit early in the morning, so you knew where to look for him. As you approached the office door you could hear his voice and the voices of two other males. He was there together with his brothers standing around the table with maps and papers on it and discussing something important. You didn't want to disturb them, so you silently walked through the open door and set the documents on a small table right next to the door. Spymaster's eyes met yours for a second as he was the only one facing the door and he noticed the movement. Finding out it's you, as usually, he lost interest and returned to whatever they were looking at together. Rhys noticed his eyes went up and he also turned to you with a big, kind smile.

„Is that the information I asked for?“

„Yeah, it should be all. I checked it several times to make sure,“ you whispered silently, but he heard you.

„Would you mind to stay for lunch since you've come this far? It would be just three of us, Feyre and Elain,“ Rhys invited you.

Your eyes hastily darted to Azriel. His jaw slightly tightened, but you didn't miss that small move. „I'm afraid I need to return back..“ you tried to smile little.

„Are you already going back? Don't you need escort?“ Cassian turned to you too, offering help.

He and Rhys were kind to you and seemed to be happy to see you whenever you met them. Rhys always asked you to join a meal with his family and sometimes you'd accept it. On the other hand, Spymaster has never bothered to treat you with more than a short look or few casual phrases at the best. Even though he didn't seem to be really fond of you, he tended to sit next to you on a sofa or hold a seat for you next to him at the table. But it was a long time ago. Maybe he noticed you eyeing him with interest and that was the reason his behaviour changed over the years from 'I can tolerate you' to 'such a nuisance'. He personally didn't do nor say anything bad to you. But you could feel it from him somehow. You hadn't much of magic in your blood, but you was able to read any subtle signs and understand how people around you feel. That's the reason you stopped accepting invitations and tried to cross his path as little as possible. In the moments like this it was impossible to avoid meeting him and he seemed to be fine with it, paying you minimum attention. But as soon as somebody asked you to join them for a meal or evening, you could feel a slight discomfort from him. You tried to brush it away, but still it hurt.

When you met him for the first time you were afraid of him. As you got to know inner circle better, you learnt there's actually nothing scary about him and that deep down he is a very kind person. His silent, calm and caring nature appealed to you and before you noticed you fell in love with him. You couldn't help it even though you knew you don't have any chance. Masking it as best as you could, you decided to suffer in silence. You knew about his feeling toward Mor and when Archeron sisters entered your lives you noticed his shift of interest to Elain too. You weren't ugly, but there was no way you could compete with such beauties as the two of them. And you were well aware of that. That's why you've never tried to approach him and talk to him properly and after feeling a kind of discomfort from him in your presence, you tried to keep your distance and avoid him.

You excused yourself as fast as you could and turned around to leave. When you were sure that Rhys and Cass turned back to the table, you allowed yourself a single glance to him over your shoulder. His features were relaxed. He was so painfully beautiful that tears welled up in your eyes and the painful hole in your chest got little bigger.

After meeting him you needed some time to calm down and bury those feelings back so deep that nobody could notice them. You were walking around the city till you were sure you regained your peace. And just then you decided to head back to the library.

When you were climbing up the stairs you heard some muffled voices. You've never spied on other people, but this time you couldn't resist it and peaked to the hall to see who could it be. And there you saw them. Azriel stood with his back against the wall, Elain standing on her tiptoes with arms around his neck leaning into him. They started to kiss, slowly at first, but soon enough their passion took over. You couldn't stand it. Tears stinging your eyes once again, you left as silently as possible. When you were far from them and they couldn't hear you anymore, you run to your room as fast as you could. Closing the door you slid down to the ground unable to stifle your sobs. Knowing he has a thing for somebody else wasn't as painful as to actually see them together. It utterly broke your heart leaving you unable to breathe properly. Your life was pretty simple, you didn't have much. Your love for that male and a little faith you held were basically all you had left and the scene you witnessed totally crushed it all.

It took you hours until you calmed down enough to be able to stand up. You opened the door. You didn't know where to go, but you couldn't stand to be here anymore. Your legs took over the control, marching on their own. Suddenly you found yourself on one of the balconies heavily leaning on the railing. You slightly leaned over the edge looking down. The balcony was so high it made you nauseous. You pulled back to the safety. Spending most of the time in the library you've never gave much thoughts to heights at which you lived. You just occasionally had chance to stop and look out the window. Carefully you sat up on the railing back facing outwards. You tried to take deep breaths to calm down, to get through the pain and the shock. You tilted your head back watching floating clouds. As child you spent hours lying in the grass and watching clouds. It used to be so relaxing, but now you felt nothing, except emptiness. There was a bird flying high above you. You sighed. How beautiful it would be if you could fly. You'd took off flying far from this place, far from these people, far from him. What it must be like to feel so free and weightless. If you lean back little more, you could find out. It would be so nice to fly down, to never have to feel anything anymore. You knew you should be scared to even think about such things, but instead you felt numb.

 The bird was getting bigger as it flew closer. You closed eyes and leaned back more and more. Suddenly you felt so light, flying like that bird. Small smile formed on your lips and you stretched out arms like wings.

Azriel was flying back to the House of Wind when he noticed somebody leaning dangerously on the edge of railing on one of the highest balconies. It was strange, but he was tired so at first he didn't pay much attention to it. He looked away just for a moment and the person disappeared. His throat tightened. He immediately plunged headlong down, but he wasn't fast enough. The person was only few meters away from a certain death. He had to winnow. Stepping into shadows he reappeared few foots bellow the person stretching out arms to catch... HER! There was no doubt. It was Y/N. What happened? Why would she do something so horrible? What if he tries to catch her, but she slips through his hands and dies? He'd never been so scared in his entire life. If something were to happen to her, he'd never forgive himself. All sounds of the world disappeared, he could hear only own heart racing in his chest. It took just mere seconds, but it seemed to take forever. The moment her body collided with his, the time had stopped. He squeezed his eyes, muscles tensing, wings spreading to stop their fall.

When he finally dared to open his eyes, there she was safe in his arms, pressed to his chest. He breathed a sigh of relief.

[coupsie-daisies]

Kinktober '23: Pegging | Seo Changbin

Pairing: Seo Changbin x Reader

Genre: Smut (minors DO NOT interact), established relationship

Summary: You'd do anything to help your boyfriend relax after a long day, and he knows just what to ask of you.

WC: 2.7k

Warnings: Pegging, anal fingering, Reader is called ma'am, Changbin is wearing lingerie, nipple play, praise, cockwarming mentioned at the end

A/N: On god I'm gonna finish my kinktober. Maybe not by this October, but surely by the end of the year. I enjoy them too much to give up

Tags: @dragonofthenorth0726 // @wooyussy // @burningupp-replies // @bunnypig18 // @decaffedthoughts // @brownieracha / @ferrethyun // @moonchild0325 // @walkxthexmoon // @aesteraceae // @wonuqrtz // @mixling-blog // @wonwooz1

Main Masterlist

Kinktober '23 Masterlist

This fanfiction is property of @/coupsie-daisies, reposting on any other platform is prohibited

Your relationship with Changbin was something to be admired, which you chalked up to him being an absolutely amazing person with the kindest heart and sweetest soul of anyone you'd ever met. He was a dream, and he'd say the same thing about you. Your entire relationship was based on reciprocation. Despite having different love languages. You accepted his words of affirmation and gave them right back to him, and he made time in his hectic schedule for the quality one on one time that you craved. You prioritized yourselves and your relationships. Balance.

That balance carried through every aspect of your lives. Chores, date planning, and maybe most importantly your sex life. It wasn't something that anyone would expect from the two of you and your picture perfect relationship, but the two of you liked to experiment with your play. After all, if there was something that you could be doing better, you'd want to find out. Your only goal in the bedroom was to make each other feel safe, loved, and as good as possible.

So it was really just another day when Changbin got home from the studio and found you tidying up the kitchen even though it was getting late. He knew then that you'd stayed up to wait for him, you always tried to no matter how often he told you that it wasn't necessary. He wrapped his arms around you, pressing a few soft kisses to your shoulder.

"Missed you," He muttered, and you smiled, drying your hands off and turning in his arms. You tipped his chin towards you so you could press a chaste kiss to his lips. He melted a little closer to you, breathing you in and letting himself feel you. He was always clingy after a long day, all of his usual energy melting away and leaving just your precious boyfriend, tired and quiet and sweet.

"Missed you too." You tried not to giggle at the ticklish sensation of his lips against your neck, his breath caressing your skin. "There's food in the microwave, did you eat?"

"Not hungry," He said. You could already feel the way he was growing needy for your touch, his teeth dragging over your weak spot and earning him a quiet chuckle, more sigh than laugh. "Wanted you all day, need to feel you so bad."

"Bin," You tried to argue, but his hands were on your waist, sliding under the shirt you were wearing. His fingers were calloused, but so gentle as they stroked your body, working you up slowly but surely. His kisses continued, body caging you against the counter. Up your neck, along your jaw, across your cheek until he finally met your lips. The kiss washed over you, slow but so wholeheartedly desperate. You let his tongue dip into your mouth, savoring the taste of him and his longing.

Your hand wound its way into his hair, tugging lightly until he pulled away, lips already turning pink from working over yours.

"Tell me what you need, Binnie." You said. You watched the tension loosening in his shoulders, the way his eyes seemed to darken even more, going soft as he looks at you. He buried his face in your neck, pressing impossible closer to you until every inch of your front was squished into his.

"Need you to fuck me. Wanna feel good," He muttered, and you hummed, stroking his hair as you held him close.

"Alright baby, I can do that. Go get undressed, I'll be in there in a minute. Just gotta put the food away, okay?" You told him, nudging him away. He whined, pulling you closer. Still, you stayed firm. "Bin, I promise I won't be long. You can pick which strap you wanna take, yeah? Get everything out for me?"

He gave in then, slowly slipping away from you and heading for the bedroom like you said, his exhaustion and reluctance so clear in the way that he carried himself that you almost felt bad sending him away. But it didn't matter, you knew your job was to do what was best for him, and what was best was making sure he had food for later before you fucked him to sleep. So you made quick work of putting it up before you went to find him.

When you reached the bedroom, Changbin was stripped down to just the pretty undergarments that he liked to wear for you, perched on the bed with a few items laid carefully in front of him. You smiled proudly, taking off your pants and joining him on the bed.

"Look at you, such a good listener." You told him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips and running your thumb over the softness of his cheek. "Still want to play?"

He nodded eagerly, looking up at you with the sweetest eyes.

"Good boy." Your hand ran lower, tracing the pretty baby blue strap of the bra he had on, down to where his tits were peeking over the delicate cups. "Did you wear this all day or did you put it on just for me?"

"Had it all day, but I put it on for you," He answered, hands coming to your waist to pull you closer to him, always so needy for the contact. "Wanted to look pretty when I got home."

You swallowed down a groan at his words. So fucking pretty for you, always was like this. You kissed him again, long and messy, before guiding him to lay down.

"My pretty baby. Gonna take such good care of you, just relax." You told him, dipping down to mouth at his collar bone, dragging your tongue along it before moving lower down to the dip between his pecs. He whined, squirming a little before seemingly reminding himself that you'd want him to keep still. He was always so eager to please, to give you exactly what you wanted so you'd give it back in return.

You slid one of the straps off his shoulder, then the other, then you slid a hand under him to unclasp it and slide it off all together, almost regretting the loss of the sight in front of you. But if he wanted you to top him, you knew you'd need him nice and pliant for you, putty in your hands. And there was no better way than this.

You wrapped your mouth around one of his nipples, listening to the way he whimpered. His hands reached for you, scrambling to find a place to touch you. You continued to suckle on the sensitive nub, your tongue tracing circles around it before finally pulling off and switching to the other side. Changbin's breath was coming out shaky. His tits were so much more sensitive than he'd known before meeting you, and you were just as addicted to playing with them as he was to having them toyed with.

"Ma'am, please." He whined. You pulled away from his abused nipple with a soft pop, looking up at him.

"What, sweet boy? What's the matter? Thought you wanted me to take care of you." You said, your hands trailing down the soft muscle of his stomach, feeling the way he tensed and relaxed under your touch and admiring the hard work that he put into his physique. He pouted, eyes growing wet with tears that tugged at your heartstrings.

"Need you inside. Please,"

It was so hard to deny him when he asked so nicely, and after all he dealt with on a daily basis, you couldn't find it in you to deny him. So you nodded, pecking his lips before sitting back.

"Alright baby, let's get you opened up, okay? Gotta be patient with me," You told him. You traced your fingers along the waistband of the pretty pair of panties he'd put on, the same pretty blue lace as the bra. Really it was a shame to take them off when they were fighting to hold his cock in so cutely, but you gave it to him anyway, tugging them down his plush thighs until you could take them off his ankles.

Changbin quickly turned over without even being told to, presenting his ass for you and squishing his cheek against the pillow. It was the easiest for him like this, didn't have to put as much effort into spreading himself open for you to play with him. You kissed his hip before reaching behind you for the bottle of lube he'd gotten out. You used one hand to pop the cap open, the other coming to knead one of his asscheeks, spreading them open and watching the way his hole clenched and unclenched. You dripped a generous amount of lube over the tight hole, earning a tiny gasp from Changbin at the temperature change. Your fingers followed after, spreading the lube and coating your fingers in it before dripping a little more onto them and testing one of your fingertips against his rim.

As always, Changbin was tense, but the feeling of your finger trying to breach his most sensitive spot made his entire body visibly relax, trying to make it a little easier for you. Once your finger started sliding in, it was easier to get him to open up. You worked it in slow, pumping it in and out to the first knuckle, then the second, carefully pressing against his rim to urge his hole wider until you could easily fuck one of your fingers into him.

He wasn't generally very loud, not this early on, but you were left with the pretty sound of his breath hitching, and the rhythmic hums that he let out each time you filled him up. Then you were adding a second and he was keening so pretty that you almost wanted to tease him again. You could see his cock jump, surely leaking the prettiest beads of precum already.

"Feel good, Binnie?" You asked, your free hand running over his hip. He nodded, breathless and pressing back onto your fingers as you scissored them open. You pulled them out, ignoring his huff and the tantalizing wiggle of his ass to add a little more lube. Then you were splitting him open with three fingers and just like that you'd pushed him into a new level of desperation.

"Please, ma'am, need you. Can take it, I promise. 'M open now, please. Fuck me, please." You were so helpless to him when he begged like that. You pulled your hand away, wiping your fingers on a tissue before leaning down to kiss his lower back, nudging him to lay back down, which he did eagerly.

You climbed off the bed, taking your sweet time while situating the strap to your body, feeling his gaze weighing heavily on you. Once it was on, you held your hand out and Changbin obediently leaned forward, lips pursed as he spit into your palm. You murmured gentle praise before stroking the silicon toy and smearing his spit on it, more for show than anything. As you settled between his thick thighs, Changbin spread himself open wide for you, pulling his thighs back and putting himself on display.

You uncapped the lube again, letting it spill onto the toy, some of it dripping onto Changbin's own rock hard dick, making him whine and squirm. He reached down to stroke himself, seeking some level of release, but you knocked his hand away, lining up the toy with his desperate hole.

"Color?" You asked, eyes flickering back up to his face. Getting pegged was always vulnerable for him, especially after a long day, and you weren't going to disregard that easily.

"Green. Just fuck me." He demanded, though it was so whiny that you had a hard time taking him seriously.

You pressed your hips forward, letting the head of the toy press into him and watching the way he tensed, then relaxed, melting into the bed beneath him. Once you saw that wave wash over him, you pressed in deeper, giving slow, shallow thrusts until you were buried inside of him entirely. His face was overtaken with lust, lips parted with the bliss of being full. Your hand wrapped around him, pushing his thigh closer to his stomach and hooking over the top of it to keep him in place. The other wrapped around his weeping cock, smearing the mix of lube and his precum up his length a few times while he adjusted.

Once you were sure that he was ready for you, you pulled out again, then plunged back in, finding your rhythm in slow, steady thrusts until you brushed just right against his prostate. He arched, a pretty whimper slipping out of him, and you were determined to hear it again. You shifted, finding your power in fucking the absolute demigod of a man beneath you absolutely brainless.

Your thrusts got harder, and with each of them the steady stream of desperate praise falling out of his lips jumped and hitched and broke until he was barely coherent. You could tell you were hitting right where he liked it by the way his cock twitched between the two of you, dripping and leaving a pretty puddle against his soft tummy.

"Look how good you're taking me, so perfect wrapped around my dick. You're so perfect, aren't you Changbinnie?" You asked, hand coming between you again to stroke him in time with your thrusts. He nodded, dark waves a mess against the pillow and eyes screwed shut as he tried to cling to his sanity.

"Yes, ma'am. So perfect for you. Good boy, right? Your good boy." He babbled. You leaned down, your lips slotting over his and your tongue dipping into his mouth to taste the saccharine words on his tongue. The new angle has him falling apart, fingers digging against your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. With the way you were pressed, your movement was turning into barely there grinds, digging the tip of your cock against his prostate and trying to messily stroke his dick in time. But despite the awkward position, it was absolutely giving Changbin everything that he needed.

"Close," He warned you, breathless and skin shining with the sheen of sweat he'd worked up. You latched your mouth over his nipple again, giving you a little more room to work. It was another three thrusts, a few tugs of his cock, and a particularly harsh suck before he was sent over the edge, cum leaking out of him down onto your hand. His eyes were shut tight against the tears threatening to fall, face scrunched up as he panted and whined out thanks under you. He always came a lot, even more so when you fucked him through it like this, milking every last drop out of him until it was running down your hand, pooling on his pelvis and dripping along the crook of his thigh.

"That's my good boy, good job." You hummed, bringing your messy hand up for him to lap at until it was all clean, smearing a bit of his cum against his cheek as you did, but he couldn't mind in the least. No, Changbin was on cloud nine, and you were thriving on the steady thrum of pride that came with getting him there.

"Thank you," He murmured against your skin, still suckling at your fingers. You reached up with your free hand, stroking against his cheek. He was so sweet when he got like this, fuzzy and warm from an orgasm and high on the feeling of not having to think.

"Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?" You moved to pull out of him, but his muscular thighs instantly closed around your hips, keeping you close to him as he looked up at you with the sweetest eyes.

"Stay inside. Just a little longer." He asked. You knew that if you did he'd be hard again in no time and begging you to fuck another one out of him. But he was looking at you with the sweetest eyes, and you really weren't capable of saying no to him like that. So you leaned down, pressing a kiss to his lips, then another.

"Alright, sweet prince. I'll stay. But we gotta get you cleaned up before you fall asleep. Promise?"

"Promise,"

You smiled, stroking his sides and pressing close to him with no regards to the mess between you. After all, a mess could be cleaned up, but you'd only have one lifetime with Seo Changbin in your arms.

copyright 2023 coupsie-daisies, all rights reserved

[pheavampire]

Astarion, Cazador and D&D vampire lore

Let’s talk about D&D vampires and some lore inconsistencies in Baldur’s Gate 3.

BG3 is not a game about vampires. It was obvious we won’t get a playable character who will be 100% vampire spawn from the handbooks - the mechanical balance would be disturbed in comparison with other characters. But we can list some weird stuff and missing aspects. For fun, for fanfiction, for nerdiness.

I still wonder why Cazador even asked Astarion if he wants to be turned. Sure, he could do that, so he could say later „ha ha you asked for it!” but still - weird. Anyway, a vampire lord doesn’t need to ask - he just bites his victim, kills it by drinking its blood and boom, a vampire spawn is made. Almost made…

… because at first the victim needs to be buried and layed in the ground before it rises. That’s the next question - how the hell did Cazador make 7000 spawns? Theoretically he needed to bury them all, dig them back/wait until they dig themselves out or something and transport them to his dungeon without being noticed. His servants could do that for him, but it still is a pretty big thing to cover. Besides…

… accordng to D&D 3.5 edition: "At any given time a vampire may have enslaved spawn totaling no more than twice its own Hit Dice" which means it was impossible for Cazador to create 7000 spawns. Sure, Baldur's Gate 3 uses 5 ed rules, but I'm sure they didn't change this one that much. (BUT! We can interpret this rule as: a vampire lord can create as many spawns as he wants, but the number of enslaved ones is limited. That's all right in this case).

That being said, Astarion is surprised when he discovers that all Cazador’s victims are spawns now. One of his dialogue options is „I thought Cazador was feeding on you”. Well yes, he had to feed on them to make them spawns Astarion, I thought you noticed that yourself 200 years ago. But let's say I understand your confusion, 7000 spawns mean Cazador's hit dice is 3500. Lol.

As a vampire spawn, Astarion should be able to regenerate even without biting someone. To be precise, he should get 10 health points at the start of every turn until he gets killed. But ok, this one doesn’t work in the sun, so let’s say it’s justified… unless the party is in the underdark, shadowlands or other dark place. But yeah, that would be too OP.

Astarion should be afraid of holy symbols, mirrors and garlic. That would be quite irritating, as he wouldn’t be able to even get near Selune's stuff or Lathander’s temple (Lathander HATES the undead, just ask poor Jander Sunstar). But let’s say the tadpole gave him immunity.

Spider climb. Imagine Astarion climbing walls or even ceilings like a damn Spiderman - this is what a regular vampire spawn can do. If the tadpole took away this ability, that’s not very nice of it.

Claws. Astarion should be able to transform his fingers into claws at will. That’s right, it works like another melee weapon.

Coffins, graves et cetera - bunk beds in Cazador's palace are a very anti-canon idea. Because D&D vampires have really traditional weaknesses, they always have to „sleep” in the ground they were buried in to recover - just like Cazador. Jander I mentioned earlier invented an un-lifehack, as he was traveling through Faerun by keeping some of the dirt from his grave in his pocket. He was scattering it in the place he wanted to rest for some time.

A vampire spawn can be controlled or banished by clerics like any other undead. That's right, when Shadowheart casts this one, Astarion should roll the dice, or else he will have to run away from her like those zombies you banished during your playthrough.

Last but not least, vampires get damage if they are in the flowing water, for example river, but you already know this one from the early access Astarion. Shame they removed it, in was a bit irritating but I loved it. It reminded me Astarion is a vampire not only in the dialogues.

That's all I can think of now. My knowledge is a mix of 3.5 and 5 ed, do with it what you want. I wouldn't mind more lore accuarte Astarion fanfics though.

Shocked Astarion reading D&D Monster Manual. Or Libris Mortis.

[mrssylvatica]

"The Other Fairy Tale" - Different Fairy Tales (AU?)

~560 words || The members of Crown, represented by different fairy tales than the originals used in the game.

This fanfiction is rated for all audiences, but keep in mind that the game, Ikemen Villains, is intended for a more mature audience.

◇ CW: None...?  Nothing too serious. Let me know if I should add any warnings. ◇ Let me know if you'd ever like to be tagged in my posts!

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William: Rapunzel (original version)

sorry for the jumpscare

You’ve always been a dreamer.  You’ve always wanted to see the world, but the walls built around you prevented you.  Ah, mother (Victor) warned you not to fall in love with anyone (prologue), but look at you now.  You could never see the world, no matter how much you wanted to.  It took a prince to whisk you off your feet and guide you to free will.  Even if William was blinded by thorns, he’d still be able to find you in the dark.

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Harrison: Cinderella

Black hearts may mistreat you, Only a miracle could save you, But he’s able to see through the lies, as well as your disguise, because his love is one that is true.

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Liam: The Little Mermaid (original version)

It was an impossible relationship.  You are of land, while he is of sea.  You’re worth more to him than you’ll ever know.  He loves you so much, oh, he’d die for you.  He saved you so many times.  Liam sacrificed everything just for a chance, a small chance to love you.  Learn from the Prince’s mistake.  You better love him back and not leave him for another.

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Elbert: The Little Mermaid

All the beautiful things he heard about on the surface brought him jealousy.  For years, he would collect every little scrap that fell to him from the sky.  When Elbert looked up at you from the sea’s surface, he fell for you in an instant.  The siren, entranced by you, the most beautiful of them all.  But perhaps he would do something different.  Instead of dragging you to the surface, he would drag you beneath the depths.  A place where he could love you forever.  And now you belong to him.

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Alfons: Red Riding Hood

The wolf will lead you astray with the beautiful flowers on the way. He’ll devour you whole, And take hold of your soul. You’ll never see another day.

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Roger: Pinocchio

Roger will always fix you up when you’re chased, injured, and on the verge of death. It doesn't matter if you're flesh or wood.  He’ll hold you close and shield you from the world.  In a world surrounded by death, in which life is increasingly bizarre, you’re real to him.  You may be a fool, but you’re the only thing keeping him sane.

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Jude: Aladdin (Disney's version)

He’s a rich, feisty prince.  You’re a robber on the streets, on the run.  Strange how you two fell in love.  Quit trying to impress him, he isn’t interested.  Oh-  oh dear.  Jude crosses his arms and sighs.  You should have just been yourself in the first place.

Well then, what are your three wishes?

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Ellis: ??? ("Happy Ending")

The world is full of unhappiness.  Ellis would rather kill you to preserve your happiness than to have the possibility of it being tainted.  He’ll stop time when you’re at your happiest, letting you stay in that happiness - forever.  That’s his happy ending.

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Victor: The Little Match Girl

Victor already knew your fate, but he must let life take its course.  He’s tortured by the visions of the deaths of those he loves.  Ah, but despite their sins, he loves them all so much.  Death watches over the girl, letting the flames remind her of love and kindness.  May you die with a smile on your face, and let the loving Death carry you to Heaven.

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SHITPOST MAIN: @rou-luxe

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Author's Notes

I remember seeing something similar for Ikemen Prince, and I decided it must be done for Villains.

I had to choose a fairytale that's different from the one they originated from. No similar characters either, which means Roger wasn't allowed to be the Huntsman from Red Riding Hood.

Harrison and Alfons' seemed too short... so I just made them into limericks...

Just something I was tempted to include in Roger's. But this fox and cat are rather antagonistic, so I decided against it.

The line from Ellis' is a reference to petite-otome's translation of his trailer~

My favorite is definitely Elbert's. It has such fanfiction potential. Maybe later. But my least favorite is probably Ellis'... I couldn't think up anything better than "happy ending".

Elbert mermay art might come out on my main anytime. @rou-luxe Elbert merman and lighthouse keeper Alfons... my Elbert merman AU... it never stops...

[littledata]

I know you’re probably working on those prompts, but I, too, just ended up on North Sea tiktok, and if you have time, I’m curious what Ava’s reaction to that particular algorithmic destination would be. Because like, Bea’s the most capable person ever, but those waves are Very Big, and why isn’t everyone tethered to the boat at all times??

(From the on that dizzy edge universe. An example video if anyone would like context.)

For a long time, Ava's TikTok experience was predictable. It mostly went: hot girl biting her lip, hot girl playing guitar, hot dude baking a cake, weirdly mesmerising crafting video, drama about people she'd never met, hot person kissing another hot person.

The number of straight-up thirst traps has been on the decline recently though - mostly because Ava just has to turn her head and Bea will be changing her shirt or using a hammer or standing perfectly still, all of which is a lot hotter than any video she's ever seen. In its infinite wisdom though, The Algorithm has seen her scrolling past those videos and decided it needs to fill the void with something else.

That thing, apparently, is North Sea TikTok.

They're lying in bed when it happens for the first time. Beatrice had spent the first few weeks after she came home insisting they should try to maintain separate bedrooms, move their relationship along at an orderly and appropriate pace, but she pretty quickly gave in to the allure of spooning and her bedroom defaulted to being both of theirs.

Now, before they go to sleep, they often end up lying side by side while Beatrice reads one of her insane books about lesbian necromancers or whatever and Ava scrolls TikTok or reads fanfiction about hot people falling in love in coffee shops and stuff. It makes her feel mature and settled and safe in a way that's sometimes so exciting she has to take Bea's book out of her hands and make out with her about it.

Anyway, so they're doing that (lying in bed, not making out) when it shows up on her for you page. It starts with the weird, slow sea shanty, then there's the huge waves, and then someone is getting slammed in the face with the fucking ocean.

Ava lets it loop. Then she lets it loop again. Then she taps on the suggested search north sea tiktok and she's presented with a thousand more videos exactly like the first. People falling overboard and huge waves crashing over ships and and and -

"Bea." Ava taps her arm insistently.

Bea looks up from her book without much concern - she doesn't use TikTok but she does submit to being shown Ava's curated favourites. Also, she's wearing glasses and she looks super cute.

No, Ava, don't get distracted.

"Bea," she repeats and holds her phone up to her face.

Beatrice watches with a scrutinising gaze. When the video finishes, she says, "They really shouldn't be filming in those situations, it's distracting them from proper safety precautions."

Ava stares at her. "That's all you have to say? They could have died."

"Possibly," Beatrice agrees. "Once someone falls overboard it's very difficult to recover them, although certainly not impossible. And it depends a lot on the kind of ship. I assume someone wouldn't post a video where someone died though."

Although Beatrice's naivety about what people are willing to post on the internet is adorable, Ava's mind is stuck somewhere in between the words overboard and impossible. Even Beatrice, careful and capable as she is, couldn't keep herself from being swept off her feet by some of those waves. Ava can picture her so vividly, disappearing under the surface.

"You're not making me feel better about this."

"Oh." Beatrice blinks in surprise as if she has only just realised that they aren't having a purely practical discussion. She puts her book carefully down on the nightstand. "I'm not sure what to say. I can't lie to you and pretend it isn't dangerous. Those are cherry-picked clips showing the worst though, it isn't always like that."

Which, yeah, okay, Ava already knew it was dangerous. For all the months that Beatrice is away she lives with the low-level, prickling anxiety that the next call she gets will be telling her Bea is hurt, or worse. It's different seeing it though, seeing how quick it is, how powerful -

"How often are you in the north sea?" she asks, as if that's the only problem with it.

Beatrice winces, "Well, it depends. The contracts I work - " She explains something complicated and lengthy about shipping and demand and the company she works for and Ava thinks she's the most interesting person in the world but this stuff is, also, a little bit boring and she's still pretty busy picturing her girlfriend's imminent death.

She needs to send these videos to Camila. If there's anyone she can rely on to overreact with her, it's Camila.

"Ava," Beatrice says, seeing that she's lost her. She tugs Ava's phone gently from her hands and puts it down next to her book. Then she wraps one arm around Ava's shoulders and the other around her waist and pulls her in close.

Ava has always loved being hugged by Bea, even before they got together - she's strong and solid and lets Ava hold on for as long as she needs to. (Also, she smells fucking amazing, like, all the time).

It wasn't until they started dating that she realised Beatrice had been holding something of herself back though, not letting herself relax entirely whenever they touched. Now, it's as if her whole body sinks into it, like some tension evaporates the moment Ava's arms are around her.

Ava pushes her face into Beatrice's chest and inhales, lets herself hide there in the fabric of her shirt for a moment. It's dark and warm and hard to worry about anything.

"I promise I do everything I possibly can to come home safe to you," Beatrice says into her ear, "I'm sorry I can't give you any more reassurance than that."

"Okay," Ava says, voice muffled against Beatrice's chest. It's not enough but it has to be enough. This is Bea's job, the thing she loves more than anything else, and Ava won't ever touch the sanctity of that. "I'm still going to worry about you."

"I know." Beatrice presses a kiss into her hair and pulls back, "I worry about you too though, when I'm gone."

Ava rolls her eyes, "The most dangerous thing that could happen to me is Lilith finally snapping and turning on everyone she loves."

"So fairly likely then?" Beatrice asks.

Ava snorts, "Like a 90% chance."

They settle themselves to go to sleep, lying down fully and adjusting the pillows and blankets. That's another thing Ava learned recently: Beatrice - her big, tough sailor - likes being the little spoon. She won't admit to that, obviously, but she sighs contentedly whenever Ava wraps her arms around her from behind.

So when Beatrice reaches up to switch the lamp off, Ava does just that, presses herself against Bea's back. She listens to Beatrice's breathing become slow and even, and she clings on.

[cheynovak]

Healing Waters

Characters: Azriel x F/Reader Y/N     

Summary:  Azriel is sent by Rhysand to the Spring Court to investigate Tamlin's erratic behavior. While spying in the woods, he comes across Y/N, an Illyrian female bathing under a waterfall. Intrigued by her beauty and shocked to see the scars where her wings should have been, he is immediately captivated.

Warnings: Hurt, pain, anger, nudity, spying, aggression, ...

English is not my first language 

*This story is my own fanfiction, please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated* 

Part 1/?

The water was cool against my skin, a welcome relief from the sweltering heat that blanketed the Spring Court. The waterfall cascaded into the small lake, the sound of it soothing, almost hypnotic.

I let the water run over my shoulders, washing away the grime of the day. Living in the Spring Court had its perks, but it also came with its burdens, especially for someone like me—an Illyrian female. I ran my fingers through my thick, dark hair, slightly curly and heavy from the water, letting it cascade down my back.

The familiar weight of it made me feel grounded, a connection to a past I couldn't quite shake off, no matter how many years had passed.

My hands brushed over the scars where my wings should have been, a constant reminder of the life that was taken from me, the life that was stolen by those who deemed me unworthy. Here, in the Spring Court, I had found a semblance of peace, but it was a peace tinged with loneliness.

Tamlin had been distracted lately, consumed by something I couldn't quite understand. He spent more time in his beast form, prowling through the woods, and the rest of the court seemed to be walking on eggshells around him.

I had learned to avoid him, that had been the deal we made when I once knocked on his doorstep, begging for shelter from my own court.

It was safer. But even as I stood under the waterfall, trying to relax, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched. My senses, honed by years of survival, prickled with awareness. I scanned the trees, my eyes sharp, but there was nothing. Just the dense forest and the silence of the wilderness.

Yet, the feeling persisted. A presence, almost like a shadow, lingering just out of sight. I turned slowly, the water dripping from my skin, and tried to shake the unease that gnawed at me. But nothing appeared, and I forced myself to take a deep breath, to calm my racing heart.

** Azriel's POV **

Rhysand's orders had been clear: investigate Tamlin's erratic behavior. The Spring Court had always been a place of beauty and secrets, but lately, those secrets seemed to be festering into something darker.

And so, I found myself here, cloaked in shadows, moving silently through the dense forest, my senses heightened. I had spent years honing my abilities, perfecting the art of stealth, but nothing could have prepared me for the sight that greeted me as I approached the small lake nestled deep within the woods.

There, beneath the waterfall, she stood—an Illyrian female, though she was unlike any I had ever seen. Her dark hair fell in wet down her back, clinging to her bare skin as the water cascaded over her. But it wasn’t just her beauty that captured me.

It was the scars. Where her wings should have been, there were only two jagged lines of scarred flesh. The sight of them tugged at something deep within me, a raw ache that I hadn’t felt in years. She had been through something horrific, something that had taken her wings, her pride, her birthright.

And yet, here she was, standing strong and unbroken.

I couldn't take my eyes off her. There was a grace to her movements, a quiet strength that drew me in, making it impossible to look away. My heart pounded in my chest, a foreign sensation I hadn't experienced in centuries. I knew I should leave, report back to Rhysand, but I couldn’t move.

Not yet. She suddenly tensed, her senses sharper than I expected. She knew someone was watching. But I had spent too many years perfecting the art of blending into the shadows; she wouldn’t see me unless I wanted her to. Still, I admired her caution, her wariness. She was no stranger to danger, that much was clear.

As I continued to watch her, I felt a deep, inexplicable urge to know her story. Those scars told a tale of pain and survival, of a past that still haunted her. And for some reason, I wanted to be the one to uncover it, to be the one she trusted enough to share her secrets with. The thought surprised me, shook me to my core. I, who had been hardened by centuries of war and death, felt something shift inside me as I looked at her.

I didn’t know what it meant, or what it would lead to, but I knew one thing for certain: I couldn’t stay away.

** Y/N's POV **

I didn’t see it, but I felt it. Years of living, of surviving, had sharpened my instincts, honed my awareness of my surroundings to a razor’s edge. Something—or someone—was out there, watching me, lingering just beyond the edge of the trees.

I moved with deliberate slowness as I stepped out of the pond, the water dripping from my skin. My heart pounded in my chest, but my face remained calm, unreadable. I stood still, letting the wind brush against my damp skin. That’s when I caught the scent—faint, but unmistakable.

Illyrian.

A chill ran down my spine, a mixture of fear and anger, memories of my past stirring like a beast awakened. I moved swiftly then, disappearing into the woods, my bare feet silent against the forest floor. I grabbed my blade from where it lay hidden beneath a tree root, the cold metal comforting in my hand.

The fool was following me.

I could sense him now, moving through the woods with the practiced silence of someone who had done this a thousand times before. But I was no novice either. Naked as I was, I had the advantage of knowing these woods like the back of my hand. I slipped through the shadows, doubling back around him, until I could see him.

He was tall, cloaked in darkness, with massive wings folded against his back. The sight of them sent a pang of something sharp and bitter through me, but I swallowed it down, focusing on the task at hand.

He was scanning the trees, his attention focused ahead. That was his mistake. In one swift motion, I surged forward, blade in hand, and pressed it to his throat as I pinned him against a tree. The sharp edge of the blade nicked his neck, just enough to draw blood, and I could feel his pulse quicken beneath the tip.

“Who are you?” I demanded, my voice low, dangerous. “Why are you spying on me?”

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t even move. His golden-brown eyes, filled with a calm intensity, locked onto mine, and the silence stretched between us like a taut string. He just watched me, his gaze unreadable, as if he were trying to see straight into my soul.

I hated the way it made me feel—exposed, vulnerable, despite the blade I held to his throat. But I refused to let it show, refused to let him see the fear or the memories that his presence stirred up inside me.

“Speak,” I hissed, pressing the blade just a little harder, enough to show him I wasn’t playing games.

But still, he remained silent, his gaze steady and unnervingly calm. As if he had all the time in the world, as if my blade and my threats meant nothing to him. The only indication that he was even aware of the situation was the single drop of blood that trickled down his neck.

My anger flared, frustration mingling with the fear I was trying so hard to keep at bay. I had spent years carving out a life here, a life away from the pain and the memories of what had been taken from me. And now, this Illyrian male had the audacity to intrude, to watch me like some predator stalking its prey.

“Who sent you?” I demanded again, my voice harsher now, more desperate. But even as I spoke the words, something about his presence—his steady, unwavering gaze—began to chip away at my anger. There was something different about him, something I couldn’t quite place.

He wasn’t like the others.

The realization shook me, and I hesitated, just for a fraction of a second. But it was enough for him to see it, to sense the crack in my armor.

And still, he just watched me.

** Azriel's POV **

I hadn't anticipated this. My back pressed against the rough bark of the tree, the cold edge of a blade against my throat, and I found myself at the mercy of the most captivating creature I had ever seen. She had surprised me, and in the centuries I had spent perfecting my craft, few had managed that.

Her dark eyes were fierce, narrowed with suspicion and a determination that made her all the more striking. But it was her hair that caught the sunlight in a way that made me pause. It wasn’t black, as I had initially thought. No, the sun revealed warm red tones woven through the dark strands, like embers hidden in the night, glinting and glowing with an unexpected fire.

My heart started to race, just slightly, a foreign feeling that made me take in a breath, slow and controlled. I opened my mouth, and before I could stop myself, the question slipped out. "Why are you here and not in the Night Court?"

The moment the words left my lips, I saw the shift in her eyes. A flash of something—anger, bitterness, pain?—before she laughed, a humorless, almost mocking sound that echoed in the silence of the woods. It was a laugh that spoke of hard truths and buried wounds, and it left me more confused than before.

She was like a riddle I couldn’t quite unravel, and that only intrigued me more.

My thoughts raced as I studied her, trying to piece together the fragments of the puzzle she presented. Then, before I could stop myself, I asked the question that had burned at the back of my mind since I first saw her. "What happened to your wings?"

The change was instant. The blade dropped from my neck as she stepped back, her grip on it loosening. For a split second, I saw the shock in her eyes, a raw vulnerability that she quickly tried to mask. She moved with a sudden urgency, grabbing a simple dress from the ground to cover herself, shielding her body from my gaze.

But even as she turned away, kneading the last of the water out of her hair with her hands, I couldn’t look away.

There was something about the way she moved, the way the sunlight played on her skin, making the water droplets glisten like diamonds. It was like looking at a dream, something ethereal and untouchable, yet right there in front of me. I knew I should look away, that it was inappropriate, but I couldn’t tear my eyes from her.

She was a mystery, a story untold, and I found myself wanting to know every chapter, every word. What had brought her here, to this place far from where she belonged? What had taken her wings, and why did she laugh with such bitterness when I mentioned the Night Court?

As she turned back to me, her expression guarded once more, I realized that whatever the answers were, they were hers to give—if she chose to share them. And for reasons I couldn’t quite explain, I hoped she would.

** Y/N's POV **

I took in the young Illyrian male standing before me, his golden-brown eyes wide with a mixture of shock and something else I couldn’t quite place. He was skilled, that much was clear, but to me, he was just a boy. He must have been at least two centuries younger than I was, yet there was an intensity about him that made him seem older, as if he had seen too much for his years.

But what struck me the most was the way he reacted when he saw the scars where my wings should have been. His eyes widened in genuine shock, almost disbelief. It was as if he couldn’t comprehend that someone like me existed, that a female could be stripped of her wings and still stand before him. He was clearly young enough not to know about the horror trades between Illyrians and the Hewn City.

I felt a familiar bitterness rise in my chest, a protective wall I had built over the years, and all I could bring myself to say in response to his question was, “Ask your High Lord.”

His gaze didn’t waver, but before he could respond, a deep, resonating roar echoed through the forest.

Tamlin.

Even in his beast form, I recognized the sound of his fury. And so did the Illyrian male.

I saw his attention shift, his focus breaking for just a moment as he listened to the sound. It was all the distraction I needed. Without a second thought, I turned and fled, my feet barely touching the ground as I moved through the familiar woods with the speed and grace of a predator in its own territory.

I knew he’d find me if he wanted to. He was skilled, and the shadows seemed to cling to him as if he were one of them. But for now, I needed distance, needed space to clear my head and regain my composure. Because that look in his eyes, the shock, and the way he had watched me—it unsettled me in ways I hadn’t been unsettled in years.

** Azriel's POV **

She was gone before I could react, slipping through the trees like a wraith, silent and swift. But her words echoed in my mind, heavy with implications I couldn’t ignore.

Ask your High Lord.

The roar of the Spring Court’s High Lord reverberated through the forest, pulling me back to the present, but my mind was still fixated on the female who had just vanished into the woods. The scars on her back, the bitterness in her voice, and the way she had looked at me—it all added up to a mystery I was now desperate to solve.

I was stunned by her speed, her grace, and the way she had so easily outmaneuvered me without wings. But it was more than just her skill that had me off balance.

The sight of those scars, of what had been done to her, was like a punch to the gut, she wasn't just clipped, no they removed them completely. It wasn’t just the cruelty of it—it was the fact that someone had tried to take away her freedom, her power. And yet, she had survived. She was still here, defiant and unbroken.

But that left me with more questions than answers. Why wasn’t she in the Night Court? What had driven her to seek refuge in the Spring Court, of all places? And what did Rhysand know that I didn’t? Her words had been sharp, almost taunting.

Ask your High Lord.

Tamlin’s roar sounded again, and I forced myself to focus.

The mission came first, as it always did. But even as I spread my wings and took to the sky, blending into the shadows as I moved toward the source of the disturbance, I couldn’t shake the image of her—of the way she had looked at me with those fierce, dark eyes, and the way she had fled without looking back.

If I wanted to find her again, I would. And when I did, I would get the answers I needed. Because now, more than ever, I was certain that she was a piece of the puzzle I had been sent here to solve.

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