#shadow believing he doesn't have a place to belong

[beneathtreemomo]

"I promise, you are loved."

[floatyflowers]

Dark Platonic Ancient Egyptian Deities X Reincarnated! Reader

Ra (god of the Sun and King of the Gods)

As the father figure of the pantheon, Ra takes a patriarchal protector role. He insists you stay close to him in his solar barque, safe from the dangers of the mortal and divine realms.

He grows obsessive about shielding you from chaos especially Apophis, even refusing to let you leave his sight during the night.

Ra often calls you his 'ray of light,' claiming that your presence eases his eternal burden of maintaining Ma��at (cosmic order).

Isis (goddess of Magic and Motherhood)

Isis becomes a motherly figure, fiercely nurturing and protective.

She insists on teaching you spells and protective charms, even if they’re far too hard for you.

She forbids you from interacting with anyone she deems 'unworthy,' claiming she’s the only one who understands how to keep you safe.

Her possessiveness is crude and unyielding; she uses her magic to track you and ensure no harm comes to you, even if it means manipulating others around you.

Osiris (god of the Underworld and Rebirth)

Osiris is calm but quietly obsessive.

He views you as a symbol of renewal and life, a bright presence that balances his somber existence.

Maybe that's because he knows that you are a reincarnation?

Oh wait, he is the one who had you reincarnated in the first place.

He tries to keep you within his underworld domain, rationalizing that it’s the safest place for you, free from earthly or divine dangers.

Osiris has a slightly eerie way of expressing his affection, saying things like,

“You belong to eternity, just like I do.”

Anubis (god of Mummification and Protector of the Dead)

Anubis is like an older sibling who takes his role as your guardian far too seriously.

He constantly watches over you, often from the shadows.

His possessiveness appears as distrust of anyone else, mortal or divine, who tries to approach you.

He justifies this by claiming his duty as a protector.

If you ever get hurt, even slightly, he blames himself and becomes even more overbearing, ensuring no one gets close enough to harm you again.

As for the person who harms you, they will get mummified alive.

Horus (god of Kingship and Sky)

Horus is fiercely territorial, viewing you as his personal charge.

He sees himself as your rightful protector, fighting off any perceived threats to your safety or happiness.

And it doesn't help that his mother, Isis, encouraged him to be like that.

He’s competitive, constantly trying to prove that he’s the only one who can protect you.

He often gets into arguments with other gods over who should have custody of you.

His eagle-eyed vigilance means you’re rarely alone, as he swoops in at the slightest hint of trouble or perceived disobedience.

Set (god of Chaos and Storms)

Surprisingly, Set sees you as a calming impact in his chaotic life.

Your innocent, pure nature makes him protective, almost soft-hearted in your presence.

He grows extremely possessive, believing that only he understands what it means to protect you in a world full of danger and betrayal.

Set doesn’t shy away from using intimidation or brute force to keep others away from you, including the other gods.

He is the first one who suggests that the deities should turn you into immortal or even a goddess.

Thoth (god of Wisdom and Knowledge)

Thoth is fascinated by your knowledge of the modern world and becomes obsessed with learning everything he can from you.

He is the only one after Osiris that knows that you are reincarnated.

He justifies keeping you close, by saying it’s for 'scholarly purposes' yet we all know that he enjoys your childlike curiosity.

He tries to isolate you, offering endless books and scrolls while discouraging interactions with others, fearing they might distract or corrupt you.

"I have found a new rare scroll, who about we read it both together instead of going out for a walk?"

Bastet (goddess of Cats, Home, and Protection)

Bastet is smothering affectionate, treating you like a fragile kitten.

She insists on keeping you within her temples, surrounded by her sacred cats.

She’s fiercely territorial and sees anyone approaching you as a threat.

Her claws come out literally if anyone tries to take you away from her.

Bastet’s love is suffocatingly warm, she showers you with gifts, affection, and constant attention, leaving little room for independence.

Sekhmet (goddess of War and Healing)

Sekhmet is a ferocious guardian, seeing herself as your warrior and protector.

She’s quick to destroy anything or anyone by draining their blood, but only those who she perceives as a danger to you.

And she perceives every human as a danger.

Despite her fearsome nature, she’s surprisingly tender with you, often calling you “little one” and insisting on tending to your needs personally.

She becomes enraged at the idea of you being harmed or taken from her, leading to bursts of divine wrath that shake the mortal and divine realms.

Sobek (god of the Nile and Crocodiles)

Sobek views you as a fragile, precious being who needs constant protection.

He assigns himself as your personal guard, often scaring off others with his intimidating presence.

His possessive attitude appears in his insistence that you remain near water, claiming it’s the safest place for you.

He has a soft spot for you, often bringing you gifts like shiny trinkets or freshly caught fish.

"Why would you need to cook the fish, my dear? it's better if it is eaten raw."

[fangsandfeels]

Rewriting Veilguard factions because I can:

Some things I'd have changed for each faction:

First of all, I'd introduce particular race restrictions for every faction because stop pretending they don't matter. The latter only destroys the unique specifics behind every race and its history in the world of Thedas.

Add extra background options for Rook related to their fraction for more roleplay and dialogue options. For instance, "noble" and "foundling" for the Mourn Watch, "new blood" and "veteran" for Grey Wardens, etc.

Remove the "Rook had to temporarily leave their faction because they did the thing and made the upper management mad" thing. Make their decisive action part of their bio, but not the reason for their participation in the main quest. Instead, let Rook to be actually entrusted by their group to get out there and find out what's going on - and end up cooperating with the Solas search group. Let whatever Solas is doing affect every fraction: spirits going stir-crazy in the Grand Necropolis, Lords of Fortune having to deal with Qunari and magical anomalies at the sea, not to mention increased dragon activity, weird elf disappearances in Treviso, Tevinter authorities growing more and more paranoid due to spike in elven slave rebellions (that Shadow Dragons had nothing to do with) and their rare magical artifacts going missing, Dalish elves hearing whispers and voices calling to them, Grey Wardens cooperating with the Inquisitor's initiative to find Solas and sending their volunteer (Rook) to assist. That would add more competence to their character.

Antivan Crows

I'll be frank: it should be Zevran's group, whatever he would call it. While Zevran is definitely not a good boy, he wouldn't make his trainees undergo the same torture he did.

Also, he'd hate the conditioning and brainwashing done by the Crows. So, Rook could have been one of the Treviso orphans already traumatized by the Antivan Crow training - until Zevran came into picture and, after killing the Crows, ended up with a bunch of fledglings on his hands. You can't exactly tell the younglings to go and be free, you have to teach them - while do something about them believing they're only good for killing. Due to this, Zevran ended up training them and getting that self-degrading bullcrap out of their heads. He didn't expect to have a guild of his own, but joke's on him, he is a leader now and now he is going to make Antiva a better place for his underlings.

Once again, it doesn't mean playing for the "good assassin guys", but if you want your morally gray faction, it will do nicely. Zevran isn't exactly a hero, but he is also not a total scumbag who buys people and makes child soldiers.

I can believe that he and his associates would actually be interested in organizing partisan movements around Treviso and killing occupants. After all, Zevran knows Quanri and their views better due to him traveling with Sten (from their interactions, I didn't get the idea that he was super into the Qun or comfortable with Sten's ideas), so he knows what exactly is going to happen to the Treviso denizens. Moreover, he is done with ANY attempts at brainwashing, will breaking, and reconditioning so he wouldn't stand for Qunari doing it, no matter their reasoning.

Available races: human, elf

Lords of Fortune

Just let them be pirates led by Isabela. Yes, the kind that doesn't care if the stuff they take belongs to another culture - because money. But also the kind that takes in runaway slaves and anyone else as long as they can keep up.

The kind that takes on merc jobs and also assists in defending Rivain because it's their territory - and for many, it's their home.

Rook starting out as a former escaped slave from Tevinter is a great template for both a merc with a heart and standards and an absolutely ruthless pirate who sees the world as the dog eat dog place.

Available races: all of them, Lords don't discriminate.

Veil Jumpers

I'd even change the name because it sounds so...not serious. Even Fade Stalkers sounds better (come on, writers, I see what you did with the Arlathan forest, you clearly wanted a fantasy version of S.T.A.L.K.E.R., so just embrace it).

Let this faction be created by one of the ancient elves who used to be stuck in the Fade, then got out - but were NOT happy with Solas, don't want to follow him and don't trust him to fix things. The Evanuris once led them and they ended up enslaved, why should they trust Solas and his good intentions, especially if he claims to be the one to fix and restore the world? So they don't.

They don't see the point in "burn it down and rebuild again" because they already have the bitter experience: so they would rather try their chances with what they have right now, by equipping their people with information and truth.

So, they manage to gather the Dalish people willing to believe and follow them, seeking to educate them and teach them on using magic and tools long forgotten and salvage whatever is left of their heritage, only now with the knowledge of using it.

The most difficult faction to gain approval for if you're not an elf: because some leaders are willing to cautiously cooperate, while others think that Felassan was right and that this world was so much better without humans, dwarves, or Qunari.

Available races: the elf only club.

Shadow Dragons

The in-game faction is mostly fine, aside from the game trying to make it look like Venatori are the only ones who want them dead. No, Shadow Dragons are beefing with the entire Magisterium (aside from Dorian and Maevaris' party) and are depicted as an extremely violent terrorist group both within and outside Tevinter, with only slaves and low-class citizens actually believing in their cause and hoping for their assistance.

Because this is what a corrupt government does - invest in smear campaigns so vile and vicious that you have to be prepared to debunk numerous myths about your group and cause before engaging with people.

This should be particularly painful if you, as a Shadow Dragon, interact with people outside Tevinter because given the real life experience with westerners, people living in safe and privileged first-world countries would rather gobble up the comfortable and refined lies spread by your enemies than listen to you, someone who was oppressed and hurt by your enemy.

Realistically, a Shadow Dragon Rook would have to facepalm their way through the ridiculous shit like "Don't you guys kidnap slaves from their cozy kennels only to forcefully conscript them to your army?" or "Aren't you guys just a bunch of mercenaries sponsored by one of the Senate parties to undermine its political opponents?" or "You're just part of the Par Vollen and Tevinter war. Do you think I'm stupid and don't know you're on the Qunari payroll?" or "All you want to do is to escalate and spread chaos, don't even try to do it here".

Another realistic issue for Shadow Dragons should be dodging Qunari spies. Because, lets be honest: Par Vollen would want to exploit that vulnerability in their continuous war with Tevinter. They would try to offer assistance to Shadow Dragons in order to find a way to weaken and conquer Tevinter or get their hands on secret information.

But since Shadow Dragons want to change their government, abolish slavery and the horrible political system, they don't want to do it at the cost of getting subjugated by the Qunari. So, they have to be extremely careful when picking their agents, making sure they aren't just conveniently placed Ben-Hassrath.

Available races: human, elf, dwarf, Kossith

Grey Wardens

Generally the most involved faction ever since the events of the Inquisition. First of all, where is one taint-corrupted ancient magister, there is two or even three of them. After the Adamant Fortress, they can't allow themselves to be inactive - if exiled from Orlais, they need to make up for this disaster and prevent any further manipulations, if allowed to stay and rebuild, they work closely with the Inquisitor and provide assistance with the search for Solas. Probably, not all of them are aware of the Solas' true nature - they're only given information that he is a much more powerful mage than anyone imagined and that he was the one who released Corypheus and plans for another disaster.

The First Warden is aware of the full story, but pretends to be skeptical for the sake of not arising suspicions (in case Solas' spies are around).

They should also experience issues with some of their elven Wardens suddenly leaving (you can't tell me that elf Wardens won't be tempted with a promise of never succumbing to the Calling) and detect suspicious darkspawn activity.

Available races: all, with Kossith and elves getting extra race interactivity bonuses.

Mourn Watch

The faction and its representatives are generally fine in the game, I just wish there was Cassandra to make disgusted noises at the Mourn Watcher Rook.

Imagine dodging interactions with Nevarran Mortalitasi to the point of appointing a random apostate bum as your Fade expert, only to work with a fucking Mourn Watcher because that bum you hired to be your Fade expert turned out to be a freaking elven god who started all that shit.

The irony is fucking delicious.

Aside from that, I think that Mourn Watch should be the mage-only faction because a) the order is founded by Mortalitasi, who are mages, b) what are the non-mage Watchers even supposed to do when working with spirits and the undead?

They have no tools or means of interacting with them, which means they can end up dead. It's not logical for Watchers to allow a non-mage in their ranks for the inclusivity sake, exposing them to a constant risk and knowing that the mages will be held responsible for the imminent tragedy. I imagine there is non-mage personnel at the Grand Necropolis, but I don't think they're entrusted with the same secrets and duties.

Also, there should be an option to choose between "foundling" and "noble". The foundling!Rook can have a particularly close connection to the spirits, which allows them to single-handedly calm the undead during the War of the Banners, while the noble!Rook has an established family, much more political connections and is well-versed in diplomacy and negotiations, which allowed them to trick the undead barons and put them down when they least expected it

Available races: human, elf

Bonus: new faction idea

Kal-Sharok

Give more exposure to the Titans and the dwarven connection to Stone through the perspective of the Kal-Sharok dwarves. In DAI, they were already shown carrying out their own operations and cooperated with the Inquisition on their own conditions. So, I can't imagine them not being active, especially if they are at least partially aware of the history of Titans and the Evanuris.

Rook can start as one of the Kal-Sharok agents (probably acting undercover at first), and to them stopping or even meeting Solas is of a particular priority because he holds the key to the history of the dwarves, their connection to lyrium, and many other things. This Rook is looking for the truth - and ultimately can decide, whether they should use their knowledge for advancing Kal-Sharok exclusively or should they reconnect Kal-Sharok, surface dwarves and Orzammar because they share the same past and the same trauma.

Also, a Kal-Sharok Rook can have unique mage classes if they're the one with connection to the Stone.

Available races: only dwarves

[chocopokkie]

Bound by Shadows

Summary: You attempt to break up with Alastor but it doesn't go so well.

TW: Non-con, yandere-ish Alastor, forced relationship, smut (let me know if I missed any!)

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"I'm really sorry, Al," you murmur softly, your gaze avoiding his once-adoring eyes, now fixed with a grin that cuts deeper than any blade. "I just don't think we should be together anymore..."

"We can still be friends!" you hastily add, your voice betraying the tremor of uncertainty, "I just don't think—"

But before you can finish, a dark laugh cuts through the air like a chilling gust of wind.

"Haha!" Alastor's laughter drips with disdain as he interrupts, his tone laced with judgment. "My dear, I truly don't think you know what you're talking about. You think after everything I've done for you, you can just leave me, little doe? I believe I need to give you a reminder of who you belong to," he growls, his words like a predator's low warning growl.

Suddenly, the room shifts and morphs around you, the comforting walls of your room replaced by the dark, dense canopy of a forest. Panic surges through you, but before you can even grasp the gravity of the situation, you're violently shoved to the forest floor. The earthy scent fills your senses as black tendrils snake around your limbs, rendering escape impossible.

"Alastor, please, what are you doing?" you plead, your voice shaking with a mixture of fear and confusion. You attempt to struggle against the oppressive grip of the tendrils, but they hold you firmly in place, like iron chains. "Please, you're really scaring me!" you beg, desperation seeping into your words as you realize the gravity of the situation.

"Oh, as you should be, dear~," Alastor purrs sinisterly, his voice dripping with malevolence. "Because I'm going to make sure this is a lesson you never forget." With a snap of his fingers, the tendrils forcefully flip you over, leaving you on your knees with your face pressed against the cold, hard forest floor. Dread washes over you as you realize what's about to happen.

"N-No... Please..." you whimper, your voice barely above a whisper, desperation tainting every syllable. "Okay, I'm sorry! Please, I'll never do anything like this again, I swear! I love you! Just please stop..." You plead, reaching out to him in a futile attempt to appeal to his humanity, to make him see reason. But all you receive in response is a dark chuckle that sends chills down your spine.

"Oh, I know, baby~," Alastor responds, his tone laced with a sickening mixture of affection and possessiveness. "But if you aren't punished, you might get that stupid idea of trying to leave me in that pretty little head of yours. And we can't have that again, now can we?"

Alastor moves quickly, his movements fluid yet unsettlingly precise. With a swift motion, he shoves your dress over your hips, the fabric bunching around your waist. You gasp in shock and protest, but before you can utter a word, his clawed finger slashes through your panties, cutting them away with a cruel efficiency.

His dark chuckle cuts through the air like a blade through silence. "Bad girls don't get any foreplay," he growls, his voice dripping with malice as he works at his pants, freeing his cock. With grace, he positions himself at your unprepared entrance.

"I'm sorry, Alastor! Please, just stop," you plead, desperation lacing your voice as tears stream down your face. You know there's nothing you can do to halt his actions, trapped and powerless against him.

Your scream rips through the air like a haunting melody as Alastor mercilessly shoves his entire length inside of you, setting a brutal pace that leaves you gasping for breath. Each thrust is accompanied by a symphony of pain and desperation, your pleas falling on deaf ears as he revels in your suffering. Alastor savors the sound of your cries, finding perverse pleasure in the symphony of agony echoing through the forest.

One of his hands snakes around to rub your clit, sending a jolt of unexpected pleasure coursing through your body. Your muscles tense and spasm in response to the new sensation, but the relentless grip of the tendrils keeps you firmly anchored to the forest floor, rendering you utterly helpless against Alastor's desires. He continues his assault, relishing in the control he exerts over your body and mind.

As the realization sinks in, a cold dread settles in the pit of your stomach. You understand now that there's no escape from his grasp, no reprieve from his twisted desires. In that moment, it becomes painfully clear: you belong to him, body and soul, for eternity. Alastor has ensured that you'll never forget your place, sealing your fate with every merciless thrust and cruel manipulation. You are his forever, and he delights in reminding you of that fact.

You can never escape.

He leans in close, his hot breath tickling your ear as he whispers with a cruel intimacy, "Are you gonna be a good girl and cum for me?" With renewed vigor, he increases the speed and pressure on your clit, driving you to the brink of ecstasy even as tears streak down your face, overwhelmed by the conflicting sensations coursing through your body.

As you came around Alastor's cock, he resumes his brutal pace. His claws dig into your hips, leaving marks of possession as he relentlessly chases his own release. With a guttural groan, you feel him twitch inside you, his hot seed spilling deep within, painting your walls white with his essence.

"Now then, have you learned your lesson, love?" Alastor's voice cuts through the haze of pain and confusion, his tone dripping with smug satisfaction. Gradually, you feel the tendrils loosen their grip around you, allowing you to collapse onto the forest floor, your body trembling with exhaustion and sobs wracking your frame.

"Y-yes," you manage to whisper weakly, your voice barely audible amidst the turmoil of emotions raging within you.

"Lovely~. Now get yourself cleaned up! We have reservations tonight!" His words, almost sickeningly cheerful, echo in your ears as he strides away, leaving you alone in the cold darkness of the forest. As you lay there, broken and defeated, you can't help but reconsider everything—your choices, your worth, and the twisted dynamic that binds you to him in ways you never imagined possible.

[yawnderu]

You make it hard to be a ghost — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Mutual pining, yearning, fluff, conflicted emotions.♡

"That's enough out of you." Ghost barked as he entered your quarters, slamming a crumpled piece of paper onto your desk. You write poetry for him, sneaking it into pieces of his gear and clothes where you know he'll find them. He reads them every single time, the strings of his heart being pulled whenever he reads them. He'd never let you know he keeps them, never let you know just how much your handwritten thoughts truly affect him, but you already know.

"What else am I supposed to do with my love for you, Ghost?" You asked teasingly, though the fear of keeping being rejected was always there, gnawing on your heart every single time he denied your affections.

"I don't need your love." He spat out, British accent making his rejection somewhat harder. How do I let you know you're the sun that casts away my shadows? I can't. His gaze flickers back and forth as you stay quiet, a mixture of guilt and anxiety playing on his expressive eyes though he tried to keep a stern mask in place. "I don't have time for this." You make me feel something.

"You say that, but I know you enjoy what I write even if you don't believe my words." You stand up from your seat, slowly approaching Ghost as your hand gently holds his wrist, examining his tattoo sleeve. His senses are overwhelmed as you touch him, by the closeness of your body, the warmth of your hands, your gentle touch. He wants this for himself, but he can't accept it, yet he doesn't push you away. "Whose dog tags are these?" You inquire, looking at his tattoo with a curious gaze.

"An old friend." He replies shortly, breath hitching slightly. Those dog tags belong to Simon Riley. The Simon Riley who died the same day Ghost was born, the same Simon Riley who gave his murdered family a funeral pyre and was left as just a Ghost. You simply hum, knowing better than to press for more details.

"Stray." His voice finally cuts the silence, his tone more gentle than what you usually hear from him, despite the turmoil in his head. "I've never loved anyone." Other than my mum and brother. It pains him to say those words, but you deserve to know.

"I know." He looked at you with a gaze full of sadness, and you responded with a gaze full of love. Ghost pulls you closer, allowing himself to be vulnerable in this way for once in his life, hand resting warmly against your cheek as he leans closer, breathing in your hair and the scent of your skin. His nightmares and past haunt him, his trauma keeps him up at night, but you keep his soul alive.

"I truly love you, Simon." Your arms gently wrap around his neck and he grits his teeth. Simon. Simon had been dead for years, yet you somehow always found a way to bring him back to life. To make his defenses come crumbling down as if he didn't spend years carefully building them. You can feel the tension leaving his body, muscles relaxing and shoulders dropping. You're aware this is a big deal for Ghost, he never lets anyone get this close. You hear his heart beating wildly, his breath on your neck as his arms wrap around your waist hesitantly, bringing you closer and closer each passing second.

"I love you too." He whispered, swallowing the knot in his throat. It's the first time he's actually been able to say it. "I love you too." He repeats, just in case you missed it the first time.

[withleeknow]

wishful thinking. (06)

chapter six: like lightning

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; mentions of sex, swearing, this chapter is also pretty mild in terms of warnings? the angst begins here tho !!! could've been more edited but yk lol word count: 4.9k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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If I never laid eyes on you Would I feel something missing? If you never laid eyes on me Would you know something’s gone?

Happy Accidents - Saint Motel

You don't know if you've ever changed, even once, in your life.

You feel like you're still 8 years old and your best friend is the neighbors' elderly dog that they let you play with every weekend. She's a golden retriever, and she would stand taller than you if she could walk on two legs.

You're still 16 and your happiest memories are of a boy who doesn't love you back. But all of your friends say that he does, and oh, how much you want to believe that their words are true.

And at the same time, you're 22, just a few months shy of 23, sitting in front of a canvas showcasing your own bleeding heart. Your growing pains, laid out by acrylics and gentle brush strokes. You liken yourself to the figure in front of you, the one that's standing in the corner of your painting, overlooking a sea of blues and grays. There's a piece of you that's left behind in everything you create. Sometimes, you leave it there on purpose, a memorabilia for your future self to look back at fondly.

You think of everything in your life that has changed and how you're the only thing that has managed to remain the same. The dog eventually dies and the boy moves on with his life. The passage of time is relentless but you seem to be the only one who can't keep up with the tireless flow. You're always running in place, always stuck behind in the end. There's a past in which you still live, one where you don’t know if you'll ever make it out of.

You think of home and the search comes up empty, like it does every single time. Home isn't here inside of your own body, nor is it within the four walls of your childhood bedroom. You've never felt like you belong anywhere. Everything is always fluctuating, constantly and unabatingly spinning and spinning and spinning when all you're asking for is a minute to stand still and catch your breath.

Home isn't always a place, that much you know. Maybe home isn't even a thing that you build but something that you find, in a person or a touch, in a feeling or a scent. Perhaps that's the problem, isn't it? Home is something you find, and you've spent your whole life searching.

People say your early 20s are supposed to be the best years of your life but that sentiment has never resonated with you. These are the years that you spend in excruciating limbo, where you're not an adult but you're forced to be anyway. The years where loneliness is an invisible friend that shadows you day in and day out, a presence you don’t want around but can't seem to shake off, a haunting that's far too gentle to be considered such. These aren't your best years; these are your saddest years.

None of it helps build character. It just hurts.

It hurts. You accept that it hurts. You keep on living, always accompanied by the hurt. At some point, it stops bothering you as much; you've grown numb to the way it stings, but it doesn't mean that there aren't days where you're pierced with a sudden and debilitating hollowness in your chest.

Here you are, half an adult but still a child, wondering if you know anything more than you did when you were 8.

You just want to go home, but you don't know where home is.

You look at the small pool of yellow acrylic paint that's been sitting on your palette for a while now. It feels so out of place among the other insipid tones, even though that has always been your intention - a burst of life amidst a sea of blues.

You don't think about anything in particular when your fingers pick up a brush and dab it in a generous amount of paint. It doesn't make much sense, but it feels right. You don't think about anything in particular when your hand smears the color on the cavas, on the figure, a startling stroke right in the center of her chest, contrasting all of the dulls and darkness surrounding.

Though, you do think of him afterward. Of him and daffodils and spring.

The rest of your friends are already present when you and Felix show up at Chan and Jess' shared apartment, holding boxes of pizzas and a case of beer.

It's a cute tradition that was started last year, when all of you promised to gather the final Friday of every month to have a cozy little dinner party among yourselves. It usually takes place at Chan's, since his apartment is bigger than the rest of yours, and because him and Jess are practically the parents of the group anyway.

The second you step into the living room, a chorus of groans erupts all around. Hyunjin and Jisung are the most vocal petulant babies, pouting from their seats, complaining that you two took too long and that they've been starving for hours.

You and Felix shrug off your jackets before delegating the tasks to the lot of them, since you were in charge of picking up the food for tonight. Minho and Seungmin grabbing plates and cups from the kitchen for Changbin and Jeongin to set on Chan's large coffee table.

You opt for a seat on the carpeted floor, next to the spot on the cream-colored couch where Minho left his phone, feeling more comfortable this way since the table is a little low for your liking. They come back a few minutes later, and you smile up at Minho when he reclaims his seat on the couch.

"Hi." He smiles back, smoothing a hand over your hair in greeting.

"Hi," you say. Even a touch so simple warms you up from the outside chill you were in mere minutes ago. No one else notices his lingering hand on you, or it's just such a you and Minho thing to be mildly affectionate with each other that the others don't care to comment on anymore.

You all fall into easy conversation soon after everyone starts digging in, chatting amongst yourselves as you always do. You and Hyunjin lament about your respective projects, reiterating the frustration that you've already expressed through your texts for the zillionth time. Chan and Jess nag Jeongin about introducing his girlfriend to the group, to which the younger one responds with an exaggerated groan as one would when their parents ask about grandchildren, though he does placate them by promising to bring her along the next time there's a party.

You don't care enough to tune into Minho's conversation with Changbin and Felix about the new gym they started going to. You do, however, catch Changbin's attempt to tease Minho. A playful scoff, followed by, "Minho lost his abs ages ago."

Your response is automatic and therefore, it doesn't warrant much thought from you before the words are tumbling out of your mouth. "No, he has abs. They're still there."

You don't recognize the weight of your words until you notice all chatter has halted, and you look up to find all eyes on you.

"How do you know that?" Jeongin is the one to voice everyone's collective thought, puzzled, a little surprised.

"Yeah, isn't Minho notoriously weird about that stuff?" Felix adds.

You blink in a daze, and you don't know if your face is reddening because of embarrassment but you sure hope that it isn't. The mouthful you're munching on gives you a reason to stall, your reputation of being a slow eater makes the excuse more believable when you don't answer right away.

As subtly as you can, you nudge Minho's leg with an elbow. He just laughs, though you're pretty certain he can tell that you're internally freaking out.

"I was walking her home from class a few weeks ago and we got caught in the rain. She let me come up to her apartment to change," he says calmly.

You remember that day. He was walking you from campus back to yours, so that part was true. But it didn't start raining until you were both sheltered in the comfort of your apartment, with him on top of you as he fucked you nice and slow on the couch. You didn't know when the rain stopped, but it must've been some time during your shower that you offered him to join with the innocent intention of cleaning yourselves up and saving water, only for him to end up on his knees with his face between your legs and his fingers buried deep inside of you. He'd made you come three times that afternoon, then took you out to udon afterward.

"And you just... changed in the middle of her living room or something?" Changbin asks, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Minho shrugs, completely nonchalant. "Yeah."

The silence in the room persists as you swallow down the bite. Their stare lingers on the pair of you, then they turn to look at each other like they're speaking a secret language that you're unfamiliar with. Why is it such a scandalous thing for you to see Minho without a shirt? You've seen your other guy friends shirtless numerous times before, when all of you are hanging out in someone's apartment on particularly hot summer days.

Though, they aren't wrong. The arrangement between the two of you muddles your memory, but you don't really remember seeing Minho flaunt his bare skin often before.

You're about to squeeze out a weak response to aid Minho's explanation, but your friends just start nodding along in acceptance.

"I guess that makes sense. If there's anyone who would see him naked, it'd be Y/N."

This definitely makes you blush. Minho laughs again.

"What?! I did not see him naked."

Well, look who's a liar now?

"Y/N, and whoever he's banging," Hyunjin supplies, which seriously doesn't help the flush on your cheeks at all.

"Why would it make sense that it was me?" you protest.

"Because you're his favorite." Jess is the one who answers, to which the rest of your friends all hum in agreement. The way they're reacting makes it seem as though it's just a fact of life that you're Minho's favorite, and that whatever boundary he lets you cross or whatever rule he breaks when it comes to you is simply a result of this fact.

Not once has it crossed your mind that everyone might have a favorite person in the group, but now that it's been said, you quickly conclude that Minho would be your favorite too (your secret arrangement notwithstanding.)

You glance up at him, seeking reassurance with a curious blink. "Am I?"

"You're alright," is what he tells you in lieu of a confirmation. "The least annoying one."

And you don't know if it's the way he speaks ever so gently when he looks at you or how his lips curl up in a knowing smile that sends a tingle of warmth down your spine. Or perhaps the culprit is the softness in his sharp eyes that makes you a little dizzy, makes a pair of butterflies go rampant at the pit of your stomach, as though they're prepared to soar when the ardor of spring begins to thaw the winter frost.

Chan laughs, "That's practically a declaration of love from Minho."

At one point, Hyunjin looks around and comments with a mouth stuffed full of pizza, "Wow. We are literally perfectly divided."

All eyes fall onto him, clearly no one is catching his drift.

Hyunjin swallows his food and washes it down with a big sip of beer before gesturing vaguely at the group, "All the singles are on the floor."

You look at the people on the couch while they stare back at you, Hyunjin, Seungmin, Changbin and Felix sitting comfortably on the fluffy rug.

"I'm single," Jisung says, pointing at himself. "Should I get on the floor?"

"No, you're not," Seungmin says flatly.

"What?"

"Didn't you get back together with your ex girlfriend?"

"What?" Jisung practically squeaks out. "Man, what are you talking about?"

"I live with you. We literally share a wall. I heard you last week. The whole two hours."

“You were home?!”

"My shoes were by the door. I had dishes in the sink. I went to the bathroom to pee several times."

Jisung gasps, growing redder and redder as more eyes start diverting their attention to him. He opens his mouth only to promptly close it as he thinks of what to say. Repeats the process a few times. "We didn't hear you. You never said anything," is what he settles on stuttering out. Then, "Why didn't you bring it up? Why do you have to air out my dirty laundry now?"

"It's more entertaining to embarrass you in front of everyone." Seungmin shrugs, and ignores Changbin's subsequent comment calling him a pervert. "And no wonder you didn't hear me. You were going at it like you were rabid."

"Wait," Jeongin says, "when did you even get back together?"

"We didn't. It's complicated! We're just… y'know…"

When Jisung trails off sheepishly with the bright blush still apparent on his cheeks, Minho cuts in, finishing his sentence bluntly, "Boning."

You send him a glare from where you're seated on the floor, to which he just gives you a lopsided grin and nudges you with his knee.

While everyone else is busy bombarding Jisung with questions on potentially getting back together with his ex, Minho quietly slithers down to the floor like a stealthy cat, squeezing himself into the space between you and Felix. Minho rests his arm behind you on the couch, leaving it stretched out comfortably on the cushions, just lightly touching your back. Usually, when you two are alone, he would have his arm wrapped around your shoulders so he could pull you close, until you're safely tucked into his side where you would remain on most of your evenings spent together. But for now, he leaves his arm where it grazes you only slightly as you sit among friends, with the exception of his hand reaching to play with your hair once in a while.

"Hey!" Hyunjin practically screeches, pointing at Minho when he notices. "Why did you get on the floor?"

"What?" Minho asks innocently. "You said the singles are on the floor."

"You're not single. You have a girlfriend."

"I don't have a girlfriend."

Hyunjin scoffs. "You have a sneaky link."

"Hmm, not the same as a girlfriend."

"Why can't you just tell us, man? There's gotta be something else you're hiding."

You stay quiet, still as a statue while they bicker back and forth, like the mere motion of your breathing could give your secret away. You don't doubt that Hyunjin has been hounding Minho about his new discovery ever since the night of Yeonjun's party, but Minho seems unfazed about it, evading Hyunjin's badgering with a calm composure that's distinct to no one else.

You excuse yourself to the bathroom, quickly shuffling away as if your absence at the table would help make things seem less suspicious for Minho. You splash some water on your face, wait for a while until it feels like an appropriate amount of time has passed for them to have already moved onto another topic. You are, quite literally, hiding from your own friends.

Moments later, you re-enter the room with gentle footsteps and a certain tension in your spine, but you soon grow relieved when you find that the conversation has somehow shifted to Seungmin and his on-again off-again not-girlfriend, about which he just seems kinda sad for a few seconds before he's telling everyone to fuck off and mind their own business, always quick to conceal any and all emotions. He's similar to you in that way, you suppose.

You sit back down next to Minho who's still on the floor, though you put a little distance between your bodies that wasn't previously there. You don't know if it's enough to be noticeable, but he does look at you for a brief moment before leaning a bit closer, asking softly so only you could hear, "Walk you home later?"

You embark on the familiar route from Chan and Jess' place back to yours. It's not that late, barely even 10PM on a Friday night, but the streets are almost deserted. Barely anyone tipsily roaming the streets with their friends in tow; just a few cars passing by every now and then. You relish in the peace and quiet, sighing softly to yourself as you walk in the crisp evening air.

Minho takes casual strides next to you, letting his hand brush against your hand for a while until his pinky finds its way around yours. The tranquility of the city is nice, but being with Minho is even nicer.

Just some of the stars have come out to play, though the way they gleam and glimmer is enough to make up for what they lack in numbers. It's easy to get lost tonight, when you're looking up at an infinite sky with little light and only Minho's pinky hooked around yours like an anchor to guide you back home.

In the grand scheme of things, you're just a speck of dust. You're young and confused - 23 is still a child in your mind - and most of all, you're insignificant. Not in a self-disparaging way. Maybe in the literal sense of the word would be more accurate.

You are insignificant, merely a face among billions of faces. In a crowd of hundreds, or maybe only dozens, you're not someone who would stand out and be picked. Sometimes, it's nice to blend right in and hide in plain sight; you don't particularly enjoy being under the spotlight anyway. But sometimes, it's lonely to be just a drop in the ocean. You could sink right to the bottom and no one would even notice.

Maybe that's why you enjoy being around Minho so much. He makes you feel safe, and seen, like you matter in the end. He makes you feel like if you were to disappear one day, there's a person out there who would go to the ends of the earth in search of you.

You hope that he sticks around, that he wants to be in your life for as long as you can have him. You're not sure what it is that makes you sick to your stomach at the mere thought of losing him; perhaps because you know you will never come across another one like Minho in your lifetime. There's nobody else that can make you feel the same way he does.

I don't want to lose you. You're the only good thing I have.

An intersection, two left turns, and your apartment building comes into view all too soon.

"Wanna come up?" you ask bashfully. The streetlights do a good job at masking your light flush.

"I can't tonight," he says, a little apologetic. "I'm going to my parents' house first thing in the morning."

"Oh." You're disappointed for no specific reason. Sure, you were practically glued to Minho's side for most of the evening, but you were also surrounded by the very friends who are unaware that you two have been sneaking around behind their backs. It's been about over a week since you hung out with him alone, which isn't that long ago by any means, but still. "For the weekend?"

"Yeah, just for the weekend."

There's a selfish urge, just a tiny one, to ask him to come for a while anyway, maybe only twenty minutes or so, but you swallow it down and wave it away. "Okay, have fun. Say hi to the cats for me."

"I'll send you pictures," he tells you. "They miss you, y'know."

You smile at that, laughing a little. "They've met me once."

Last fall, you and your friends all took a weekend trip to Minho's childhood home for his birthday. It was fun for you, though you're not sure how much his parents actually enjoyed it, considering they had to house and feed almost a dozen kids that weren't their own. You remember the cats, of course you do, and how Soonie took an immediate liking to you, how he mostly hovered around your personal space whenever you were in the house.

"No, seriously. My mom says Soonie meows your name once a day."

You throw him an eye roll, accompanied by a light punch to his shoulder.

"Goodnight, Min," you say. "Text me when you get home."

"Okay."

Even after that, the two of you still stay rooted to the spot, your pinkies interlocked. Minho's gaze doesn't leave your face, and for a moment there, it feels like most of the stars didn't show up because they all left to gather in his eyes.

"Can't go up if you don't let me,” you quip, glancing at your hands, knowing full well that you can easily retract your finger if you want to.

His eyes stay on you for just a moment longer. "Let me kiss you," he asks softly, releasing your pinky only to take your hand in his, tugging you closer until you’re all up in each other's personal space.

You blink at him, your heart caught somewhere in your throat. You're close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off his body. "Min…" you murmur but you don't actually know what you want to tell him, so the nickname hangs like an idle lantern in the bubble of space between your faces.

"Just a goodnight kiss."

"Friends don't kiss," you say meekly, reminiscent of your conversation over a week ago.

"Friends don't have sex either," he repeats.

"But we’re not having sex."

"You asked me to come upstairs. What do you think we would've done?"

And he's right. If he had agreed to come up, then you would probably be pressed against the door right now, with his hands trailing down your body, removing every article of clothing they find, his lips kissing every exposed patch of skin along the way.

Minho would've been kissing you regardless - anywhere and everywhere, and you wouldn't have had any qualms about it like you do right now, even though you want to kiss him too.

"Maybe I wanted you to come up to make you peel tangerines for me while we watch a movie."

He says nothing to that, only grins amusedly and leans in to nudge his nose against yours. It's so cute that you can't help but mirror the quirk of his lips. You're sure that no one else gets to see this version of him - the one that boops you like an overly affectionate cat and smiles like you're his favorite person not just in your little group, but in the whole wide world.

"I haven't kissed you all week," he murmurs, his voice so gentle in the quietude that surrounds you. "You were right there but I couldn't kiss you all night."

You lose yourself in his brown eyes, the same eyes that hold nothing but sincerity and fondness for you. The stars here are brighter than the ones overhead.

"Let me kiss you," Minho says, "please?"

You cave. Of course you do.

The first glide of his lips over yours has you weak in the knees. Something sinks in as he kisses you deeply. Under the streetlights, not surrounded by your familiar four walls like a long lost secret but out in the open where anyone can see, even though there's not a single soul around.

Tears well up behind your eyelids the same way they did that morning you woke up next to him for the first time. You don't know what it is, never felt this way around anyone except for him. It's akin to the feeling of finally coming home after being away for a long time, or at least that's what you think that's how it would feel.

You don't want to be caged in by the walls of your own making. You want to be seen, and you want to be seen by him. You're the remnants of snow and ice stuck between cracks in the sidewalk, and he is warmth. You're a mosaic of a daffodil garden caught in an endless winter, and he is spring. Minho is the brief but wonderful moment when cherry blossoms have yet to fall from their branches, but green leaves are already growing impatiently, resulting in the beautiful coexistence of pinks and greens if only just for a few days.

You let him kiss you until you're both out of breath, let him wrap his strong arms around your body and hold you like he could mend all of your broken pieces. Maybe he could. Maybe you'd like him to make you whole again.

When Minho pulls away, he doesn't stray very far. He puts enough distance between your faces so you can catch your breath. But even then, you have a hard time getting air back into your lungs. He's looking at you like he would pick the moon for you if you asked, like moving mountains is no more difficult than peeling tangerines for you whenever you get a craving.

The streetlights are dim, but the stars in his eyes are bright enough to tell you something that his words don't.

It hits you all at once, in a moment where even the wind is still, as if it's been reduced to a mere spectator, watching the two of you with bated breath on the sidelines. The tipping point can be something as simple as him asking - almost pleading - to kiss you goodnight with no ulterior motive, no other intention than because he wants to. As though it would kill him if he had to go another minute without kissing you.

You realize why he's the yellow to your sea of blues, why you're so happy every time you look at the bracelet on your wrist. You realize why you feel so safe around him, why he makes you experience emotions that no one else can. You realize why you don’t like hearing about Hana, or any other person in the same sentence as his name with the implication that he could be romantically involved with them.

You realize why you kissed him for the first time all those months ago, and it wasn't because you were sad and he just happened to be there and let you cry on his shoulder. The times that your friends would tell you how you and Minho would be perfect together - you wanted it to be true. You knew it was true - that he was someone you could love, the only person who's worth opening up to. You kissed him because you wanted to love him. You realize why it made you soar when he kissed you back, because you wanted him to love you too.

You realize why the thought of losing this friendship terrifies you. You realize why you asked him to stay that night after the party and the club, even though you had never allowed him to sleep over before. You realize why the other week you let him only kiss you and nothing else, and you realize why your heart is hammering in your chest this very second, why your knees are weak, why you can't really breathe here in the middle of an empty street under a moonless sky, just because he's looking at you as if it's not the sun that the earth revolves around but rather, it's a girl who has never learned how to say what she means.

You're good at leaving things alone; it's a skill that you've unintentionally mastered over the years. Nothing has to change if you let it remain the same. And yet, the one exception always seems to be Minho, and you're a mirror of yourself when you're with him. You like the version of you that only he's able to bring out, and he does it effortlessly every time. He pulls happiness out of you so easily that it's hard to ignore what you feel for him, hard to convince yourself that what you harbor for him is still only platonic affection.

It comes bubbling up to the surface without your permission. It strikes you the same way lightning splits open the whole sky on a cloudless night, abrupt and unmistakeable. Love isn't something that you've ever come close to, and you have always been an unbeliever when people answer "You just know," in response to "How do you know when it is love?"

Though as you stand right here, right now, you think maybe this is what love is supposed to look like, personified with starry eyes and shallow dimples when he smiles.

Before he leaves, Minho presses another sweet kiss to your cheek. You're still dazed by the dawning, overwhelmed by the recognition that you can only mutter a stupid "Bye," when he bids you good night.

As you watch him go, there's something else you realize, almost tragically, that you've always been a ruiner. You run away the moment shit starts getting too real, even if it means letting beautiful things slip through your fingers like running water.

Love just isn't something you've ever learned to hold.

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not��permitted by any means. [posted 15.04.2024]

[thehighladywrites]

- “if it is so wrong, why does it feel so good?”

pairing: stalker/perv!azriel x reader, nesta, elain and feyre mentioned

summary: stalking and perving is azriel’s favorite activities. What happens when you finally drop the oblivious mask and confront him

warnings: dark content, stalking, perving (on literally everyone), breaking and entering, stealing panties, az having a darker side, getting turned on by your fear, az eating you out, reader being bold and hot as fuck omg,

amara’s note: okay this is very short bc it’s my first time writing a dark fic. Also i hope you like it and pls read the warnings.

Azriel knows he is some sort of sick freak. He knows he should resist his sinful glances at Feyre when she's cozied up on Rhysand's lap. He flexes a little extra just to spark Nesta's desires, fully aware of her fantasies. And as for Elain, well, let's just say he's playing a forbidden game of spying while she bends over to plant her greens.

Azriel's is extremely aware he shouldn't be harboring forbidden desires or indulging in the secret pleasure of stalking someone as seemingly innocent as yourself.

Azriel, the ultimate mastermind, keeps everyone guessing. Who would suspect the quiet, brooding and publicly respected spymaster to be a closeted perv and sick stalker? It's his most guarded secret hidden beneath the intimidating exterior.

Little does Azriel know, you're fully aware of his perverse behavior—his wandering eyes and spying shadows. It surprises you that no one has figured him out yet; after all, it seems quite apparent, doesn't it?

You don’t miss his lurking shadows following you around for hours. A regular fae would’ve missed it but not you. You’ve grown accustomed to him and his ways. You know him better than anyone else and you definitely know of his stalker tendencies.

Azriel believes he's smooth, avoiding outright ogling. Instead, he strategically glances at you during training with Cassian and while sharpening his weapons, subtly appreciating the way your body moves.

Pervert azriel walks up to you, complimenting your form, claiming while it’s good there’s something you need to fix. You don’t mind if he needs to grab your waist while fixing your pose right? And of course you’ll excuse him if he accidentally brushes against your boobs and ass. I mean he just wants to help you perfect your form!

He watches you walking through Velaris from the shadows, always hiding one of his shadows with you. He tells himself that he does it for your safety. Who knows, you might be attacked and he needs to be ready.

He absolutely doesn’t want to hear how much of a hypocrite he is for also stalking you in the safety of your home aswell.

Azriel steals your panties, silently breaking into your room as he looks through your drawers, skimming through the collection of panties. He promises himself it’s the last time, though he’s made the same pledge seven times before.

Azriel's stalking tendencies lead him to roam through your belongings, touching everything to become familiar with your world. He goes to your vanity, picking up your perfumes, and indulges in the forbidden pleasure of smelling the one thing he desires most—you.

Lying in your bed, his head on your pillow, he starts shifting in the sheets, inhaling more of your scent. He revels in the trespass and wrongness of being in your bed, knowing that you might catch a hint of his own scent lingering there, a twisted thought crossing his mind that it could confuse, frighten, or even arouse you.

His cock swells at the thought of you scared, heart beating fast, trying to place who the scent belongs to.

He looks around and finds one of your shirts on the bed and picks it up to his nose.

Then he does the one thing he swore he would never stoop to. He pulls out his already hard cock and strokes it while inhaling your scent from the shirt.

—

He has timed you and learned your schedule hence why he now knows that you’ll be in the shower for the next twenty minutes, giving him the perfect opportunity for his perverse activities. He’ll pick up the laciest most intricate pair, keeping it in his room as some sort of trophy with the other stuff he has taken from you. No one can enter into his room anyways, it’s safe…

Pervert Azriel looks through the little crack in your door as you stand there posing infront of a mirror while wearing pretty much nothing. A lacy little lingerie set as you touch your body, hands traveling all over your tits, waist, ass then up through your hair as you spin around, admiring yourself.

You know Azriel is standing at your door, he isn’t really all that subtle with his hand down his pants as he jerks off at the sight of you.

It’s almost enough to make your eyes roll back into the back of your head, fucking gods, he’s pathetic.

You wanted to fuck him for the longest time. He could just ask you to fuck and you’d say yes yet here he is thinking he’s slick as he pervs on you. Even with all that in mind, there’s a sick, twisted adrenaline rush spreading through your body at the thought of the esteemed and highly respected spymaster doing something so dark and wrong like this.

“I know you're there, Az. Come out,” you say, a wicked smile forming on your face as you plot to utterly humiliate him.

His entire body freezes and Azriel cautiously emerges from the shadows, realizing he's been caught. You maintain that mischievous grin, ready to unleash your plan. The air thickens with anticipation as the confrontation unfolds.

“Az?”

He looks like he’s about to jump out of the nearest window as he looks at you through the mirror.

“Yes?”

“Why are you such a disgusting little pervert? Here I am trying on some clothes and you’re just perving on me. How do you think that makes me feel? I mean I could be super afraid and you wouldn’t have any remorse? Who does something like that?”

Azriel's face heats up at the mocking question, flushing as he tries to respond.

“Az, I asked you a question,” you assert, walking over to him. His embarrassment is palpable as he apologizes, rambling about not knowing what came over him, begging you not to tell anyone.

You already know the answer, and a knowing smile plays on your lips as he seeks forgiveness.

“You’ve done a very bad thing, Azriel. Bad people deserve to be punished. You of all people understand that, right?”

Pushing him back onto one of the sofas in your room, you creep closer, leaning over to whisper. Looking down at him, you place your hand on his cheek, letting your nails dig in a little.

“I think you deserved to be punished.”

Azriel's heart raced, fearing exposure for his hidden activities. Was this it? Would you punish him by revealing his actions to everyone?

Before he could plead for forgiveness, you stood up, walking back to your bed and beckoning him over with two fingers.

As he approached, ready to sit, you extended your leg, placing your foot on his stomach, halting him in his tracks..

“Not so fast,” you assert, a wicked smile playing on your lips. “The bed is reserved for me. You can kneel on the floor.”

Azriel complies, gracefully sinking to his knees. His gaze meets yours, his beautiful eyes revealing a mixture of submission and desire.

“You’re going to eat my pussy. If you manage to make me cum, I won’t tell anyone about your disgusting behavior, understand?”

He couldn't believe what was unfolding. Was he really about to taste you? About to experience the fantasy he'd daydreamed about every single day? He nods, but a disapproving tsk follows.

“I need more than a nod, Azriel. Do you understand?”

A quick, “Yes, I understand,” escapes his lips.

You can't help but smile at the swiftness of his compliance.

“That’s good. Now, I’ll be taking off my bra and panties and they’re very expensive and new so they better not go missing.”

Azriel affirms his understanding and then proceeds to drool over the way you slowly strip infront of him before you spread your legs and tell him to start.

He grabs your thighs and pulls you closer to the edge as he dips his head down to run his tounge up and down your slit, tasting you before playing with your clit.

You gasp in pleasure, letting out moans as your hands find their way to his hair, urging him to keep going.

Azriel’s hands dig into your thighs that are currently smushing his head. He decides to let you continue, telling himself that if he dies like this, he'd go down as the happiest person in history.

“T-that’s it, right there.”

A breathy moan escapes your lips as you feel two of his fingers enter you. Your hands grab his dark soft hair as he started pumping his fingers, relishing at the way your soaking cunt is squelching and squeezing him.

You whimper at the way his thick fingers strecth you out then curl against that secret spot, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. You start to slowly fuck yourself on them, eager for more of him.

“You taste even better than I imagined, fuck.”

His desperate voice only spurred you on.

It doesn’t take much longer for that feeling to build up in your stomach, the tight cord eventually snapping. You squeeze and throb around his fingers as you cum hard, letting out whines and mumbles.

Azriel helps you ride out your high, memorizing every facial expression in case this is the last time you ever let him this close again.

He pulls out his fingers and lick them clean then goes back and licks your pussy clean.

You let out a giggle at the sight before you, casting him a look of fake sympathy as you pull yourself together.

“Well, look at that. Seems like I’ll be keeping your secret after all. I mean, what a shame to loose such a good little pussy eater, right? I might just keep you around.”

You beckon him to rise, tossing your underwear onto the sofa before heading to the bathroom to clean up.

Glancing back at his flushed face and heavy breathing, you offer a secret smile.

“Who knows, next time I might even let you fuck me.”

Turning around, you leave him to his thoughts as the shower starts.

Azriel stands there for a moment, his desire evident. Unable to resist, he takes your panties and bra, always craving something of yours.

He promises to himself that he won't do it for an eighth time before hurrying back to his room, to finally help himself

🏷️ taglist: @stasiereads @clairebear08 @daycourtofficial @historiaxvanserra @rowaelinsdaughter @acourtofladydeath @acourtofwhatthefuck @redbleedingrose @danikamariewrites @readychilledwine @nocasdatsgay

[aphroditelovesu]

can you do a Yandere Nico di Angelo? please headcanons

''I can not lose you. And I won't." — Nico di Angelo.

❝ 💀 — lady l: I love Nico and we need more content about him 😣. This is dedicated to @nastyavolk-cp, hope you like it! Forgive me for any mistakes! 🤎🖤

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, overprotection, mention of death and murder and toxic relationships.

❝💀pairing: yandere!nico di angelo x gender neutral!reader.

Nico di Angelo wouldn't see that something is wrong or distorted in the way he acts towards you. He firmly believes that he feels what he feels for you just because he loves you and there's nothing wrong with loving someone, right? Maybe some thoughts are more distorted but that's ok. He's fine, there's nothing to worry about.

He is always by your side, even if not always visibly. Nico has the power to travel through shadows and will use it to keep an eye on you. He's paranoid about your safety, he already lost his sister, someone he loved deeply, so he won't lose you too.

You probably won't even notice that he's there, literally in the shadows, watching you and protecting you. His eyes, expertly trained, swept the environment, attentive to any movement, any sign of danger. Nico was like a ghost, always vigilant, always ready to intervene, only noticed if that was what he wanted.

Nico is a generally reserved and quiet person, especially in the presence of other demigods, due to the fact that he feels out of place at Camp Half-Blood. He was like his father, always out of place in the presence of others, but you didn't make him feel out of place, but wanted. You made him feel wanted, like he truly belonged somewhere, with you.

This feeling is something he cherishes and craves more than anything. Nico desperately wants to be loved and accepted for who he is and you make him feel loved and accepted and he can't lose that comfort, that love. He can't lose you.

Nico knows, he is absolutely sure, that he would go crazy if something happened to you. If you were injured, or worse, killed, he would go crazy with anger and sadness. He is a very powerful demigod and the consequences would be serious. The only person truly capable of calming his fury would be you.

He sees in you a chance to be happy, something good in his life and he cannot and will not allow you to be taken away from him. Nico respects you very much and values ​​you and your opinion above everything and everyone. He listens to you like he never listened to anyone else and will do whatever you want. Anything to make you happy.

Nico is quite possessive of your attention and doesn't like sharing it with others. They are not worthy of receiving it because they did nothing to deserve it, not like he did. You are his answer, his salvation and he adores you immensely, he adores you almost as if you were a deity. They don't do that, they don't adore you or appreciate you the way he does, so why would you waste your time on them?

He would definitely steal something from you that you wouldn't miss just to have a piece of you with him always. It could be anything from an item of clothing to your water bottle, he would take it because it's yours and he wants to have you with him. Nico is kind of your worshiper and protector and he craves your approval like a child.

Nico is extremely overprotective of you and that's no surprise. There were dangerous beings, monsters, that could hurt you or murder you and he couldn't have that. He prefers to keep you by his side, but he knows this is unrealistic, so he usually watches you and at any sign of danger, he will take you away. This goes for quests. When you're in danger, it's like something inside him shuts down and all that's on his mind is protecting you. And he used any means to make sure of it.

He doesn't like the idea of ​​you going on quests, but he has no control over that, so he will insist on going with you. It's not ideal when he's hovering over you during a fight, but it proves effective because he doesn't let any monsters get close to you. And after the fight is over, he will wait for your approval and praise.

Nico is a protector, a caretaker who is always there for you when you need him, maybe he's not good with words, but he will offer you comfort and secretly enjoy having you need him, because it shows that you need him just as much. he needs you. And Nico needs you, only the gods know how much he needs you. Just don't leave him, because Nico doesn't know what he'll do if you abandon him.

[xitsensunmoon]

The order of things

Part 1 | Part 2

People tend to forget that Sun and Moon are literal items. They have no free will, no choice, no freedom, nothing at all. Everything that can be in their possession, can also be torn away by the company and they won't be able to do anything about it. And the worst thing about it all is that they need to believe they're nothings here because if they don't it will crush them. Their opinions? Nothing. Feelings? Never existed in the first place. Memories? It belongs to Faz co and to them only.

What will happen if you treat them as equals? Denial. They cannot let themselves believe you. Because if you're right... the reality is a very cruel thing.

This particular comic is part of a storyline where the dca physically cannot have romantic feelings.

Yet.

As much as I love the sweet fiction I also love the cruel realism. Programming is a very simple thing - if you don't put something in the code, it won't appear by itself. The daycare attendant is not programmed to be able to love.

But self-operating AI can learn. Especially when someone wants it to.

The virus makes them feel a lot. Probably too much. It's a new program, new commands, new triggers, new opportunities to push the boundaries.

It doesn't make them feel love of course. But they think that it does. It feels like love to them.

Not like they know how it's supposed to feel anyway.

And while Moon tries to embrace it, to feel, to understand...

...Sun hides. But not from his feelings, he hides from the fact that the virus affects him as well.

It can't be true. Why would he be dangerous like Moon? No, if he ignores it, it will go away. Moon is the one who's broken. Sun is totally fine, everything will be fine. He will make sure of it.

For Moon's part, he's fed up with hiding. It's always him who's in the shadow. But with the virus?

Freedom for Moon. Control for Sun.

AI will learn.

[fancyfade]

2009 era Damian reading

As I've been doing my 2009 era Damian reading, I'm trying to condense the good stuff and bad stuff, and things I believe are relevant for his character. These are in addition to what I assume is obvious (Batman and Robin 2009, the comic where he has a starring role).

Battle for the Cowl: this has how Damian becomes Robin. It's not necessarily good. Daniels really does not understand Damian, especially this early in his writing, but it does have some important context for things going down b/c Damian helps Squire save Tim's life, and we can see Dick viewing training Damian as something he is responsible for.

Secret Origins (2014) #4: This is a much more in character Damian becoming Robin, though fit for a condensed new 52 timeline that leaves some stuff out (like Damian's rocky intro with Bruce).

Batman #688 (Long Shadows part 1): Winick seems one of the early writers who does a Damian as he lines up with later characterization (views himself more as a professional assassin), so I think this one's good.

Batman: streets of Gotham #1-6: damian makes some minor appearances here.

Batgirl #5-7: Always take Damian's guest-starring stuff with a grain of salt, as often times writers just go with "how would an obnoxious 10 year old boy act here" without understanding he's a specific kind of obnoxious 10 year old boy... that said I do like some of his interactions with Steph, and I think it's incredibly important that we see Damian defends his competence based on his training, not on his blood.

Like he'll sometimes justify why he belongs based on his blood (which like... no one acts like they want him around), but he isn't going around saying "I'm better than you b/c I'm batman's son". he was trained intensely since birth (and that's why he should say he's better than you :P)

Batman #692-697: not a ton of Damian in this, and it is Daniel's writing, but he's a little better than he was in Battle for the Cowl. We see Dick training Damian some.

Batman: Streets of Gotham #7, #10-#11: love this plotline for him. Good show of competence and characterization.

Blackest night: batman: More focused on Tim and Dick, and Tomasi sucks at writing Babs, but at there is some Damian content that I remember enjoying.

Red Robin #11-15: as long as you read this one with your brain turned on, it's good for explaining some Tim and Damian stuff. Sadly some fans are like "woooo arrogant 10 year old gets beat up". Nicieza makes some missteps (frames Tim's thinking around Damian as coldly logical, when it is anything but and he is reacting from a place of emotion), but one can ignore those.

Batman #703: shows Damian's character pretty well in a default Batman and Robin adventure, and his relationship (or lackthereof) with Bruce and his dynamic with Dick and Alfred

Teen Titans #88-92 (including Red Robin #20 in a crossover plot): surprised by how well I liked this one. I think it portrays Damian pretty fairly, and we can see that he is trying hard, but hasn't been given a lot of support up until now (or even now, Dick kind of just drops him off with a bunch of older kids who all also have issues and are predisposed to disliking him XD). His dynamic with rose is fun and I think it is notable how quickly he does acquiesce to following Cassie's orders when she's like (at first) the only Teen Titan who is OK with him being there and assures him its not personal when she makes a comment he doesn't like.

Bruce Wayne: The Road Home: Batman and Robin: Has some nice Dick and Damian banter, showcases how they've worked together well

Batgirl #17: more damian and steph interactions.

I will probably add more (either editing this post or in a reblog) as I keep reading.

[fischyplier]

Misfits and Magic Season 2 Episode 2 "Magma and Mingle": My Thoughts and Analysis

So here are my thoughts on Evan and Sam. Am I the only one that doesn’t see their relationship progressing into romance? I can understand that in this season Brennan and Danielle are having more scenes together. At this point, Evan and Sam's relationship feels platonic to me, but who knows what could happen in the next few episodes. I prefer platonic relationships because they feel more interesting than just romance. Also want to take the time to say, I love and appreciate all the hard work that went into this and every season of D20. Thank you to the crew, the players and Aabria cause misfits and magic has become very near and dear to my heart!

Click below to read more, warning long post:

Anyways, Evan has gone through a LOT of traumatic experiences since childhood and continues to till this day. Evan's body is riddled with scars, broken bones that healed wonky, etc. He got stabbed on a bus at night trying to retrieve a talisman for Boodle 10 months ago. And I would not be surprised if he's been through more but hasn't had the opportunity to tell his friends or elected to say nothing. I can't help but to read too deeply into the quote "dream small". Is it cause I feel that Evan has learned to dream small in order to not get his hopes and expectations too high? Just a theory... A game theory! I'm sorry.

After 3 years of no contact the pilot project are back! But they haven't really had the time to sit down and catch up. In the video below, Sam says "I feel like there's a lot of things that when we talk you don't tell me." Which kinda leads me to believe, Evan doesn't want to worry his friends so he bottles up his feelings and doesn't open up. And when he does it's always with a smile and jokes to mask the hurt. He isn't just sad, he feels like a burden and tries to not take up space. I can really relate to this.

Even Brennan says Evan is in deep pain. The breakup he went through didn't help but there is more under the surface we as the audience still don't truly know. The experiences of being a lonely unhoused teen is the reason why Brennan chose "belonging" as Evan's ideal track. Because that is the one thing he's been deprived off, humans are social creatures and need to interact with others. What happens to a developing brain when that is taken away? When all you know is your shadow, loneliness and hunger? So when his friend says we can talk, he takes that as a serious invitation. Evan now surrounded by friends wants to do everything in his power to protect those he loves. He doesn't expect it to be reciprocal. You can see that when he says "if I've ever done a bad job about being here for you, I'm always here for you" after Sam says we can talk. When Brennan tears up with that incredible delivery of "I missed you"... I keep rewatching that part! Evan is always on the go, needs to be prepared, needs to be ready when shit hits the fan. Sam has created a safe place where he doesn't need to be hypervigilant and can relax, maybe open up and be a little vulnerable.

Sam is rightfully concerned that something deeper and terrible is going on with Evan.

When Evan continues kicking a half dead Salamander that isn't a threat to any of his friends, a darkness in him wants to kick it mercilessly for pure enjoyment. That even his eyes turns black. The first thing Sam does when she sees this is to attempt to drench it in water like Jammer did. Cause she said that this has become "unnecessarily dark" and that "this is freaking her out". That she'll even resort to spitting on the creature if it means that Evan will stop kicking that crap out of it. The water cools and stops the creature. Sam is a great friend that sees Evan do something twisted and wants to help so desperately. You do not have to be falling in love with someone to do the right thing! I still think they should just be friends.

I love that in this season we can really see their friendship blossom and not just be surface level chit chat. As they get closer hopefully they can help each other in ways they really need. In the preview for the next episode Evan says, "I don't see you the way you are afraid people see you." Sometimes it takes someone outside of your point of view to see aspects of yourself you are too close to see. And I think that's beautiful.

That leads into my next point, no I don't think the progressing of their relationship means that romance is in the air. I can't remember where I read it but another person said it best, intimacy doesn't mean romance. You can get close to someone, be a shoulder to cry on and depend on without developing feelings. You can love and respect your friend and keep it at that level but develop on that intimacy of a great friendship. I feel like it made the most sense for these two to get closer in this season because they have more in common now. Before it was just the fact that they were students learning magic at Gowpenny and being NAMPS (non magical person or let's be serious MUGGLES!). But now Evan and Sam have both underwent break ups and that's something they can really connect on. I really hope they don't get together right after cause that sounds like a rebound and to me, story wise pretty boring. And in my honest opinion, jumping into another relationship right after being with K is a little too soon. Evan needs a friend not a lover, at least for the time being. He needs to keep his inner darkness and insecurities in check. That or a therapist.

Hopefully this doesn't age like milk, and if they do get together I guess I'm wrong! :3

Thank you if you read till the very end, here is a gif of Brennan giving you a thumbs up!

Why? Cause you are pretty cool!

Please consider liking or reblogging this post if you liked what you read. And I'd love to hear your thoughts on this episode and if I should continue!

[moonlitstoriess]

The Hidden Legacy- A Ruhn Danaan x Rhysands sister series

Chapter 2: Whispers of a Broken Future

Summary: Rhysand’s sister, Seraphis, long thought dead, was taken by the Asteri/Valgs, her memories erased and turned into a ruthless killer loyal to their cause. After Bryce kills the Asteri, Seraphis seeks vengeance on her and everyone else involved. As she hunts them down, Rhysand and the Inner Circle discover the shocking truth: she’s alive, and now their enemy.

See masterlist

Obscura: A state of being hidden, unknown, or mysterious. A shadow over reality, obscuring what is true or real.

"Do you ever wonder who you really are, Seraphis?"

Rigelus' voice was a low murmur, almost soft as he circled around her, hands clasped behind his back. They stood in one of the private chambers of the Asteri's citadel, far from the cold, calculating halls she had grown used to. This place felt different. Smaller, more personal, with darkened windows that let in the faintest light from the distant stars.

Seraphis didn't answer. Her jaw clenched as she stared at the ground, resisting the pull of his voice, that hypnotic charm that he always used to get inside her head.

"You were nothing when we found you," he continued, coming to stand in front of her, his piercing eyes locking onto hers. "You didn't know your purpose. But we...we gave you one we made you into something extraordinary."

Her fists tightened at her sides. Every word felt like a knife, but it cut deeper because she believed him. Without the Asteri, she would have been lost--just another face forgotten in the endless void.

Rigelus stepped closer, so close she could feel his presence, warm and overwhelming, like the sun burning too bright. "You've always been special, Seraphis. More than any of the others. I see that in you. But you need to embrace what you are, fully."

"And what am I?" she finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper, sharp with the weight of all her buried fears.

He smiled then, but it was not a kind smile. It was the smile of someone who knew he owned you, that you were his to mold, to control. "You are ours. Always."

The words hit her like a blow, but even worse was the fact that part of her wanted to believe it. Wanted to believe she belonged somewhere, even if it was in the darkness of their control.

"You can fight and run from it all you want," Rigelus whispered, his lips inches from her ear. "But the truth is, I will always catch you, my butterfly. Because without me, you are nothing."

The flash of that memory left Seraphis shaking as she stood in front of the window, staring out into the chaotic streets of Lunathion. Her whole life's purpose, was to serve the Asteri and their interests. They trained her differently than the others.

Hell, they didn't even bother with the others.

She was the first and the only being to ever get insight into the six legendary Asteris. To learn from them, to be with them, to be under their protection, their presence. She was special because they always told her so.

Austrus had even once told her that maybe someday in the future, she could be sitting just a foot below, on the second dais, as their first in command.

Well, that was never going to happen because they are all dead now.

How couldn't the others see it? See that the Asteri were always sharing greatness insetad of terror? Stupid mortals, so self-centered, such cowardly beings, always running away, easily scared.

But Bryce was't like them. Oh, no.

That little brat thought she could put on some brave pants and fight the Asteri. What a fool, what an idiot.

She didn't even stop to think that maybe just killing the Asteri doesn't mean the end of the story. That maybe, they had a plan B, C, D, all the way to Z in their hands.

Her lips twitched up in a smirk. And Seraphis was in all of those plans.

The smirk remained on her lips as she turned away from the window, her mind churning with the possibilities. She had been created for this exact moment, for the aftermath. The Asteri had always known that one day their reign might falter, and they had placed all their bets on her.

Seraphis moved to the bed, her fingers lightly brushing over the rough fabric of the blanket. She had no time to waste on sentiment. The game had changed, but the rules were still hers to follow. The Asteri had imbued her with every secret, every contingency, every weapon. And now it was time for her to step out from their shadow and finish what they had started.

Seraphis stared at the window from her seat on the bed, the hum of the city below barely registering in her head as her thoughts spun. It was a delicate balance--one that would take careful planning and precision. She couldn't afford to rush in blindly, not when the stakes were this high.

Her eyes narrowed as she considered her options. The easiest route would be to create small, targeted disruptions across the city—nothing large enough to draw attention from the wrong forces but enough to spark curiosity. Bryce and her crew would eventually notice, especially if the incidents had a familiar touch. She smirked at the thought. It wouldn’t take long before they came sniffing around, trying to understand what was happening. And by then, it would be too late.

She would start small. Plant seeds of unrest in the lower districts, where crime already simmered beneath the surface. A few well-placed provocations, and soon, the city’s order would begin to fray. Nothing too obvious—just enough to make the tension in Lunathion palpable. And then, when the cracks began to widen, she’d start to build the real trap. The kind that would lure Bryce and her friends into the open.

But that was only part of it. Seraphis needed to study them, learn their weaknesses, observe how they moved. It was crucial to find any cracks in their group, and she knew there had to be some. It was only a matter of time.

Her eyes moved away from the window, gazing right towards the wall. The beginnings of her plan were solid, but the details needed to be refined. The hunt for Bryce, her mate and her brother would take time, but she was patient. They would come to her when the city began to unravel.

A twisted smile tugged at her lips. Yes, she would tear their world apart piece by piece, just as Bryce had done to hers.

But first, she needed to light the match.

Seraphis moved toward the table, pulling out a map of the city she had acquired earlier. Spreading it across the table, she traced the streets with her fingers, marking down potential areas where she could plant her seeds of chaos. The slums. The docks. The underground markets.

She wouldn’t need to get her hands too dirty—there were always desperate souls willing to cause havoc for the right price. And she had more than enough resources to pay for what she needed.

Tonight, she would start small. She would test the waters, see how quickly the city reacted. And from there, she would expand her operations. The goal was to draw them out, after all. And when they came? Seraphis would be waiting.

Her lips twitched into a cold, calculating smile. It was time to remind Midgard that the Asteri’s legacy wasn’t dead. It lived on in her.

The pieces of her plan were slowly falling into place. And soon, so would Bryce.

Seraphis sat back in the stiff chair, her gaze sweeping over the map again, committing every detail to memory. She knew the city well enough from her previous reconnaissance-it's layout, it's strengths, it's weak points. The underground market was her first target.

And although it's name sounded similar to the underworld or the Meat market over which the Viper Queen ruled, they could not be more different. The underground is even darker than the Meat market, the lowest point one could ever reach. Whatever you wouldn't find in the underworld, you will most likely find in the underground.

It was a place where both criminals and so-called heroes found themselves entangled, and it would make the perfect starting point for the chaos that she intended to unleash.

With a few well-placed disruptions, the tension between the gangs and the enforcers would rise, and soon enough, word would reach Bryce’s ears. Seraphis didn’t care about the outcome of that petty conflict. The market’s collapse was merely a tool, a prelude to the greater plan.

But that was for later. First, she needed to move unnoticed, blend into the shadows of the city. Despite her plans to sow chaos, her own movements had to remain undetected. For now, anyway.

She rose from the chair and crossed to the small bag she’d brought with her, opening it to reveal a neatly folded, simple cloak—nothing like the regal attire she had once worn in the Asteri’s court. This was meant for blending in, not standing out. She pulled the fabric over her shoulders and tightened the clasp at her neck. Then, she grabbed a few essential tools from her pack—daggers, a gun, lockpicks, and some cash—just enough for tonight’s mission.

As she turned to leave, her gaze flicked to the reflection in the small, dingy mirror hanging above the dresser. The female staring back at her was not the same one she had once been. The cold detachment in her eyes, the calculating glint in her expression—it was all forged from the years under the Asteri’s influence. They had trained her, molded her into a weapon, and now, she would use that power to strike down those who had wronged her.

But something in the pit of her stomach tightened as she looked at her own face, and for a brief moment, she wondered what she would have been without them. Without the manipulation, the teachings, the control.

No. She couldn’t think like that. That path led to doubt, and doubt had no place in her mission.

Seraphis exhaled slowly, forcing the unwelcome thoughts away. There was no room for weakness. Not now, not ever.

She pulled the hood of her cloak up and quietly exited the motel room, blending into the late-night crowds that still lingered on the streets. The city’s pulse was alive around her—bright lights, roaring voices, the distant sound of music and laughter from the nearby bars. But all of it felt muted to her, as though it belonged to a world she no longer had any part in.

The underground market was a good distance away, but Seraphis was in no rush. The night stretched long, and the quieter the streets became, the easier it would be to move through unnoticed.

As she made her way through the alleyways and narrow streets, she began to mentally run through the next phases of her plan. After the initial chaos at the market, she would need to set up a few more “incidents” in other key areas of the city. The slums, in particular, were a breeding ground for unrest. And she would use that unrest to her advantage, stirring the pot just enough to bring everything boiling to the surface.

But all of it—every step she took—would be meaningless if she didn’t ultimately bring Bryce and her allies into the fray. Bryce needed to see the consequences of her actions. She needed to understand that killing the Asteri hadn’t ended their reach, that Seraphis still carried their legacy. And Seraphis would make sure that Bryce knew exactly who had come for her in the end.

Seraphis’ steps slowed as she approached the market district. This was where the first domino would fall. It would be subtle at first—just enough to stir the waters—but it would be enough to start the chain reaction. She smirked beneath the hood of her cloak, her fingers itching to put the plan into motion.

The hunt had begun.

The deeper she went into the market district, the fewer lights illuminated the way. The shadows grew thicker, darker, more welcoming. She preferred it that way. She had always been more comfortable in the darkness--where she could disappear, where no one could track her.

The underground market came into view soon enough, it's entrance tucked between two crumbling buildings in one of the older parts of Lunathion. It wasn't marked, but she knew the signs- the faint hum of activity, the subtle symbols carved into the stone by those who frequented this place. Only those who were meant to be here would find it.

Seraphis pulled her hood lower, her face obscured, and made her way to the door. A lone guard stood by, eyeing her warily, but he made no move to stop her. He wasn't paid to care about who came or went--only to keep the peace inside. That worked to her advantage.

She slipped past him and into the market below.

The underground market was a labrynth of dimly lit corridors, filled with stalls and vendors selling everything from the rarest magical artifacts to specific body parts of powerful beings. The air was thick with the scent of smoke and incense, and the low murmur of voices echoed off the stone walls. It was a place of deals and danger, where money and power changed hands in secret.

And tonight, Seraphis would be the one pulling the strings.

She wandered through the stalls, her eyes scanning the wares, but she wasn't here to buy. No, her interest lay in the individuals--the ones who operated in the shadows, the ones who could help spread the chaos needed. It didn't take long to spot them. They were always the same type--the smugglers, the mercenaries, the power-hungry who would do anything for the right price.

Seraphis approached a small group huddled near the back of the market. Three males. One wolf, one fae, one human. Perfect.

They were rough looking, armed with blades and distrustful eyes. She could feel their wariness as she neared, but they made no move to stop her.

"You look like the kind of men who know how to find things," she said, her voice low, carrying just enough authority to get their attention.

The wolf, a tall male with a scar running down his cheek, gave her a once-over before nodding. "Depends on what you're looking for."

"I'm not looking for anything." She pulled the black cloth from her bag, and slowly unwrapped one of the relics, revealing a small, intricate object glowing faintly with power. The men's eyes widened at the sight. "But I am offering something. This--and more--if you're willing to do a little work for me."

The men exchanged glances, greed already shining in their eyes. The scarred one stepped forward. "What kind of work?"

"Simple," Seraphis said, her voice cold and calculating. "Spread the word. Tell your buyers that something big is coming. A power shift. A chance to get in on something...greater."

She let the words hang in the air, giving them time to bite. The men leaned in closer, intrigued. "And who are you, exactly?"

"Someone who know's whats coming," she replied. "And if you're smart, you'll play your part when the time comes."

The male's eyes flicked to the relic in her hand, then back to her. "And if we do?"

"You'll be rewarded beyond your wildest dreams," she said smoothly, knowing full well that these idiots would sell their souls for even a taste of the power she offered. "But cross me, and you'll be the first to burn when this city falls."

The three seemed to mull it over for a moment, then the scarred one nodded slowly. "We'll spread the word. But we want more than just promises."

Seraphis smiled darkly and handed him the relic. "Consider this a down payment."

She turned on her heel and disappeared back into the maze of stalls, her work here done. The seed of chaos has been planted, and it wouldn't take long for it to spread.

Seraphis slipped out of the market and into the cool night air, her heart steady, her mind clear. It was only the beginning. Soon, the streets would burn, and Bryce would have no choice but to come out of hiding.

And when she did, Seraphis would be waiting.

She pulled the hood of her cloak tighter around her face and melted back into the shadows. Tonight had gone according to plan, but there was still so much work to be done. This was only the first step, the first move in a much larger game.

A game that Seraphis intended to win.

She moved with cold precision, her mind racing through the intricacies of her plan. She didn't care who showed up first--whether it was Bryce, one of her friends, or even her allies. All that mattered was drawing them out, making them feel the chaos she was about to unleash.

The rebellion tearing through the city was the perfect distraction, but she had her own plans to accelerate the destruction. She thrived in the shadows, using the panic to slip unnoticed through the darkened streets toward the heart of the city’s market district.

The bustling square, still relatively untouched by the unrest, was a chaotic web of people moving in and out of crowded shops and vendor stalls. Seraphis stood in the shadows, watching, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

She closed her eyes and summoned her power. Time slowed to a crawl around her as she focused on the flow of energy coursing through the city. She was no master of fire or chaos in the traditional sense, but time… time was her weapon.

Seraphis sent out tendrils of her power, threading them through the crowded square. She began to bend time, subtly at first, slowing the movements of some citizens while speeding up others. A cart that had been rolling steadily down the street suddenly sped up, crashing into a vendor’s stall, spilling supplies everywhere. The vendor, moving too slowly to react, was sent tumbling into a nearby food cart, which quickly tipped over, sparking a small fire as the flames caught onto the cloth covering.

More and more, she manipulated time, sending carts crashing, people stumbling, and machinery malfunctioning. The disruption quickly spread, triggering accidents that led to more destruction—an explosion from a nearby gas lamp, a toppled building as workers moved too fast, outpacing the scaffolding’s stability.

The market district, once vibrant and alive, descended into chaos. Flames licked the edges of buildings as accidents caused by Seraphis’s manipulation spiraled out of control.

Satisfied with the mayhem, she turned her attention to the old power grid hidden in the lower alleyways. Outdated and vulnerable, just like everything else in Lunathion. She reached it swiftly, manipulating time once again to accelerate the aging process of the already fragile system.

The generator cracked, groaned, and then burst into sparks as its components wore down in seconds, unable to withstand the rapid decay. With a final pulse of her power, Seraphis watched as the entire market district was plunged into darkness. The screams that followed filled the air, rising above the crackling fires and collapsing stalls.

People ran in every direction, unable to comprehend the sudden destruction around them. Panic spread, fueled by the darkness, by the confusion Seraphis had meticulously engineered.

She stood in the shadows, watching as chaos unfolded in the streets below. The flames danced in the distance, illuminating the night in a harsh, flickering glow. She felt the familiar pulse of time bend around her, the echoes of the city rippling as if the fabric of reality itself shuddered in response to her presence.

She had done it--set the stage. The tiniest adjustment, a mere shift in the sequence of events, was all it had taken. She smiled, satisfied.

But as she stood there, a thought came to her. This wasn't just about creating chaos. It was about leaving her mark, reminding them--Bryce, and anyone who dared to be as stupid as Bryce--that there were forces at play they couldn't understand.

Seraphis turned away from the window and glanced around the room of one of the closed shops she was watching this chaos unfurl from, her eyes landing on a broken clock in the corner, it's hands twitching erratically. A smirk played at her lips. That would be her mark. Every time she struck, time would ripple around her, warping and twisting the surroundings in subtle but unmistakable ways. Clocks would break, moments would repeat, and objects would age or freeze in time.

She pulled her hood up over her head, the shadow of her cloak swallowing her figure as she made her way out of the room. The streets were in disarray, and the fire had already drawn people out of their homes. She slipped past them with ease, unnoticed as she moved through the growing crowds.

In the chaos, she allowed her powers to work their magic, creating slight distortions in the area--small enough to be overlooked by most, but clear enough for those who were paying attention. It wouldn't be long before one of Bryce's minions noticed. Someone would realize the pattern and start to piece together what was happening.

As the chaos continued to swell around her, she vanished into the night, leaving behind the broken clocks.

********

Seraphis woke early, her mind still buzzing from the previous night's chaos. The dawn light filtering through the thin curtains of her room, casting long shadows on the walls. She dressed and got ready quickly, her thoughts already on the next steps in her plan.

She headed out to a small cafe nearby, it's warmth a stark contrast to the chill of the morning air. As she sat down with a simple breakfast of coffee and bread, the cafe buzzed with the latest gossip. The patrons, their faces tired but animated, spoke in hushed, urgent tones.

"....can you believe it? The whole street's still smoldering. They're saying it was some kind of coordinated attack."

"The 33rd Legion have been working non-stop. It's a mess out there."

"So many dead too, I heard Hunt Athalar on the news, saying how whoever was behind this, will pay dearly for what they have caused."

Seraphis barely managed to stop herself from laughing at that.

The damage was clearly intensive, just as she had planned. Her actions had created the right kind of chaos to draw out Bryce or anyone from her group out. Seems like today is her mate who decided to show himself first. How fantastic.

As she sipped her coffee, her eyes wandered out the window, scanning the busy street. The city was still reeling from the night’s events, and the atmosphere was charged with a mix of fear and urgency. Her plan had succeeded, but she knew she had to remain cautious.

In the midst of the commotion, she spotted Ruhn Danaan and his auxiliary approaching. He was in conversation with his team, but his commanding presence was unmistakable. Seraphis’ heart quickened; she needed to be careful.

She subtly moved from her seat, preparing to leave. But as she slipped out the door, her eyes caught Ruhn’s gaze, just for a fleeting moment. Panic surged through her. This shouldn’t happen, she thought, trying to slip away unnoticed.

Ruhn’s eyes narrowed as he spotted her. He gestured sharply to his auxiliary, and they began to follow her. The café’s patrons were oblivious to the unfolding chase, focused on their own concerns.

Seraphis moved quickly through the streets, her pace quickening as she realized she couldn’t outrun them. Ruhn and his team closed in, their footsteps echoing behind her. She darted into an alley, hoping to lose them in the labyrinth of narrow passages.

But Ruhn was fast. He managed to catch a glimpse of her just as she turned a corner. He shouted for his team to keep up, and they surged forward. Seraphis could feel the pressure mounting; she had to act fast.

As she neared a side street, Ruhn reached out, grabbing her by the arm for a brief moment. The instant his hand touched her, Seraphis felt an electric jolt, an unfamiliar and unsettling sensation that made her pause. Her heart raced, and she felt a strange, almost instinctual pull towards him, but she quickly wrenched her arm free, her senses overloaded.

“Stop!” Ruhn called out, his voice a mixture of authority and urgency. His touch was firm, but she managed to twist away and disappear into the shadows before he could get a full grasp on her.

In her haste, she left behind a small, distinctive object—a silver pendant she always kept hidden. Ruhn noticed it lying on the ground and picked it up, his eyes narrowing as he examined it. The pendant bore intricate designs that seemed out of place in the city’s everyday life.

Seraphis vanished into the maze of streets, her breath coming in quick, ragged gasps. She glanced back only once, seeing Ruhn still searching for her, his gaze scanning the alleys. She knew he would not find her now.

As the sun climbed higher, the city continued its recovery, unaware of the brief encounter that had occurred. Seraphis took a deep breath and moved forward, her thoughts already turning to the next phase of her plan.

She had managed to escape, but the pendant left behind might pose a problem. It was a small slip, but one that could have significant consequences.

And Seraphis had no idea how to get it back.

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Taglist: @annamariereads16 @tooexhaustedsstuff @a-frog-with-a-laptop @cassie-at-college-blog @itsinherited

[dee-writes-angst]

THE SPRING COURT (Chapter Two)

FEATURING Lucien Vanserra x Reader

SUMMARY A conversation with the High Lady leaves you with a lot to think about, especially the odd tug you feel toward Lucien. It certainly doesn't help when you both set off on your journey and in between the rustle of the changing trees and the calls of the birds around you, you discover a soft side to Lucien that makes you feel warm in a terrifying way.

CONTENT WARNINGS Tamlin, mentions of newborn/baby, talk of fulfilling dreams, themes of deep sadness/loneliness, TAMLIN, arguments/fighting, angst, closed off Lucien, Elain getting shit on by tam tam, Lucien being worried about tam tam, and themes of friendships falling out

AUTHORS NOTE yes, I do recall promising you all an update on the save a hero series, and yes, I am posting a FAT chapter to courts instead :) <3

SERIES MASTERLIST

After leaving the study, the High Lady led you through a labyrinth of grand hallways and winding corridors, each more elegant than the last. The air smelled faintly of oak and candle wax, carrying the gentle hum of servants and maids going about their nightly duties. She greeted them with warm, familiar smiles, a stark contrast to the authority she commanded during the coronation. You found it fascinating how easily she seemed to balance both roles—the ruler and the caretaker. 

As you continued down the hall, you noticed a shift in the surroundings. Stacks of wooden crates lined the walls, filled with what looked like old nursery furniture—small beds, rocking chairs, faded toys. There was a faint scent of dust, like the memory of long-untouched rooms now being awakened. 

“This used to be the nursery wing,” the High Lady explained, catching your gaze as you took in the scattered pieces of history. “Where all of Eris’s brothers once lived.” 

There was something sharp in her tone, a bitterness that cut through her usual grace. The mention of Beron’s children seemed to summon a shadow across her face. “Beron liked to keep his children at a distance,” she continued, her voice low, though there was an edge to it that you couldn’t quite place. “He believed in separation, even among family.” Her lips pressed into a thin line, a harshness settling in her eyes that told you more than her words ever could. 

Eris, with his new reign, clearly did not share his father’s cold ideals. “Eris and I don’t agree with those values. We’ve decided to move the children’s rooms next to our wing, closer to us, where they belong.” She glanced around the hallway with an air of finality. “This is becoming a guest wing. Unfortunately, it’s still being renovated, and the only room that hasn’t been touched yet is Lucien’s childhood bedroom. That’s where you’ll stay tonight.” 

Her hand rested briefly on a door with a simple gold handle. The frame was worn, showing its age, with faint markings of painted foxes still visible along the chipped wood. Despite the years of wear, you could imagine how bright and full of life those foxes had once been, just as the room behind the door must have been when Lucien called it home. 

With a gentle push, the High Lady opened the door, and you stepped inside. 

The room you stepped into was a masterpiece of elegance and warmth, a sanctuary carved from the very soul of the Autumn Court. It stretched out before you like a quiet dream, far more expansive than any space you had ever known. The high, vaulted ceilings soared above, giving the room a sense of grandeur, as if it had been crafted to mimic the boundless canopy of the forest outside. 

Rich, chocolate-colored wainscoting lined the walls, gleaming softly in the amber light that spilled from the ornate chandelier overhead. The wood was polished to a mirror-like sheen, its surface catching and reflecting the glow in a way that seemed to invite you deeper into its embrace. Above the wainscoting, the walls were painted in a deep, velvety forest green, the color so lush it seemed to pulse with life. It was the kind of green that spoke of old growth and whispered secrets, a color that held the wild, untamed beauty of the forest at its heart. 

And then, there were the foxes. 

Along the upper edge of the walls, just beneath the ceiling’s crown molding, a series of exquisitely painted foxes danced and played, as though the very essence of the forest had been brought to life within these walls. Their russet fur gleamed with vibrant reds and golds, their bodies caught mid-motion, forever racing through painted fields and under the shelter of painted trees. Some foxes curled in peaceful repose among the foliage, while others leapt with wild joy, their eyes sparkling with untold mischief. The artwork was so vivid, so full of life, that you half-expected one of them to break free from the walls and dart across the floor, disappearing into the shadowed corners of the room. 

At the heart of the room stood a grand four-poster bed, carved from dark mahogany that gleamed with the same deep richness as the wainscoting. The posts were thick and sturdy, their surfaces adorned with intricate vines and delicate leaves that wound their way up to the canopy. The bed itself was a haven of luxury, draped in sumptuous layers of crimson and gold, the colors of autumn leaves set aflame. The blankets were plush, the pillows impossibly soft, and it beckoned you with the promise of rest—a retreat from the whirlwind of change swirling around you. 

To one side, a large stone fireplace sat nestled into the wall, its hearth cold for the moment, but the scent of kindling and wood hung in the air, ready to be lit. The mantle above the fireplace held a painting, a stunning landscape of the Autumn Court’s forest at twilight, the trees ablaze with the fiery hues of fall. The light in the painting seemed to shimmer and shift as you moved, as if the leaves were swaying gently in the breeze. It was a perfect mirror of the world beyond the walls—a world both familiar and distant. 

Your gaze shifted to the tall, arched window on the opposite side of the room. Heavy velvet curtains, the same deep green as the walls, were drawn back to reveal the moonlit forest outside. Silvery light filtered through the glass, casting a soft glow over the room and illuminating the vast expanse of trees beyond. The forest stretched endlessly, its leaves shimmering under the light of the moon, and you could almost hear the soft rustle of the branches, as if the forest itself was whispering to you. It was a view that reminded you how small you were in the grand scheme of things, and yet, how vast the world was—waiting, calling. 

Every detail in the room had been chosen with care. From the rich textures and colors that enveloped the space to the faint scent of cedar and pine that clung to the air, it was clear this room had been designed to offer both comfort and reflection. It was as if the room wanted to remind you of the beauty of the Autumn Court, even as it offered a glimpse of something more—something beyond. 

Yet, as your eyes drifted over the space, there was a sense of dissonance. For all its beauty, this room was not yours, not truly. It belonged to the world you were about to leave behind, a world you could never fully claim as your own. 

“Eris told me the foxes were added by their mother when she was pregnant with Lucien,” the High Lady’s voice drifted softly from behind you, breaking the silence as she noted how your gaze lingered on the intricate artwork. There was a tender note in her tone, one that softened even further at the mention of Lucien. “Lucien apparently spent hours watching them, imagining they were real—so real, in fact, that he believed they might leap off the walls and disappear into the forest beyond.” 

You could almost picture it: a small boy, wild with imagination, his copper hair catching the sunlight as he watched the foxes with wide, wondering eyes, convinced that the painted creatures might slip through some hidden doorway into the woods. 

“Eris said they had to keep a close eye on him when they played in the courtyard, or else Lucien would wander off into the trees, searching for the animals that lived both on his walls and in his dreams,” the High Lady continued, her lips curving slightly at the memory. “My husband finds it odd that Lucien connects so deeply with the foxes. But I—” she paused, as if tasting the words on her tongue, considering them carefully before continuing, “I can see why. Even knowing him as little as I do, I understand why he feels that call. He moves like them, don’t you think? Sly, quick, with that mask always in place... hiding the suffering underneath.” 

Her eyes followed the painted foxes along the walls, her expression distant, as though she was sifting through memories from long ago. There was a glimmer of something—perhaps regret, or nostalgia—that flickered across her face, a sheen of remembrance in her gaze as she tracked the foxes, each one captured mid-dash, as if frozen in the moment before they might spring to life. 

“He was a good friend to me once,” she murmured, her voice soft and thoughtful, almost as if she were speaking more to herself than to you. “But even then, when we were closest, I never really knew much about him. That’s how Lucien is... funny, in a way. He has this gift for making people feel at ease, like you’ve known him all your life. You fall into this sense of comfort, trusting him as if he’s an old friend, and before you know it, you’ve told him everything about yourself.” She chuckled lightly, but there was a hint of sadness beneath it. “And only after you’ve left do you realize—you never learned a thing about him in return.” 

She turned her gaze back to you, the warmth in her eyes shadowed by something deeper, a quiet understanding of Lucien’s guarded nature. You could hear it in the way she spoke of him—like someone who had tried to reach him, had once thought they were close, only to find that Lucien had always kept himself just out of reach. 

As you stood there, the weight of her words settled over you. The painted foxes seemed more than just childhood decorations now—they were symbols of something elusive, something that danced just beyond your grasp, much like Lucien himself. 

"I apologize for my nonsensical rambling," she chuckled softly, shaking herself from her reverie, as ifam the memories had momentarily swept her away. There was a faint blush of embarrassment on her cheeks, though her smile remained warm. "It seems, with the coronation and everything, I've fallen prey to nostalgia." 

Her laughter was light, but you could sense the weight of the evening on her shoulders—the emotions of the past and present all tangled up in the swirl of change. As she composed herself, the air shifted, and for a brief moment, you saw her not just as a ruler, but as someone who had lived through her own struggles, her own losses, much like the man she’d just described. 

"I'll let you get some rest," the High Lady said warmly, her smile soft as she made her way back to the door. She hesitated for a moment, her hand resting lightly on the gold handle before turning to face you once more. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you said yes to joining Lucien. I know you haven’t had much time to get to know me, and that all of this—" she gestured vaguely to the room and the whirlwind of events surrounding you, "—might feel overwhelming, maybe even a bit random. But when we spoke earlier, and you shared your dream of traveling, I saw something in your eyes.” 

Her gaze softened further, as if recalling that moment between you in the ballroom. “There was a fire in you, a passion so strong it almost sparked something in me. Call me crazy, but I’ve never trusted someone so completely at a first meeting. It was bizarre, how quickly you enraptured me, how I was drawn into your dream as if it were my own.” 

Her voice lowered, more intimate now, as if revealing something she had not shared with many. “I’m lucky to be able to provide you the means to chase that dream. And I hope that if—when—you return, you’ll come find me, so that we might become true friends.” 

The words felt genuine, but there was something else in her eyes—something left unspoken. As if, beneath her gratitude and warmth, there was another hope. A hope that the fire she had seen dancing in your eyes might somehow reignite another’s—a fire that she had once thought to be unquenchable. Her expression flickered with the briefest shadow of regret, a reminder of someone she had once considered a close friend, only to discover that his struggles had been kept hidden behind his ever-present mask. Lucien. 

She didn’t say it aloud, but it hung in the air between you, unspoken but palpable. The High Lady, it seemed, wasn’t just offering you an opportunity for your sake. She was hoping, perhaps, that through your own passion, you might help rekindle a spark in someone who had all but let his light go out. A friend she had tried to reach, but had never truly been able to know. 

Her eyes lingered on yours for a moment longer, before she gave a final, quiet smile. Then, with a gentle click of the door, she left you alone with your thoughts. 

Sunlight filtered through the heavy velvet curtains, casting a golden glow across the room. You stirred beneath the layers of plush blankets, the softness cradling you in a warmth that felt almost foreign. For a moment, you lay there, caught between the remnants of sleep and the encroaching reality of the day ahead. The events of the previous evening replayed in your mind—the High Lady’s words, the room’s quiet grandeur, the lingering presence of Lucien, even in his absence. 

As your eyes fluttered open, you found yourself staring at the ceiling, where the painted foxes still danced and played, their russet fur gleaming in the morning light. The sight filled you with a strange mix of emotions—comfort, curiosity, and an unsettling sense of displacement. This room, so full of history and warmth, was not yours. It was a space imbued with the life of someone else, someone you barely knew but felt inexplicably drawn to. 

What is it about this place? you wondered, your thoughts trailing off as you pushed yourself up onto your elbows. The bed was large enough that you felt small within it, almost as though it was swallowing you whole. The High Lady’s voice echoed in your mind, her words about Lucien replaying like a haunting melody. He moves like them… sly, quick, with that mask always in place. The comparison resonated deeply, pulling at something inside you—a desire to uncover what lay behind that mask, to understand the man who had lived his childhood surrounded by these painted foxes. 

As you swung your legs over the edge of the bed, your feet sinking into the thick, plush rug below, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of anxiety. Today, you would be stepping into the unknown, into a life that was not yet fully yours. The High Lady had been kind, her words full of warmth and hope, but there was an unspoken weight to her expectations. You had agreed to join Lucien, to help him in some capacity you still didn’t fully understand, and that decision now loomed over you, its consequences unfurling like the morning light creeping across the floor. 

What have I gotten myself into? The thought was both thrilling and terrifying. You had always longed for adventure, for a life beyond the confines of your previous existence, but now that it was within your grasp, doubt began to creep in. The room, with its rich textures and warm colors, suddenly felt like a gilded cage—beautiful, yes, but confining in its own way. The painted forest, the foxes, the lavish bed—it all seemed to be watching you, waiting for you to make your move. 

You rose slowly, your body still heavy with sleep, and made your way to the window. The curtains were partially drawn, allowing a sliver of sunlight to illuminate the room. As you pulled them back, the full splendor of the Autumn Court’s forest came into view. The trees, bathed in the early morning light, shimmered with the fiery hues of fall, their leaves rustling in the gentle breeze. The sight was breathtaking, and for a moment, you forgot your worries, lost in the beauty of the world beyond the glass. 

This is what I wanted, you reminded yourself, inhaling deeply as the scent of cedar and pine wafted in from the forest. A chance to see the world, to live a life of meaning. But even as you tried to reassure yourself, the unease remained. There was so much you didn’t know, so much left to discover—not just about this place, but about Lucien, and perhaps even yourself. 

Your thoughts drifted back to the High Lady’s words, her unspoken hope that you might rekindle something in Lucien that had been lost. It felt like an impossible task, one you weren’t sure you were ready for. And yet, there was a part of you that was drawn to the challenge, that wanted to prove—to yourself, to the High Lady, maybe even to Lucien—that you were capable of more than you had ever imagined. 

Today is the beginning, you thought, your resolve hardening as you turned away from the window. The doubts and fears would not vanish easily, but you couldn’t afford to let them hold you back. There was a world out there, waiting to be explored, and a journey you had only just begun. And as you dressed, each movement deliberate and purposeful, you made a silent promise to yourself—to see this through, to face whatever lay ahead, no matter how uncertain or difficult it might be. 

With a final glance at the room, you stepped toward the door, ready to meet whatever awaited you on the other side. 

After what felt like an eternity of winding corridors and endless hallways, you finally arrived at the entry room, but not without some help. The morning had begun with a sense of purpose, but that quickly dissolved into confusion as you attempted to navigate the sprawling estate. You had passed the same set of ornate vases twice before you finally conceded defeat and stopped one of the maids, asking for directions to the entry room. Her polite smile, laced with amusement, did little to ease your embarrassment, but she kindly guided you to your destination, chatting about the daily bustle of the household along the way. 

Now, as you stood in the entry room, your breath caught at the sight before you. The space was grand, with high ceilings adorned with intricate carvings of autumn leaves and forest animals. The walls were lined with dark wood paneling, giving the room a cozy yet regal feel. Sunlight streamed in through the tall windows, casting a warm glow over everything. 

And there, waiting with a bright smile and a baby perched on her hip, was the High Lady. She looked every bit the ruler and mother, her eyes sparkling with warmth as she spotted you. The little one on her hip babbled happily, clutching at her mother’s dress with tiny, chubby fingers, clearly enjoying the morning excitement. 

“Good morning!” the High Lady greeted you, her voice full of genuine warmth. She adjusted the baby on her hip, pressing a kiss to the top of the little one’s head before looking back at you. “I hope you found your way here without too much trouble?” 

You chuckled softly, feeling the tension ease from your shoulders. “Not without a few wrong turns,” you admitted, glancing around the room. “But your staff is very helpful.” 

She laughed, a sound like soft bells. “This house is like a maze, isn’t it? Even I still get turned around sometimes, and I’ve lived here for a few years now.” The baby cooed in response, as if adding her agreement, and the High Lady smiled down at her daughter before turning her attention back to you. “I’m so glad you’re here, though. Lucien will be joining us shortly.” 

As if on cue, Lucien appeared from an adjacent hallway, his presence as commanding as ever. He was dressed simply, in riding gear that emphasized his lithe, athletic frame. His auburn hair caught the light, giving him an almost otherworldly glow, and his russet eye met yours with a brief flicker of warmth before his gaze shifted to the High Lady and her child. 

“Good morning,” Lucien greeted, his tone polite but reserved. He offered a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes, though there was no mistaking the genuine affection when he looked at the High Lady and the baby. “Ready for the journey?” 

“Almost,” the High Lady replied, shifting the baby to her other hip. “I wanted to see you both off, but I’m afraid Eris won’t be able to join us. He’s been caught up in a meeting with his advisors, going over some new community improvement plans. He sends his apologies.” 

You nodded, feeling a pang of disappointment, though you quickly pushed it aside. The High Lord’s absence was understandable, and the High Lady’s presence was more than enough to set you at ease. The baby, who had been contentedly babbling, suddenly reached out toward Lucien, her tiny hands grasping at the air. 

Lucien’s expression softened, though his eyes held a unique sort of pain as he stepped closer, allowing the little girl to grab onto his fingers. “Someone’s in a good mood this morning,” he murmured, his voice low and affectionate. The baby giggled, her eyes sparkling with joy as she tugged on his fingers, clearly delighted by the attention. 

The sight of Lucien with the baby on his arm was endearing in a way that caught you off guard. For a moment, the reserved, guarded man you’d met seemed to melt away, replaced by someone far more gentle, someone who might have been a doting father in another life. 

The High Lady watched the interaction with a soft smile, then turned back to you. “Shall we head outside? Your horses are ready, and I don’t want to keep you waiting any longer.” 

With a final kiss to her daughter’s head, she led the way outside, Lucien falling into step beside you. As you walked through the grand double doors and onto the cobblestone path that led to the courtyard, the crisp morning air greeted you, carrying the scent of pine and earth. The courtyard was a picturesque scene, with leaves fluttering down from the trees and the sunlight filtering through the branches. Two horses stood saddled and waiting, their coats sleek and shining in the morning light. 

The High Lady turned to you with a smile, her daughter now babbling happily on her hip. “I hope you’re as excited as I am for this journey,” she said warmly, her eyes twinkling with the same energy you’d seen the night before. “It’s a wonderful opportunity, and I’m sure you and Lucien will make a great team.” 

You smiled back, though your excitement was tempered by a small knot of anxiety that tightened in your stomach as you eyed the horses. You had never ridden a horse before, and the thought of it now, with all eyes on you, made your heart race. You swallowed nervously, trying to steady your breathing. 

The High Lady must have noticed your hesitation, because she tilted her head slightly, a gentle, knowing look in her eyes. “Are you all right?” 

You hesitated, then nodded. “I’ve… never ridden a horse before,” you confessed, your voice quieter than you intended. It felt almost foolish to admit, especially in front of Lucien, who seemed so at ease in every situation. 

Lucien turned to you, his expression softening with understanding. “It’s nothing to worry about,” he said gently. “We’ll take it slow. I’ll help you.” 

The High Lady smiled reassuringly. “Lucien is an excellent rider. You’ll be in good hands.” She shifted the baby on her hip, the little girl squealing happily as if in agreement. “You’ve got this,” she added with an encouraging nod. 

With that, she handed her daughter off to a waiting maid, then turned back to you. “Thank you again for joining us,” she said softly, her voice full of warmth and sincerity. “Take care of each other out there and know that our doors will always be open to you.” She reached out to give you a quick, friendly hug, her embrace brief but comforting. 

You returned the hug, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over you. “Thank you for everything,” you replied, your voice steady as you pulled back and offered her a small smile. 

Lucien stepped forward then, taking the reins of your horse. “Come on,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “I’ll help you up.” 

You approached the horse, trying to mask your nervousness as you looked up at the imposing creature. Lucien’s strong hands were there almost immediately, steady and sure, as he placed them on your hips. His touch was warm and surprisingly reassuring, and as he guided you onto the saddle, you found yourself relaxing, if only slightly. 

“Just keep your legs steady and hold onto the reins,” Lucien instructed, his voice calm and encouraging. “I’ll lead you until you’re comfortable.” 

You nodded, gripping the reins tightly, your heart pounding in your chest as you settled into the saddle. Lucien gave you a final, reassuring smile before he moved to mount his own horse with practiced ease. Once he was settled, he took your reins in hand, his touch steady as he turned to the High Lady. 

“Take care, both of you,” she called out, her voice bright with affection as she waved to you. “We’ll be waiting for your return.” 

With a nod, Lucien urged his horse forward, and you felt your own mount move beneath you, following his lead. The sensation was strange at first, the rhythmic sway of the horse’s gait unfamiliar, but Lucien’s calm presence kept you grounded. You clutched the reins tightly, your knuckles white, but with each step, the initial terror began to ebb away, replaced by a tentative sense of trust—in Lucien, in the horse, and in yourself. 

As the two of you rode out of the courtyard and into the forest, the High Lady’s figure grew smaller in the distance, her baby’s babbling fading into the morning air. You took a deep breath, the fresh scent of pine filling your lungs, and as the trees closed in around you, you felt the weight of your journey ahead—both the excitement and the unknown. 

Lucien glanced back at you, his eyes catching yours for a brief moment. “You’re doing great,” he said, a note of approval in his voice. And somehow, despite everything, you believed him. 

The path through the forest was peaceful, the silence broken only by the soft rustling of leaves and the steady clop of hooves against the earth. You kept your eyes on the path ahead, trying to focus on the rhythm of your horse’s movements rather than the lingering nervousness in your chest. But as the initial trepidation began to fade, it was slowly replaced by a sense of awe. 

The Autumn Court’s forests were breathtaking, especially in the morning light. The trees towered above you, their leaves a tapestry of red, gold, and orange, some drifting lazily to the ground in a gentle dance. The air was crisp and cool, carrying the earthy scent of fallen leaves and moss. You had always admired the beauty of your homeland, but there was something different about experiencing it from the back of a horse, the world passing by at a pace that allowed you to truly take it all in. 

Every so often, Lucien would glance back at you, his russet eye assessing, as if ensuring you were still comfortable. Each time, you managed a smile, the excitement bubbling up within you outweighing any lingering nerves. 

“How are you holding up?” he asked after a while, his voice cutting through the quiet. 

“I’m… doing okay,” you replied, a hint of surprise in your own voice. It was true—once you adjusted to the sway of the horse and the rhythm of the journey, it wasn’t as frightening as you’d first imagined. In fact, it was almost exhilarating. “This is all so new to me.” 

He nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I remember my first time leaving the Autumn Court,” he said, his tone a touch nostalgic. “The world seemed so much larger, more vibrant. Every new sight and sound was an adventure.” 

You felt a spark of connection at his words, your own excitement mirrored in his memory. “I’ve always dreamed of seeing more of the world,” you admitted, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “There’s so much out there, so much to explore… But now that I’m actually doing it, I’m realizing how little I know.” 

Lucien’s smile grew, this time more genuine, and he slowed his horse slightly so that you could ride side by side. “That’s part of the adventure,” he said, his voice carrying a note of encouragement. “Not knowing what’s around the next corner, but finding the courage to face it anyway. You’re doing that now, aren’t you?” 

His words settled something within you, a reassurance that you hadn’t realized you needed. You nodded, a small but determined smile on your lips. “I suppose I am.” 

The journey continued, the forest gradually thinning as the path wound its way out of the heart of the Autumn Court. The scenery began to change subtly, the rich hues of autumn slowly giving way to the softer, more muted colors of the borderlands. The trees here were less dense, their leaves a mix of green and yellow, with patches of wildflowers dotting the underbrush. 

You marveled at the shift, your eyes wide as you took in every detail. “It’s amazing how quickly everything changes,” you murmured, more to yourself than to Lucien. 

He heard you anyway and nodded. “The courts are like that. Each one has its own character, its own rhythm. You’ll notice it even more as we get closer to the Spring Court.” 

Your heart quickened at the thought, a mixture of excitement and nervousness flooding your chest. You had heard stories of the Spring Court, of its rolling hills and blooming meadows, but to see it for yourself—well, that was a different matter entirely. 

As you rode, Lucien began to share stories of his travels, tales of the courts he had visited, the lands he had seen. His voice was steady, calm, with just a hint of fondness for the memories he recounted. He spoke of the Night Court’s starry skies, the Summer Court’s golden beaches, and even the Winter Court’s icy beauty. You listened intently, hanging on to every word, your imagination painting vivid pictures of places you had only ever dreamed of. 

“What about the Spring Court?” you asked eagerly, your curiosity piqued as the landscape continued to shift around you. “What’s it like there?” 

Lucien’s expression softened, a hint of something almost wistful in his gaze. “The Spring Court is… alive,” he said after a moment, searching for the right words. “It’s all about renewal, growth. Everywhere you look, there’s something blooming, something green and vibrant. It’s a place where everything feels fresh, like the world is waking up after a long sleep.” 

The way he described it made your heart ache with anticipation. The idea of such a place—a world so full of life and color—was almost too much to believe. You found yourself leaning forward slightly in the saddle, eager to catch the first glimpse of this new land. 

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, the borderlands gave way to rolling hills, and the forest thinned even more. The ground beneath the horses’ hooves grew softer, the earth rich and loamy, and the air took on a fresh, sweet scent. You could sense the change coming, your excitement mounting with every step. 

And then, finally, you crossed the border into the Spring Court. 

The transition was almost imperceptible at first, just a gradual softening of the landscape. But then the world seemed to explode with color. The trees here were different, their leaves a lush, vibrant green, with blossoms of every hue peeking out from between the branches. Wildflowers carpeted the ground, their petals a riot of pinks, purples, and yellows, and the air was filled with the gentle hum of bees and the sweet trill of birdsong. 

You inhaled deeply, the scent of fresh blooms and damp earth filling your lungs. It was as if the entire world had come alive, every sense tingling with the sheer abundance of life around you. 

“This is incredible,” you breathed, unable to keep the awe from your voice. You turned to Lucien, your eyes wide with wonder. “I’ve never seen anything like this.” 

Lucien’s gaze softened as he watched you, a small smile playing on his lips. “It’s something, isn’t it?” he agreed, his voice warm. “The Spring Court is unique in that way. It’s… comforting, in its own way.” 

You nodded, unable to tear your eyes away from the landscape as you continued to ride. Everywhere you looked, there was something new to marvel at—a babbling brook winding its way through a field of wildflowers, a pair of deer grazing in the distance, their coats dappled with sunlight. It was almost too much to take in all at once, but you didn’t mind. This was what you had always dreamed of—discovering new places, seeing the world beyond the Autumn Court. 

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows over the vibrant landscape of the Spring Court, the mood between you and Lucien began to shift. The closer you got to Tamlin’s manor, the more the warmth that had marked your earlier journey seemed to drain from Lucien. His previously relaxed posture stiffened, and his jaw set in a hard line, the cheerful tone of his earlier stories giving way to terse, monosyllabic responses. 

You couldn’t help but notice the change. Where before he had been engaging, almost amiable, now he was quiet, brooding. It was as if the very air around him had grown colder, darker, as if the beautiful scenery you were passing through no longer held any joy for him. The Spring Court’s rolling hills and lush greenery, which had filled you with wonder, seemed to be nothing more than a reminder of something painful to him. 

Your earlier excitement began to dim, replaced by a creeping sense of unease. You had caught glimpses of this side of Lucien before—the guarded, distant mask he wore when he spoke of certain topics—but never had it been so pronounced. It was as if the closer you got to Tamlin’s manor, the more he retreated into himself, shutting you out completely. 

The manor came into view just as the sun touched the horizon, its golden light casting the grand building in a warm, almost ethereal glow. Tamlin’s manor was a masterpiece of architecture, with ivy-clad walls, towering spires, and large, arched windows that reflected the fading light like molten gold. Yet, despite its beauty, the sight of it only seemed to deepen the shadows in Lucien’s eyes. 

He dismounted his horse with a swiftness that startled you, his movements sharp and almost mechanical. When he turned to help you down, his touch was no longer gentle, but brisk and impersonal, his gaze avoiding yours. The connection you had begun to feel with him on the journey seemed to evaporate, replaced by a wall of cold indifference that left you feeling more alone than ever. 

A maid was already waiting for you at the entrance of the manor, her apron pristine, her hands clasped neatly in front of her. She was a slender woman with a kind face, her eyes sharp and discerning as she took in the sight of you and Lucien. 

“Welcome,” she said warmly, her voice a stark contrast to the chill that had settled over your companion. “I’m Alice, the head maid here. I’ll be taking care of you during your stay.” 

You forced a smile, grateful for her kindness even as you struggled with the tension that had descended on your little party. “Thank you, Alice. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

Alice’s gaze flicked to Lucien, her smile fading slightly as she took in his dark expression. “Tamlin is unlikely to show while you’re here,” she informed him, her tone gentler now, almost apologetic. “He’s… otherwise occupied.” 

Lucien’s only response was a curt nod, his face a mask of indifference. The warmth you had glimpsed in him during your journey was completely gone, replaced by something cold and unyielding. It was as if the man who had shared stories with you, who had encouraged you and made you feel safe, had vanished entirely, leaving behind only a hollow shell. 

As Alice led you both inside, Lucien’s familiarity with the manor became immediately apparent. His steps were sure, unhesitating, as if he knew every twist and turn of the grand corridors. He moved through the manor with a practiced ease, his eyes never lingering on the ornate decorations or the large portraits that lined the walls—things that might have captured your attention, but which seemed to hold no interest for him. 

He guided you down a series of hallways with the confidence of someone who had once called this place home. The silence between you only heightened the sense of tension, each step echoing in the vast, empty space. You could sense the memories that clung to the walls of this manor for him, and while he didn’t speak of them, you could see them in the way his shoulders tensed, in the tightness of his jaw. 

Finally, Alice stopped in front of a set of large, intricately carved doors. “These will be your rooms,” she said, turning to you with a kind smile. “Dinner will be served in an hour, but if you prefer, I can have something brought to your room.” 

You thanked her, but your attention was still on Lucien, who had retreated so far into himself that he seemed like a different person entirely. There was a fleeting moment where he glanced at the door to your room, recognition flickering in his eyes, as if the memories of the time he had spent here threatened to overwhelm him. But just as quickly as the emotion appeared, it vanished, his face hardening into the mask you had come to dread. 

“Lucien…” you began, unsure of what to say, but desperate to reach him somehow. 

He didn’t look at you, his eyes fixed on the door in front of him. “Rest,” he said curtly. “We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.” 

With that, he turned and walked away, his steps just as sure as before, taking him deeper into the manor that had once been his home. You watched him go, a heavy feeling settling in your chest. The man who had guided you here with such care and patience was gone, replaced by someone cold and distant. You could only hope that, in time, he would come back to you, and that you could find a way to break through the darkness that had settled over him. 

As you entered your room and closed the door behind you, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of what lay ahead. This journey, which had started with such promise, was beginning to reveal the shadows that lurked just beneath the surface. And you knew that if you were to succeed, you would need to find a way to navigate not just the courts, but the complex emotions that came with them. 

With a sigh, you settled into the plush bed, the softness of the linens a stark contrast to the tension that had wrapped itself around your heart. 

The manor was quiet, the kind of deep silence that only comes in the dead of night, when even the wind seems to hold its breath. You had been sleeping fitfully, your mind still lingering on the events of the day, but something stirred you from your uneasy rest. It was faint at first, just the muffled sound of voices carrying through the thick walls of the manor. 

You sat up, your heart thudding in your chest as you strained to listen. The voices were coming from somewhere close, just beyond your room. One of them was unmistakably Lucien’s, the low timbre of his voice rising and falling with emotion. The other voice, sharp and biting, belonged to someone you hadn’t met but could easily identify—Tamlin, the High Lord of the Spring Court. 

Curiosity and concern gnawed at you, pulling you from the comfort of the bed. You slipped quietly out of the sheets, your bare feet padding softly across the cold floor as you moved closer to the door. Pressing your ear to the wooden surface, you caught the tail end of their conversation. 

“…can’t keep doing this, Tamlin,” Lucien was saying, his voice tight with frustration. “You need to let go—holding onto this anger, this guilt, it’s tearing you apart.” 

A pause, then Tamlin’s voice, laced with bitterness. “What do you know of guilt, Lucien? You who left this court without a second thought, who turned your back on your home, on your people. Don’t lecture me on how to live with the choices I’ve made.” 

Lucien’s response was firm, but there was an edge of hurt in it. “I never wanted to leave, and you know that. But I couldn’t stay—not after everything that happened. And it’s not just about me anymore, Tamlin. I have responsibilities, people who need me.” 

Tamlin’s laugh was a harsh, mirthless sound. “Responsibilities? You mean your precious Night Court and your… mate? Is that what this is about? You running off to play hero for a court that isn’t yours, all because a pretty girl asked you to? Pathetic.” 

The mention of Lucien’s mate sent a jolt through you. Elain. You knew enough of her to understand the weight that name carried for him, but hearing Tamlin speak of her so callously made your blood boil. You could almost feel Lucien’s tension from where you stood, the barely restrained anger in his silence. 

When Lucien finally spoke, his voice was low, controlled, but there was an unmistakable danger in it. “Don’t speak of her. You have no right.” 

“Why? Because she’s your mate?” Tamlin’s voice dripped with derision. “Tell me, Lucien, how does it feel to be bound to someone who doesn’t want you? Someone who didn’t ask for this—just like she didn’t ask for anything that happened to her. You think following her around like a lost puppy is going to win her over? She’ll never love you, Lucien. Not like that.” 

The silence that followed was deafening. You could almost hear Lucien’s heart breaking, the words cutting deeper than any blade could. 

Then, with a coldness that sent shivers down your spine, Lucien spoke again. “I’m done here, Tamlin. If you want to wallow in your misery, fine. But I won’t be part of it anymore.” 

You heard footsteps, heavy and determined, heading in your direction. Panic seized you, and you scrambled back to bed, throwing yourself under the covers and squeezing your eyes shut just as the door to your room creaked open. 

You kept your breathing steady, feigning sleep, but you could feel Lucien’s presence in the room, his gaze lingering on you. There was a long pause, as if he was debating whether to wake you or let you rest. Finally, he crossed the room, his footsteps soft but deliberate. 

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice so close you could feel the warmth of his breath. “We need to leave. Now.” 

You didn’t move, keeping your breathing slow and even, hoping he would believe you were still asleep. Another pause, then a soft sigh. 

“Sorry about this,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “I’ll explain later.” 

You felt his hand on your shoulder, a gentle shake that roused you—or at least, made it seem like you were just waking up. You blinked groggily, playing the part as best as you could, though your mind was racing with everything you had overheard. 

“Lucien?” you asked, your voice thick with sleep. “What’s happening?” 

“We’re leaving,” he said simply, his tone brisk but not unkind. “Something’s come up, and we need to head to the Summer Court right away.” 

You didn’t protest, though your thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion and concern. You let him help you out of bed, his touch lingering for just a moment longer than necessary, as if he was grounding himself in the simple act of guiding you. There was a tension in his posture, a weariness that hadn’t been there before, and it made your heart ache for him. 

He was quiet as you both gathered your things, his movements efficient and practiced, as though he had done this a hundred times before. You wondered how many nights he had spent like this—leaving in the dead of night, running from something or someone, never staying long enough to feel safe. 

You followed him out of the room, down the silent hallways of the manor that had once been his home. He moved with a familiarity that only deepened your sadness for him, every turn and every step a reminder of the life he had left behind. But there was no nostalgia in his movements now, only a grim determination to put as much distance between him and this place as possible. 

Outside, the night was cool and still, the stars a faint glimmer against the dark sky. The horses were waiting, saddled and ready, as if Lucien had anticipated this departure. He helped you mount, his hands firm but gentle on your hips, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his fingers lingered, as if seeking reassurance in the contact. 

He mounted his own horse with a practiced ease, taking the reins of your horse once more, just as he had when you first set out from the Autumn Court. But this time, there was no light banter, no stories to pass the time. The night was heavy with unspoken words, the silence between you filled with all the things you both were too afraid to say. 

As the manor faded into the distance behind you, you couldn’t help but glance back one last time. You didn’t know what lay ahead in the Summer Court, but you knew that whatever it was, it would be easier to face than the ghosts that haunted Lucien in the place he once called home. 

And as you rode through the night, the only sounds were the rhythmic thud of hooves against the earth and the whisper of the wind through the trees, you silently vowed to find a way to help him, to reach past the walls he had built and find the man who had once let you see the warmth beneath. 

For now, though, all you could do was follow him into the darkness, hoping that the light you had seen in him earlier was not lost forever. 

TAGLIATELLE

@littlest-w01f @rcarbo1 @mirandasidefics @thelov3lybookworm @lilah-asteria @megscabinetofcurios

[alice-after-dark]

Random Song Ideas/Inspirations

These are just some random ideas that I had and I'm no song writer so I'm just gonna thought dump them for you all to suffer through lol I wish I had the ability to make fan songs like damn. These are in no particular order btw.

TW for implications of abusive relationships. Contains abusive StaticMoth.

Hell is Forever (Vox's Reprise) - A much more dark and sinister version of "Hell is Forever" sung by Vox, more reminiscent of how he started "Stayed Gone". The song is basically addressing how he doesn't believe redemption is possible and how the Vees are going to rule Hell.

Pipedream - A "Nothing Left to Lose" from Tangled the Series and "Open Up Your Eyes" from MLP: The Movie style song between Charlie and Vox. Idea originally from and expanded on in this old post and this old post, but it's essentially Vox being bitter and pessimistic vs Charlie being hopeful and optimistic.

You and Your Chain - A Angel and Husk duet about their complicated relationships with the people who own their souls featuring flashbacks to what their relationships with them were like before things got bad and how they turned sour. It's a split duet aka they aren't actually in the same space (like "Whatever It Takes").

My Hand in Yours - A Niffty song about Alastor reminiscent of "King" by Lauren Aquilina. Basically her singing about how Alastor is struggling with both his injury and his deal and about their relationship.

Soundwaves - A Alastor and Vox split duet about the deterioration of their relationship. Has "Somebody That I Used to Know/Because of You" vibes.

What I Am - A Vaggie song with "I'm Gonna Show You Crazy" by Bebe Rexha vibes. Basically a "fuck you" to her old life and her having a let loose moment.

Welcome! - A group song with Owl City's "Good Time" vibes led by Charlie as the group prepares for the grand reopening of the hotel.

New and Improved - A Sir Pentious song in the style of "I'm Still Here" from Treasure Planet. He sings about how he's always been an outcast and how he finally found acceptance and belonging at the hotel and is missing his friends. Features flashbacks to his human life.

Pretty Playtime Dolly - A Velvette song with "Sit Still, Look Pretty" by Daya vibes about her insecurities being the youngest Overlord and comparing herself to Vox and Valentino.

Had Me at Hello - A dark Vox and Angel split duet inspired by "Tag, You're It" by Melanie Martinez about their relationships with Valentino and how they've been manipulated by him.

Pay No Attention to the Man Behind the Curtain - A Vox song with "Dollhouse" by Melanie Martinez vibes. The song focuses on the stress of maintaining his perfect image.

All Bets are Off - A Husk song reminiscent of "Roses" by Poets of the Fall. It's about him regaining faith in himself and that he can be more than what he resigned himself to. He's still not sure if he can be redeemed, but he has hope he can be better. Has hints of HuskerDust.

Silence - A Rosie song with "Listen to Your Heart" by DHT energy. Takes place after Alastor seeks her advice about the situation with Vox. Features Alastor and Vox's relationship from Rosie's perspective from the beginning to the fallout, with Alastor becoming bitter and Vox cutting himself off from all his former friends.

In Your Shadow - A "Waiting in the Wings" from Tangled the Series style song sung by pre-canon Vox. He feels trapped in Alastor's shadow and is uncertain of his own ability and what he really is to Alastor (a friend? a pawn? a source of entertainment?).

[theknifeandsword]

Bryce Quinlan: The One True Heir of Dusk ✨⚔️

This is going to a loong post, so bear with me...

In HOFAS, it was revealed that the Prison Island is indeed the long lost Dusk Court and where the Starborn fae lived, ruled over by Theia, the High Queen of Prythian and the Starborn fae.

At the end of HOFAS we saw Bryce return the Mask and Truthteller to Nesta in Prythian and at the same time, she surprised Nesta, by also giving her the Starsword/Gwydion.

Because of this, many people believe this indicates Bryce's story is over, that she is rejecting her right over the Dusk Court and handing it to Nesta, who some say will go on to become the ruler of the Dusk Court in future books (some even say Nesta will pass on the Sword to Gwyn who'll wield it and rule Dusk with Azriel, as he has it's counterpart, Truthteller. But I'll come back to that theory another day).

While I very firmly, 100% believe that Nesta is integral to the future of the Dusk Court, I DON'T believe she is destined to rule it. I believe there's much more canon evidence in the books that shows Bryce Quinlan is the one true heir of the Dusk Court and will return to Prythian in future books.

Here's why Nesta's connection to dusk is undeniable but not as it's ruler:

She had the eight point star tattooed on her back along with Cassian, but it has since disappeared, whereas Bryce has it scarred permanently on her chest (exactly the same as Theia).

Nesta's power is that of silver flames, and she has shown no signs of being able to wield shadows or starlight, the two Starborn powers.

She was able to get through the wards in the prison due to her being "Made", not because she is the Starborn heir.

She was led to the prison to find the Harp. We don't know why or how yet, and although Nesta says it feels to her like the prison island is waiting for something to return, she doesn't feel it call to her in the way Bryce does.

Nesta is not linked to any dusk imagery, whereas Bryce is (Bryce smells of the first stars at nightfall, she is described as bearing dusk colours etc).

Nesta is able to use the Dread Trove that belonged to Theia because she is "Made", but struggles with the consequences of doing so (e.g. Azriel having to talk her out of wearing the mask) whereas Bryce can use them easily and with little effort (just like Theia).

Nesta warns Bryce in HOFAS about running from her fate and in HOFAS that's exactly what Bryce is doing - she hasn't yet come to terms with her fae side and despite saying constantly that Urd is guiding her...she is in denial about all the things that are trying to pull her towards her place as the Queen of the Starborn fae.

And here is Bryce's connection to dusk and the foreshadowing she will be it's ruler:

1. Only Bryce possesses Theia's starlight

The Starborn fae originally hailed from and resided in the Dusk Court and were born with one of two Starborn powers - the ability to control shadows (e.g. Cormac, Morven) or the ability to control starlight (e.g. Ruhn). Shadows and starlight come together to create Dusk, which is the time of day between night and day.

Very rarely, some are gifted with BOTH powers (e.g. Theia, Silene, Helena, and Bryce).

We learn from Aidas that Bryce was born, not just with the normal Starborn power of starlight, but the exact power and starlight of Theia, the previous High Queen of Prythian and the Starborn Fae. Bryce was born with one third of Theia's starlight reincarnated inside her:

“'I thought Theia’s light was forever extinguished.'

'So did I. I thought they’d made sure she and her power died on that last battlefield under Prince Pelias’s blade.' His eyes glowed with ancient rage. 'But Bryce Quinlan bears her light.'

'You can tell the difference between Bryce’s starlight and her brother’s?'

'I shall never forget the exact shine and hue of Theia’s light. It is still a song in my blood.'” - HOEAB 

We learn from the Silene hologram that Theia split her power into three, giving each of her daughters one third and keeping the last for herself, which died with her...before being reborn in Bryce.

Bryce finds and claims the second third form underneath the prison Island in Prythian where Silene hid it for the future heir:

"Like a small sun emerging from the stone itself, a ball of light burst from the floor. A star, twin to the one in Bryce’s chest. Her starlight at last awoke again, as if reaching with shining fingers for that star hovering inches away.

With trembling hands, Bryce guided the star to the one gleaming on her chest. Into her body.

White light erupted everywhere." - HOFAS

Finally, Bryce finds the third part of Theia's starlight, the part that belonged to Helena, locked away in the caves of Avallen:

"Light blasted up through the blades into her hands, her arms, her heart. Bryce could hear it through her feet, through the stone. The song of the land beneath her." - HOFAS

"She heard how Avallen had yielded it's joy, it's bright green lands and skies and flowers, so it might hold the power as it was bid, waiting all this time for someone to unleash it. To free it." - HOFAS

'"You're free,' Bryce whispered to Avallen, to the land and the pure inherent magic beneath it. 'Be free.'

And it was." - HOFAS

2. The Dusk Court chooses Bryce

In previous ACOTAR books, we learn that it is the land and it's magic that chooses it's ruler, no one else, and it will not choose another, until that ruler dies.

When Bryce is in the prison there's lots of evidence that shows that the land/magic chooses Bryce as it's ruler whilst she is there.

Once she claim's silene's power, we get this:

"Power, uncut and ancient, scorched through her veins. The hair on her head rose. Debris floated upward. She was everywhere and nowhere.She was the evening star and the last rays of colour before the dark." - HOFAS

She is able to sense the land and can feel the prisoners residing there:

"From far away, she could sense it, the things lurking within the mountain, her mountain." - HOFAS

The island calls to Bryce, telling her it has bene alone all this time, waiting for her:

"And in that moment, the mountain - the island - spoke to her."

"Alone, it was so alone - it had been waiting all this time. Cold and adrift in the thrashing gray sea. If she could reach out, if she could open her heart to it...it might sing again. Awaken. There was a beating, vibrant heart locked away, far beneath them. If she freed it, the land would rise from it's slumber, and such wonders would spring again from it's earth..." - HOFAS

And finally, Bryce is able to wield the land, just like the High Lords of the other courts are able to:

"Bryce lifted a hand, and spike after spike ruptured form the ground, blocking Nesta's advance."* HOFAS

"But at a mere thought from Bryce, stalactites and stalagmites formed, closing in on him, the room became a wolf, it's jaws snapping for the winged warrior-"

"The rock had moved for her, as it had for Silene." - HOFAS

"Bryce stomped her foot. Those spikes of stone stretched higher, blocking his way. Blue light flared from him, smashing through the stones."

"Bryce stomped her foot again, summoning more lethal spears of rock—but there were none left. Only a vast, gaping void." - HOFAS

Remember, Nesta has been to the prison before, to the exact place Bryce stands as the island speaks to her and where she claims Silene's part of Theia's starlight. And she is with Bryce at this exact moment in time. So if Nesta was meant to rule Dusk...why didn't she experience any of this instead of Bryce?

At no point does Nesta sense the land like Bryce, nor does it call or speak to her. Nesta doesn't find or claim Silene's power and she can't control the land, like Bryce can.

3. Only Bryce can wield the Knife and Sword FULLY

As far as I can decipher, people within the Maasverse fall into one of four categories when it comes to the Starborn:

Non-Starborn: Someone who has no Starborn ancestry.

Starborn descendent WITHOUT Starborn powers: Someone who does have Starborn ancestry but was not born with either of the Starborn powers.

Starborn descendent WITH Starborn powers: Someone who has both Starborn ancestry and one (or occasionally, but very rarely, both) of the Starborn powers.

Theia's Chosen Heir: The chosen female heir, born with Theia's exact starlight reincarnated inside her. There is only one heir and as far as we know, Bryce Quinlan is the one and only female fae to be born in 15000 years with Theia's exact power.

And this is what happens when any of those people attempt to wield the Starsword/Gwydion:

Non-Starborn: Unable to draw the sword from it's scabbard or use it in any way.

Starborn descendent WITHOUT Starborn powers: Unable to draw it from the scabbard or wield it in any way as they are deemed "unworthy" (e.g. Autumn King)

Starborn descendent WITH Starborn powers: Some of these fae are able to draw the sword from it's scabbard, but only if they are "worthy". They can activate and wield only some of it's powers (e.g. Ruhn). Some are only able to draw the sword but are unable to activate or wield it (e.g. Cormac).

Theia's Heir: There is only one heir (Bryce Quinlan) and she has been "chosen" to wield the Starsword/Gwydion to it's full potential. She is able to draw the draw from it's scabbard and deemed "worthy" enough to activate and wield it's powers to a further extent than anyone else.

"That Sword belongs to Theia's female heir," he snarled" - HOSAB

"Theia's power, when whole, is the only thing that can unite and activate the true power of those blades..." - HOFAS

In HOFAS, we see Bryce claim the sword:

"Nor had anything ever felt so right as when Bryce took the Starsword from him, a formal claiming, and weighed it in her hands." - HOFAS

And we see her able to call both the Starsword and Truthteller to her hands, something no one else can do:

"Bryce again reached out a hand, her will, toward Azriel. And as surely as the Starsword had done, Truth-Teller flew from his grip. He tried to grab it, but even his swift lunge wasn’t fast enough to stop it. To stop Bryce as the knife soared for her fingers.

The dagger’s hilt landed in her palm, cool and heavy." - HOFAS

And when Bryce is using both the Starsword and Truthteller she can produce a power that no one else is able to:

"Bryce threw her power into the Starsword, light ripping through the black blade, willing it to tear this fucking monster apart—

She willed it into Truth-Teller, and shadows flowed—

And where the two blades met, where Bryce’s light merged at their nexus, power met power.

Her ears hollowed out. Magic like lightning surged through her, from her. The chamber rippled, a muffled boom echoing through Bryce.

Her blood roared, a beast howling at the moon. She was vaguely aware of a glow, of radiating light that flowed through the Starsword, the dagger—" - HOFAS

4. SJM retracted saying her series are "standalones"

After the release of HOFAS, SJM declared that she was retracting her earlier statement that Crescent City and ACOTAR are standalone series and both she and Bloomsbury later said fans should need to read the Crescent City series in order to understand the story of ACOTAR 5 (her upcoming book)**.**

This suggests that Crescent City, the events within it and Bryce are going to be important enough to ACOTAR 5 that readers now need to know what happens in those books, and SJM plans to merge them further.

FUTURE BOOKS

So after all of this...what does it mean? Well we have seen the Dusk Court start to waken and choose Bryce as it's ruler and if we stick to SJM's lore, then it won't choose anyone else until she dies.

We have not yet had the fulfilment of the prophecy "When knife and sword are reunited, so shall our people be"...and with the Dusk Court and the Starsword/Gwydion all belonging to Bryce, only she can be the one to claim them.

I believe that Nesta WILL keep the sword for now and use it to discover what her connection is to the Dusk Court, but she will be unable to wield it fully. I think the prison island will begin to fail now that Bryce has started to wake it and Nesta will realise only Bryce is able to restore it and that they need Bryce to return to Prythian.

Also Bryce is very closely connected to the Pegasi (in Avallen, we see them start to return after Bryce wakes it) and in Norse mythology, the Valkyries ride pegasi into battle. With Nesta being a key part of the Valkyries, I predict we will see them move over to the Dusk Court with Nesta and eventually become Bryce's army, once she becomes ruler of the Dusk Court 😊

If you've made it to the end of this thesis post, you are a TROOPER and thank you so much for sticking with it! Let me know your thoughts! ✨🖤⚔️

[51faces]

Inner Beauty

Dreamcatcher x 8th member

The sun cast a warm glow over Seoul as Y/N stood outside the towering entertainment agency building. Clutching her acceptance letter tightly, she took a deep breath. Today marked the beginning of her journey as the newest member of Dreamcatcher—a renowned K-pop group known for their unique sound and powerful performances.

As she stepped inside, the cool air of the lobby greeted her. Navigating through bustling staff members and trainees, she finally reached the practice room. Her heart pounded as she pushed open the door.

Seven pairs of eyes turned toward her.

"Ah, you must be Y/N!" Jiu, the leader, exclaimed with a radiant smile. "We've been waiting for you."

Y/N bowed deeply. "Hello, I'm Y/N. It's an honor to meet you all."

Sua bounced over, her energy infectious. "No need to be so formal! We're going to be sisters from now on."

Siyeon grinned. "Welcome to the family. Don't mind Sua; she's always this excited."

Handong approached with a gentle expression. "If you need help with anything, just let us know."

Yoohyeon winked playfully. "Especially if it's about avoiding extra practice."

Dami chuckled softly. "Don't listen to her. Hard work is key."

Gahyun smiled brightly. "Come on, we'll show you around!"

As they led her through the building, pointing out various studios and rooms, Y/N felt a mix of nerves and excitement. The members' warmth eased her anxiety, and she began to believe she might truly belong here.

Weeks flew by as Y/N immersed herself in intense training. Early mornings blended into late nights filled with dance rehearsals and vocal lessons. The other members were supportive, often staying behind to help her perfect challenging routines.

One evening, after a grueling practice, Y/N collapsed onto the dorm's living room couch. Curiosity nudged her to check the group's official social media. Her debut had been announced that day, and she eagerly read through the comments.

At first, the messages were encouraging:

"Can't wait to see what Y/N brings to Dreamcatcher!"

"Welcome to the family!"

But soon, the tone shifted:

"She doesn't fit their image."

"Why add someone who isn't as pretty as the rest?"

"Dreamcatcher was perfect without her."

Her chest tightened. The words blurred as tears welled up in her eyes. She quickly locked her phone and stared blankly ahead.

Jiu entered the room, noticing her distress. "Hey, Y/N, everything okay?"

Y/N forced a smile. "Yeah, just a bit tired."

Jiu sat beside her, concern evident. "You sure? You seem upset."

After a moment's hesitation, Y/N sighed. "I was reading some comments online. Some people think I don't belong."

Jiu gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "Don't pay attention to them. People are often harsh behind screens. What matters is that you're here because of your talent and hard work."

"I know, but it's hard not to let it get to me."

Jiu nodded understandingly. "I've been there. But remember, we're a team. Lean on us when you need to."

Despite her efforts to ignore the negativity, the hurtful comments became a constant shadow. During interviews, she could feel the unspoken questions. At fan events, she noticed subtle glances.

One afternoon, the group gathered for a photoshoot. As the photographer adjusted his lens, he murmured, "Y/N, tilt your head slightly to the left."

She complied, but he frowned. "Hmm, let's try a different angle."

Heat rushed to her cheeks as insecurity gnawed at her. Were the others noticing? Did they think she was ruining the shoot?

Afterward, in the dressing room, Sua noticed her silence. "You were great today!"

Y/N mustered a small smile. "Thanks."

Siyeon exchanged a glance with Handong. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," Y/N insisted, quickly gathering her things.

As she exited, she overheard staff members whispering:

"She doesn't have the typical look."

"Maybe the company made a mistake."

Her steps quickened, the words echoing in her mind.

Back at the dorm, Y/N secluded herself in her room. The walls felt like they were closing in. She opened her laptop, hesitating before diving into online forums.

Threads upon threads criticized her:

"She's dragging the group's visuals down."

"Her talent doesn't make up for her looks."

"Why did they even pick her?"

A tear slipped down her cheek. The weight was becoming unbearable.

A soft knock interrupted her spiral. "Y/N? It's Yoohyeon. Can I come in?"

She hastily wiped her face. "Sure."

Yoohyeon entered, holding two mugs of hot chocolate. "Thought you might like some."

"Thanks."

They sat in silence for a moment before Yoohyeon spoke. "You know, when I first joined, I felt out of place too."

Y/N looked up. "You did?"

"Absolutely. I was convinced I wasn't good enough. But the others helped me see my worth. Let us do the same for you."

Y/N's gaze dropped to her mug. "It's just... hard to ignore what people say."

"I get it. But remember, those people don't know the real you. We do. And we think you're amazing."

A faint smile tugged at Y/N's lips. "Thank you, Yoohyeon."

"Anytime. And if you ever need to talk, I'm here."

Despite her bandmates' support, the negativity continued to consume Y/N. During rehearsals, she became increasingly withdrawn.

"Let's take it from the top," Dami suggested after Y/N missed a step.

Y/N nodded absently, her mind elsewhere.

As the music played, she stumbled again.

Gahyun paused the track. "Maybe we should take a short break."

"I'm fine," Y/N snapped, surprising everyone.

Sua approached cautiously. "We're just worried about you."

"Well, you don't need to be," Y/N retorted before storming out.

She wandered the city streets, the bright lights contrasting with the darkness she felt inside. Her phone buzzed with messages from the members, but she ignored them.

Finding herself at a quiet park, she sat on a bench, pulling her knees to her chest. Doubt and despair swirled within her.

"Maybe they'd be better off without me," she whispered.

Returning to the dorm late at night, Y/N found the lights off. Relieved, she headed to her room but paused when she heard hushed voices from the living room.

"She's not herself," Siyeon said softly.

"I wish she'd open up," Handong added.

"We need to find a way to help her," Jiu concluded.

Feeling a mix of guilt and isolation, Y/N retreated. Sleep evaded her as she tossed and turned, the voices in her head growing louder.

Unable to bear it, she grabbed her car keys and slipped out. The cool night air greeted her as she got into her car and started driving aimlessly.

Rain began to patter against the windshield. The city's neon signs blurred past as tears clouded her vision.

"Why am I not enough?" she cried, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

A sudden honk jolted her. Headlights blinded her as a truck veered into her lane. She swerved, but the wet roads betrayed her. The car skidded violently, crashing into a barrier.

The world went silent as darkness enveloped her.

Birds chirped outside the window as sunlight warmed Y/N's face. Her eyes fluttered open. Disoriented, she sat up, realizing she was in her room.

"But how?" she murmured. "Was it all a nightmare?"

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Stunned, she approached slowly.

Her reflection was different. Her features were refined, embodying every aspect of the societal beauty standards she'd been told she lacked.

"What... happened to me?"

Her phone buzzed with a message from Gahyun:

"Excited to meet you today! Welcome to Dreamcatcher!"

Confusion washed over her. Checking the date, she realized it was the day she was first introduced to the group.

"This can't be real."

Arriving at the company building, everything felt both familiar and new. The members greeted her with enthusiasm.

"Welcome, Y/N!" Sua cheered.

"Ready to embark on this journey together?" Dami asked.

Throughout the day, Y/N noticed subtle differences. Staff members were more attentive, fellow trainees offered compliments, and the photoshoot went seamlessly.

"You're a natural," the photographer praised.

During breaks, fans outside the building waved banners with her name. "We love you, Y/N!"

Her heart swelled. The acceptance she'd longed for was finally hers.

Weeks turned into months as Y/N embraced her new reality. Performances were met with overwhelming praise, endorsements flooded in, and her social media following skyrocketed.

"You're the talk of the town," Siyeon remarked during a rehearsal break.

Y/N laughed lightly. "It's all thanks to you guys."

Handong shook her head. "Don't be modest. You've worked hard."

Yet, amidst the success, a lingering unease settled in her chest. Memories of the crash and the pain she once felt began to surface.

One evening, she confided in Jiu while overlooking the city from the rooftop.

"Have you ever felt like something's not quite right, even when everything seems perfect?" Y/N asked.

Jiu pondered. "Sometimes, we chase after what we think we want, only to realize it's not what we needed."

Y/N sighed. "I thought that changing... everything... would make me happy. But I still feel empty."

"Maybe happiness comes from within, not from how others perceive us."

Y/N nodded slowly, her thoughts clouded with uncertainty.

As the date of her previous accident approached, Y/N's anxiety grew. She began experiencing vivid nightmares and moments of dizziness.

During a dance practice, she suddenly felt faint.

"Are you okay?" Yoohyeon asked, rushing to her side.

"Just a bit lightheaded," Y/N murmured.

"Maybe you should rest," Dami suggested.

"I'm fine," she insisted, pushing through.

But her condition worsened. Back at the dorm, she secluded herself, staring at her unfamiliar reflection.

"Who am I?" she whispered.

A knock on her door startled her. "Y/N, it's Gahyun. We haven't seen you all evening."

"Just need some time alone," she replied.

"Alright, but we're here if you need us."

Hours passed as she grappled with her thoughts. Overwhelmed, she decided to step outside for fresh air.

As she walked along a quiet street, the world around her began to blur. The dizziness intensified, and her heartbeat thundered in her ears.

The last thing she saw was the night sky spinning above her before everything went black.

The darkness was cold, heavy, and suffocating. Y/N felt herself floating, weightless and disconnected from reality. Faint whispers echoed around her, but she couldn't make out any words.

Suddenly, a light pierced through the void, and she found herself standing in an empty, endless white space. It felt dreamlike, yet unnervingly real.

"You’ve arrived," a voice spoke.

Y/N turned, her heart skipping a beat. A figure stood before her, shrouded in mist. Their form wasn’t human—an otherworldly presence emanated from them, something ancient and incomprehensible.

"W-What is this?" Y/N stammered, her voice trembling.

The figure stepped forward, their face obscured but their voice smooth and calm. "You’ve been living a lie, Y/N."

Her pulse quickened. "What do you mean?"

"You’ve been seeing what you want to see. What you think you need to see."

Y/N swallowed hard, fear creeping into her chest. "I don’t understand."

The figure raised a hand, and the mist swirled around them. "You wished to be beautiful, to be accepted. So, we granted you that wish. But it wasn’t real."

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. "What do you mean? My face—"

The figure’s voice turned sharper, cutting through her thoughts. "The face you see is an illusion, a reflection of your deepest desire. In reality, nothing has changed."

Her mind raced, unable to process the words. "So… all this time, I’ve been… the same?"

"Yes," the figure replied. "To everyone else, you’ve always looked the way you did before. The only thing that changed was your perception of yourself."

Y/N’s legs felt weak, and she collapsed to her knees. "No… that can’t be true. People have treated me differently. I’ve been more confident. Everything’s been better."

"Confidence, Y/N," the figure said, almost gently now. "That’s what changed. Your belief in yourself gave you the strength to rise above the hate. Not your face."

Y/N sat there, her mind a storm of emotions. The hate, the despair, the constant doubt she had carried—it had been for nothing? Her reflection hadn’t changed. It was her belief that had carried her forward, not some supernatural transformation.

"But why… why did you do this?" she asked, her voice breaking.

The figure remained silent for a moment. "Because you needed to learn. You needed to see that beauty does not define worth. That your strength comes from within."

Tears brimmed in Y/N’s eyes. "So, all this time… I was the same person?"

"Yes," the figure whispered. "And now, the choice is yours. You can continue this illusion, or you can return to reality—with the knowledge that you were always enough."

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest. The weight of the decision was crushing. Could she truly accept herself as she was? Could she go back to being the person she had been—the one who didn’t fit the mold?

"I…" she hesitated, the fear of facing the world as her true self rising like a tidal wave.

But then she thought of her members—Jiu, Sua, Siyeon, Handong, Yoohyeon, Dami, and Gahyun. They had always supported her, loved her, not for what she looked like, but for who she was. They had seen her pain, her struggle, and had been there, through it all.

"I want to go back," Y/N whispered, her voice trembling but resolute. "I want to be me. The real me."

The figure nodded slowly. "Very well. But remember, the hardest battle is with yourself. Confidence doesn’t come from others. It must come from within."

The world around her began to fade, the bright light dimming until Y/N was enveloped in darkness once more.

Y/N jolted awake, her body drenched in sweat. Her heart raced as she sat up, gasping for breath. The soft light of the early morning sun filtered through her bedroom window.

She blinked, looking around in confusion. Was it all a dream?

Her reflection in the mirror caught her eye, and she hesitated, fear creeping up her spine. Slowly, she rose from the bed and approached the mirror.

The face staring back at her was… her own. The same face she had always seen before the "transformation." Her original features, unaltered by the illusion she had lived with for months.

A small, bittersweet smile tugged at her lips. It was her—truly her.

There was a knock on the door, and Yoohyeon’s voice called out, "Y/N, are you up? We’ve got practice soon."

Y/N wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. "Yeah, I’m up. I’ll be out in a minute."

She glanced at the mirror once more, feeling a sense of peace wash over her. For the first time in a long while, she wasn’t afraid of what she saw.

At the practice room, the atmosphere buzzed with energy. The members were warming up, stretching and chatting, but Y/N could feel a slight tension in the air.

"How are you feeling?" Jiu asked, walking over with a concerned expression.

Y/N smiled softly. "Better. I… I’ve been thinking a lot."

Sua raised an eyebrow. "Thinking? About what?"

Y/N hesitated for a moment before speaking. "About everything. About how I’ve been feeling lately. I’ve been really insecure, and I let the hate get to me."

Gahyun frowned. "But that’s understandable, Y/N. It’s hard not to let it affect you."

"I know," Y/N nodded, "but I realized something. I’ve been looking for validation in the wrong places. I thought that if I looked a certain way, people would accept me. But… that’s not what really matters."

Siyeon, who had been listening quietly, smiled. "You’ve always been enough, Y/N. We all knew that."

Yoohyeon chuckled. "You’re one of us, no matter what anyone says. Dreamcatcher isn’t complete without you."

Dami nodded in agreement. "We’ve got your back, always."

The warmth of their words wrapped around Y/N like a comforting blanket. She had been so consumed by the negativity that she had forgotten the love and support that had always been there.

"Thank you," Y/N said softly, her voice thick with emotion. "I don’t think I could’ve made it without you all."

Handong placed a hand on her shoulder. "You’re stronger than you think. And you’ve always had it in you."

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with gratitude. "From now on, I’m going to try to see myself the way you all see me. No more illusions."

As days passed, Y/N found herself adjusting to her new reality. No more hiding behind an illusion. Every time she faced the mirror, she reminded herself of her worth. It wasn’t easy—old insecurities still whispered in the back of her mind—but she fought them with the strength she had gained.

The world outside hadn’t changed. Online hate still existed, and the standards of beauty in the industry were still demanding. But Y/N no longer felt crushed by those expectations.

During a fan meet, as she greeted fans with her bandmates, she noticed a group of fans holding a sign that read, "Y/N, we love you just as you are."

Her heart skipped a beat. She had seen so much negativity, but in this moment, she realized that there were also people who supported her, who saw her for who she truly was.

"Thank you," she whispered to the fans, her smile genuine and full of warmth.

As the event went on, she felt a new sense of freedom. She no longer feared judgment. She no longer sought validation from strangers. Instead, she embraced her imperfections and her uniqueness.

One night, after a long day of schedules, the members gathered in the dorm's living room. They lounged in comfortable silence, enjoying each other's company.

Y/N broke the quiet with a soft voice. "I never got to properly thank you all."

Jiu glanced over, confused. "Thank us for what?"

"For standing by me. For reminding me that I’m more than what people see on the outside," Y/N said, her voice filled with gratitude.

Sua grinned. "Well, duh! You’re our Y/N. We’re a family."

Siyeon added with a teasing smirk, "Besides, you’re stuck with us now, whether you like it or not."

Yoohyeon laughed, throwing a pillow at Siyeon. "Forever Dreamcatcher!"

Dami smiled softly. "You’ve always been enough, Y/N. We just helped you see it."

Gahyun nodded enthusiastically. "And we’ll keep reminding you if you ever forget."

Y/N’s heart swelled with emotion. She looked around at the faces of her bandmates, her friends, and her family. They had always seen her true worth, even when she couldn’t.

And now, she finally saw it too.

"Thank you," Y/N said again, her voice barely above a whisper. "For everything."

---

Many months passed, and Y/N continued to grow both as an artist and as a person. She had faced her demons, confronted her insecurities, and come out stronger on the other side.

The world outside was still the same, but Y/N was different. She no longer feared the opinions of others. She had learned to love herself for who she truly was.

And in the end, that was the most beautiful thing of all.