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supercutszns · 4 months

Note

Luke x reader where a girl, daughter of Aphrodite, flirts with him and insults the reader, causing her to avoid Luke, but later he manages to find her and confesses that he actually likes them... I don't know if they should already be together or not, but I believe in you!!! you write very well :ooo

Sorry if the idea is bad or you wouldn't want to write something like that, if that's the case please pretend you never read this 🤡🤡🫶

true colours; luke castellan

wc + pairing: 3.6k, luke castellan x child of iris! reader

synopsis: everyone wants luke castellan, including you. curse your mother for getting your hopes up.

warnings: friends to lovers, reader is very insecure, bullying, lee fletcher & will solace cameo!! some angst with a fluffy ending

notes: thank you for the request!! as always this is longer than i anticipated but hope you like it :) i also combined it with another request for a child of iris reader (i also identify as a child of iris sometimes so i lovee writing for them) also i’m pretty sure lee + a lot of parts of this are ooc sorry but i havent read the books in about a year so hopefully everything’s fairly accurate!🌈

You knew this summer would be different because your mother sent her wishes twice as much. On the first day of July, when children flood into Camp Half-Blood like a hive of wild bees, a rainbow always lights up the sky.

This year, there were two.

As a child of Iris you’re technically supposed to be in the Hermes cabin. But your love for art, for music, for fun, has made you a particular favourite of the Apollo cabin. Most of your friends are there. They tolerate you singing in your soft, often unsure voice. They love when you catch sunlight and filter it into prisms of colour on their cabin walls.

You’d probably move in there permanently if it weren’t for Hermes. Or rather, his son.

Over the last few months, in the sticky summer heat, your mother knew you would fall in love.

It's not any surprise you love Luke. Everyone loves Luke. A fact that's becoming more obvious every passing day.

It used to bother you less. You’ve always been his meagre, hopeless friend, never any real competition to these girls. You’d basically taken yourself out of the running and instead decided to pine after him in the very back of your mind. A safe, deluded fantasy that would never happen.

Until recently, where it seems less like a fantasy and more like a terrifying possibility.

Over the past few weeks Luke has gone out of his way to be sweet to you. Or at least you think so. He’s spent extra time talking to you at lunch, laughing at your half-formed jokes almost in earnest. At bonfires he saves you a seat, grabs you a marshmallow on occasion. You even made him a friendship bracelet of sorts—admittedly a little ugly—but he’s never taken it off. Not since the day you gave it to him.

Not to mention helping you last week before the archery competition. His hands lingering over yours as he steadied your bow, the curls of his breath on the back of your neck when he stood behind you.

“Don’t be nervous,” he says, a tinge of mirth in his voice. “You just steady your aim and first is as good as yours.”

(You came in fifteenth.)

You don’t want to say that it’s him weakening your aim, making your pulse beat out of your neck. His nose brushes against the back of your jaw as he leans forward and you smell the pine on his skin. Is this friendly? Is he this close on purpose? Are you delusional?

It’s all you’ve been thinking about these past few days. So when Luke Castellan’s endless admirers come to the forefront of your mind, you feel like all those moments of potential buildup have been ripped away.

“You alright there, sunshine?”

He takes you out of your spiral with a teasing lilt you love. When you look at him, his face is a shimmering warmth, complete with boyish smile.

“Yep,” you reply, trying to ignore the nickname making your insides flutter even though you know he’s saying it ironically.

You’ve always had a gift for identifying colour. It’s the thing you pay attention to most. Something inherited from your mother, you suppose. So you’ve memorized the way Luke’s eyes melt in the sunlight. How his scar blends with his pinking cheeks when it’s hot outside. You never told him, and you probably never will, but you’ve painted him from memory quite a few times in the Apollo cabin—always with the excuse that you were practicing. It's so blatantly obvious you're in love with him there's no point in your friends bringing it up.

The two of you are meandering around camp before dinner, a tradition Luke started early on in the summer. You talk about high points of your day (mostly you) or share nuggets of gossip you’ve heard around camp (mostly him). It's the thing you looked forward to every morning. A time when his words are just for you.

Idle chatter flows as you keep walking. Sometimes your arm brushes his and you have the embarrassing urge to tug yours away. You do your best not to stare at him too long or laugh too loud at his jokes.

“Hey, Castellan!” Someone calls.

Luke’s head turns. Your heart plummets. A beautiful girl, Aphrodite cabin, you think, is heading towards you. She’s all honey-spun hair and dazzling pink lips, and it’s obvious she knows it. You don’t know her name. But Luke does.

They fall into conversation the second she arrives. It’s just greetings, pleasantries, but there’s a coy smile on the girl’s face that betrays any sense of disinterest. “Heard you’re not too keen on pairing up with us for the Chariot Race next week. What gives?” Her tone is pouty and playful as she taps Luke’s shoulder. She side-eyes you, lips curling imperceptibly. “I’m sure you’ll have a better chance with us.”

He lets out a strained chuckle. “Dunno, just thought it was fine to switch it up.”

Just like that, you’re out of the loop again. More of her friends flock after her, and soon Luke is tangled in a whole other world. They’re all glowing with a kind of righteousness you only get when you’re popular. You know Luke has friends, tons of them. He's the leader of the cabin with the most campers. Not to mention assertive and gorgeous. His presence is so inviting it’s a challenge not to fall in love with him.

So you can’t blame this girl, the one that keeps touching his arm and giggling. It’s not like you’ve staked your claim on Luke—no one even knows you exist. As much as you want him to be yours, you know you’ll never stop someone from taking him first. It’s your fatal flaw, you think. Cowardice.

You end up sidelined completely. Watching him swathed in people more charismatic than you plants an ache deep inside you. All your wishful thinking feels sour now, a pipe dream, a bedtime story to help you sleep better. Somehow it hurts more knowing that it’s nobody’s fault but yours. These people can’t be doing this on purpose. It’s just who they are. It’s who you are—always a step behind, always daydreaming. You are your mother’s daughter, after all. Just a prism reflecting everyone around you.

Eventually, one of the boys in the group takes notice of you. He’s not nearly as captivating as Luke is—you don’t find the colours of his eyes hold as much depth. There’s also a haughtiness when he looks at you. He sneers, “What the hell do you have on your face?”

It draws the attention of others in the group. You feel like a naked sculpture in an art gallery. “Uh, what?” You stammer.

Some of them purse their lips. The girl with Luke lets a laugh slip. You’re pretty sure you look like an idiot, waiting there with your brows wrinkled in a daze. Their gazes keep flicking over to your cheek, so your hand flies up there before you can delay any more. When you press your fingers to the side of your face, they come away tacky and pink. Mortification constricts you.

Paint. It’s leftover, half-dried paint. The colour of Luke’s cheeks in the sun.

“Oh,” you say dumbly. It’s drowned by snickers. All you can do is find Luke, the only face you know, and ask, “Why didn’t you tell me?” without sounding too hurt.

You know you failed when your voice comes out wrong and his ebony brows push together. “I thought it looked—”

He never gets to finish because the golden girl laughs a little louder, the pink tones in her face a little darker. “Oh my Gods, you’re that Iris kid that’s always singing, right?” She giggles sharply, cornflower eyes darting between her friends. There’s something in there you can’t quite pick up on, until it flushes the pupils of all her friends, and they all grin with a secret knowledge they want you to see. “You’re, like, really good!” The girl simpers, but her bottom lip pulls between her teeth to soften another laugh.

“Oh, so good!” Another friend piles on.

Their passive-aggressive chuckles start to sound like hail on a window. You shift further away from them. Dirt slides beneath your shoe, and you long to kick up more of it, displace yourself, disappear.

You don’t look at Luke. The giggly, flaxen girl has already turned back to him, and you’re sure he’s enthralled once more. You try to stir up the image of Luke’s closeness during archery practice, the lilac bruise on his knuckles when he angled your bow, but it doesn’t take. Now, it feels like you’ve dreamed it.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Luke leaning down to catch a whisper from the Aphrodite girl’s ear. The boy that first commented on your cheek leans closer to you again. He’s suffocatingly smug when he grins, “Why are you still here? Shouldn’t you go … wash that off? You don’t want to look like that at dinner.” He snorts. “For an Iris kid, you really aren’t good at taking a message.”

If you were a more confident person, maybe you’d point out how that didn’t really make sense, or how stupid it sounded coming out of his mouth. But the sentiment of it wounds you, and you’re weak enough as is.

"Guess you're right," you mumble. You wipe your face of paint as you leave. The memory of Luke’s skin stains you until you wash your hands off in the sink.

You haven’t talked to him since.

It’s been a few days of you avoiding him, and it’s hard to explain to anyone why you’ve been doing it. How do you tell the truth? Luke Castellan is a work of art and you are … a weird doodle, or something. Despite your adoration, you know there’s no reason he should feel the same for you. Everyone loves him for a reason. Everyone must ignore you for one, too.

“Why haven’t you been talking to Luke?”

The question breaks your concentrated silence in the Apollo cabin. You’ve been sitting here for a while now, humming to yourself over a mostly blank canvas. The cabin is dusted with a lilac haze, thanks to your manipulation of the light streaming through the windows. Helps you feel less like you’re at camp and more like you’re in a fairytale.

“Helloooo, lady, I asked you a question.”

You begrudgingly look up. Lee Fletcher, head of the Apollo cabin, is at the mouth of the cabin, gazing at all your supplies strewn about the floor like they’re a bunch of unsavoury substances. “It looks like a hurricane came in here. Now why aren’t you talking to Luke?”

“How do you know I’m not talking to him?” You mutter as Lee sits beside you.

“Uh, because you’ve been sleeping here multiple nights in a row and you never do that. And you don’t sit with him at dinner. And whenever we see him you drag me in the other direction—”

“Lee!”

“I’m just saying, you should probably talk about it. My beautiful voice can heal wounds, yes, but not of the heart.” He splays a hand across his chest in mock theatrics.

You don’t say anything. The familiar weight of the brush against your fingertips is far more comforting than trying to talk, so you busy yourself with your canvas again. “He waits for you, you know,” Lee continues, quieter. “In the morning. And before dinner. He always asks if you’re here.”

“Oh,” you say, and your wavering voice betrays your expression. But you think of everyone else at camp, their gleaming smiles and their celebrated parents, their own cabins and friends and dreams, how you don’t seem to have any of those. You think of the girl whispering in Luke’s ear. All her shades of beauty. You know it’s wrong to compare yourself, to be jealous. You’re just … sad.

The cabin darkens from a lilac to an imperceptibly gloomier shade. A blue sort of longing gets caught in your throat, blurring the colours on your canvas. But you keep your brush steady, focused on the scratch of its bristles so you don’t have to hear what you say next.

“I think I love him, Lee.” And then, “But I don’t think he loves me.”

There’s no sound except the scraping of your brush when it’s run out of paint, and a sniffle when a tear rolls down your cheek.

“Oh,” Lee fills the silence the way you did just moments before. Then he says your name, laced with pity, and hugs you on the floor of his lavender cabin.

“You want to help me lead the bonfire song tonight?” He asks after a minute. “Or at least … come to the bonfire song?”

“No to the first, yes to the second.”

You wish you said no to both.

The spot you choose after dinner is right next to the fire so you can distract yourself with the golden flecks of flame. Fire is so fluid, so complex, from a colour perspective. But no matter how close you get, the searing warmth can’t hide Luke’s gaze peering over the embers.

He will not. Stop. Looking at you.

The singing from the Apollo kids usually soothes you but tonight it’s just making you anxious. All this attention so close to you. Will Solace has been sitting next to you this whole time, your unofficial assigned companion for the night thanks to Lee. One of his siblings beckons him over, and he shoots you an apologetic look, hesitating. "Just go," you wave off kindly. "It's all good." He's not entirely convinced, and you aren't either, but he squeezes your shoulder with thanks and leaves you anyway.

Now you’re acutely aware the space next to you is wide open. And so is Luke, it seems. There’s an awkward moment where your gazes slide over each other and he weaves out of his current crowd towards you. So you do the most mature, sound thing you could possibly do in this situation:

You say you have to go to the bathroom to no one in particular and get out of there.

It’s dark, but you’ve got sharper eyes than most. Soon the noise of the campfire is behind you. You traipse through the camp towards the bathroom,but you don’t get far before you hear something that makes your stomach drop in the worst and best way.

Luke, calling your name.

At first you think you can get away with not hearing him. Then he calls a second, a third, a fourth time, punctuated with, “Come on, I know you can hear me, can you just turn around?”

He’s got longer legs than you so the next time he speaks it’s practically in your ear. “Hey, just look at me. Please. I want to talk to you.”

There’s something so tender in his voice that it makes you cave immediately. But you already feel so fragile, you can feel the tears behind your eyes. You know you won’t have the strength to talk to him.

His hand curls gently around your wrist and it sends warmth all the way up your arm. He says your name again, softer, and you love the way it sounds. You can’t meet his eyes, but you already know what he looks like. Even in the dark you picture him crystal clear.

“Look at me,” he repeats. “I just—I need to know what I did wrong.”

His dark eyes are full and apprehensive when you heed him. You notice how much you’ve missed studying his face—the slight bunch of his brows, the tensing in his jaw. And you almost delude yourself that he’s missed you just as much, the way he squeezes your wrist and rakes over your expression.

“Why are you ignoring me?” He asks.

“I’m not—”

“You are. I know you. Just tell me why.”

He looks so sweet, so earnest, and it kills you. You think of the way he looked when all his friends made fun of you. It all comes up before you can help it.

“Do you always let me walk around looking like an idiot?” You ask bitingly, staring at the floor. “The thing, with the paint on my cheek—why didn’t you tell me? I looked so stupid and all your friends just laughed at me!”

His face falls. “I tried to tell you, I thought—”

“It’s okay to say you don’t like me, or that you’re embarrassed, or whatever, but I …” You swallow, tears thick on your lower lashes. “Everyone makes fun of me. I don’t know why you don’t.”

“Because I do like you,” he states, hand moving up to your forearm.

“Don’t say that,” you whisper. “You’re so much … better, you know you are, and I don’t want your pity, or your spare time. I just—I made something up in my head that wasn’t there and I only noticed it the other day after you talked to that girl and that guy made fun of me and I’m really, really sorry—”

“It looked cute. I was trying to say I didn’t tell you about the paint because I thought it was cute.”

There’s a lull.

“What?” You blink stupidly.

“I know I should’ve told you about it, but I swear I was going to before dinner, I didn’t think we’d run into anyone before then.” His cheeks tinge red. “I had this whole dumb thing planned out where I’d wipe it off your cheek and tell you how cute it was once you got embarassed. I was waiting to tell you. I was thinking about it the whole time.”

His hand on your arm is a frighteningly grounding thing. You're dumbstruck by that alone. Your lips part, but all that comes out is, “Why?”

A gentle laugh tumbles out of his throat. “Why do you think?”

His other hand comes up to brush your cheekbone, where the paint had been, and you can imagine him doing it to you on that day. How you'd probably react just the way he said you would, the way you are now. A warm orange glow blooming in your chest. “But the girl—”

“She tried whispering to me how much she liked my bracelet,” he smiles fondly. “Told her you made it for me. It shut her up. I don’t know what that guy said to you but I chewed ‘em all out the second you left. They knew I wasn’t happy. I tried looking for you but you were gone. I don't like them, you know."

You don’t know what to say. It’s too difficult, too uncertain for you to jump the gun on this. So you just stare at all the shifting colours on his face as he moves closer to you. All this time going over his every detail, and there's still more to be enthralled by.

“I found the paintings,” he says, voice so close you can feel it brushing your skin. “The ones of me. I was looking for you in the Apollo cabin a week ago and you left one out. I knew it was yours because ... I mean, there’s no one in the world that can make me look that … beautiful.”

The last word is apprehensive but it’s spoken with an unimaginable tenderness. He looks a little teary himself. You think you’re dreaming. “I knew I had to tell you after that. I’ve been trying to tell you. But you started pulling away from me so I thought I was making it all up.”

“Tell me what?” It’s a ghost of a question between you, an impossible thing, but the hand on your arm slips around to your back and he presses it there with such certainty.

“You’re really gonna make me say it?” He cocks his head, but you nod. “I’m in love with you, I think.”

The words cascade over you in ribbons of warmth. Your brain feels fuzzy, seperate from the rest of your body. Your mouth opens multiple times but you can’t seem to control what comes out. “Luke, are you joking?”

“Not even a little.”

“But you’ve got so many other—”

“I want you.”

“I am literally the most incompetent person alive; I can’t sing, I can’t talk to people, I have a weird knee—”

"Your knee is fine!"

"I'm just saying, this makes no sense from an outsider perspective, it's—"

“Okay, clearly the telling thing isn’t working so I guess I’m just gonna have to kiss you.”

It happens so quickly you don’t have any time to think (probably for the better). You let out a surprised “oh” before his mouth silences you, stopping every other thought. He’s gentle, thumb still rubbing your cheekbone, other hand still firm at your waist. You want to panic—where should you put your hands? How do you know you’re doing this right? But he steadies you, the way he always does, and you give in.

He starts to smile against your lips. You’re almost positive the intensity of your heartbeat could summon a storm. When he pulls away, he kisses the corners of your mouth and you think you’re going to evaporate. “I don’t think I’m very good at this,” you whisper.

“You’re perfect.” He grins a little when your hands tentatively tug at a curl on the nape of his neck. “And none of that stuff you say is true. I mean, you’re definitely a better singer than me.”

Leaning close to your ear, he warbles out a song you know but gets the words horribly wrong anyways. You can’t help but laugh. “Okay, maybe you have a point.”

He hums and chuckles with you. You swear the moon gets brighter when he wraps his arms around your waist to kiss the side of your face. “Next time you paint me, I want to be there when you do it.”

You blush harder than you ever have in your life. “Only if you try painting me,” you say quietly.

“Of course. You’re very pretty, so I’m sure my horrible artistic skills won’t even make you look bad.”

Luke lets you press your face into the crook of his neck. You soak it up for all it’s worth.

In the morning, you wake up in the same position. Your nose tucked against his collarbone, the shade of pink you love freckled across his cheeks. You can't wait to paint him again.

When you look out the window, you say a silent, grateful prayer to your mother.

She's given you two more rainbows.

#perrie’s fics #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #charlie bushnell #perrie's requests #pjo #pjo x reader #pjo fic #luke castellan fic #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan fluff #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo tv show #heroes of olympus #percy jackson

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ellecdc · 24 days

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James and Sirius and Remus and Lily and *takes a dramatic breath* you?

this one's for you @enamoredwithbella, thanks for sorting this idea out with me @unstablereader

poly!Marauders + Lily x shy!reader who is so smitten with them

CW: fem!reader, reader has hair long enough to be played with, reader is in Hufflepuff, swearing, consent because it's sexy AF

This was obviously a bad idea.

You’re not even sure how your friends managed to convince you to attend the Gryffindor party, but you swore to every deity it would never happen again.

There were too many people (most of whom you’d never spoken to before), it was too loud (songs you didn’t particularly care for), and the fifteenth time someone bumped into you nearly sent you over the edge.

“Whoa there, sweetheart.” A low voice commented as an arm quickly righted you from your nearly horizontal position. “Y’alright?”

You looked up to see the face of none other than Gryffindor quidditch captain James Potter beaming down at you.

You were ashamed of yourself for the way that smile made you feel.

“Erm, yup! Thanks.” You squeaked, quickly freeing yourself from James’ grasp so fast that you nearly knocked someone else over in your attempt at creating distance between you and the Headboy.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like James. On the contrary; you were rather smitten with him.

Him and his partners - which was nothing short of dense in simple terms.

But you couldn’t help the way you blushed when he held the doors open for you as you walked into classes, or the friendly smile and wave he’d shoot at you when he saw you on Prefect rounds.

You sort of wished he’d stop being so bloody nice to you; maybe then you’d be able to get over this crush that was never going to amount to anything.

But James was taken; three times over.

And what a sodding group they were.

Heart Throb of Hogwarts™ Sirius Black in his effortless style, his devil may care attitude, and his insatiable flirting. Being noticed by Sirius felt like your favourite rockstar singing a song written just for you.

And don’t even get you started on the enigma that is Remus Lupin; the Cassanova of Gryffindor tower. Everyone in your year (and likely the years below you) had at some point or another crushed hard on the quiet Marauder; but it really couldn’t be helped. He was tall, he was handsome, he was kind, and though he was far more quiet than his counterparts, the quips he shared with you never ceased to reduce you to a fit of laughter.

And gods, was Lily Evans ever beautiful. She was the total package; she was funny, outgoing, smart, and stunning. Looking at her even now with her long auburn hair as she threw her head back in laughter; so open and care free in her actions. You weren’t sure if you wanted to be her or being underneath-

No.

No. That was not a nice thing to think about someone who was in a committed relationship.

You let out a sigh as you zoned back into the fact that James still had one of his hands on your elbow and was smiling curiously at you.

“Thanks for the save! I really owe you one.” You chuckled awkwardly and nearly took out one of the Prewett twins in your haste to leave Potter’s vicinity.

Unfortunately, trouble seemed to be following you.

And by trouble, you meant Sirius Black.

“Damn, Hufflepuff!” He cheered as he moved a sultry gaze up and down your body appreciatively. “Give us a spin, dollface.”

You felt all the blood in your body migrate to your cheeks as you fought to keep your mouth from falling open.

Lily, the beautiful angel (or the evil temptress, depending on how you looked at it), swatted at Sirius from her perch on the arm of the chair her boyfriend was currently occupying.

“Down boy; you’re going to scare her away.” She teased with a smirk as she winked at you.

You felt momentarily grateful for her.

And then she spoke again.

“Then none of us will get to look at her.”

Fucking Helga, was it hot in here? They needed to open more windows; preferably one you could launch yourself out of right now, thank you very much.

“That’d be such a shame, really. Sorry doll, you don’t gotta spin - no one else here deserves to appreciate such a view.”

“Okay.” You squeaked and turned in search of your friends.

You know what? Fuck your friends; you were leaving with or without them.

They weren’t….flirting with you, were they?

Surely not.

Of course not.

What a ridiculous thing to think.

But…it certainly felt like they were flirting with you.

Maybe one more glance?

Just as you were about to approach the portrait hole, you turned for one more look at the objects of your affection and your current tormentors and - yup, sure enough - Sirius, Lily, and now James were all standing there smiling at you.

They were watching you leave?!

Okay time to go, that is enough nonsense for one day.

You spun and collided with something tall and solid which thankfully caught your arms as you all but ricocheted off of them.

“Hey there, dove. Where’re you headed in such a hurry?”

Please for the love of gods, don’t tell me…

But of course, you looked up to see the face of one Remus Fucking Lupin smirking down at you.

“You lot are everywhere.” You whispered in awe. The bastard only chuckled in response.

“Come on you guys! We’re going to start a game of truth or dare!” Lily called over to…you (?) and Remus.

“Well, we wouldn’t want to miss that, would we?” Remus murmured lowly into your ear as he steered you towards the growing circle congregating around the various chairs and sofas littering the common room.

And listen, you’re not particularly proud that you were so placid in Remus’ man handling you.

But in your defence…

In your defence, Remus was man handling you.

And to your absolute horror, he plopped you down beside Lily on a large chair that was not quite large enough for two people.

You tried to swallow your heart back down which was attempting to escape via your mouth as you became hyper focused on the fact that Lily sodding Evans was pushed up against you none too casually and- Merlin’s tits, was she playing with your hair!?

You pretended to pay attention as a few rounds passed by; your friend being dared to give you a lap dance being the most brazen thing to have taken place.

Until it got to the Marauders.

Marlene dared Sirius to strip down to his boxers for a whole round which he was all but too eager to do, apparently. Meaning he got to ask the next person.

“Moony!”

Remus smiled down at his lap before he looked over at one of his boyfriend’s mischievously.

“I dare you to kiss the prettiest girl here.”

You’re not necessarily proud of the way your heart plummeted at that; this is what you had been telling yourself all night. They were taken.

No matter if they complimented you.

No matter if they caught you as you fell.

No matter if they snuggled up to you on a chair designed for one.

No matter if one of them made you feel like you leaving the party early would have been truly devastating.

No matter.

“That’s impossible; there’s two of them.” Remus said quickly, causing your heart to ache for Lily.

Who even says that when their girlfriend is sitting right here!?

You kept your head down as the party all ooooh’ed and aawwwweee’d.

James let out a funny high pitched laugh as if he were an over excited kid on Christmas morning. “Guess you’ll have to kiss them both then.”

You really should have left when you had the chance; you weren’t sure you could watch.

It was their business if they wanted to include another, but that didn’t mean you had to like it.

“Or they can kiss each other; I think I’d enjoy that just as much.”

“Sounds good to me.” Lily said as she stood; the space she once inhabited felt cold and vacant without her.

“Well? Come on then?” She said as she grabbed your arm.

“What?”

“Come with me.” She said again, wiggling your arm within your grasp, and who were you to deny her, really?

Like a well trained dog you followed her obediently over to where Remus sat before she all but shoved you into his lap.

“You seem like the fidgety type; maybe Rem can help with that, hm?” She said as she shot a wink at Remus over your shoulder.

His arms wrapped possessively around your waist as he rested his chin on the junction between your neck and shoulder.

“Is it okay if she kisses you, pretty girl?”

You had no time to be absolutely horrified at the pathetic little keening sound that escaped your lips as you looked up at the red-head now towering over you.

“What do you say, gorgeous?” And though her emerald eyes did shine with some mischief, you could see she was earnest; this was your choice.

“Okay.” You whispered barely loud enough for you to hear yourself over the hammering of your heart.

“Yeah?” She whispered as she knelt in front of you.

“Yeah.” You agreed.

And you only got to see the soft, hopeful smile that adorned her lips for but a moment before her hands were on either side of your face and she was pressing her soft lips to yours.

It could have been hours or centuries but it was also all too soon before she was pulling away from you; a proud smile on her lips though her cheeks were a similar colour to her hair.

You became aware of the hooting and hollering going on around you as Remus’ chest began to vibrate in laughter.

“Beautiful.” He murmured - likely more to himself than to you, but you heard it all the same.

“Do I get a turn?!” James shouted before Sirius roughly grabbed him by the waist and planted him down on his lap.

“Not before me, Jamie.” He snickered as he shot you a wink.

The audacity of a man to still be so confident sitting in nothing but his boxers.

You tried to hide behind your hands though it was all for naught as Remus made a theatrical cooing sound and pulled you further into his lap until you were all but cradled in his arms.

“Maybe without an audience next time, hm?” He asked you as he brushed some hairs away from your forehead.

Not trusting yourself to speak (or to even make direct eye contact with the bloke currently cuddling you in your lap), you nodded with your face still hidden.

“Way to go babe.” James said as Lily went to join the two boys on their loveseat. “You were so good, we’ll even get a next time!”

read about their first date here!

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fearsomeandwretchedandwrong · 4 months

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Tallest to shortest Doctor:

Fourth 6'3"

Third 6'3"

Tenth & Fourteenth 6'1"

Fifth 6'0"

Ninth 6'0"

Twelfth 6'0"

Sixth 6'0"

Eleventh 5'11"

Fifteenth Doctor 5'9"

War Doctor 5'9"

Eighth 5'8"

First Doctor 5'8"

Second Doctor 5'7"

Seventh Doctor 5'6"

Thirteenth Doctor 5'6"

I wish I had any artistic talents cause I would love to see this represented in like a police lineup of all the Doctors.

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lure-of-writing · 1 month

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His little sister

Summary: Azriel point of view of the things you do as Rhysands little sister (This should be read only after reading all in a days work and knock before you enter otherwise it probably won't make any sense as you need the know what happened in the other two for this to make sense )

word count: 2.5 k

Note: Hello! For a while I was stumped on how to continue the little sister series so boom! I present to you Azriel's pov. I would love to hear what you guys think about having things from this perspective also! please don't be shy and let me know!

The playful touches and not so subtle glances across the room paired with the seductive bit of your lip as it lifts into a forbidden smile is not lost upon the spymaster of the night court. In fact everything you did never went unnoticed by him. As Rhysands little sister he was more or less forbidden from having any relationship with you that was purely platonic or sibling-like. Much to the high lord's irritation, once you learned of the rules set in place for the general and the shadow singer, you had made it your own personal mission to see just how much you could get away with. Just how far could you bend the rules before your older brother snapped?

Azriel was well aware of the game you played in hopes of causing your brother a small amount of distress. Unfortunately for him, he respected his high lord and his wishes to much to counter your advances with some of his own but that doesn’t mean he can’t help you accomplish your lifes works of making your brother rub his temples with a long sigh and a shot of whiskey or which ever bottle of alcohol appeared before him first.

It had been just a few short weeks after your fifteenth birthday when you had learned about the guidelines Rhys had set for the two other males in your family. Being told what to do never sat well with you, neither did being told who you can and can’t do things with. At first your reaction was to find your brother and argue with him until he couldn’t think straight but when you were on the way to his office you bumped into your favorite member of the bat boys. Azriel was leaning against the wall of Rhysands office waiting for his meeting with Helion when you were stuck with a brilliant idea. “Az?” his hazel eyes shifted from the dark oak doors to where you stood in the middle of the hall. “Yes?” as soon as the word had left his mouth he knew you were up to something. It was the way your eyes lit up in excitement and you shuffled over to him with hurried steps. Huddled close to his body you beaconed him to lean down so you could whisper in his ears. Wordlessly he follows your commands. “Would you like to help me make Rhys question why he was blessed with being my brother?”

The sly smile and trouble that brewed in your eyes was enough to get him to say yes. Not like he could ever say no to you in the first place but that wasn’t important. From that moment on he would allow you to flirt with him and crawl into his lap with no rejection. This drove Rhysand up a wall. He said that they could not try to flirt with you but you never said anything about it being the other way around and you had taken full advantage of that each and every single time the opportunity presented itself.

Family dinners amongst the inner circle were never an uncommon thing but since everything that transpired over the last fifty something years had the family dinners becoming a more common tradition. After dinner talks and catching up had been moved to the living room. Silently Azriel sat by himself, listening to his family talk. Perfectly content with listening rather than speaking. While Cassian went on this third rant about why he was certain that he could fight Bryaxis, if and big if here, they weren’t so scary looking, when you had gotten up from where you were sat next to Mor on the floor. He watched as you left the room and not even a second later his shadows informed him that you were getting another wine.

His attention shifted from his brother onto you when you had reentered the room with a glass full of wine and strutted over to him and made yourself comfortable in his lap. Az would never admit it but the feeling of your arm draped over his shoulder and playing with his hair was one of his favorite feelings in the world. As your body leaned into his, the temperate difference between the two of you became very apparent to the shadowsinger. Without thinking he placed his much warmer hand on your freezing and goosebump covered leg to help warm you back up. The slit in your dress had done nothing to help keep you warm.

Without saying anything he watched as his brother marched his way over to where you had chosen to sit, also known as Azriels lap. He watched as Rhys reached his hand out in hopes of pulling you off of closest friend and he watched as Rhysands face morphed into one of confusion to anger as Azriels wings furled around you to keep your brother from grabbing you from him. If there was one thing that the shadowsinger knew with one hundred percent certainty, it was that you could handle yourself. The context didn’t matter, you could always handle yourself. So while you and your brother went back and front he mindlessly began to rub comforting circles where his hand had found purchase on your leg. And once Rhysand had made his way back to his mate, he had leaned down and pressed his lips against your hairline. “You are a menace” giggling you smile up at him before shrugging and taking a sip of your forgotten wine.

Visiting the court of nightmares was never something that brought Azriel much joy. More often than not he was watching for any threats against his high lord's life, now he had to worry about his high lady also. It wasn’t as if Azriel wasn’t capable of handling such a task but when you had revealed that you would also be in attendance, it brought Azriel another level of stress. He knew that you could handle the court politics and the volleyball of words sent back and forth with hidden messages. Hell you had even been trained by all three males and Morrgian. You were more than capable of looking out for yourself but there has always been a part of Azriel that couldn’t rest when he knew you could be in danger at any moment.

Now the notoriously quiet male, while known for not saying much, always had something to say when it came to you. There was no comment too small that you made that didn’t get an answer from Az in return. As you finally made your way down the staircase to your awaiting family Azriel had just about a thousand thoughts and compliments he could give you at any moment. While your brother had a meltdown in the background all Azriel could focus on was you and as you made your way down the last few steps he reached his hand out helping you the rest of the way down. Shamelessly he looked you up and down not caring that your brother just might beat his ass for looking at you in such an outfit. Once his eyes reached your, you sent him a wink and beaming smile. Az could tell that you had wanted to ask him what he thought of your clothing choices but decided that dealing with your brother would be the best idea before he dragged you back up the stairs himself and forced you to change.

While at the place of nightmares the shadows that sung to Azriel hung close to his body, only leaving to secretly watch over you and make sure you were ok. For most of the night all was well, at least as well as things can get in the court of nightmares. That was until his shadow came back to inform their master of the predicament that had presented itself to you. He watched from afar as you pushed your way out of the crowd and towards himself. Pushing off of the pillar he was once perched against he made his way towards you. Az’s blood began to boil when he watched the random fae male wrap his arms around your waist and pulled your body into his. In two long strides he was in front of the strange male and yourself, demanding he release his grip on you or he would do it for him. There wasn’t a part of Azriel that enjoyed the violence he brings upon those he was tasked with gathering information from but holding truth teller to the male's neck did in fact bring him joy.

Upon your release he guided you back to where he was previously standing to make sure you were ok and that the random male didn’t inflict any harm to you. After his thorough evaluation of your body met his standards he returned his gaze to meet your and suddenly your cold hand was pressed against his warm cheek and the burn of the two temperatures had never felt so nice before. Once again your hand had found its resting place in his hair and your lips on his and Azriel swore hes never felt something as soft as your lips on his. As soon as your lips had met his, Az knew he was in for a whole world of pain when Rhysand got his hands on him but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Az recently pulled away when he felt the anger of his high lord coming at him with the purpose of making him bow to the power radiating off of Rhysand. “We should probably get out of here before he kills you.” looking down he saw the mischief twinkling in your eyes and he positive nobody can pull off that look quite like you can. The wink you sent over your shoulder as you grab his hand pulls him out of the trance you had put him in. Willingly Azriel followed your lead out of the ball room while you bumped into his arm periodically. “Honestly he just might kill us both.” he felt you mumble into his shoulder as you hid your face and laughter in his body. Chuckling he couldn’t help but agree before winnowing you back to the house of wind.

After Rhyand had actually considered beating the shadowsinger to a pulp your usual antics had dwindled in frequency which saddened Azriel more than he was willing to admit. During training you kept clear of him in case your brother didn’t approve of you even looking in his general direction and it had been almost two weeks since he had last talked to you for more then five minutes and honestly it was starting to drive him crazy. After a family dinner consisting of you, Nesta, Cassiand and himself he finally approached you. “You're going to the Summer court tomorrow right?” As the resident know-it-all he already knew your answer but he waited nonetheless “Yes?” Azriel watches as you place your book in your lap to give him your full attention and he swears he could bask in it forever. “I’m not doing anything for the next week, would you like me to go with you?” The beaming smile you sent him was confirmation enough.

That's how he found himself in your room the next morning helping you get ready. You had asked his opinion on basically every piece of your outfit and Azriel had never been so happy to assist someone put together their clothes for the day. After you had pulled all the needed pieces of clothing from your closest you held up the corset you picked for him to see. “I’ll need your help putting this on.” And that's how once again Azriel feared Rhys would consider pummeling him once more.

Not once during Rhysands withering glare did Azriel stop pulling the strings of your corset until they were tight enough and only then did he gently pull the strings into a bow before removing his hands from your body. After finishing his assigned task Az thought it was best to leave the siblings to deal with each other and he would wait for you on the rooftop to begin your journey to the summer court. Only after he could assume was a long lecture from your older brother on being safe did the two of you join him on the roof. “I swear if a single hair on her head is out of place I will kill you.” As much as Azriel wanted to laugh at the worn out sound of his friend he simply nodded his head before acknowledging what he said.

The week in the summer court with you felt more like two days. Any time with you never felt like enough. On the way back Rhysand had talked to him and you that he wanted a debrief before you did anything upon your return. Gently he set you back on the ground once he had landed in front of the river house and he already missed the feeling of your body on his. He really wished and in that moment that he never agreed to those rules Rhysand had set for him and Cassian all those hundred of years ago.

The silence that engulfed the room would make anyone who didn’t know the two males squirm from how uncomfortable it was, but these two males had dealt with much more stressful problems and had sat in more silence than the average people did. Azriel knew that lately your antic had been pushing the line but he had never stopped you nor had he ever thought too. Mainly because he didn’t want you too but also in fear that if he asked you to stop you would never come to him again. “Truly Rhys there is nothing going on between me and your sister. You and I both know she only does this to get under your skin and she does that very well. As long as it bothers you then she will keep doing it. You know this.”

After a long and much needed talk Azriel made his way to the stand outside of the river house collecting a much needed breath of fresh air while he came to terms with his conversation with his oldest friend. A few moments pass before you come waltzing out of the house as if you had accomplished some great mission. “Maybe next time he’ll knock” Azriel knew exactly what you were talking about and couldn’t help but laugh at what you said. He didn’t need to ask you what you did as the one shadow that always kept you company told him all about what you had just done to your brother and his poor unsuspecting mate. Without another word Azriel scooped you into his arm while pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. Gods he wished this wouldn’t be the last time he felt your skin against his lips.

Rhysand had asked him to put a stop to your behavior towards him. Not that you made the shadowsinger uncomfortable, gods no, you could never do that. It was just you were your brother's pride and joy and he refused to let the males he considered his brothers to be the reason your heart broke. Rhysand would never be able to forgive or look at Azriel the same and he knew that. Azriel just wished the golden string tying the two of you together didn’t have to be hidden from everyone including you.

Taglist: @kemillyfreitas @gorlillaglue25 @willowpains

#acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel imagine #azriel one shot #azriel shadowsinger #azriel angst #rhysand x sister!reader

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