#grassy knoll boys | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

azsazz · 5 months

Text

Anywhere

Tamlin x Reader

Summary: Anon Request: Ooooo I’d literally love it so much if you’d write for Tamlin again😩 I feel like I’ve been seeing so much hate for him recently and I really just need more people doing my sweet misunderstood boy some justice :((( honestly anything that just has him being sweet and soft… hurt comfort is always a solid winner.

Warnings: Angst, foreplay.

Word Count: 1,712

Notes: Of course this would turn into something steamy, that's just who I am.

_________________________________________

“Tam?” you call softly, pushing the cracked door to his office open further. The room is dark, moonlight shining through the large windows. You spot him right away, and the warmth of the bond in your chest would tell you that he’s here even if you weren’t able to make out his form, slumped in his chair, elbows resting on knees and head in his hands.

He doesn’t answer but doesn’t turn you away either. Stepping into the room, you make your way towards him. His home is silent, almost eerie with lack of Tamlin practicing his fiddle, without the chatter of the chefs, courtiers, and handmaidens. It’s late, and they’ve all vacated the property. It’s only you and him now, and Tamlin hadn’t sought you out once the sun dipped behind the grassy knolls of the Spring Court.

Your footsteps patter softly against the wooden floors, the only sound in the manor besides your shallow breathing. Your heart kick starts along with your nerves, worry wracking your mind as you move closer and he doesn’t answer or shift. You can see the way his broad back heaves.

Timidly, you reach out your hand, brushing some of his long, blond hair from where it’s falling around his downturned head. Again, Tamlin doesn’t move as you tuck it gently behind his pointed ear.

“Tamlin?” you ask, running your hand down the back of his head. He’s starting to worry you, all silent and brooding like this. Lowering yourself beside him to your knees, you crane your neck to see his face, solemn with worry, usually bright green eyes dark. “Tam, are you okay, honey? What’s going on?”

Your mate doesn’t respond for a long while, and you don’t ask again. He reaches out, taking your hand in his. His fingers are cold, but his cheek is warm when he presses it against his skin, needing to be touched by you.

You stroke your thumb along his smooth skin, and his sigh startles the quiet of the midnight painted room. The moon paints his rosy, sun-kissed cheeks, his skin glowing with it, and for a male born for spring, he surely looks ethereal basked in the night.

His green eyes are piercing as he finally looks up at you, drinking you in. The soft look of concern on your face, knitting your brows together. That look in your eyes, the one that tells him that you will do anything for him, even if it means doing something you may regret. The downturn of your mouth, he can see your teeth nibbling at the inside of your mouth with worry, can feel that niggling down the bond too.

You remind him so much of her sometimes. When you’re reading up in the library in your favorite chair in your favorite spot in the manor, pushed right in front of the windows so you can look out into the garden and at the fountain while you lose yourself in your book. In fleeting moments when he’s playing his instrument and you wander your way into the ballroom, lured by the fantastical sounds drifting throughout the house. The way you fist your skirts and let the music consume you, twirling about the room with your head thrown back, laughing, until eventually you force him from his chair and plant his hands on your hips, the both of you dancing to the music of your bond, the push and pull of loving emotions shared between you.

Or when you strip your pastel dresses away and beckon him into the moonlight pond with your bare body. The silver water slipping against your skin like beads of the Mother’s tears. Only your envious beauty could make her cry. The way he can’t resist himself, eager to have his hands on you.

“I don’t deserve you.”

His admission is a whisper that, if you were outside, would be whisked away on the breath of the wind. But you’re not, and Tamlin damns the silence, for being so weak, so fucking comfortable in your presence that his mouth has unleashed this secret without his permission.

Your heart falters, and he feels it, splintering in his own chest. The burn reverberates in his bones, branding his soul with the flash of sadness you release down the bond before pulling those weaving vines taught so no more of your emotion can slip through the tight knit.

“What do you mean?” You ask, and you hate how your voice shakes. Your hand slackens against Tamlin’s cheek and he tightens his grip on the hand he’s holding as if he’s afraid you may pull away from him.

You’d never pull away from your mate. Instead, you move closer, parting his knees and sliding between them, staring up into those beautiful emerald eyes of his. They remind you so much of the plains that make up his court, the grasses taller than your knees, ones you had to wade through to pull him out of his self-loathing rut after Spring had fallen to shambles, making him see the sun shining again.

Tamlin drops your hand in favor of cradling your face in both of his hands. They’re shaking, as is his voice when he speaks answers. “You’re too good for me, petal, too good for this court. You are so bright, so caring and loving and you deserve so much more than to be trapped here—” His voice breaks a little, and you understand exactly what’s happening. Today is the anniversary of the downfall of Spring. The final day of the High Lady of Night’s plan to ruin everything Tamlin has never wanted but was bestowed by his bloodline. “You can go anywhere, do anything, you’re destined for so much better, so much better than me…”

Tears prick your eyes and you squeeze his wrists, hard. “Stop it right now, Tamlin. Don’t—don’t do this because you think it’s right. Don’t dismiss our love because of the past. You deserve to love and to be loved, to cherish and to live life freely and without dwelling on what happened because some illiterate little female got a taste of power. I will love you until every flower in this court shrivels and until the Mother returns us to the earth. You are mine and I am yours, forever. Is that not what we committed to by accepting this bond?”

“It is,” he hisses painfully, tugging you up. His movements are effortless, lifting you into his lap with an ease that makes your stomach twist. You’d clench your thighs together but Tamlin is spreading them on either side of his thighs so he can pull you as close to his body as he can. Now isn’t really the time to be acting like this, but your body reacts to the slightest thought of your wolfish mate, and with the way his large hands soothe up the sides of your thighs to settle on your waist, he can smell it on you too. “I love you so much that it makes me question everything. How can I head a court when all I want to do is steal you away into the night and force you somewhere no one can find us?” His teeth are sharp at the juncture of your throat and shoulder, making you shiver.

Tamlin couldn’t have admitted something like this long ago, hadn’t wanted to. He thought he might love the human female the way she’d initially loved him, but it was nothing compared to the burning passion he feels for you. The raw and unyielding power that sears his body when you’re near. He would give up this court in an instant if it meant saving you, keeping you for himself. He needs you like his gardens need the rain, the sunlight, the air. All of the best moments in his life don’t even compare to any of those you’ve given him. You are it, from dusk until dawn, from flesh to ash.

“Do it,” you gasp, fingering the hair at the nape of his neck. You tug on it, throwing your head back at his words, the sheer truth of them. You rock your hips against his, feeling his hard length pressing up to meet your cunt. “Take me Tamlin, whisk me away or bend me over this desk and take me right here. It doesn’t matter where we go or who we’re with as long as we’re together.”

“Fuck, petal,” he growls against your skin. He’s leaving marks but you don’t care, neither of you will be leaving your bed for days, not while Tamlin allows himself this freedom. His subordinates will keep the court running, and they know better than to disturb their High Lord. “This is what I’m talking about. The way that you move, that you love…this can’t all be for me.”

“It is,” you whine as he roughly grabs a fistful of your ass. He lifts his lips, grinding into you as your fingers scrabble against the fabric covering his muscular chest. “Gods, Tam. Take me upstairs, please!”

“Thought you wanted me to take you right here,” his breath is hot against your lips. He bites at your lower lip, pulling on it and causing you to gasp. “What happened to that?”

“Anywhere,” you’re all but babbling now. Tamlin’s fingers slide between your thighs, brushing across your panty-covered cunt. “Anywhere, take me anywhere.”

He pulls back and you want to whimper but the fire in his piercing eyes makes it catch in your throat. His lips are swollen, glistening from your kisses and his rough tongue on your skin. The way he’s staring up at you…it’s consuming. You slacked the tight reins on your barriers and are hit with his feelings full force. It almost feels like you’ve been struck, the way you rock back and Tamlin has to catch you, tuck you closer to his chest with those possessive hands you adore so much.

“Let me take you anywhere, then,” he whispers and you nod against his heated skin, forehead pressed to his. “Anywhere, Tamlin,” you agree, brushing your mouth sensually against his, pairing it with a swift roll of your hips that makes you both groan and his hands tighten on your skin. “I will love you everywhere.”

#tamlin x reader #tamlin #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #a court of thorns and roses

419 notes · View notes

its-dari · 11 months

Text

The Loving Hands of God

Creator AU - Where the reader is treated like a diety by the characters of Genshin Impact

Pairing(s): None || PLATONIC: Son! Wanderer & Parental! Gender Neutral! Creator! Reader Summary: He is reminded everyday that you chose him. But some days are harder than others; and he's grateful to have you sweep the cloudy skies away.

A/N: I don't really play Genshin but here we are, I'm just getting out my ideas - don't mind me.

This Wanderer is named "Kaito(神愛)", with the characters written for "god" and "love". I thought it could be cute to kind of give a call back to his origin but something also to remind him of how far he's come. He also calls the reader "Oya", which is the best thing I could get to a gender neutral Japanese term for mother or father.

I won't be taking requests! This is most likely a one time thing. This is also inspired by "this lovely piece" by @dropletpetals

(Extra Miscellaneous HCs: "The Son of Graces")

Warning(s): Wanderer backstory spoilers! Some revenge. This was written on my phone so forgive any errors.

Over grassy, rolling knolls - filled to the brim with blooming flowers in his favorite colors and breeds. Even under the loving warmth of sun on his cheeks and clouds turning themselves into the childish shapes of his desire. Even as the song on the winds speak his new name into his ears, the bonfires below burning it up so it reached the heavens. to the voices of acolytes proclaiming it so...

He was worried.

Worried and waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He was unwanted everywhere else.

By his mother, who made him a puppet - who left him with no identity or name

By the Fatui, who deemed him unworthy.

So when it came to be; the Creator's return to the mortal plane...

When he'd come to demand answers, angry about simply existing.

Your voice so gentle and warm, apologizing that you were not there to help him when he called to your name in begs and prayers. When the world you made and hurt him so much and how sorry you were that it treated him so cruelly... He felt the sincerity pouring through every pore, it washed over him - like a blanket.

You understood his pain.

He found that you had long since been asleep, since the dawn of the Archonic creation. Even the small bit of divinity used to create each drained your body, already tired from forming Teyvat with your hands. So you could not know of the acts being committed in your name, what those of your own blood were doing.

"If I had known one of mine created their own, I would have cherished them like I did them." You said with a softness only rivaled by your hands.

He had fallen to his knees, unable to stand after the crushing weight of pain fell upon him. You were not completely blameless...

But you did not lie to him.

Did not abandon him.

You stayed until the tears dried up, stroking his sore eyes.

"So now that I know she did not love you like you deserve... You are mine now." He nearly fell again, but your embrace held him up. "You will be my son... And I will give you everything."

How it was so warm and loving, arms cradling him as if he were nothing more than a babe. His hands white-knuckling at your divine robes as he just sniveled into your chest, no doubt covering them in his snot and tears... But you didn't care, cooing sweetly to the boy about how he's already made you proud. How you already loved him.

He nearly cried again when you gave him his name.

"You will be my son, so your name will have our title."

You pondered about it for a while before having a servant fetched ink and parchment. It was a bit unusual, seeing you hold the calligraphy brush. Seeing the ink touching the edges if your sleeves and staining them, but you just smile so brightly when it is finished.

「神愛」

He longed for a place to belong, for an identity... For someone or something to give him worth.

You have given him all these things.

He was uncomfortable at first having it, as it was blatantly a reminder of his lineage. of the woman who abandoned him... Of beelzebul.

But you only smiled.

"It is to remind everyone where you started," your hands come to guide him "and how far you've come."

"The character for god, so you always remember me and so I am always with you." You hummed a lullby as the strokes appeared across the parchment. "And the character for love so you know how much I have for you."

He smudges ink on his robes too, unable to stop smiling as his whispered his name to himself.

Kaito was the name on the tongues of the acolytes once his adoption was raised outside your walls domain. Call of festivals was announced to welcome him into the fold, into the public, as the beloved son of Teyvat's dear Creator soon to be celebrated as well.

For if he was worthy in the eyes of the Creator; he should also be worshipped.

He laughed at Beelzebul's frantic correspondence sent to you; of which descended into begging for at least a letter to be sent... You had found yourself simply unable to deal with her after finding out what she'd done to him, decidedly icing her out on his behalf.

It was a wonderful feeling being loved, as sweet as it would be showing her what had become of her puppet.

He allowed an invitation to his coronation be sent to her, despite your worries about his mental health.

"Are you sure you want to see her, dear? it'd be so dreadful if she ruined your special day." You asked him gently, your concern making his cold heart swell.

"I will be fine," he insisted as you settle another crown to test on his head, amused "it will show her what she missed and how much it cost her."

You laughed at the cruelty but don't otherwise protest.

You didn't find a crown suited to him that day, though you thanked the providers. The items were returned and shop-keeps were able to keep them as they were considered beautiful pieces by the creator.

The day came and he still did not have a crown.

But he trusted you to find one, as you insisted it would be only appropriate as he was your son.

The day had come quicker than he would have liked, how he was primped and cleansed - donning the celestial robes of the creator.

Of you, his darling guardian.

They were deep violet, small pearlescent spots likes stars crawling up the gold trimmed edges. His under clothes blacker than the abyss, the servants in awe of his beauty. Leaving him bashfully flushing and modestly brushing off their assorted compliments. He dripped in opulence, gold pieces to accent his looks as the crackle of blessing came from the Gnosis you made personally for him.

As he finally was ready, he wondered if he was worthy.

Your eyes sparkled like gems when you saw him, taking him in your open arms and bursting in joy. Happy to see him looking so handsome and playfully crooning about his future partner in a manner that made him absolutely red in embarrassment.

You only laughed and softly spoke, "Come baby, there is a whole world to show that you are worthy of worship."

His hand was clasped in your's, the walk slow and almost agonizing. The chattering of people growing less distant with the passing moments, his hands shake and he needed a second as you stepped onto the balcony first.

The cheers of Teyvat boomed like a sonic roar, your hymns and prayers called to the wind as the ground and skies bellowed your name. He is terrified....

But he is ready.

You lifted your hands for silence, still smiling as bright and as warm as the sun. The hush that came was nearly instant, eager faces peering up in utter reverence. Archons on high waiting to hear your lovely voice.

"My dear creations, Teyvat.... As you have heard, I have found a son." The cheers from below just made you smile wider "It is much more than just finding someone worthy to hold my place and succeed me, it is because I love this boy... Love him so dearly that I wanted him as my own, he deserves your worship. Deserves to be loved as much as I. He'd gone through much pain and it broke my heart to know that this world that I made treats its kind people with such cruelty."

Your eyes watered when the people join together, holding hands and each other.

"If I could take all the suffering, I would... But feeling and understanding pain is what shows we are alive, that we are stronger for persevering." your voice shook, "And my poor boy had been through so much."

Your hands wipe your eyes and they watch, captivated at your grace and beauty - even in your sorrow. But then you give them a smile again and step aside, calling to the masses in pride that is so reminiscent of a parent.

"I, the All-Creator, Jewel of Celestia, have the greatest pleasure to present to you; your prince and my son..." The curtains pull back and he walked onto the balcony, beams of light shining off his hair and deep eyes. "Young lord Kaito of Teyvat!!!"

The screams would be deafening if you both weren't so high up, the chants of his new name louder than he can even think. The shouts of praise nearly make him shrink, but he stood tall. Especially as your hand touched his back, as your smiling face came into his peripheral. With his head up, he looked at them dead on and waved.

He smiled.

Especially as his sharp eyes caught Beelzebul's pale, shocked face. but the fuzzy warmth in his chest only grew as your fingers touched the top of his head.

From your touch, your grace washed over him. The weight of a diadem formed on his head. The Gnosis on his chest buzzed to life and his body rolled in a brightness rivaled only by the stars, from his skin to his blood - it was if he was charged with energy. A power that was unlike anything else he'd ever had.

"Divinity suits you, Kaito." You hummed, taking his hand.

Kaito smiled shyly and just squeezed your hand and whispered, "Only because I take after you, Oya."

At your side, he finally has a place.

He finally has his rightful godly status.

As he looked to see pride in your glittering tears and smile nearly blinding... A peace like no other settled within him.

He belongs.

He is worthy.

#genshin sagau wanderer #genshin sagau #genshin creator au #gender neutral reader #platonic #genshin cult au #sagau x reader #genshin impact sagau #sagau #genshin x reader #x reader insert #reader insert #x reader #dari writes #platonic x reader

682 notes · View notes

theostrophywife · 1 year

Text

mariposa.

i just need a quick fix, i ain't gonna miss this we've already crossed that line before, i won't get addicted tell me lies girl say it softly, you'll be sayin take it off me

author's note: you guys know how much i adore lucien. i'm absolutely unwell just thinking about our overprotective, feisty fox boy. there's also a surprise guest appearance that i think ya'll will appreciate 😏 song inspiration: lacrimosa by matt kent.

The rhythmic pounding of hollow drums echoed throughout the spring manor, its seductive beat beckoning you to come outside and join in on the festivities. Your gaze flickered to the shimmering lock placed on your bedroom door as Tamlin’s warning echoed in the dark and empty bedchamber.

Stay in your room.

You huffed, crossing your arms. Who the hell was he to tell you what to do? Tamlin may be the High Lord of the Spring Court, but it didn’t grant him the right to forbid you from attending Calanmai. Especially not after you spent the whole day being paraded around the countless lords seeking your hand in marriage only to then be tucked away when your presence was no longer convenient.

No, that simply wouldn’t do.

With a wicked grin, you pulled a rhinestone pin out of your hair and knelt in front of the door. You whispered an incantation and the pin glowed brightly as you rattled it against the lock. With a flick of your wrist, the door propped open. You peered out into the hallway and confirmed that the coast was clear before carefully creeping through the quiet house.

The spring manor was empty for the night. There wasn’t a single servant present to stop you from making your way downstairs. They were all probably at Calanmai already, dancing and drinking and doing all the things that Tamlin had barred you from doing. He already had the Great Rite to worry about, your brother had said. The High Lord didn’t need his troublesome little sister getting in the way of his duties.

You would make him regret it.

The thought put a spring in your step as you strolled through the gardens, taking in the balmy evening and the cool spring breeze. First thing was first, you needed to conceal your identity if you hoped to avoid being spotted by your brother or any of his cronies. With a wisp of magic, conjured an intricate golden mask, its ornate swirls and whorls fanning out into deep yellows and oranges as white spots dotted the edges of the black borders and veins. The accessory matched your copper dress perfectly. As you placed the mask over your eyes, the wings flickered and mimicked the graceful movements of a monarch butterfly.

Donning a satisfied smile, you crossed the clearing that would lead you to the festivities. Your skirts whispered against the earth as you winnowed atop the hill at the edge of the manor. Down below, you watched as High Fae and faeries alike danced around the fires lighting up the lush landscape.

The savage beat of the drums summoned you across the grassy knoll and you gladly surrendered to its call. Smoke curled through the air and enveloped you in its intoxicating haze as you reached the heart of the crowd. Someone grabbed you by the waist, dragging you into the throng of dancing bodies circling the large bonfire burning at the center of the field.

There was something magnetic about the movements, a ritual awakening deep within your bones as magic unfurled its golden glow through your entire being. You tipped your head back and laughed, twirling in dizzying circles as you changed partners again and again. One of them—a handsome dryad—handed you a goblet filled with a golden, sparkling liquid.

The drink was unlike anything you’ve ever tasted before. You could feel the edges of your vision blurring, every thought and worry ebbing and flowing through your mind, and your surroundings turned fuzzy as though someone had placed a lace veil over your eyes. The carefree feeling it brought was delicious and addicting so you drained the drink down to its last drop, greedily licking the sparkling remnants off your lips.

The dryad you were currently dancing with twirled you across the field and you clumsily stumbled across the soft grass before a pair of strong arms steadied you.

You looked up to thank the stranger, but the words died in your throat as soon as you beheld the male standing before you. He was the embodiment of sensuality and seduction with raven hair as dark as night and golden brown skin gleaming against the backdrop of the burning bonfire, the flames mimicking the intricate tattoos peeking out above his perfectly fitted tunic. Fine clothing adorned his body, its deep ebony color matching the shimmer of darkness that seemed to waft through his shoulders like the night sky.

But it was his eyes—those deep violet eyes that shimmered with amusement that seemed to set off your internal alarm. Danger lurked behind that amethyst gaze.

“Be careful, little butterfly.” A voice as smooth as velvet drawled. “We wouldn’t want you flying away now, do we?”

With feline grace, the male placed one hand on the small of your back and the other on your shoulder as he swept you across the crowd. This dance wasn’t like the wild, jovial traditional dance of the Spring Court. It was smooth and steady, every twist and turn performed with calculated precision. A lethal waltz with an equally lethal partner.

The stranger spun you around and the silks of your skirts hugged his dark trousers as he reeled you back into his arms.

“I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of being introduced,” the handsome male purred. “Where has the High Lord been hiding a treasure like yourself, my lady?”

You swallowed thickly. The music and laughter echoed all around you, but they sounded slow and distorted as though your mind had been dipped in a jar of honey. Faces blurred in your periphery and dragged across the forefront of your consciousness like molasses, there and gone with the blink of an eye. It took a considerable amount of effort to bring your focus back to the stranger.

“I’m new to the Spring Court.”

It wasn’t technically a lie, given that you’d only just made your formal debut a week ago. The stranger raised a brow, but if he had any qualms regarding your statement, he didn’t voice them.

“Allow me to extend the warmest of welcomes, then.” He took a gloved hand and pressed his lips against your knuckles, mischief sparkling in those star kissed eyes. “My name is Rhysand.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Rhysand,” you said with a shy smile. “I’m—”

“Spoken for,” said a voice from behind you.

A figure emerged from the trees, tall and lean and all too familiar. A flash of scarlet glimmered in the night as Lucien came into view.

Of all people, it had to be your brother’s best friend catching you sneaking out of the manor and dancing with the most beautiful male you’ve ever laid eyes on. Still, there was the matter of the stupid little prattling of your heart as you turned to face the handsome red headed male.

Despite the increasing effects of that damned faerie wine, the sight of Lucien never failed to take your breath away.

As befitting an emissary, he was dressed in fine clothing of a deep, rich green that accentuated the crimson locks flowing behind his back. Intricate braids crowned his head as soft tendrils kissed the planes of his elegant face. His sparkling amber and golden mechanical eye affixed on you. A heated spark flashed through his gaze, but it was gone before you could decipher its meaning.

You’ve fancied Lucien for as long as you could remember. At first, it had been a harmless little thing. You were so young when you first met and he’d always had that older, mysterious allure made even more enticing by the fact that Lucien was forbidden fruit. He was Tamlin’s best friend and constant companion and you were the younger sister with an innocent crush.

But now that you were both fully grown, the tension between you and Lucien was anything but.

“Calanmai is for invited guests only,” Lucien said sharply, his shoulders tensing. "And the last time I checked, you weren't on the list."

A lazy smile tugged on Rhysand’s lips. “Now, now, Lucien. Is that any way for an emissary to address a High Lord?” That violet gaze winked down at you. “Especially not in the presence of a beautiful maiden.”

Lucien gritted his teeth. “The lady is spoken for.”

Now that was interesting. Lucien could’ve easily identified you as Tamlin’s sister, but he chose not to. Perhaps he didn’t want word of your escape to reach your brother.

“Stunning creatures, butterflies.” Rhysand said with a knowing smile, reaching out to caress your mask. Lucien bristled, but the High Lord of the Night Court only smirked seductively. “Though I’ve found that they tend to get restless if not properly stimulated.”

Lucien angled himself between you and the handsome stranger. “My lady has had enough excitement for one night.”

You frowned, glaring at your friend’s back. You wanted to dance and laugh and drink until dawn. You wanted to feel the wind in your hair and the music in your chest, the warmth of the alcohol spreading through your body and making you relaxed and pliant, but as Lucien pinned his gaze on you, the fear and concern swimming in his eyes kept you from speaking.

“It’s time to escort you back to the manor,” Lucien announced with finality. He spoke into the smoky night, not once looking at you. An argument sat on the tip of your tongue, but you thought better of it as your friend's fists clenched at his side.

Violet eyes met your own as Rhysand dipped into a bow. He kissed your hand once more, making you blush fiercely. “Until we meet again, little butterfly.”

You watched as the male sauntered away, but not before winking back at you with a sultry grin.

Without a word, Lucien grabbed your wrist and winnowed into thin air. The sudden transition was jarring and you barely had time to gather your wits before you were being ushered through the doors of the manor. The black and white chequered marble floors blurred beneath your feet as you and Lucien passed through like a furious wind, his deep auburn hair nearly whipping against your cheek as he stomped up the sweeping staircase.

He didn’t look back once. Didn’t speak as he threw the door open and watched you walk through the threshold. Alone in your bedchambers, Lucien whirled around with barely contained rage coloring his handsome face.

“Are you fucking insane?” The Autumn Court male finally spoke as you plopped down on the bed, the aftereffects of all the dancing and drinking weighing heavy on your body. “Do you know how utterly idiotic it was to venture out alone? On Calanmai, of all nights! You’re lucky that it was me who found you and not Tamlin.”

“And dancing with Rhysand—Rhysand of all fucking people!”

“At least he bothered to talk to me!” you yelled, voice hoarse and strained. “All you and Tamlin ever do is lock me in here like I’m some child that needs to be constantly coddled.”

“Could you blame us?” he said harshly. “One night on your own and you managed to attract the attention of the most dangerous male in all of Prythian. Rhysand may have flashed you pretty smiles and flowery words, but it doesn’t change the beast that lurks within. He is the High Lord of the Night Court. He could have ripped your mind apart without lifting a single finger.”

You blanched at the realization. “I—I didn’t know.”

“That’s precisely the point,” your friend snapped. “You jump into things headfirst without any regard for your safety.” Lucien released a shaky breath, his hand trembling as he raked his fingers through his hair. “If anything happened to you…”

The worry dancing in his eyes momentarily sobered you. Enough for you to take his hand and squeeze in reassurance. “I’m fine, Lucien. Rhysand didn’t do anything to me. We just danced, that’s all.”

His grip tightened around your wrist. “He made you smile. Made you laugh. And he called you little butterfly,” Lucien said the last word softly, but it laid heavy between you.

“It was because of the mask—”

A burning fire raged within Lucien. “I don’t give a damn why. He doesn’t have the right.” He titled your chin up, forcing you to look at him. “Only I get to call you that, mariposa.”

You whimpered at the gruffness of his voice. Mariposa was Lucien's nickname for you and he usually said it with soft fondness, but the there was nothing gentle about the way he was wielding it now.

There was a part of you that knew Lucien was angry. His words echoed, but they didn’t fully register and were instead swallowed up by the haze clouding your mind. The only thing you could focus on was how badly the room was spinning and how your internal temperature seemed to spike higher and higher as Lucien pulled back to pace in front of the crackling hearth.

Heat blossomed in your core and snaked its fiery tendrils throughout your body, making you feel flushed and overheated. Your skin felt too hot and your dress too suffocating as you crumpled into a nearby chair. You hadn’t even noticed that your hands were shaking until you haphazardly wiped the sweat off of your brow.

“Y/N?” Lucien’s voice sounded hollow and distant even though he was kneeling right beside you. You blinked, murmuring softly as he took your face in his hands. Gone was the wrath and fury from earlier, replaced now by worry and concern. “You’re burning up.”

His mechanical eye focused on the golden flecks covering your mouth. Lucien cursed lowly as he wiped his thumb across your bottom lip. The action made you shiver and you involuntarily leaned into his touch, his warmth, his scent. It felt good, so good, to have him touching you.

“Did the High Lord give you anything to drink?” Lucien tilted your chin and you groaned, lashes fluttering against your cheek as his rough, calloused hands brushed against your skin. “Think, Y/N. I need you to answer me, sweetheart.”

You blinked, recalling the goblet of wine. “No, no, it wasn’t Rhys. It was another male. A dryad. Your fingers brushed against the flecks on your mouth and you furrowed your brows in confusion at Lucien’s deep frown. “He gave me some wine. It was gold and sweet.”

“That bloody bastard.” Your friend’s tone was sharp and biting, anger rippling through him in waves.

“Why?” you asked as spots blurred your vision. “I feel fuzzy and warm and it’s so godsdamned stuffy in this room. What’s happening to me, Lucien?”

“You drank Amortis,” Lucien explained.

The mention of the potion sent a course of panic through you, but it was swallowed up again by the flame of desire burning hotter and hotter underneath your friend’s intense gaze. Somewhere in the abscesses of your brain, you knew that this was bad.

Amortis was an aphrodisiac used as an aid during the mating rituals of Calanmai. You vaguely recalled learning about it during your lessons about the Great Rite, but you’d been too drunk on faerie wine and music for the significance of the drink to register.

“The dryad must have slipped it into your wine when you weren’t looking.” His expression darkened, a snarl rippling through his chest. “I’m going to rip him apart bit by bit. Tamlin can have what’s left.”

His eyes widened. “Oh gods, I have to tell Tam.”

You shook your head and tugged at his wrist. “No,” you pleaded. If Tamlin heard about any of this, he’d never let you out of his sight again. “Please don’t tell my brother, Lu.”

Lucien softened at your given nickname for him. Try as he might, the Autumn Court male couldn’t deny that he had a soft spot for you. Having known you your entire life, he was just as protective over you as Tamlin was. Growing up with brothers, he hadn’t been prepared for the antics and schemes that you always seemed to get yourself into. You were trouble personified and you had him completely wrapped around your finger.

Always have, always will.

So he sighed in defeat.

“Fine,” Lucien conceded. “But we have to do something. You’re burning up.”

“A shower,” you suggested. “I need a cold shower.”

Your friend helped you onto your feet and escorted you into the large bathroom attached to your bedchambers. The marble tiled shower hissed and groaned as Lucien eased the handles. Mist fogged up the mirror and you leaned against the countertop, wriggling out of your shoes.

The effects of the potion reached its peak and took full control of your body. Every sensation felt intensified as you doubled over in pain. You nearly ripped the dress off of your body, leaving you in nothing but your lace underclothes as you stepped into the cold shower.

Curled up into a fetal position, you hugged your knees to your chest and allowed the freezing water to cool your body temperature. Lucien knelt down beside you and wrapped an arm against your shoulder, stroking your hair and murmuring words of comfort.

The warmth of the Autumn Court male enveloped you in cinnamon and sunshine. Whether it was the Amortis or your natural attraction to Lucien, you found yourself leaning in closer and nuzzling into his neck. His grip on your shoulder tightened as your lips brushed against his skin.

“Y/N.”

A fiery tendril curled around your finger as you looked up and met Lucien’s gaze. Water fell in rapid droplets, soaking through his white shirt and clinging onto his golden-brown skin. You traced the scar above his brow and his eyes fluttered close in response. Lucien’s ragged breathing filled the room as you traced the elegant planes of his face, your thumb brushing against his lips. They looked so lush and inviting, you wanted nothing more than to lean in and take a bite.

You tilted your chin up, nuzzling your nose against his. An inch closer and his lips would be on yours. Lucien's lashes kissed your cheek as his eyes fluttered open. Meeting his burning gaze was like looking directly at the sun.

“I want to kiss you,” you whispered.

A flash of something dark and dangerous glimmered in Lucien’s hypnotic stare before he clamped down on your wrist. For a second, you could see the conflict raging within him. He wanted this as much as you did. All he needed to do was give in. The shower above you hissed and Lucien blinked, snapping out of whatever moment the two of you had been in the midst of.

He pulled away, clearing his throat. “It’s just the effects of Amortis.”

“Amortis lowers your inhibitions,” you countered. “But it doesn’t alter your desires, which means I’d want to kiss you even if I were sober.”

Lucien gently removed your hand from his face and set it on your lap. “Maybe so,” he mused before reaching up to turn the shower handle. “But I’m not going to kiss you tonight. Not like this.”

You frowned, crossing your arms. “Why? Because I’m Tamlin’s pesky little sister who’s had an embarrassing crush on you for centuries?”

The redhead pinned you against the tiled wall, his stare burning holes into your skin. “Because I care about you. Because the first time I kiss you won’t be because you accidentally consumed an aphrodisiac.” He braced his palms on either side of your head and you swallowed at how much he towered over you, how easily he caged you in. “When I finally kiss you, mariposa, it won’t just be a kiss. It’ll be everything and there’ll be no going back from it. So I need you to be sure.”

A shiver crawled up your spine. “I am sure,” you said softly. “I’ve always been sure about you, Lucien.”

He smiled. A devastating sort of smile that sent sunlight into the cracks of your soul. “Then tell me in the morning, little butterfly.”

Dawn broke over the horizon as golden rays speared through the bruised sky. Someone had left the curtains in your bedchambers spread apart. Probably you. Or maybe it was Lucien.

Lucien.

Memories from the night before flooded your thoughts. After your embarrassing confession, Lucien had helped you get dressed and carried you to bed. You shot up in the large four poster bed, rustling the pillows and blankets that he’d carefully tucked you into. A glimpse of red snagged your attention and you found your friend sprawled across a velvet lounge chair, his long legs hanging over the edge.

The sound of your shuffling roused the red haired male from sleep. He pitched forward, alarm spreading through his face when he found you staring at him. Lucien crossed the room in two strides and knelt beside your bed. He scanned your features, gently cradling your chin between his fingers.

“I’m fine, Lu.”

Relief washed over your friend. There was something endearing about the way he fretted over you.

“Never scare me like that again,” Lucien said.

You grinned. “I think that’s the last time I ever drink Amortis. Though I can’t promise to stay out of trouble.”

Lucien sighed deeply, running a hand through his fiery locks. “I’m serious, Y/N. In all of my immortal existence, I’ve never felt terror like I did when I saw you dancing with Rhysand.”

“Is the High Lord truly that horrifying?”

“I wasn’t scared of him,” Lucien said. There was no bravado in the statement, just pure honesty as he fixed his gaze on you. “I was scared for him. Of what I wanted to do to him for simply breathing the same air as you.”

You swallowed thickly. “What you said last night…what I said last night. I meant it, Lucien.”

Lucien went still as death, his mechanical eye whirring to life as he scanned over you. Checking for any traces of Amortis. Confirming that you weren’t still under its spell. Your heart pounded in your chest as you caressed his cheek.

“I’m not under any spell,” you whispered softly. “What I feel, it’s real. I wanted to kiss you last night and I still want to kiss you this morning. I’m sure, Lucien.”

His slender fingers curled gently around your wrist, his breathing low and ragged as he brought his gaze up to you. There was something primal and possessive in those eyes.

“I won’t insult you by attempting to describe how I feel about you in words,” he declared, his voice like honeyed wine ebbing through your very core. “I’ll just show you instead.”

Lucien’s slender fingers curled through your unbound hair, tilting your head at just the right angle before he gently pressed his lips against yours. The kiss ignited a fire within your core. It was soft and sweet yet demanding and possessive. You could tell that Lucien was barely restraining himself by the way his breath hitched as your lips met.

You melted into his touch as he brought you closer, setting you on his lap as he leaned against the headboard. Centuries of curiosity was satisfied as you raked your fingers through his hair, the feel of it smooth and silky like you’d always imagined. Shy pecks turned into lingering heated kisses as you explored one another. Lucien groaned when you shifted your hips, greedily leaning down to taste more of him.

He tugged you by the top of your thighs, placing you chest to chest. The sunlight streaming in from the window crowned him in glorious day, his auburn hair shining brightly like a living flame as though Lucien was the embodiment of fire itself. There was a wildness in him that drew you in like a moth to a flame.

Lucien stroked your cheek tenderly as though he were convincing himself that you weren’t just a figment of his imagination. His features softened as you took his hand and kissed his fingertips.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed. “You put the flowers in this court to shame with the way you bloom.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest, filling you with a wave of emotions. It was a rare occasion for you to be rendered speechless, but Lucien was more than capable of stunning you into complete silence.

You pressed your lips against his in response, the kiss turning urgent as you poured all of the words you weren’t able to articulate into one single action. Lucien groaned as you gently tugged on his bottom lip. He teased his tongue past the seam of your lips and you gladly obliged, welcoming him in.

There was no trace of his restraint from earlier as Lucien flipped you over, pinning you underneath him as he completely devoured you. It was in that moment that you realized that you’ve never been properly kissed. Because this…this paled in comparison to every other kiss you’ve ever had.

It nearly knocked the breath out of you. From the way that Lucien’s chest was rising and falling, you weren’t the only one. As the kiss deepened, the desire to feel him, to truly feel him, became overwhelming. You tugged on the hem of his shirt and Lucien pulled away to allow you to pull it off of him.

He toyed with the straps of the nightgown that he had helped you change into a few hours ago, a question in his expression. You merely nodded and shrugged out of the silky material. Lucien watched as you laid yourself bare before him, his fingers brushing against your delicate skin.

You tugged at the front of his trousers and he gently wrapped his fingers around your wrist. “Are you sure?”

“I told you, Lucien.” You said, meeting his burning gaze. “I’ve always been sure about you. I want this. I want you.”

“I want you, too,” he whispered. “More than anyone has ever wanted anything in this entire realm.”

“So take me.”

Lucien didn’t need to be told twice. He kissed you again but this time it was desperate and full of need. His hands roamed over your body, tracing every line and curve with devotion. Lucien kissed every surface of skin as though he were committing your body to memory. His fingers dipped low as he parted your legs, groaning when he found you wet and ready for him.

You watched as he lined himself up at your entrance. Every move was filled with tenderness. Lucien teased the tip in, his gaze never leaving yours while he eased his cock inside of you. His length stretched you beyond your limit, but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Once he filled you to the hilt, he paused.

“Are you alright?”

You nodded, brushing a stray strand of red hair from his cheek. “Never better.”

Your friend smiled before slowly pulling out, monitoring your reactions as he established a steady pace. By no means were you inexperienced, but as Lucien rolled his hips into yours, it felt like you’d been starved of touch your whole life. He seemed to echo the sentiment as awe and bewilderment took over his features.

It had never felt like this with anyone else.

The way he touched you was full of devotion as though your body was a temple and he was making his burnt offerings upon the altar. Lucien lavished you with worship, his large hands easing your leg up so he could angle himself deeper. You moaned as he brushed against a particularly sensitive spot.

“Gods, Lucien.”

His forehead dropped to yours, eyes blazing with fire. You didn’t have to say the words. Lucien knew exactly what you meant. “I know,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours. “I know, sweetheart.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist as he buried his face into the crook of your shoulder, his breathing ragged. His muscles tensed underneath your fingertips as you raked your nails across his back. Lucien growled into your mouth as you dragged him down beside you, flipping positions so that you were perched on his lap.

His skin glistened in the early morning light, beads of sweat glimmering like crystals along his perfectly sculpted torso. You braced your hands on his chest and rode him slowly, moving your hips back and forth while he watched through heavy lids. A large hand clamped down on your right hip hard enough to bruise, but you kept the steady rhythm as the male underneath you groaned.

From this angle, the friction on your clit combined with Lucien’s upward thrusts unraveled that familiar feeling in your core. Lucien felt you clench around him and he sat upright, sucking harshly at your neck.

“Let go, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he whispered gently. You closed your eyes, giving into the rush of sensations. “That’s it. I want to watch you come undone.”

The impact made your vision blur with white heat. For a split second, you felt as though you were floating above your body, watching as you writhed in pleasure. Lucien’s voice brought you back and you relished the way your name tumbled so prettily from his mouth, like the prayer of a devoted believer. He roared as he finished, his head lolling against the crook of your neck.

At some point, his braids had come undone and you giggled as crimson locks tickled your cheek. Lucien lifted his head, observing you with a soft smile. Behind him, the sun reached its peak over the horizon and formed a golden crown upon his head.

You propped an elbow up against your pillow, a small smile spreading across your lips as you admired the male beside you.

Lucien grinned back, brushing his nose against your cheek. “What are you thinking about, mariposa?”

“I’m thinking that I should endanger myself more often if this is what it leads to.”

The redhead frowned, flicking your nose. “You do seem to have a special talent for attracting trouble.”

You shrugged lazily. “I attract a lot of things. Including stubborn, possessive redheads.”

Lucien chuckled before pulling you into his chest. His arm snaked around your waist as he nuzzled against the back of your neck.

“Falling for you is by far the most reckless thing I’ve ever done,” he whispered softly. You turned slightly, worry marking your features. Lucien smoothed the creases on your forehead. “But I don’t regret it. Not one bit.”

You sighed in relief, melting back into his arms. Comfortable silence stretched between you as the reality of what you’d just done settled. Lucien was right. There was no going back from this.

The spring manor came to life, voices filtering in and out as everyone started preparing for the day. You turned to fully face him, speaking the words that you were both thinking.

“What are we gonna tell my brother, Lu?”

Lucien brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “We’ll tell him the truth. That this was inevitable. That nothing in this realm could’ve kept me away from you.”

“Are you sure about this?” Your heart pounded in your chest as you met his gaze. “About me?”

“I am sure,” he said with a smile. “I’ve always been sure about you.”

As he echoed your words from last night, you leaned in to kiss him. You were part thrilled, part terrified of whatever came next.

But as long as Lucien was by your side, you were ready to face the dawn of a new day.

taglist: @viradeity @moony-thoughts @i-opened-the-chamber-of-secrets @demirunner @swansworth @heart-defendor @momlo @mali22 @roselensage @searchingford@nessianxgwynriel@azriels-angels@brekkershadowsinger@morelovemorepeacemoretattoo-blog @mattte-black @marina468 @lillithathecathecat @highladyofillyria

#lucien was a smooth mfer in this one #lucien vanserra #lucien smut #lucien acotar #lucien x reader #lucien x you #lucien vanserra smut #lucien vanserra x you #acotar smut

535 notes · View notes

nikethestatue · 10 months

Text

Plot Twist

for my darling beautiful hilariously funny kind and irreverent @impossiblescissorspeachpaper

Happy birthday, my love! I hope you find this familiar and enjoy this gift. This also goes to @tswaney17 because she is the star of this. And all the girlies!

Based on a true story

There he was. The most beautiful man in the world.

Strong and lean. Muscular. Powerful legs steadily pumping the pedals. Thighs of a Greek god. Arms of a Roman god. Face worthy of a Raphael’s painting.

He was so handsome, she wanted to cry.

He also paid her exactly zero attention.

She loved this trail and has been jogging around the pond, the hilly slopes, the grassy knolls, and the paths shaded by massive cypresses and oaks for two years now. Bicyclists, frankly, were usually nothing but a nuisance. They sort of tried to stick to their side of the path, but it was like they were just so very important they expected everyone to move and give way.

Well, she was Elain fucking Archeron, and she wasn’t moving for nobody!

Beep.

Beep-beep.

Beeeeeppp.

She pretended not to hear the annoying sound of the bike bell, but then someone was shouting ‘On your left!’ and she made a panicked swerve to avoid being hit by the cyclist.

“Dipshit,” her sister Nesta muttered next to her, throwing daggers at the cyclists’ backs, as they rolled smoothly past the two sisters.

“T!” Elain muttered in turn, blushing.

Nesta, who usually went by T, because she felt that her name was too weird for an average American to comprehend, was sharp and bristly, and would’ve been perfectly fine getting into a shouting match for a bunch of muscular bikers. Elain was…well, not cowardly exactly, but she preferred to think of herself as rational. Yes, she was a rational person who did get into fights with strangers.

She just ogled them.

This one particular stranger.

Pulling her AirPods out of her ears, Nesta threw Elain a withering glance and said, without slowing down, while Elain was beginning to pant.

“Why don’t you just approach him?”

“No way!” Elain exclaimed in horror. “I am not approaching strange men in parks!”

Nesta rolled her eyes and then gritted out,

“Can’t you think of something? Not weird, but just…friendly?”

“No!” Elain wiped her brow, as she attempted to keep pace with her more athletic sister. “Because it’s always weird. It’s like that scene from ‘Get Hard’, where they go to the gay bar brunch and Kevin Hart is instructing Will Ferrell on how to approach a man and ask him to suck dick! And Will Ferrell is like ‘Oh hi, hello. Can I…uh…can I suck your dick?’...”

Nesta was laughing. Elain was ridiculous, but also adorable in her inability to approach men, have conversations with them, or even look at them without being painfully obvious. Elain, her sweet sister, who was pretty as a peony, smart and funny, who wrote excellent fanfiction for her favourite series ‘A Court of Thorns and Roses’ and was a superstar on AO3, who volunteered at dog shelters, and dreamt of brooding dark dominant men, who’d come into her life and sweep her off her feet–Elain had no game. None.

Nesta wasn’t exactly surprised that the idea of approaching the biking hunk was abhorrent to Elain. She’d never even consider it.

“Well, it’s that, or Tinder,” Nesta shrugged, her expression somehow fatalistic.

Elain shuddered and shook her head vigorously.

“Why?!” she demanded. “Why can’t I just meet a good man and fall in love,”

“You don’t want to fall in love with a good man,” Nesta argued. “You want to fall in love with a bad boy with knuckle tattoos!”

“No I don’t,” Elain argued prissily, though she was blushing ferociously, and Nesta knew that she hit the spot. “Why would I want someone like that?!”

“Why? Because you think that Zade Meadows is a romantic. And your Pinterest is filled with hot dudes with knuckle tattoos. You literally have a board named ‘Hot Dudes with Tattoos’.”

Elain stared at her sister in abject horror.

“You snooped??!?!” she screeched. “You snooped on my Pinterest?!!?”

“Simmer down. It’s not like I went through your PornHub history! Jeez,” Nesta shook her head.

“I don’t have a PornHub history!” Elain exclaimed.

They were standing in the shade, and Nesta was stretching her long, slender limbs. She didn’t need to stop, but her less fit sister definitely did. Therefore, Nesta pretended like she needed to massage her hamstring and roll her shoulders.

“El, you need to go after what you want,” Nesta insisted. She knew the conversation was pointless and Elain never would, but it didn’t hurt to remind her. “Listen, you are a 30 year old virgin,”

“I am not a virgin!” Elain’s eyes popped out of their sockets in righteous indignation.

Nesta cocked her brow and put her hands on her hips.

“Uh-uh,”

“Yes! No! I am not a virgin! Also, I am not 30!” Elain yelled. “I am not a virgin!”

Two things happened.

The hot cyclist, and his posse, were just below them, resting and drinking, parked at the curve of the road. Elain’s shouting about the state of her hymen to the whole world solicited sniggers and chuckles, and the hot dude lifted his head and looked up.

Nesta could see the appeal–he was handsome indeed. Excellent body. A smirk on his lips–which she felt was warranted–as he looked at her sister, while Elain was about to explode where she stood. The rest of the cyclists saluted them, grinning and laughing, and got on their way, while the Hot One lingered behind. He was staring upward, his eyes skimming over Elain’s voluptuous body, gliding over her ample chest and her long slender legs.

The second thing that happened was Elain scrambled backwards, gasping like a fish out of water, staring at him in horror. Before Nesta could make a snide remark about hoping that the Hot One was up for the challenge of deflowering a virgin, Elain tripped on the rocks, slipped and fell on her ass. Her leg shot out in front of her, pushing on a large rock, which skidded down the path and bounced against the dry slope. It was like watching a murder in slow motion. They all saw it. Elain–arms outstretched in silent horror. Nesta, her hand flying to her mouth, while screaming ‘look out’ and then the Hot One being knocked on the head by the rock.

“OHMYGOD!!!!!!!!” Elain screamed violently. “I killed him!”

“Shit, shit, shit,” Nesta took off at once, running as fast as she could down the path, with Elain flailing her arms and hurrying behind her.

“Is he dead?” Elain wailed loudly, “I killed him!”

“Fuck, I hope not,” Nesta muttered to herself.

They finally reached the man, who was splayed on the dirt path, arms out, head bleeding.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” Elain clucked incessantly, watching him in horror.

“Yeah, he is gonna need some help,” Nesta decided.

“Am I going to prison? For murder?” Elain cried.

“Well, let’s see if he is dead,”

“He can’t be dead!”

Callously, Nesta murmured, “could be dead…”

“T! What the hell!”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have been announcing to the world that you are a freakin’ virgin and none of this would’ve happened!”

Elain dropped to her knees in front of the man and pushed her face to his chest, and her fingers to his neck, feeling and listening for his heartbeat.

“I am not a virgin!” she grumbled angrily.

“Yeah?” Nesta demanded. “And what are you?”

“I’ve had sex!”

“With who?”

“Men! With lots of men!”

“Yeah, okay Mata Hari,”

“He is alive!” Elain declared excitedly, while Nesta was dialling her phone.

“Well, thank god for small miracles. Guess you aren't going to prison after all.”

“Shut up,” Elain pouted.

Smirking to herself, Nesta turned away from her sister and then tossed over her shoulder, “I think he needs mouth to mouth.”

“What?!”

“Yeah, you know, CPR. Give him CPR. Revive him.”

Unsure, Elain looked down at the unconscious man and murmured,

“But…I…but it’s like kissing…”

“Okay, well, it’s not really kissing, but you’ve had sex with many men, so kissing shouldn’t be an issue for you,” Nesta noted.

“T!”

“Elain! You might save his life!” Nesta cried out dramatically. The things she had to do to get her sister a boyfriend!

Then, she added, “911 is telling me to give him CPR!”

She was lying of course.

Reluctantly, Elain crouched over him and wincing, pressed her lips to his.

Someone somewhere was having a good laugh at her expense.

Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.

This was just hilarious. Her first kiss should be with an unconscious guy who probably got brain damage because of her.

“Deeper!” Nesta urged her on.

“Deeper?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what 911 is saying. Put some…you know…muscle into it!”

Elain frowned, but breathed more air into the man’s lungs. She didn't want to think about how soft his lips were and how he smelled nice–something earthy and citrusy. He definitely took good care of himself, and even clad in all spandex, she could smell the cologne on him.

“They are on their way,” Nesta said, placing the phone back into her arm pocket.

She looked down at Elain who was still trying to revive him, and then commented,

“His package is…moderate.”

Elain’s head jerked up and she stared at her sister in disgust.

“What is wrong with you?!” she demanded, “he is half-dead and you are looking at his…his…”

“What?” Nesta teased.

“Penis!”

“Yes. His modestly moderate penis.”

“You are gross!”

“Why isn't he waking up?” Nesta crossed her arms on her chest. “What a wimp.”

In the distance they heard the wailing of a siren.

“I hit him with a rock!” Elain exclaimed, “a boulder!”

“Please. It was a pebble.”

Elain gently smacked his cheek, and then dipped back in to blow more air in his lungs.

“Please wake up…”

With a moan, the man twitched and groaned, and then hissed,

“Who the fuck are you?!”

Taken aback by his tone, Elain quickly explained, “We called an ambulance…I am sorry…I am just trying to revive you,”

“Trying to revive me?” he grunted menacingly. “Maybe don’t fucking throw rocks at me in the first place. No wonder you are a virgin!”

Elain blushed profusely and gasped, “I am sorry?”

Nesta frowned at his tone and stepped forward.

“Simmer down, bud,”

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do,” he snapped, “she threw a rock at me,”

“It was obviously an accident,”

“Yeah, an accident where I have a rock embedded in my head.”

“It’s a scratch. Calm down,” Nesta argued lazily.

“Can I get you anything?” Elain offered softly.

“Yeah, step off, missy,” he suggested and then tried to move, but moaned loudly instead.

“This guys sucks,” Nesta whispered, “I wish we didn’t help him,”

“T!”

“What did you just say?” he glowered at Nesta but she ignored him.

Thankfully, the tense moment was interrupted by four brawny paramedics who were running up the path.

They surrounded the man, asking him questions, taking vitals, looking at the gushing wound on his head which was spewing blood.

Nesta shrugged and said, “Head wounds always bleed a lot.”

“Nesta, he got hit in the head by a rock!” Elain reminded her crossly. “Come on, let’s go. We’ll follow them to the hospital.”

“We have to go to the hospital with him?” Nesta gritted indignantly.

“Obviously!”

The drive to the regional hospital was only fifteen minutes long, during which Nesta was silent, but rolling her eyes excessively.

…”It’s been almost two hours. How much longer do we need to sit here?”

It has been almost two hours. They’ve been sitting in the waiting room, surrounded by some ‘shady people’ in Nesta’s words. She kept trying to guess what was wrong with each individual, proposing things like “definitely herpes!” and “you think a bear attack?” and “oh god, this dude is hacking out a lung!” and “I think the clap!” and “jeez, I hope it’s not ebola”.

Elain was chewing on her nail, her head jerking every time the door opened, as she waited for the cops to come in and arrest her.

“Miss?”

She looked up at the sound of a deep, gravelly voice.

The first thing she saw were big, scarred hands holding an IPad. Large male hands, covered in tattoos. Each finger and knuckle has a symbol of some kind inked into the tanned skin. Looking up, Elain was faced with a man dressed in civilian clothes, but in a blue scrubs coat, which, it seemed, he wore out of expectation, rather than necessity.

“Miss…?” he repeated, and she just stared at him. Because he was breathtaking.

“Elain,” she answered, her voice hollow, her eyes roaming over the man’s imposing physique and enormous height.

“Mamma mia,” Elain heard Nesta’s breathless whisper behind her.

Mamma mia indeed.

“Miss Elain then?”

“Yeah. Elain,” Elain repeated stupidly.

He smirked and said,

“I am Doctor Azriel King. You came in with Mr. Nolan?”

“What?” she mumbled, unable to tear her eyes away from the stunning beauty of this man, who was all sharp angles and gorgeous hazel eyes, which were a dreamy combination of gold and earthy brown and emerald green. Thick black hair, stylishly cut, crowned this exceptional specimen of raw, aggressive masculinity. Even his neck had tattoos. Elain was beginning to hyperventilate. If she fainted here, would this Dr. King give her mouth to mouth? If she knew he was a doctor here, she’d come here every day to faint!

“Mr. Nolan, Graysen Nolan,” he glanced at the IPad, “you came here with him? He said that you hit him with a rock?”

“Is he going to be okay?”

“Yeah, no concussion. Just a bad cut on his forehead, for which he received stitches.”

A smirk played on his beautiful mouth.

“Mr. Nolan doesn’t tolerate pain very well it seems.”

“Did he cry like a little bitch?” Nesta huffed, standing behind Elain.

“I would say…” he pretended to think for a second and then grinned. “Yeah. Yeah he did.”

Eyes back on Elain, he asked,

“Why did you hit him with a rock?”

“I didn’t!” she said defensively. “I mean, I did, but I didn’t do it on purpose.”

He looked her over, something dark and desirous flashing in his unusual eyes and said sternly,

“You shouldn’t be hitting people with rocks, Elain. Especially your boyfriends."

“Usually I don’t. And he is not my boyfriend! You are a doctor here?” she blurted out and then blushed furiously.

He gave her a slow, languid look, and then drew his thumb over his lower lip, sizing her up in the same manner he would a delicious, sinful meal.

“The hospital is low on staff. I am filling in. I usually travel during forest fire season with smoke jumpers,”

“Oh my god, that’s so dangerous!” Elain gasped.

“Yeah, tell it to my brother Cassian. He’s been a smoke jumper for 7 years. I head their medical team.”

Abruptly, he changed gears, and looked at Nesta.

“Are you seeing anyone?”

Her eyes bugged out and she cried, “Excuse me?!”

“It’s just that you are exactly his type–sharp and beautiful.”

For once, it was Nesta who was out of things to say. She just glared at him in shock.

“She is available!” Elain piped in right away. “She is not seeing anyone. Does he look like you?”

Dr. King laughed softly, and Elain fell in love with the sound at once.

“He sure does. Just brawnier.”

Elain turned to her sister and hissed at Nesta, “his brother looks like him!”

“I…I…I am not going out with a smoke jumper!” Nesta protested feebly.

Dr. King popped his lips and said, “well, you are in luck! This is his last season. We are both done, and he won’t be smelling like a smoked mackerel anymore.”

Elain giggled. That caused him to look back at her, and he drew the tip of his tongue over his lips.

She swallowed. Loudly.

“And you?” he asked.

“What?”

“How serious are you about Graysen Nolan?”

“Who?”

He smiled a savage smile.

“That’s what I thought.”

Extending his scarred hand to her, he ordered, “phone”.

Wordlessly, Elain handed him her phone, courteously unlocking it for him.

He took it and quickly typed something into it.

“Cassian’s number. And mine. Your name, miss?”

“Nesta,” Nesta breathed.

“Perfect. He’ll love it.”

He handed the phone back to Elain and said,

“You and I are going on a date tonight. Seven PM."

She just stared at him in shock.

"I am not a stalker," he assured her lightly, those eyes sparkling with mischief. "Unless you want me to be a stalker?"

"Ummm, not particularly."

"Alright then. Just a bit then. Not Zade Meadows level stalker,"

The expression of shock and bewilderment only intensified on her face.

"You know Zade?" she gasped.

"Well, not personally. He is a character in a book. But I am familiar. So. I shall see you at seven tonight. And every night after that.”

#elriel #elain archeron #azriel #nesta archeron #azriel and elain #elain x azriel #Plot Twist #elriel fanfiction #my writing #pro elriel #cassian #elain #my fanfiction

106 notes · View notes

llondonfog · 10 months

Text

thank @081314 for putting this image into my head ; u ; | mild ch7 spoilers !

it truly is a wondrous display.

the shroud brothers have outdone themselves yet again, lilia finds that he has to hand it to them, as the headmage all but squawks with delight before the awed reporters and the flash of their cameras tilted towards the night sky. perhaps even those closest to death and misery can find it within themselves to produce miracles—or perhaps it is because they are closest to such things that they are able to do so.

and a miracle it is, even to his ancient eyes. not once in nearly seven hundred years has he seen such a vibrant sight in the night sky, no meteor shower in memory could compare. the stars themselves streak over the horizon like diamonds hurtling towards the sea, dazzling with blinding beauty from where the younger shroud had set them free above the highest of skies. malleus' wish, sebek's, even silver's and his own— they dance and flicker among the student body multitudes as they stream across his eyes, leaving breathless spots behind. how amazing, human technology could be.

(was it really not so long ago that he would have doubted such a scene even possible?)

"look, silver," he murmurs elatedly to the young man seated quiet and still beside him on the damp grassy knoll, dutifully holding up a lurid pink and bat patterned umbrella to shield his father against any persistent drops of rain. "could you even begin to pick out which ones are ours?"

a silence stretches back to him, but that isn't unusual— his son could simply be contemplating the shooting stars before him with that precious solemnity of his. so, lilia prattles on, feeling oddly old and giddy beneath the artificial cosmos. "you would have if trey had not been so absolutely cruel to me! i wanted to decorate mine a very lovely shade of pink, but i was told that it would throw off the aesthetic, as if that was such an awful request from little old me!"

there is still no response, and lilia is about to tease the boy for being so childishly starstruck when the umbrella suddenly tilts and wobbles towards him, smacking him gently in the head as it slips from his son's lax fingertips and silver topples forward to land on the bony pillow of his father's shoulder.

ah, he should have known.

and also— the once great general vanrouge, sporting a reddening bruise on the middle of his forehead from an obnoxiously pink umbrella.

sliding the handle gently out of silver's loose grip, he readjusts it to cover the two of them once more before considering the boy slumped against him, the ghost of something poignant and foreign to his mischievous features playing about his lips.

("my wish . . . is for humans, fae, and all other species to live in harmony." )

centuries ago, he would have been repulsed by the very proximity of his son. he would have disparaged the boy, dismissed him from his sight and out of his mind. he would have taken delight in cruel ridicule of silver's humanity, spun vicious circles around his dull senses. he would have despaired for all that humanity had taken from their kind, for all that humanity had taken from him—

—and all that humanity had given him.

there, beneath the tender cover of darkness and a violently pink umbrella, he is able to tilt his head and press a kiss against the soft strands of his son's hair, wrap an arm loosely around the boy's middle and feel the pang of time as it no longer fits as it used to in his grasp. "i suppose i ought to thank the heavens themselves," lilia whispers, the audience of such fond affection snoring lightly into his shoulder. "for granting me such a wish all those years ago when i needed it most— isn't that so, my little star?"

#twisted wonderland #twst silver #twisted wonderland silver #twst lilia #lilia vanrouge #diasomnia #twst spoilers #we just needed something so soft for them right now ok #lettie writes

101 notes · View notes

bisayawa · 1 year

Text

whistle ; alejandro vargas/fem! reader

― fluff drabble, connected to this & this.

desc: alejandro hearing mama whistle.

note: small blurb i thought of after calling my dog over one afternoon & faintly realized that women don't usually whistle. (i've googled & some people say it isn't ladylike? i don't know what the fuck that means bros.)

today's run day... couldn't really be considered a run day. there was running from the both of you for about five minutes before you took to a grassy knoll to lie down.

alejandro was in the middle of explaining to you the importance of neatness within the military. something about using gel to neaten the hair, flatten it down & slick it back.

it was getting rather hard to listen to him. the relaxing tone of his voice, the movement of his lips, the perfect way the angle allows light to bounce from his eyes. it made you want to hold him ― hold him close & kiss his eyelashes.

barks ring out in the stillness of the park.

shit! a bell goes off in your mind. bruno's still out there.

"bruno!" you call, your place on the knoll suddenly forgotten. his name echoes into tree branch & leaf. you hear no footfalls in response.

alejandro has gone alert with attention, standing with his hand in yours.

"bruno!" says he, now standing with you.

the walk forwards has a swaying canter, jilted & a little excited. holding hand, your mind helpfully supplies. it's warm ― his palm ― rough with use & habit. the tip of your finger finds home on his knuckle, feeling the movement of muscles, bones & blood vessels.

you smile, and whistle for your boy.

and at that, much like your own dog, alejandro perks up, finds recognition within the tone. you laugh almost. his eyes are wide ― such a childlike gleam of curiosity. it makes you smile wider.

after a while, he says, "you can whistle?" he can't seem to look away.

"yup!" your eyelids squinch shut when you chuckle.

you whistle once more, a long, careening sound, high pitched.

he's amused beyond belief. his hand in yours holds tighter, and to your surprise, he brings it to his lips. the kiss is featherlight, barely a graze, but your heart is warming like a thousand summer days.

you can't seem to smile any wider. if you did, it'd be painful.

so you choose to wolf whistle & wink before the courage dies in your throat.

he grins at that. the dimples in his cheeks come out. the crows feet accentuate the happiness in his eyes; holds its hand & introduces it.

#alejandro vargas #alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro vargas x you #colonel vargas x reader #colonel vargas x you #call of duty x reader #call of duty #cod mw2 #mwii #my fic.

148 notes · View notes

th0rnback · 29 days

Text

BETTER LATE THAN NEVER, AMIRITE? Thank you sweet @justanotherinterneruser for including me, even if I am dead 90% of the time on here. I enjoy silly little challenges. So, a repeat of rules: pick 10 of your fics and post the first line of each? 1. ‘‘Makes you sick, doesn’t it?’’ (Full of Mettle, Fullmetal Alchemist. Hurt/Comfort, and pure chaos. Still progressing aka me fussing between depressive fugue states and growing bashfully encouraged at the comments.)

2. Ears ringing and brain whirling, Roy Mustang sluggishly woke to a blurry world of gray smudges. (Learning to Vent, Fullmetal Alchemist. Hurt/Comfort Parental Roy) 3. Edward once asked the Colonel why mine inspections. (Mouse, Fullmetal Alchemist. Hurt/Comfort Parental Roy)

4. A warm wind swept across the grassy knoll that Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang occupied. (Wild Rabbits, Barley Soup, and War-Torn Towns – Fullmetal Alchemist. My addition to Boredom and I’s silly and addictive found family ‘Dad Making A Difference’) 5.It started off small and inconsequential during his first month of joining the military. (Courage is Fire, and Bullying Is Smoke, Fullmetal Alchemist)

6. ‘‘Brother…’’ (Worrywart, Fullmetal Alchemist)

7. Heart pounding, Edward managed to escape the shouts of his pursuers. (Nowhere to Run, Fullmetal Alchemist.)

8. The suit of armor was mountainous and intimidating, made entirely of gleaming gunmetal-colored steel. (The Boys, Fullmetal Alchemist.)

9. The sky was nothing more than a mass of gray and black rolling clouds that lashed icy sheets of rain down upon them. (Landslide, Fullmetal Alchemist.)

10."I need you to listen to me very carefully, Edward.’’ (Liar, Fullmetal Alchemist – Parental Riza)

Annnnnd, I'm supposed to tag, but I'm more of a lurker (who answers messages) on here, so I won't bother folk. Hahah.

#fullmetal alchemist #fanfiction #parental roy mustang #edward elric #hurt/comfort #better late than never

19 notes · View notes

raisinushigher · 11 months

Text

hi im just gonna put my thoughts on every clone high ship i can think of here

jfgogh - i think its cute. i can definitely see jfk like uplifting gogh and him falling in love over like the most basic display of kindness and jfk just being like “haha woah there guy i didnt mean it like that” but then he realises he Does

gogh x gandhi - LOTS of mixed feelings on this one but it is pretty interesting truth be told. like, the way gogh didnt just sit back and take what gandhi did to him and instead retaliated, i like that, i like the thought of two tiny guys having the most unnecessarily intense rivalry ever, but i know that isn’t really the way the ship is portrayed often rather than wholesome stuff . you interpret ships however you want though

gfk i think is the name for it - im so sorry as a gandhabe connoisseur i know how annoying it is when people say this about a ship that absolutely entraps you but i think jfk and gandhi are more accurate together as just silly friends who see eachother like once a month. jfk casually brings up a girl hes dating (or rather just having sex with frequently) and gandhi is like wait what happened to the other one? like hes very out of the loop but he listens and they both hype eachother up a lot

ceasgogh, gogh x christo, ceaser x christo, whether it’s any of those seperately or polyamory - i love this one so very much for literally no reason. maybe its like a nostalgia thing cuz i remember people talking about them sometimes in 2020 and being like Aw that’s cute but idk something about them feels so like. objectively correct. like yep that’s the little background trio standing together in an episode as they should be

abefk i think - i like it!! even though it’s barely known apart from jokingly i really like the classic 2000s rivalry between a nice boy and an asshole jock thing that was going on between them before ponce’s death, i admit i miss their interactions. i miss how theyd refer to eachother with their last names. also the part in season 2 episode 6 where they both were recalling memories of the grassy knoll and abe went “i used to get food thrown at me” and jfk continued “i used to be the one throwing that food”. i like them

joanabe - i know this one is like barely a ship but i still need to talk about them badly. their friendship is so important to me. the way its always been them whether it’s joan crushing on abe or the other way around, they’re just so special to eachother in any and every way, and both struggle with the choice of helping the other or doing things that hurt the other but ultimately raise their chances of getting together. tbh im so interested in whats gonna happen with them in the finale, and in the next seasons bc i doubt their back and forth crush thing is gonna last the ENTIRE show like itll be getting a new sort of premise or main character focus which im excited for

joanfk - some of the fanart is absolutely adorable COUGH COUGH ORT SMORT COUG but its just not for me man. biggest two factors as to why i dislike it being how it overtook the fandom, and how to me they just never had any substance. they have a fun dynamic and the season 1 finale was sweet but idk it just never affected me that much. also bc i always knew it was gonna crash and burn. like that is not a stable couple as cute as it is sometimes. like at all. and im happy episode 7 finally addressed it

abe x cleo - again, not really a fondly talked about ship, but they are pretty dear to me. it’s the way cleo was clearly playing with abe at the start but actually saw the charm in him and was actually upset when he finally digested his feelings for joan… i really hope they’re gonna be good friends in the future bc episode 7 seemed to be sort of a start for that friendship and them learning to be ok around eachother after the finale…

joan x cleo - ive always been scared to talk about this one bc some people see them as sisters, which i Really dont. they never acted in a sisterly way at all, and the living together thing lasted for like what. one episode. so i doubt it had any affect on how they view their relationship. but again absolutely fair if it makes you uncomfortable for this reason! but yeah i do like them. very very good trope and there can be some really cute stuff done with them dynamic wise

gandhabe my heart and soul my romeo and juliet my sun and moon my red and blue - AUGHGGGGG MY ALL TIME FAVOURITE. EVER. IN THE WHOLE SHOW FOR EVER they just have such sweet interactions and everything they do they do with the other in mind and i want them to have an emotional reunion in the season 3 finale sO SHRGFRHRVRRRRR RR RBR R R R. RR R. sorry this is mostly incoherent screaming rather than actual words I just DUCIGJGN LVOE GANDHABEEEEE EEYEHEEE THEYRE END GAME!! THEY ARE END GAME WHETHER ITS AS FRIENDS OR ROMANTICALLY RHEY ARE THE ONES

ok now onto the ones involving the new gen clones

harriucius - i like them its the second het ship in the show ive ever actually liked!! they just both go so well in so many ways, they both have almost the exact same struggles and cope in similar ways, but harriet has more of a hands on attitude with her problems, while confucius tends to avoid things. im VERY interested in how their relationship will go and i dont really think anything’s gonna happen to them bc i cant picture the show pairing either of them up with anyone else (mostly confucius tbh 😭)

joanharriet - i WISH this one was more acknowledged by the fandom like i think its the least popular one at least involving the newbies.. can you tell im a sucker for ships that are literally just two close friends who love eachother more than anything. lol. when i think of them i think of episode 5 which makes me extremely happy. like look me in the eyes and tell me that was not an absolutely beautiful wonderfully wrapped episode

johnfucius - gonna be honest i dont like this one. i know this is a really rich thing to say while talking about clone high season 2 but it just felt rushed, and especially with how they barely did anything after sleepover. like they were literally crying both of them being like OMG I FINALLY HAVE A FRIEND!! and then they proceed to have the most stale interactions with the most notable one being in the next episode and it’s literally just confucius encouraging jfk to avoid his problems like he does. not really good. but again if you enjoy them all the power to you, im happy you found something you like that hasn’t been ruined and seems pretty docile and chill compared to all the other ones :o) it’s very much a mostly fandom based ship

kahlopatra - BEAUTIFUL. BEAUTIFUL. I HAVE NO WORDS JUST BEAUTIFUL. there definitely was a lack of suspense like based off the intro and the slight buildup throughout the series BUT that literally doesn’t matter. out of every canon couple they are the absolute cutest im obsessed with the effect they have on eachother. especially on cleos side of things like ahhh!!!! she found someone she actually connects to genuinely!!!! i am so happy for her!!!!!!

tophucius - not much about this one its just pretty fun and silly . i feel bad for the people who thought something big was gonna be going on w them but the small details peppered in about them in sleepover were nice. i always liked how when confucius saw that topher typed your instead of you’re, he went “i thought so” like to me that confirms they do this all the time and they know it’s them. also really funny to imagine them being sworn enemies online but when they actually see eachother in school theyre Like oh shit hey man what’s up! hope youre well! like not even through gritted teeth or anything they’re just so chill irl for no reason

abetoph - Sigh i sure did save this one for last. while im a lot less comfortable with it now i still love thinking of them pre episode 8 and i do think their relationship is just ever so slightly more interesting now with the added double crossing n shit added to it. but im also sad they’ll never be the way they were may 24th to june 14th again . that specific time period of them is so comforting to me for no reason, all the memes and running jokes in the fandom involving them, all the wholesome fan work of them sleeping in tophers bed, watching stuff on tophers computer together, abe being tophers voice of the reason and the one person he actually likes, it’s just so … man. We Could Have Had It All. i love them for ever.

thank you so much for listening

#i also want to write an essay on why abe is autistic #clone high #clone high van gogh #clone high jfk #clone high gandhi #clone high julius caesar #clone high christo #abe lincoln #clone high joan #clone high cleo #clone high harriet #clone high confucius #clone high frida #topher bus #gandhabe #abetoph #clone high spoilers #mine

104 notes · View notes

palaceofpassion · 1 year

Note

It's a beautiful day at the park. What are Jaune and his girlfriend doing?

(I'll let you decide who)

Let's go with May. It's been a while.

Vale was known for a lot of things, for being the economy central of Remnant. Hosting the most prestigious of Beacon Academy's, being the place that Pyrrha Nikos AND Weiss Schnee were currently attending. However, one thing that most everyone could agree on, was that it had exceedingly beautiful parks. As such, it wasn't terribly surprising that couples would often times find themselves visiting, whether it was on a brisk walk, or a simple date.

One such couple, currently found themselves sitting and laying upon the soft grass as the gentle northern wind blew past them. The young Jaune Arc, and his beloved Girlfriend May Zedong, were currently relaxing upon a grassy knoll.

The young man sat upright against a tree, shading the two of them from the sun's harsh rays. All the while May found herself at peace, her head rested upon his lap as she dozed off. Something that anyone who knew May, could attest to was a rare feat. The girl herself, hardly ever let her guard down upon strangers or others, no matter how close to them she was.

So it was a wonder that she found herself so at ease and at peace with the boy that brought her heart so much joy.

Jaune himself smiled, his sky hued eyes watching her as she peacefully slept before him. His fingers gently brushing against her maroon locks, letting his digits burry themselves in as he placed a loving hand upon her head. Quietly he kept his eyes open, laying backwards against the tree. He wondered, how he had gotten so lucky, to find himself so happy.

The years since he'd started hadn't been easy, but he was simply glad that he'd allowed himself, forced himself, to keep at it. If he hadn't, who knows where he would have been, and who knows who he would have been.

"Hmmhmmhmm~" He hummed quietly as he continued to brush her hair with his fingers.

Wherever it would have been, it wouldn't have been here. And honestly, that's what mattered.

#Jaune Arc #May Zedong #Arcshot

76 notes · View notes

godsofhumanity · 4 months

Note

I'm the anon who asked about Asgard & Vanaheim visuals, and I love the answer! I also want visuals about...Jotunheim, Alfheim, Svartalfheim/Nidavellir!

on it, boss 🫡👍

JOTUNHEIM

ok. Jotunheim is home to the jotuns (giants). we know a couple of famous jotuns: Gerdr (Freyr's wife), Þjazi (who attempts to get Idunn out of Asgard and make the gods start to age), and Skadi (Þjazi's daughter, Njord's wife).

from these, i feel the need to mention Gerdr and Skadi particularly, and they give us some clues about the kind of environment that Jotunheim is.

Gerdr is spotted looking lovely in her father's fields by Freyr. so, i imagine her in the sunlight, on a grassy knoll-- it's a nice, warm, sunshine-y day.

Skadi, on the other hand, is depicted as a kind of ice-warrior queen as she and Njord often argue about the weather- Njord being more of a beach boy himself and Skadi preferring colder weather.

so, what i think is this: Jotunheim experiences a harsh, icy winter, but a lovely, mild summer. it's never terribly hot. it's just like... autumn weather at the max.

i also think that it is particularly icy at the borders of Jotunheim, but as you go inwards, the ice sort-of recedes, and there's just a little bit of snow here and there, but there's plenty of grass as well.

i think the weather also reflects the type of giant-- the borders are home to the more vicious of the Jotuns, more peaceful Jotuns are inwards.

so like. at the borders, i think you get scenery more like this:

but more inwards, you get something like with a bit more snow:

Jotunheim feels like a very mountainous place. very rocky.

fashion is more like tunics inwards, but at the borders, it's furs and armor, and leather.

there isn't really anything like fancy jewellery... it's stone, and bones, and teeth, etc. it's all very makeshift. i don't see the Jotuns as a people caring too much for very shiny things like gems and diamonds and gold. they care for that stuff in as much as they can sell it to buy more valuable things like land and armor and weapons.

colour palette is something like this with a bit more blue perhaps.

ALFHEIM

since Alfheim is the home of the light elves, i think it ought to have a lot of water and glass and crystals to reflect off light such that the world is always bright and illuminated.

but where i wrote that Vanaheim was very "jewel-centric" and had a lot of gold and silver in-laid, i like the idea of Alfheim being a more "natural" Alfheim. so there's lots of white wood and natural spaces.

i think the Elves must live amongst the trees where light from both the Sun and the Moon stills seeps through the forest and illuminates it.

there would be a lot of structures like these, where the pillars are simply trunks of trees:

i think above ground, there are a lot of rivers like the image on the left, and lots of healthy, overgrown foliage. but beneath the ground, illumination might come from crystals like the image on the right:

the image on the left still is pretty dark, so try to imagine that with like. lighter colours.

as you can see, there isn't much diamonds and jewels, or even too much gold. it's mostly just natural.

the colour palette would be something like:

weather in Alfheim is cool, i think. it doesn't snow there, but it's not impossibly hot. it's just cool. you don't need furs, just long tunics.

also, search up "fantasy moon kingdom" for more ideas on Alfheim palaces :)

SVARTALFHEIM / NIDAVELLIR

home of the dark elves (aka dwarves).

okay, so i think realm is a mix of stone and forestry.

there would be a lot of mines since the dwarves are builders and i think they would need to be mining for their materials.

these mines would be dark, but there would be a few crystals and fires to light up the place here and there:

there might also be a village within the mine:

but there are dark elves who do live above the surface. and i think on top of the surface, there is a lot of forestry and maybe even some swamps:

i hate to be unoriginal, but honestly the way they did the Dwarven kingdom in the Hobbit was pretty freaking perfect to me-- i love the rock statues coming out of the mountain-face:

so yeah, lots of stone, and rock. but i also think a lot of metal, and a fair few gems and precious stones also!!

colour palette is obviously very green and brown:

weather i think can be very humid. it doesn't snow. but in the caves, it is very very cold. so i think there are a lot of cloaks for those underground, but also thinner tunics for those working above ground.

#oughh this wasn't as good as Asgard and Vanaheim but i hope you like :)#anon #anonymous #asks #hc

17 notes · View notes

glittervame · 2 months

Text

Towards the sun...

Luke x FEM!Reader Band Au! (Ish?)

It's a long one, does it make any sense?

Warnings: none, well kind of pining on reader's side, Not proofread sorry for the grammar

No smut sorry guys :( you're going to get it most of March. This is mostly just a filler until then

A girl, no older than thirteen, sat cross-legged on a grassy knoll, gazing up at the cloudless sky. Her name was Y/n, and she had been sitting in this very spot for what felt like hours, lost in thought. The warm summer breeze tousled her honey-colored hair, and a gentle smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she watched a flock of birds soar effortlessly through the air. Her book of Greek Mythology sitting on one of her knees, the pages fluttering in the wind.

She had been brought to this place, Camp Half-Blood, just a few days ago, after her mother had passed away. Her father, a Greek god she'd never met, had apparently claimed her as his own, and now she was here. She wasn't sure what to make of it all. She'd always known she was different, but she'd never imagined she'd be the daughter of a god. Her being obsessed with Greek Mythology didn't really help the millions of questions from running through her head.

Y/n's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. She looked over her shoulder and saw a tall, muscular man with golden hair and piercing blue eyes walking towards her. He had a kind smile on his face, and she felt a strange sense of familiarity wash over her. "You must be Y/n," he said, his voice rich and warm. "I'm your father, Apollo." She couldn't help but stare at him in disbelief. He looked exactly like the statues she'd seen in museums.

"Um… hi?" she managed to say, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks. Apollo chuckled and sat down next to her. "Don't be afraid, dear. I'm not here to bite. I just wanted to spend some time with you and get to know you better." Y/n hesitated for a moment, then relaxed a bit. "I've always been fascinated by Greek mythology," she said shyly, gesturing towards her book. "I never imagined I'd end up being the daughter of a god."

Apollo nodded, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Indeed, it is quite a revelation. But you must understand, Y/n, that you are not alone here. This camp, Camp Half-Blood, is filled with demigods like yourself. We are all children of the gods, and we must work together to protect one another and maintain balance in the world." Y/n listened intently, her curiosity piqued. She couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging in this strange new world.

As they continued to talk, Y/n learned about the various monsters and enemies that demigods faced, and the training they received to prepare for these battles. Apollo told her stories of his own adventures, fighting alongside heroes, and even recounted some of his own exploits as the god of music and poetry. She listened intently, fascinated by every word.

The sound of cheering and laughter filled the crisp summer night, mingling with the distant strum of a guitar. Amidst the frenzy of activity, two figures could be seen making their way towards the makeshift stage, their movements in sync despite the growing distance between them. One, a girl with hair the color of the shiniest of gold, her eyes sparkling with determination, clutched a battered old instrument to her chest. The other, a boy with hair as dark as ebony and a pair of chocolate eyes, his posture exuding an air of confidence that was almost arrogant.

They were Y/n and Luke, the heart and soul of the camp's latest sensation: the band known only as "Hybrid harmonics."

The stage loomed before them, its worn boards creaking beneath their weight as they climbed up and took their places. As Y/n strummed the first chord of their signature song, "The Call of the Gods," a hush fell over the crowd, and all eyes were upon them. Luke joined in, his voice soaring above the music, his fingers dancing nimbly across the frets of his electric guitar. The crowd erupted into applause, whistles, and shouts of approval, and the duo fed off the energy, their performance growing more intense with each passing moment.

Their setlist was all of different variety: from the haunting melodies of "The Fallen Hero" to the upbeat, anthemic "The Chosen One," each song told a story, each note carrying the weight of the different experiences at Camp Half-Blood. As they worked their way through their repertoire, their connection on stage became palpable, their movements fluid and effortless.

The encore came as no surprise to the crowd, who had been clamoring for more ever since the duo had finished their last song. As Y/n and Luke took their places once again, the cheers and applause reached a deafening crescendo. They exchanged knowing glances, nodded briefly at each other, and then launched into their signature encore number, "The Battle Cry." The crowd went wild, surging forward, dancing and swaying to the powerful rhythm. The music seemed to wash over them, filling their souls with a sense of camaraderie and belonging that was unique to Camp Half-Blood.

As the final notes of the song faded away, the crowd showed their appreciation with a thunderous standing ovation. Y/n and Luke took a bow together, their hands clasped tightly, beaming with pride and gratitude. They shared a look that spoke volumes about their friendship, their shared experiences, and their love for the music that had brought them together.

"You were amazing tonight!" a voice called out from the crowd, breaking the silence. It was Annabeth, their closest friend and confidante. She made her way through the throng of people, a big grin plastered on her face. "I couldn't be more proud of you two!" she added, wrapping an arm around each of them.

"Thanks, Annabeth," Luke said, his voice barely audible over the din of the crowd. "We couldn't have done it without you."

"Of course you could," she insisted, squeezing them both. "You're the ones who make the music come alive." She glanced over at Y/n. "And you have the most amazing voice I've ever heard."

"Oh, stop it," Y/n laughed, blushing a little. "We're just happy we could bring some joy to everyone tonight. That's what this camp is all about, isn't it?"

They stood there, basking in the afterglow of their performance, surrounded by their friends and fellow campers. As the last stragglers made their way off the stage, Y/n and Luke exchanged a final smile before parting ways, each returning to their cabins for the night. But as they walked, they couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment and contentment that was unlike anything they had ever experienced before.

Normally Y/n never sang mane on a song but tonight they were just doing cover songs and Luke had suggested that she take the lead saying, "It'll give you a chance to show off your pretty voice" with his annoyingly perfect smile finishing it off.

"Turn your face towards the sun, Let the shadows fall behind you"

And tonight, Y/n couldn't help but feel a certain spark whenever she glanced over at Luke, as Y/n strummed her guitar, she couldn't help but wonder if Luke felt it too, the pull to be closer to each other.

"Don't look back, just carry on, and the shadows will never find you"

The energy in the room was palpable, the air thick with anticipation and the scent of sweat and perfume. The crowd, a mix of campers and counselors, swayed to the rhythm of their songs.

"Turn your face towards the sun, let the shadows fall behind you"

She glanced over at him again, His eyes seemed to glow in the dim light, and she couldn't help but feel her heart skip a beat.

"Don't look back, just carry on, and the shadows will never find you"

All she wanted was for him to notice her, to see her as more than just a bandmate or a friend.

"Lost in the rock and roll"

Their fingers danced nimbly across the strings of their guitars, weaving together a tapestry of sound that was as complex as it was beautiful. Every note seemed to hold a piece of their souls, a testament to the years they had spent honing their craft.

"Got lost in a promise of a love I'd never know"

Her eyes shift back in front of her, Y/n couldn't help but feel a thrill course through her veins as she looked out into the sea of adoring fans. She knew that Luke felt it too; she could see it in the way he leaned into every chord, the way he grins when the crowd gets louder.

"Shadows chased me far from home"

It was in one of those moments, when their eyes met once more. The air seemed to still for a brief second, as if the entire crowd had held their breath. Luke smiled at Y/n, a small, shy smile that never failed to make her heart flutter.

"I remember when my heart is filled with gold"

She knows where she wants to be no matter what, and its right by his side. She's not going anywhere.

#fypシ #writers on tumblr #y/n #luke castellan #luke #reader pining #send help #lowkey a long one #luke castellan x reader #band au #camp half blood #pining

12 notes · View notes