#summer solstice collection | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

obsessivevoidkitten · 1 year

Text

Anjinth Comes

Yandere Male Eldritch Abomination Deity x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Violent noncon, blood, major character death, heartbreak, broken reader, religious themes, cult, paralysis, venom, oviposition, mild choking, breeding, tentacles, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.) Word Count 2.2k (So sorry that this took me so long. So sorry that this is so fucked up, more fucked up than the eel one tbh. Reeeallly need something fluffier to balance these last two out.)

The psychic scream for help released by Anjinth the Shadowed was not heard by many. It was only possible due to the thinning in the barriers separating the planes of existence and only a very few gifted in magic could perceive his call.

Of the handful of people who could, almost all of them discounted it as either a hallucination or a demon trying to lure them in with pleas of help and promises of power.

In fact on all of planet Earth you, and you alone, could both hear his call and were willing to assist him.

Anjinth told you all about himself. That he had originally come from the same realm of man, from deep within space, and had molded Earth to his will. But he had been bound and sealed into a realm of shadow and despair from which he could barely even talk into our world. He could only manage to do so now because the walls between the worlds had thinned ever so slightly.

He told you everything that you would need to do to release him from his prison, and he promised you power, immortality, and land that you would be able to rule under him. How could you resist?

So for years you made it your unyielding mission to bring him back to your world.

Luckily you slowly amassed a small cult to assist you. You had convinced enough people of your cause, getting them to see that the current world needed to be united under one unquestionable ruler.

The first thing you had to do was either find the pieces of magic crystal that summoned the portal that he was kicked through or to make a replacement that was tuned to the same frequency.

Since the pieces of the old one were crushed and scattered you had to make a new one. This was easier said than done.

But eventually you and those working under you managed to collect enough lapis lazuli to build the structure. It was high quality.

You were not a particularly gifted mage though, so enchanting the lapis gate and attuning it to the reverberations of the void realm where Anjinth lay waiting was beyond your capabilities.

But you were not alone in this and many of the Anjinth cult members had abilities and specializations that surpassed your own.

Your boyfriend, Zereff, was one such cultist. He was perfect, he was just as dedicated to the overthrow of the current world's corruption and disorder as you were and magical enchantments and attunements just happened to be his strong suits.

With the help of your beloved everything was almost ready for the day of reckoning when Anjinth would finally be released from his prison.

All that was required now was the summer solstice and it wasn't a long wait.

When the solstice came the entire congregation joined hands around the portal and began chanting a spell in unison, the runes etched into the crystal glew with a strange purple light, and eventually the portal opened, twirling and dark.

A gleeful laugh could be heard from the other side, you recognized it as the laugh of Anjinth, you had heard it a few times when he saw fit to speak to you.

You and your boyfriend, as leaders of his cult, stepped forward and knelt before the portal.

You did not know exactly what you had expected this ancient and powerful being to look like, but it certainly wasn't what you saw clamber out of the void to stand before you.

He was humanoid, but the proportions were off. He was easily over 9 feet tall, but his arms were strangely long. And there were four of them. You were too in awe to count but you could tell each of his hands had more than five fingers. His nails were black and pointed.

He was clothed in black robes that sparkled like a clear dark night.

Anjinth had long dark black hair that seemed to be in constant motion as if from a very slight breeze.

Sharp horns sprang from his head, but instead of curving upwards they curved downwards.

Tendrils made of shadow extended from his back and constantly writhed.

The being's legs were human enough, but he had a strange scorpion-like tail that looked like it was tipped with a scythe made from obsidian.

But the most striking features were that he seemed to have no mouth or eyes at all. Where his mouth should have been there was nothing and where his eyes should have been there were bandages.

At least they seemed like bandages, but they must have been part of his body as they appeared to be like his pearl white skin, not fabric, and tiny little malformed hands grew from them in random spots, and they moved and grasped, as if seeking something unknown.

Despite a lack of eyes he looked down, regarding you and your partner.

"Thank you, esteemed acolyte. I had been locked up for countless years, and now I shall bring the world to order under my command!!"

A lack of a mouth did nothing to stop him from communicating verbally.

His voice was like several men speaking all at once in near perfect unison, it came from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Anjinth gestured for you to approach him and spoke as he did so.

"Come now, we shall consummate our union, you shall be my mate and forever be at my side!"

You looked at your partner and then back at Anjinth with confusion. He knew you had a partner already. And that wasn't the deal.

You were supposed to rule under him, not be at his side.

"What? No, I was supposed to just rule under you… l-like a general or something! I am already with Zereff!"

The words tumbled from your mouth and were filled with obvious fear. Disobeying such a powerful cosmic horror was not something many would do.

He regarded you silently for a moment before stating angrily, "You WILL rule under me, as my mate. It is your reward for being so wonderful and dedicated, it was how I intended our deal to work from the moment you answered my contact!"

His arm elongated to an impossible length as you trembled at his wrathful words. He lashed his elongated arm right into the chest of your love and ripped out his heart.

Zereff fell to the floor lifelessly before he tossed the body aside like useless trash. The other members of the cult kneeled and looked away, not daring to defy their lord.

You ran to wear the crumpled lifeless corpse of your beloved had landed but were intercepted by the shadowy tentacles on Anjinth's back.

Though they seemed forged of shade they felt fleshy and were stronger than any iron, they pulled you close to the one you had worshipped for years, though you were unable to meet his eyeless gaze as tears dripped down your face.

"There, I fixed your problem for you. Now you no longer have any other mate to take your loyalty for me. Only minutes in your realm and I am already solving problems for you, how lucky you are to have me here!"

Your sorrow turned to fury at those words and you lashed out at him, punching and kicking wherever you could make contact. You did not care if you died, at least if you did you would be back with your only love.

Instead he just chuckled as if what you were doing was utterly adorable.

"So cute, but really we need to make our union official and seal it in sex and I might hurt you if you keep moving like that. So stop."

Words were not enough to deter you, if anything you lashed out only more fervently.

Suddenly there was a great, though brief, pain in your side. He had stabbed you with the tip of his obsidian bladed tail and injected you with something.

Your entire body tensed painfully before going completely limp. You were nothing more than a rag doll held in his tentacles.

Anjinth held you in front of him and began using his claws to tear your pants and underwear away, you certainly wouldn't be needing them for a long while.

He disrobed and, still in full view of all of the frightened cultists present, spread your ass cheeks with two of his hands and began to prod and knead your hole with his free tentacles.

His cock was strange, it protruded from a genital slit, all thick and slimy with a hint of a knot at the base.

He took you in his arms and turned you around so that your hole was presented to him like a bitch in heat.

Anjinth rubbed the tip of his cock on your entrance teasingly, as if mocking you for being able to do anything about it.

Under the effects of his venom you were unable to form words, managing only to produce a garbled whimper in protest.

"Oh, what am I thinking, you are too small and fragile! I better use lube!"

Once more his arm stretched out and went for the corpse of your lover. He covered his hand in his thick dripping blood and covered his cock and your hole in it, massaging it into you.

Wetting your cheeks with fresh tears was all you could manage to do. He wasn't sadistic, but he was angry you had defied him and he knew he had to thoroughly put you in your place as his mate.

This would be both a lesson and punishment.

You could feel his slimy tip lined up with your hole before he plunged down to the base in one smooth motion, causing your stomach to bulge with the outline of his cock.

You braced yourself for the pain that would come with being impaled by a cock that was at least 16 inches, as thick as your arm, and lubed only by sticky blood, but no amount of anticipation could prepare you for how excruciating the pain was.

It was otherworldly, far beyond just the physical sensation of having your hole stretched to its limit. It was like he was willing the pain into you, like you could feel his anger in every movement of his cock.

Cries of pain caught in your throat as he violently rage-fucked you, one set of arms moving you up and down his length like a living cock sleeve and his other free arms.

His tendrils snaked all over your body, feeling every part of you, slithering under your shirt and teasing your nipples before making their way to your neck and choking you. This wasn’t supposed to happen, none of this was supposed to happen. He was supposed to come into the world and unite humans with order. Some of his tentacles began entering your pained hole along with his cock, stretching you even wider. But just when you thought you could not possibly be opened up any wider the base of his cock began thickening, he pulled his tentacles out as his dick tied you to him. A few moments later he was pumping you full of what you thought was semen but was actually just lubricating fluid for eggs. You could feel large round masses being deposited deep within you as he moaned. Anjinth sent the other cultists away, commanding them to do various tasks, and they scampered away quickly. They were eager to no longer see what had become of their former leader. Once alone Anjinth sat down on the throne you all had made him with you in his lap facing towards him. The paralytic he had drugged you with had worn off but all you could manage to do was sob and babble incoherently as your new lover rubbed your back and pressed your face into his warm muscular chest. You were still firmly knotted to him and the tip of his cock twirled about gently inside you, as if trying to comfort your pain, even as a mix of Zereff’s blood and his own inky black lubricant leaked out of you and all over his thighs. “Shhh, it’s okay. Now that you are without that bothersome inferior and know your place I won’t have to be violent with you again~ You can just sit back and be by my side as I breed you full of my spawn everyday for the rest of eternity.” Just as he promised from the very beginning you would rule under him, it would just be a bit more literal than you had anticipated.

#yandere terato #yandere teratophilia #yandere boyfriend #yandere monster #yandere deity #male yandere #yandere monster x reader #gender neutral reader #male yandere x gender neutral reader #My OCs #My OC Anjinth #yandere eldritch abomination #yandere cosmic horror #yandere exo #yandere exophilia

2K notes · View notes

witchboxco · 9 months

Text

Mabon Altar Ideas & Correspondences

Mabon, also known as the Autumn Equinox, marks the midpoint between the summer and winter solstices. It's a time to celebrate the abundance of the harvest season and express gratitude for the blessings of the year. One way to honor this occasion is by setting up a Mabon altar, adorned with items and symbols that resonate with the energy of the season. Here are a few ideas for when you’re putting your altar together.

The Altar Cloth: Choose an altar cloth in rich autumnal colors such as deep red, orange, or brown. These colors represent the changing leaves and the bountiful harvest.

Seasonal Fruits and Vegetables: Incorporate apples, pumpkins, squash, and corn, or any local harvests you have in your area. These are traditional symbols of the harvest and abundance during Mabon.

Candles: Use candles in colors associated with Mabon, such as gold, yellow, orange, or deep red. These represent the changing colors of the land. Alternatively, you could use black and white candles to represent the balance of dark and light on the equinox.

Crystals: Consider placing crystals like citrine, amethyst, or jasper on your altar. These stones resonate with the energies of balance, gratitude, and abundance.

Symbols of Balance: Include items that represent the balance of day and night, such as a yin-yang symbol or two candles, one for the sun and one for the moon.

Leaves and Acorns: Collect fallen leaves and acorns to symbolize the changing season and the promise of new growth in the future.

Chalice and Bread: A chalice filled with wine or cider and a loaf of bread represent the traditional elements of water and earth, symbolizing the harvest's bounty.

Deity Representations: If you work with specific deities in your practice, add representations of them to your altar. Some gods and goddesses associated with Mabon include Demeter, Persephone, and the Green Man.

Mabon Correspondences

Colors: Deep red, orange, yellow, brown, and gold.

Herbs: Sage, marigold, hops, and thistle.

Foods: Apples, grapes, nuts, grains, and root vegetables.

Symbols: Scales, cornucopias, and the autumn wreath.

Activities: Apple picking, making wreaths, offering prayers of gratitude, and sharing a feast with loved ones.

Intentions: Reflect on balance in your life, give thanks for your blessings, and set intentions for the darker months ahead.

May you be blessed with abundance and gratitude.

#mabon #mabon altar #pagan #paganism #witch #wicca #neopagan #witchcraft #occult #magick #wiccan #autumn #autumnal equinox #autumn equinox #fall equinox #witches of tumblr #witchblr

801 notes · View notes

lanitalay · 5 months

Text

At sea

Rhysand x reader

a/n: Hi my loves!!!! I wrote this to break the ice after winter break. It will likely have one or two more parts. Wanted to write some Rhysand fluff after destroying his character in Before I say goodnight lol.

word count: 1k

warnings: none

Summary: reader returns home after months at sea.

Part 2

Salt coated the railings you clung to while walking down the stairs to the main deck. The summer sun had dried up the water that had crashed against the ship all night long. Now small crystals blanket every surface on board. You make it down the wonky steps, map rolled and tucked under your arm. It had been a rough passage last night, the shaking had kept most of the crew on board hugging buckets, unable to control the bile. It was the most dangerous part of the voyage, the captain had to watch out for jagged rocks that were mostly covered by water or mist, towering waves and fog overhead that prevented the guiding stars to be visible.

It would be a matter of days now. If you squinted you could swear the shoreline of Velaris was on the horizon. This time it had been an entire season. The trek had started the day after the last of the snow melted and you would be back just shy of the summer solstice. You had never been gone this long from your home. The salt air was starting to stink, you yearned for green fields and pine scented breezes.

You had collected more samples than ever before. The botany in the foreign lands you visited was truly magnificent and different to what you were accustomed to in the Night Court. In your private quarter you had managed to fit around one thousand dried samples of leaves, roots, flowers and a few insects along with some living plants, placed carefully near the port hole and a plethora of seeds. Your favorite treasure was an exceptional plant that you had meticulously looked after because the bright violet color of the flowers reminded you of a pair of matching eyes back home. Rhysand. You tried not to think of him. You really really did. But in the flowers you saw his eyes. In the stars you saw his smile. In dark waters you saw his fury. In the sea shanties you heard his drunken laugh. A sigh escapes your frowning mouth.

He might have married or mated by the time you return. Not that anything romantic existed outside of your wildest dreams. But he was your friend. You had known him since the head researcher of the priestesses had sent for a field researcher, since she did not feel ready to be outside of the sacred library walls. You had been recruited because your father was a renowned explorer and you had grown up by his side. Every shore in Prythian and the Continent was familiar to your family. Every shore unknown called your name.

Rhysand was the one who brought you to the library the first time. He had wanted to be present and even gave you a tour himself of the massive sanctuary. Since then, each time you return he flies you to the library and you tell him an abridged version of what you saw on your travels. Sometimes you think that he holds you a little tighter than the last time he saw you and you stop yourself before even thinking that there is a glint in his eyes that indicates something more than polite interest.

The days pass slowly. Eventually, the familiar cliff sides and hilly landscape come into view. Relief floods your chest. You would be staying a while this time. Cataloging all of the new materials would take at least until the end of summer. Flapping sounds from above and you look up expecting to see the mast ripped but instead a gliding shadow figure high above. An inevitable smile forms on your face.

It feels like docking the boat took forever. But once all the ropes are tied and the masts lowered, the bridge gets lowered and you all but leap to the wooden platform and to the young High Lord that’s waiting for you. Sprinting you pounce on him, wrapping your arms around his neck and relishing the feeling of being on solid ground. “Welcome home, explorer” his smooth voice soothes your racing heart. Seconds pass before you let go and look at him. He’s beaming, his hair has gotten longer since you’d gone, his face is clean shaven and he smells of home. You open your mouth to speak but his smile- his smile is making it impossible for you to concentrate on anything other than his mouth. So you stall. Your hands ruffle his hair in the way you knew would annoy him and he laughs.

“I’m so glad to be back” you finally say.

Flying to the House of Wind was routine at this point in your career. You would land and immediately go debrief with your head researcher. But today Rhys had asked you if you were hungry. The grumble in your stomach told him you were. So now you were eating a lovely lunch prepared by the house. It felt decadent to eat anything other than fish and potatoes. You moan as you bite and the High Lord in front of you chuckles.

“What else did you find?”

“Besides the plants there were incredible creatures there. Some had fur and some had scales. I drew them in my books” you point towards the bag you had brought with you most precious items. He reaches for it and begins to flip through the pages of your findings.

“This is fascinating” he breathes.

“What about you? Is there anything new in the Court?” You notice his jaw clench for a fraction of a second. “Is something wrong?”

He shakes his head and closes the book “there are whispers of war”. Your blood drains from your face. “What do you mean?”

His face is now the face of a High Lord, relaying important information to a court member “Hybern has been making some advances, Prythian is too fragmented to stand a chance”. The war that had put the wall between the human realm and the seven courts had ended not one hundred years ago. Villages were still recovering. The Courts were still shifting in new power dynamics.

“What can I do?” You were no warrior. The amount of times you’d trained with the Inner Circle you could count on one hand and it had always been to appease Cassian. Rhys looks away “nothing, we are trying our best to unify and organize our armies”. Something akin to a thorn nestles itself in your heart “and how are you going to do that?”

He swallows and looks straight through your eyes “I’m marrying the Princess of Autumn”.

#acosf #acowar #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fanfiction #acotar #acofas #acomaf #rhysand #lucien vanserra #rhys acotar #rhysand x reader #rhysand x y/n #fluff #light angst #angst #angst with a happy ending

157 notes · View notes

scorpioriesling · 1 month

Text

Mr. Ro...Mantic?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Tamlin x reader

Warnings: fluff … ish?

Summary: When the High Lord of the Spring Court's best friend and emissary drags him to the Summer Solstice festival, he is anything but excited to go. In an attempt to restore his happiness, Lucien thinks this might be an opportunity for Tamlin to put himself out there again and get out of the Manor for once -- and thank the Cauldron, he did. It literally, could not have gone better.

SR’s Note: This is just kind of, um, cutesy? Idk. Enjoy!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Lucien was sick, sick of watching his best friend mope around day in and day out around the Manor. It’d been months since everything happened; the war, everything with Hybern, Feyre…

“I’m perfectly fine.” He’d always snap whenever Lucien dared press him on it. Prythian had already been rebuilding, Lucien taking on so many roles and belonging to more courts than he could count. He was feeling better about his friendship with Feyre, after their little spat at Winter Solstice; but it still didn’t change that his best friend, his friend that held that title for centuries prior to Feyre’s arrival, was indeed not well. Lucien new he could visit Elain as many times as he’d like; he could bring as many reports as Rhysand asked of him; hell, he could drink as many nights as he could handle with his newfound band of exiles.

But, none of that would help his friend that needed him the most right now.

“Tamlin?” Lucien called, entering the manor through the large front doors and strolling into the foyer. He wasn’t suprised to see dust still collected on the varying surfaces in the space, but was pleased to hear the sound of food steps approaching from the hallway to the left.

“Hello,” Tamlin greeted, emerging from the dim hallway. Lucien forced a smile, despite his disappointment. He was happy to see his friend, of course — but not the state he’d sunk so far into. His hair had grown so long, and he hadn’t bothered to shave in weeks. His crumpled shirt didn’t do him any favors either.

Lucien cleared his throat. “I um, I just wanted to stop in and extend you an invitation.” Tamlin’s face didn’t falter, the same blank expression remaining.

“I was planning on attending the Summer Court’s festival tomorrow, and I was hoping maybe you’d come?” Lucien continued. A small smirk formed on Tamlin’s lips, one Lucien had seen all too many times to know it didn’t contain any humor.

He loosed a breath after a few long beats of silence and awkward eye contact. Lucien shifted on his feet. “No thanks.” Tamlin broke the eye contact first, peering down at the floor. Lucien rolled his eyes hard, stepping toward his friend and placing a hand on his shoulder. Tamlin looked back up at him incredulously.

“Tam, look. I mean really. Look, at you. You haven’t left this place in months! You’re deteriorating. You’re absolutely ruining yourself, my friend. Wouldn’t it be nice to, I don’t know, get out for once?” Lucien’s eyes search Tamlin’s hopefully, and for a moment he sees a flash of what looks like consideration in them.

“No. I don’t.” Tamlin moves to turn away, and Lucien throws his hand up in frustration. Tamlin, caught off guard, halts his movements.

“I don’t know what to do with you man! Can’t you humor me for once? I mean it’s been months since you let Feyre go-“

“Don’t you fucking bring her into this. I don’t have anything to do with her anymore.” He bites out. Lucien stares at him wide eyed, taking this as an opportunity.

“Okay…. so you’re over it. But… it was nice having her here? Just, having someone to share your time with?” He says gently. Tamlin runs a hand through his hair, sighing and looking at the floor again.

“Yeah. Yeah it was, Lucien. Real nice until I fucked it all up.” Lucien walks closer once more, offering a small smile when Tamlin meets his eyes.

“So, come with me tomorrow. Get out there again, my friend. Don’t fuck it up this time.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧

Tamlin had to admit; he looked good. Felt good, too. Lucien brought him new clothes, and took him by the small barber shop in the court square the following morning to get a haircut before the festival that evening. He did take it upon himself to shower that morning; a long one, at that. He had a lot to think about, and he hadn’t been out in quite some time. There was a lot riding on tonight.

“Now, I know you haven’t been out in quite some time,” Lucien drawled, mimicking Tamlin’s thoughts. They walked through the hallways of the manor toward the front entrance, as the midday sun shone through the windows and onto the marble floor below. Dust danced in the golden streams of light. Gods, he thought. I really do need to clean up around here.

“But you needn’t worry! I’ll be there the whole time.” Lucien clapped a hand on his friends shoulder, leaning in close. “That is, unless your eyes find a lovely lady and you make other arrangements…” Tamlin looses a chuckle, Lucien reciprocating the sentiment. It felt good, genuine laughter again with an old friend. Tamlin felt a pang of guilt for all the times he snipped at Lucien just for trying to coax him out of this rotting hole he dug himself so deep into.

Once the two approach the doors to the manor and push them open, they peer out and to the expanse of the court they had called home beyond. Lucien motions outward with a hand. “Shall we?”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧

The sun was a half-circle along the ocean’s horizon when the pair arrived at the Summer court for the festival. Though it seemed late to the High Lord of the Spring court (who wasn’t used to coming to such things), this was only the beginning of the fun-filled evening to come.

Between walking and winnowing, Tamlin felt a bit worn from the use of his power. He hadn’t needed to use it in quite some time, and with his refusal to partake in the past Calanmai, his stamina wasn’t as up-to-par as it used to be. Glancing to his side, Lucien seemed to be keeping in shape, whatever he’d been doing to hone his powers sure was working as he didn’t even break a sweat.

“Alright, so I believe the way this works is that there are celebrations along the beach, and some activities through the towns?” Lucien explains. Tamlins eyes drop to the sand-dusted cobblestone road when two Summer court females pass by, eyeing him in suprise and quieting their tone as they neared. He couldn’t help but feel… embarrassed.

“Lucien, I’m not sure if coming here was the best idea.” He admits, scratching his jaw. The short sleeved silk shirt he donned was indeed a good choice, as the warm air was causing Tamlin a bit of discomfort. That, or maybe his anxiety was causing his hands to clam up. Either way, he was feeling warm, jittery, and… out of place.

“Hey,” Lucien said, stopping his pace and turning to his friend. Tamlin stopped too, realizing his hands were tightly clamped into fists at his side. Lucien offered a warm smile, and jerked his head to the sandy beaches that looked a little less crowded than the town.

“Let’s get you a drink, yeah?” Tamlin nodded, and Lucien chuckled, motioning for him to follow. Sand squished beneath the flat planes of his sandals as they waded toward a small wooden hut in the sand, and Tamlin glanced around at the varying people gathered near the center of it.

Lucien approached the bar first, sliding close to a girl in a pink sundress with long, caramel colored hair. She looked to him when they touched, and gasped in suprise, offering a small hug. Ugh. He always had such a way with women.

“Lucien! I didn’t know you’d made it!” She beamed. Her face looked vaguely familiar as Tamlin leaned into the bar on Lucien’s opposite side.

“Only just a few minutes ago,” he replied. She smiled up at him, his arm still around her waist. Then it hit him. That was definitely his mate. Lucien turned to Tamlin, who was now focused on the back of the bartender’s head.

“Tamlin, you’ve met Elain before, right?” He asked. Tamlin turned, pretending to see her for only the first time that evening.

“Yeah! Yeah. Of course. Nice to see you. Again.” He said. Gods, she looked so much like Feyre. No wonder he’d found her familiar.

She offered him a polite smile. “You too.” She kissed Lucien’s cheek, and Tamlin sighed. Before he could pretend to not look again, he felt a tiny tap on the back of his elbow. He turned his head slightly, catching a glimpse and then fully turning to face you.

You stood in silence for a moment, mouth parted and eyes wide as you took in the most handsome male you’d ever seen. He was doing the same, eyes raking over your body and catching on your lips for a moment before returning to meet your gaze. You blinked once, twice, trying to remember what you were doing over here in the first place.

“Oh um… I’m so sorry, um…” you stammer. The corner of his mouth tilts upwards, and you catch a glimpse of his lovely white canines. You can feel your face hot with embarrassment.

“I was just wondering if you ordered yet, I…” Tamlin crossed his strong arms over his chest, a smirk taking over his lips. He took a step to the side, clearing a space for you at the bar. He held out a motioning hand for you to step up, so you did, opting to close your fumbling mouth. Lucien’s eyes glanced to you; then to Tamlin in question as you replaced his friend’s position against the bar. The questioning didn’t go on very long, as the two shared a knowing look moments later.

The bartender took note of the empty space before you on the counter and walked over to you, first asking and preparing a drink for Lucien. He slid to you next, and within moments you felt body heat very close to you from behind.

“What’ll you have, Miss?” He asks.

“Mai Tai, please. Strong,” you say. He nods, glancing above your shoulder. “And for you, sir?” You crane your neck, the tips of blond hairs tickling your nose as Tamlin’s arms move to cage you in to the countertop. He leans in close so the bartender can hear him.

“Whatever she’s having!”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧

“Andddd, over here we have the shell art studio,” you say. The sun had dipped a bit more, and from the very first drink Tamlin had clung to you like a cloth drenched by the ocean. His friend was happy to let him go; “Have fun, brother!” he’d said. His pretty female friend smacked him on the chest for that one.

You now walked along the sidewalk in the Summer town, pointing out some of your favorite booths and tents that you’d frequent when the Summer festival would occur each year. The sun was dipping low beyond the skyline, the last remnants of it painting your new friend’s portrait beautifully in the pink and golden hues.

“Oh! There is the pineapple ice bar! I can’t believe they’re still here…” you say excitedly. Tamlin looks down at you, noting every freckle on your joyous little face as your cheekbones rise in excitement.

“Well… if it’s as good as you’re making it out to be… we must try some, shouldn’t we?” He requests. Your mouth drops in shock, and you grasp his bicep.

“You’ve… never had… pineapple ice?” You ask, mouth open. He shakes his head, lips thinning to a flat line. “I’ve never really toured the Summer court, remember? You asked me earlier if I knew how to make a sandcastle?” He replies. You furiously shake your head, groaning and grasping one of his hands in yours.

“Okay — we’re getting this to try, just as a starting point,” you explain. Tamlin nods, trying to ignore the fireworks in his mind from your touch. “But, when you come back to visit, I’m giving you the grand tour, we’ll see everything, I promise!” You hiccup, and Tamlin chuckles. You’re pulling him toward the booth, the few drinks causing the two of you to more or less stumble your way there instead. When you let go of his hand, he sighs a little — only in his mind.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧

“Okay, so, my turn… can you surf?” You ask. The booze has kicked in full swing now, and you have retired with your new companion to a large blanket by one of the hundreds of mini bonfires littering the outstretch of coastline. Upon your suggestion to get to know eachother better, you’ve begun to ask eachother random questions.

“Y/N…” Tamlin chuckles, placing his spoon back into his mostly-empty pineapple ice cup. “I told you I’m not from here, remember?” A laugh bubbles from deep in your chest, and you let it out, causing Tamlin to laugh with you. His wonderful white smile shines bright like the stars overhead.

“I am soooo rediculous!” You say in between your giggles. You set your empty cup down next to you, and Tamlin looks at you sincerely. He mimicks your movements, setting his cup down and then reaches to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You blush, and pretend the colorful explosions just from his touch aren’t there.

“I don’t think you’re rediculous.” He says softly. You grin at him, leaning closely and he chuckles again. He’s laying on his side, head propped up in one hand and you’re sitting cross-legged next to him.

“Mmmm andddd what do you think of me?” You ask. His brow raises, and he stares deep into your eyes. He feels a tightening in his chest, trying his best to be suave with his flirtatious attempts. If only it came so easily to him as it did to Lucien…

“I think you’re … lovely,” he says. You giggle, and he inches closer. “Very, very funny,” another inch. Your breath catches, as he pretends to not be so nervous this close to your lips. “And a very good… tour guide!” His hand flicks his spoon at your nose, landing pineapple ice atop the small slope. You squeal, and his fingers find your ribs, sending you fluttering onto your back as you squirm and laugh under his wiggling touch. In an instant his face is hovering over yours, mossy eyes vibrant with delight and peering into yours. His fingers eventually stop moving, finding purchase on your hips just above your low waisted jean shorts. He holds firm as his tongue flicks out, slowly licking the melting pineapple ice from the tip of your nose. You stare at him, wide-eyed before furrowing your brow and placing a hand over his.

“Tamlin,” you say gently. He smiles softly at you, loving how his name sounds in your voice. He tries not to fall in love right then and there; it didn’t feel this good, this right the last time.

“Who… why… I don’t understand why I don’t know you. How, I don’t know you. How I haven’t met you until just now?” You say. Your words only slip together slightly, as his fingers delicately trace circles on your exposed skin below your tank top.

He lets out a small sigh, his expression going solemn. “I don’t think you’d want to know the real me.” He turns to look toward the water, shame flooding his mind when he remembers what and who he still is. Memories of Feyre, everything he’d done and messed up and how he would probably do that again. He wouldn’t change; she made it known that he couldn’t. He still believed it.

Your brows draw together, fingers caressing his cheeks and turning his face to look at you once more. His mouth is only an inch or two from yours, and you’re almost sharing breath at this point.

“What if I do?” You ask, eyes searching his in desperation. His expression softens as those terrorsome memories fade, eyes lining with silver. You smile at him, thumb brushing over his cheekbone. His hand holds yours in his against his face, and you use the other to finally pull him into you, sparing him from making a move he didn’t know you’d be ready for.

The syrupy sweet pineapple remnant kiss sent tethers of electricity through you; the warmth of his mouth on yours heating you from your head to your toes. His hand moves to cup your face, tangle in your hair — and yours pulls him closer by his (very soft) shirt collar. His heart beat is loud, pounding against where your chests touch. His fingers dance up and down your exposed skin and graze under the hem of your tank top while his tongue briefly swipes over your bottom lip before he pulls away. You open your eyes to look at him, a cheeky grin over taking your face when he grins down at you.

Behind his head, you catch sight of a shooting star and gasp. “Tamlin!” You whisper. He turns slightly, then fixes his gaze on you again. “Tamlin it’s a shooting star — you make a wish on those, you know? I don’t know how they do it back where you’re from, but here—“

His mouth presses against yours again, this time no question in his mind if he’s doing the right thing or not. You can’t help but melt into his touch, into him; only pulling back to catch your breath.

“Darling, I’d only wish for you.”

94 notes · View notes

bittersweetarts · 2 years

Text

Little Lamb - Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Aemond Targaryen x You (Fanfiction)

Word count: 3471 words

Summary: As a maiden of a noble house, it is your duty to wed well. But how will you manage to, with a curious and possessive Prince in the picture?

WARNINGS: Misogynistic behaviour (borderline sexist), dubious consent, no smut (because I am physically unable to)

Spotify Playlist – AO3 Page

Chapter 1: The Summer Solstice Festival

When you first came to King’s Landing as a young maiden, you didn’t expect much out of your stay – it was meant to be brief, and your parents had hoped that you would next return to Storm’s End betrothed. It was your duty as a high-born woman. Though your house is noble, much of its influence had been lost in the years subsequent to the ascent of Aegon the Conqueror, and you needed to secure a good match for its livelihood.

When your parents first received a letter from the Targaryen Family, inviting your household to to stay at the Red Keep during the Summer Solstice Festival, a religious holiday in the Faith of the Seven, your father had instructed you to attend with your mother and one of your elder brothers, Steffon. The pair would serve as your liaison between potential suitors, and this irritated you greatly. Independent in spirit, you could not reconcile the fact that your insufferable git of a brother, only a few years elder to you, gets to determine the path of your life, purely on the basis of his sex. Yet, here you were, en route to the capitol, trying to summon your optimism in bleak circumstances.

Part of a large family of fifteen, you were next in line to be wed, and truly, you were grateful that you have managed to escape the life of becoming a child bride. You truly are the epitome of a middle child, only occasionally remembered, and when you were needed, you could be found in the household library, your head firmly affixed to a book. You are of a reserved nature, found far from the center of affairs, and from a minor house, which is why everyone found it surprising that Queen Alicent had taken notice of you, most of all yourself.

“My Queen,” you bowed towards the famed pious woman, as you greeted her with your mother and brother at the entrance of the Royal Hall. It has been a little of a week since your arrival to King’s Landing, and you had little to show for it, much to the dismay of your chaperones. It was almost the mid-point mark of the celebration, and in honour of the Summer Solstice, a ball was being hosted. Ironically, it was Steffon who has garnered the most interest with regards to marriage, and you have slowly begun to prepare yourself with the life of being a spinster. It couldn’t be so bad, perhaps you could train to become a midwife, or whatever occupation you could find. In a way, you wish you could do just that, forge your own way in life, and create one that is truly your own. But you know that is just fantasy, and that if you are unable to return engaged, your parents would likely just arrange a partnership with the first possible suitor. Nevertheless, this was a harmless fantasy that you let yourself divulge into, which in all fairness, was not frequent, as you were more often than not, reading. The Red Keep’s library was your favourite place in the world, you had decided, as you know that their collection would keep you occupied beyond your lifetime, and when you were not there, you were found at the Royal Gardens, reading. Unrealised to you, this had earned you a reputation as a book worm, and had attracted the attention of the Queen.

“I must say, I am quite surprised, this is the first I have seen of you since your arrival, without a book at hand.” The fair woman spoke, next to her fair-haired children, observing the fair.

Unbeknownst to you or your family, this was the first light-hearted comment the Queen had spoken that evening. She had been an awful mood due to the unsurprising absence of King Aegon II from yet another Festival event, which was preluded with a heated argument regarding the utility of wasting treasury funds for religious events, at least that was the position of the ill King, much to the dismay of his young mother, a devout follower of the Faith.

This shift in mood had surprised the one-eyed Prince Aemond, who had otherwise been detached from affairs of the evening, by that point. He truly did not give a shit about inconsequential matters, such as balls where fat old men drunk themselves into oblivion, and naïve young women armed themselves with false flatteries, in hopes of wooing some nobleman, all while their duplicitous guardians manipulated these affairs.

However, this moment had intrigued Prince Aemond. For one, you were a foreign face, and as was your name, as introduced by your older brother. But more importantly, you were someone who had caught the attention of his mother, a woman who did not care for court social life in the slightest, unless for political purpose.

You tactfully maneuvered the conversation, deflecting attention from yourself whilst politely responding to the Queen. Thanking her for the invitation whilst leisurely bowing, Aemond could not help but notice how pleasing you appeared in that position, with your flushed cheeks and full chest on display. As you disappeared into the crowd, Aemond took mental note of you and your house, as well as the dress you were wearing, a deep crimson frock which accentuated your golden skin and glistening décolleté. It definitely was a satisfying display, and his interest had been piqued.

You had found the entire Targaryen family handsome, and each time you see them, you are always taken aback by their beauty. Queen Helaena could have been a Goddess, and all of the Princes in attendance had an unworldly quality to them. You could almost understand in a way why it was their dynasty that managed to ‘unite’ the Seven Kingdoms. Almost. However, you knew better, and it was not their beauty, but violence, fire and bloodshed that had chained the Kingdom together. And you were unsure of whether that was a good thing.

As the evening progressed, you slowly started blending into the background. A few dances with unmemorable men to appease your mother, and a waiting game until your brother was too intoxicated to remember your existence. You had brief conversations with suitors, monitored by your kind, yet stern mother, and you knew that any arrangement would ultimately be managed by her.

You were never good at maintaining conversations with peers, and found that you over-thought spoken exchanges too much. You preferred avoiding such internal conflict, and predictably grew weary of the ball, as you chose to not even interact with any of the other ladies in attendance. Though you knew it was unwise to be alone as a maiden, you decided that you were in need of fresh air and opted to go to the nearest vacant balcony, with a goblet of cherry wine at hand, whilst trying to hide from your observant mother. While leaving, you expected that no one would take notice of you. The one-eyed Prince, who had distantly observed you since the beginning of the night, giving you more glances than he should have, saw opportunity. Satisfied with this development, he stealthily followed you, keeping a considerable distance.

The Red Keep was a maze, and while you stumbled across many people, most were intoxicated and took no notice of you. You were a lady on a mission, and were in desperate need of fresh air. After an eternity wandering, regretting not finding the courage to ask one of the many knights you crossed paths with, you finally found refuge in a large empty balcony. As you approached the railing, setting down your sleeved arms against it, you took in a deep breath of fresh air, or rather air that is as fresh as it could be in King’s Landing suffocating weather. Your momentary peace however was disrupted, as a deep male voice echoed behind you, startling you.

“Like a little lamb on your own, are you not afraid of being taken advantage of?”

You immediately jumped around, and a small distance in front of you was the wayward Prince Aemond, known throughout the land for his coldness and unspoken cruelty; the kinslayer, and since the war, this reputation has only cemented further. Immediately, the image of the Prince riding his infamous dragon, burning down cities and armies came to mind. You could almost hear the screaming in your head. You truly were afraid, but you were also stubborn, and refused to be intimidated by anyone, including a Prince.

Taking a quick breath, you cocked your head while responding, forcing a smile. You hoped this could be interpreted as charming.

“Do I have anything to be afraid of?” You spoke, in a soft voice.

His violet eye was sharp, staring at you, and in the darkness, dilated. His expression was stiff, and he did not return your smile, his jaw remaining tight. Despite appearances, you did feel incredibly intimidated, but hoped that the Prince had not noticed your false bravado. There was a momentary silence, and you forced your smile to remain, while staring back. A fresh breeze past the two of you.

“I suppose not,” Aemond spoke after what felt like an eternity to you.

Keeping a small distance, he joined you, leaning against the railway, still staring at you. The silence continued, except that it felt deafening to you, thanks to your heartbeat. Aemond enjoyed watching you squirm. It was entertaining to him, your reaction, and it was not as he expected. Most women are afraid and flee, or throw themselves at him, yet here you were, doing neither. And Aemond did not like being unexpecting of others.

Finally breaking eye contact, you turned back around, staring at King’s Landing, while nervously cupping your goblet, still filled. You were not ready to break the silence, and to be frank, you were unsure of what was happening. How is it that you managed to find yourself alone with the likes of him? Why were you not more cautious and why did you have to leave on your own? This was a precarious situation, and you knew that it was better for you to be silent, so as to not offend the Prince, which in all likelihood, you would still manage to do regardless. And even if you had not managed to, you were not only afraid of him, but also that someone will inevitably find you two alone together. The soiling of your reputation felt inevitable now, and the prospect continued to frighten you. You start to fiddle with your goblet, now staring down at it, until a sudden movement catches you by surprise.

Swiftly, Aemond grasped the wine, chugging it effortlessly before tossing it aside, the glass shattering absorbed by the noisy environment of the celebration and the city sound. Frozen, you widened your eyes, and your mouth gapes open.

The Prince was attempting baiting you into breaking the silence, yet here you were, still hushed. Stepping closer, the Prince grazed a hand against your flushed cheeks and jawline, and now you start to violently tremble.

“So you are indeed afraid,” Aemond now smiled as he spoke, and you could not help but notice a wickedness behind it. Your false confidence had crumbled, and you felt like you were sweating profusely. Prince Aemond still continued to caress your face gently, with his rough hands, which felt cool against your boiling skin. His face was now a breath away, and his voice lowered as he spoke.

“I don’t mind though. In fact, I do believe some fear is healthy, helps people know their place” the Targaryen pauses for a moment, his fingers now exploring your lips. At this, you jerk and you bite down, hard. If it hurt, the Prince did not show his reaction, but merely jumped and glanced at his index and middle finger, which against the moonlight had a crimson glisten. Though this happened on impulse, you were in a state of shock for a moment, staring at the Prince’s hand.

When you realised how fucked you were, you tried to sprint, but failed to, as a hand shot up against your throat tightly.

“No. Behave.” Aemond drawled out slowly, his face touching yours’s. You could smell the wine in his breath, and there was rabid look in his eye. Though you felt faint, and you thought your voice would fail you. Luckily, you felt a survival instinct rush through you. You never doubted that the Prince was dangerous, but at that moment, you truly felt at peril.

Looking at his violet eye, you spoke back, your voice throaty due to the constriction. You also gently wrap your hands around his right hand, in hope that he may release it. Tears began escaping your eyes, and they slid down to Aemond’s hand. As they did, his smile only grew more fervent, and his eye become completely dilated.

“Why should I?” You weakly respond. Your mind was blank, and you had no clue what to say.

“That is an odd apology.” The Prince responded back, grinning. “I am sorry, my Prince. I am sorry for harming you.” He says mockingly.

“You do not want an apology.” You say. Tears continue streaming, though slower now.

“I don’t? Then pray tell, what do I want? I did not realise that you knew me so well, little lamb.” You did not miss the demeaning nickname, spoken with a mocking tone.

“No. You want to control me, that is what you men always want.”

Aemond smiled cruelly, lowering his gaze. “Us men, huh? You sure do seem well acquainted with the wants of men.”

The Prince’s implication was deafening, and his other hand suddenly grabbed hold of your waist, firmly but not painfully. You felt ashamed, and angry that the Prince had made you felt this way. Taking many rapid shallow breaths, you spoke harshly.

“You are vile and cruel.” Your hands now try to push against his chest, but fail. “If you intend to violate me, just do it already. Were you not taught by your Queen mother to not play with your food.”

At the mention of his mother, Aemond smile dropped, and so did his hand from your throat. The mention of Queen Alicent had broken his fervent fantasy, and he was brought back to reality. He was grateful that he had planted a knight to monitor the door and ensure no interruption, but he was not prepared to end his folly so promptly. The Prince had enjoyed this little game, and the most fun he has had in a long while, at least since the war ended with the demise of his not so dear half-sister and other kin. Yes, he was not ready for the folly to end just yet, and you had proven to be very entertaining indeed.

Though with one of his arms still around you, Aemond slightly distanced himself, and ran his free hand through your hair, as if you were a pet. Your brown hair was soft, and Aemond loved how he could sense a sweet earthy scent from it. You jump at this, and try to shove his hand away, but suddenly realise that they are clasped behind you, against your waist.

“You will not be violated, you are a noblewoman after all,” he says cryptically, smiling. “And why would I, when I prefer my women to submit on their own accord.”

“I am not yours.” You respond, your voice high and indignant.

With a mean laugh, Aemond responds. “Well-read people are supposed to be clever, are they not? Because you seem to misunderstand your position.” The Prince pulls you in crushingly, and now, you feel like you cannot breathe.

“Though you are a noble lady, I am a Prince.” He says sharply, every breath like a dagger slashing against the air. “By birthright, I can do as I please, and if I decide that you are mine, there is little you can do.”

“But as I said, I am not yours.”

Smirking, Aemond let you go. You were upset and angry, blinded by your emotion, and Aemond lived for your stubbornness. It drove him mad, in the best way possible.

“We’ll see about that.”

With that, the young Prince left, and as soon as you were alone, you crumbled onto the ground, hysterically upset and ventilating. After what felt like an eternity, a hand gently touched your shoulder, which scared you, causing you to scream.

Looking up, a knight profusely apologised. “My Lady, I sincerely apologise. Please do not be frightened.” You back yourself against the balcony railing, crawling away from him.

“Please, let me escort you to your quarters.” He says, keeping his distance. You were unsure whether you could trust him, and stared at him wide-eyed, trembling and hiccuping. Though the knight felt sympathy towards you, he had to follow orders, as it was his head on the line, not yours.

“Please. I have been instructed by Prince Aemond to do so.”

At this, you panic completely, and wrap your arms around yourself, beginning to shiver even more profusely. You feel frozen in place, and feel incredibly faint. Closing your eyes, you try to will away this nightmare of an evening. For a moment, you believe it to be a dream, and you wonder whether actually it was, as your consciousness escapes you. In the background, you hear some voices and a heavy sigh, and you feel yourself carried away. You are unable to distinguish reality, and as you toss, you are met with a strong chest and shushing.

When you wake, you feel incredibly congested. It takes a few moments for your blurry vision to clear, and as you look around, you are relieved to be in your guest chambers at the Keep. That was truly one awful nightmare. Your head is pounding, and you come to the conclusion that you must avoid wine. It affects you too much, evidently.

You see that you are still dressed in last night’s attire, and go to your bedroom’s private lavatory to refresh and prepare yourself for the day ahead. You put on a cream silk gown, light for the humid daytime weather. What is on today’s itinerary? Better to confirm with mother.

As you stroll into the modest living area, you are shocked to see Queen Alicent and Queen Helaena, sat with your mother, having tea. Your brother, who is normally noisy as an elephant, is absent from the room.

“And she finally wakes.” Your mother dramatically states, though you can hear a masked tightness in her tone.

You immediately bow before the Queens, very low, greeting everyone in the room, hoping that your shock is not visible, and that they take no offense. You are confused about what was happening entirely, until you remember your nightmare. Not a nightmare? Your heart begins to race.

“Please, sit.” A song-like voice speaks, and you realise that it is Queen Helaena who spoke, her voice mesmerising. You felt enchanted, and found yourself seated without second thought. You smile nervously, feeling inadequate next to such a beautiful person like her.

Despite your aloofness, Helaena launches into conversation, talking about how glad we found ourselves in attendance of the Summer Solstice Festival. Snapping yourself to sense, you attempt to begin conversation, understanding the importance of having the Queens in your company. Well versed in the Faith of the Seven and its history, you proceed to begin conversation about the theological origins of the Festival, and how it all began with followers committing sacrifices and offerings to the Mother Above, in hopes of prosperous harvests. “We soon understood the grander the offerings and showcases, the more blessed are the blessings.” The young Queen completely enraptured as you spoke, which relieved Alicent. Yes, my Aemond was correct. This would be ideal, the Queen thought.

In a kind, yet commandeering voice, Queen Alicent spoke as you finished. “I do not mean to deviate, sweet child. We were just speaking about this with your mother earlier, prior to your wake.”

The Queen took hold of your hands with two of hers, smiling whilst maintaining firm eye contact with you. It felt very familiar and comforting. In the corner of your eye, you see your mother’s face, and realise that there is fear in her. This spikes your anxiety.

“My dear, you are exactly the type of lady my dear Helaena needs as a companion. How do you feel about prolonging your stay at King’s Landing?”

Queen Alicent framed the proposal as a question, but you know that this is far from a request. You sincerely wish it had been, as right now, you recognise the danger ahead of you, yet again.

Taking a deep breath and summoning your voice, you respond, with fabricated joy.

“It would be an honour, my Queens.”

Hope you enjoyed my incredibly self-indulgent imagine!

I have been rotting my brain with Aemond Targaryen fanfiction for weeks and decided to take one for the team and write a fanfic myself. I do not claim to be a writer, but I also may continue writing more chapters, depending on my mental stability (the worse it gets, the more likely I am to write).

I have also posted this on AO3, incase you prefer that platform

– Chapter 2

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #imagine #house of the dragon #aemond image #aemond targeryen imagine #aemondtargaryen!thots #aemond targaryen fanfic #hotd #aemond the kinslayer #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen fic #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

theseeingfawn · 1 month

Text

My Elriel Subscription list on AO3

Below are the MANY Eriel fics I am currently subscribed to and DYING for more of…

🌹A Court of Blooming Sight by katkos96

Summary: Post ACOSF and HOFAS Eriel fan fic! This fan fic will try and stay as canon as possible, with theories based off of many lovely creators as well as my own. There may be some head canons involved, as we have not had a book come out yet, but any theories and the minds behind them will be tagged. This is duel-pov between Elain and Azriel!

🌹A Court of Sunlight and Shadows by Ahimadala

Summary: Just when Elain thought she had found balance since her life was turned upside down, someone begins to doubt the true nature of her powers. Koschei threatens the fragile peace that has settled over Prythian with his search for the cauldron. However, its power is now inextricably linked to the one who has been gifted by it.

🌹A Match Baked In Heaven by NikeTheStatue

Summary: Elain Archeron, owner of the prestigious Marigold Agency, which specializes in exclusive matchmaking has a new and very challenging client. Azriel Night, football superstar, 'stubborn as a mule' (according to his brother Cassian), handsome womanizer is under pressure to find himself a wife. At stake--a 230 million inheritance.

🌹A Shot in the Darkest Dark by yourstarsmyscars Summary: It was always those who understood fate the least who spoke most freely of it, as though the future were a path carved of marble, all roads leading in one direction, and one direction alone. It was always meant to be this way, they said, never understanding that fate was chaos and not order, madness with no clarity. And fate could be changed, if you knew which strands to pluck.

🌹Chiaroscuro (Series) by Meraki_Moonglade/a>

Summary: A collection of beautifully told stories on the budding relationship between Elain and Azriel.

🌹Cruel Summer by slythrhys

Summary: With a broken heart and a bruised ego, Elain tries to survive a week living alongside Azriel in her family's summer home, where they all gather to celebrate Nesta and Cassian's wedding.

🌹Everywhere, Everything by duskandcobalt

Summary: Two close friends, one crossed line… After a decade of friendship, Elain and Azriel are left to navigate the fallout following an encounter that's far from platonic. or A friends to lovers fic about denial and longing.

🌹Forgotten Bonds by noedovenest

Summary: After the events of ACOSF, Elain is torn between exploring her bond with her mate and her growing affection for Azriel.

🌹Golden Doe in a Valley of Shadow by Violetasteracademic

Summary: A week after Solstice, Elain is lost and heartbroken by Azriel's rejection. A surprise encounter with Lucien in the townhouse leads to an offer Elain wasn't expecting, and a readiness to face the future.

🌹High Infidelity by tswaney17

Summary: Elain and Azriel are fuck buddies, nothing more. But when a word slips out in the heat of the moment, their entire relationship comes to a screeching halt.

🌹Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince by yourstarsmyscars

Summary: Fresh off a brutal break-up, Elain is in need of a distraction. A casual fling. One no strings bad idea, with a guy she definitely won't get attached to, so she can finally move on. Azriel has lost count of the number of women who've come to regret meeting him. But while he may be the worst idea Elain has had in a while, he's determined to prove that she won't regret him.

🌹Satin and Steel by airelemental

Summary: Princess/Knight alternate universe. Elain Archeron is on her way to visit her sister, the newly crowned queen of Prythian. With no romantic prospects and a new inheritance of all of her parents' land and most of their wealth, Elain wants nothing more than to lead a quiet life where she's finally in charge of her own destiny. Upon her arrival, King Rhysand appoints his highest ranking knight, Sir Azriel, as her royal guard and chaperone. She thinks he's a brute and is appalled at the idea of someone following her around everywhere she wishes to go during her stay. He finds her spoiled and can think of a thousand different ways to better spend his time.

🌹Shining Through That Moonless Night by tealeaves_and_rosepetals

Summary: Good intentions went wrong on the night of Solstice, and ever since, Elain and Azriel have struggled through days that felt darker and colder without the joy of the secret love that grew between them. Yet for both of them, a tiny glimmer of hope remains, bright and unyielding.

🌹Spy. Seer. Scout. by KiwiKaboom tealeaves_and_rosepetals

Summary: She knew she was still worlds behind both her sisters. It wasn’t until she had thrust the blade into Hyberns' neck that her healing had truly been able to begin.

Elain starts to consider what -she- wants. Why shouldn't she have both?

#azriel x elain #elriel #elain x azriel #elain archeron #azriel shadowsinger #elriel fic

57 notes · View notes

medieval-collectibles · 2 years

Text

Excited about Litha?

Highlight the upcoming holiday with this Wheel of the Year Plaque.

This plaque represents the eight seasonal celebrations of pagan tradition.

Each holiday has its own place on the wheel with iconography that aligns with each holiday. Each holiday can be displayed as the most upright through the design of each having its own hook to hang from.

Add this year-round decoration to your home today!

Check it out, as well as various other pagan décor, on our website today!

#pagan #paganism #litha #summer solstice #witchblr #witch community #medieval collectibles

0 notes

zenkindoflove · 3 months

Text

Here you can find the complete list of my SJM fanfictions, moodboards, and playlists. I mostly write Elucien, Satharion, and Eris x OC.

Multichapter Fics

Summer Heat (E) - Elain x Lucien, Eris x Alexius (OC)

Complete, 114,890 words, 18/18 chapters

Summary: Summer Court is hosting the Summer Solstice Summit and the Night Court is sending their best emissaries to attend. It will be Elain's first time mingling in another court, and it's a good thing she has an expert guiding her: the mate she's been ignoring for the last two years. Meanwhile, Eris has been sent to the summit to spy on Summer's developments. What he doesn't anticipate is entangling in a steamy, forbidden romance

Eris x Alexius moodboard Ch 7

Eris x Alexius moodboard Ch 12

Eris x Alexius moodboard Ch 16

Eris x Alexius moodboard by @animezinglife

Eris x Alexius moodboard by @teddyhoneybear

************************************

Burn Forever With Me (E) - Elain x Lucien

Complete, ~69,000 words

Summary: End of ACOSF. After Feyre's traumatic birth, Elain writes to Lucien seeking comfort and company. She soon realizes that opening up to him in letters is much easier without her family's constant presence. But how long can she keep falling for Lucien a secret?

NSFW art of Ch 13 by @works-of-heart

************************************

Dear Lucien, Dear Elain: An Epistolary Fic (M) - Elain x Lucien, collab with @crazy-ache

Complete, 13/13 chapters, ~28,000 words

Summary: Epistolary (adj., of a literary work) in the form of letters. After the winter solstice in ACOSF, Elain and Lucien exchange letters as a means to get to know each other away from prying eyes. This fic is a collection of those letters.

************************************

Pull Me in Deeper (E) Eris x Alexius (OC)

WIP, 5/?? chapters posted

************************************

Summary: Needing more alliances, Eris strikes a deal with Helion: go to the continent and find out information for him, and Day Court will support him usurping Beron. What he didn’t account for is the beautiful Day Court emissary accompanying him that makes his heart race while being such a thorn in his side.

Eris x Alexius commissioned fanart 🍂☀️

Short Fics

Kneel Before Me (E) - Elain x Lucien

One-shot, ~11,000 words

Summary: Lucien arrives at the House of Wind, only to be drawn into a sparring match with none other than the Inner Circle's own Shadowsinger. Things get out of hand and Azriel discovers whether he really can defeat Lucien easily.

************************************

I Think I Saw You in My Sleep (E) - Elain x Lucien

One-shot, ~10,000 words

Summary: The dreams of him come from the mating bond, but Elain wants them to stay.

************************************

Our Hearts Still Beat the Same (E) - Elain x Lucien

Two-shot, ~17,000 words

Summary: "She stood on the bridge for a few minutes, hoping that the rain might wash away the seething anger and bottomless anguish that crackled under her skin. More, more, more, repeated again and again to a steady beat. His heart beat." Part One is Cozy Tension. Part Two is all smut.

************************************

The Art of Seducing Your Merman Husband (E) - Sathia Flynn x Tharion Ketos

Two-shot, ~7,000 words

Summary: When Sathia realizes that Tharion is purposely ignoring all of her attempts at seduction, she decides on Valentine's Day that the only way to finally get her husband in her bed is to make a gesture so obvious, that even a merman with one brain cell would figure it out.

************************************

Embrace (M) - Elain x Lucien

One-shot, ~2,800 words

Summary: Elain is on a journey of embracing her Faeness. When studying Lucien's pierced ears, an idea forms in her head that she can't shake.

************************************

Lone (T) - Andras x Clare Beddor

One-shot, ~4,300 words

Summary: Clare Beddor is dead, and she haunts the woods of The Middle. A skinless wolf shows up one day, he has a story to tell, and it reeks of revenge.

Moodboard

************************************

Taste of You (E) - Eris x Alexius (OC)

One-shot, 2,200 words

Summary: Eris and his mate Alexius are on a tour of Autumn. Alexius is feeling cooped up in the carriage and Eris has an idea of how to release some tension. PWP

************************************

Ficlets Masterlist - Mix of Elucien, Satharion, and Eris x OC.

************************************

Miscellaneous

Marry Me: a Satharion playlist

Elucien 1980s clinch cover fanart

************************************

You can find all of my SJM fanfiction as well as other fandoms on AO3.

#elucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #eris vanserra #satharion #eris x oc #sathia x tharion #sathia flynn #tharion ketos #elain x lucien #zenkindoflove: masterlist #zenkindoflove: pinned post #redoing this to spruce it up

56 notes · View notes

dadfuckerfest · 9 days

Text

HELLO AND WELCOME TO FUN IN THE SON 2024!

You ever scroll through the dash or rewatch your favorite SPN episode and suddenly find yourself face to pixelated-face with someone's submissive and breedable son and think, Man, I'd really like to have some fun in that son?

Well, the bad news is we can't help you with that (sorry!) But for just five weeks this summer you can vicariously have fun in that son by smooshing his face with a beloved father/mother/parental figure!

The rules are simple:

~ For each Friday, pick a prompt (or more!) and post your fanwork(s) to tumblr (and optionally to the ao3 collection). ~ Make sure to mention @dadfuckerfest so we can share your wonderful work. ~ Open to all ratings, all fanworks, all sons, and all sorts of fun!

The prompts:

6.14: memory/prophecy/mistaken identity 6.21: solstice/heatwave 6.28: first time/reunion/in-between 7.05: on the road/in the woods/in the dead of night 7.12: voyeurism/discipline/WILD CARD WILD CARD: for any work that doesn't fit neatly within any of the other prompts!

Feel free to reach out with any questions or concerns.

Finally, remember to have fun! And don't forget your anti-chafing cream!

#dadfuckerfest #deanjohn #johndean #john/dean #samjohn #deanjack #samjack #dadfucker friday

36 notes · View notes

florencemtrash · 2 months

Text

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Twenty

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Canon typical graphic depictions

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

You were running on coffee and willpower, and both were in short supply. You cradled what you promised would be your last cup in your hands, feeling your fried nerves inch closer to bursting into flames with every bitter sip.

Azriel had one arm looped protectively around your waist, propping you up against his side like an overworked bookend. You both sat huddled over the map you’d spent the last day and night laboring over until you could picture every stark line pressed behind shuttered eyelids like an afterimage. Until your cramped hands shook while clutching the mug like a vice.

Feyre, Rhys, Mor, Nesta, Lucien, and Cassian similarly hovered over the innocuous sheet of paper. Pale parchment glow flickering over expressions of intense thought.

You traced the outline of the lake, its form vaguely star shaped and pointing abstractly towards the north, south, east, and west.

“Here.” You tapped the northeast edge where a greyed out huddle of shapes formed the forest and a collection of scribbles marked the Death god’s home close to the waters. The lines swirled in your mind like a thousand snakes locked in battle, swallowing each other whole and getting eaten alive in an endless, vicious cycle.

Koschei’s portion of the continent lay flat and unassuming, seemingly vulnerable with the flatlands peering at his back with limitless entry points for enemies from the Continent. But the seductive ease of access through that region was a guise. Koschei was a death god, and a powerful one at that. Magic grew in and out of the soil there and what walked those woods had a strange habit of toeing the line between life and death.

The western corners swam in seas of grasslands, flat and open and unprotected save for the expanse of water a mile wide.

And the lake. The lake was the most curious thing of all. A black shape on paper, still and foreboding.

You knew from Andrian’s memories that enchanted swans flocked there — women layered with curses that kept them bound to the region in animal form — but nothing else. No creatures floundered in the salty dark. No animals came to drink from it as if they could sense the power that tainted it with decay.

“The boundaries of the Koschei’s power lie somewhere along here.” You pointed to the lazy line sketched down. “But I wouldn’t trust it. When Andrian was first sent off from the lake he crossed the plains towards one of the harbor towns on the coast and he felt that Koschei’s influence scaled with the distance away from the source of his power.”

“Any weak points? Places we could slip in unnoticed?” Feyre’s eyes scanned the page, reimagining your weak swirls of ink into something more layered. Something with more meaning that could only come about from the mind of an artist and a warrior.

You pointed to one of the star points and then to another toward the south. “Here and here. Don’t ask me how and don’t ask me why but these are the only two blind spots. Andrian used to sneak away from Koschei’s house to these two places.”

“To do what?” Cassian asked. He lumbered towards the back of the war room, easily peering over everyone’s shoulders to the flattened parchment and eyeing the wooden pieces strewn across the map, his own piece being tipped with a glistening red stone.

“To plan his escape.”

A hush fell over the room, thick and suffocating.

The boy had never succeeded.

Feyre’s lips flattened to a pale line, the air around her reverberating with heat as the temperature in the room rose — a drop of Autumn’s power magnified. She nodded to the second map, this one gathered from Azriel’s contacts on the Continent. Whereas your map had laid out Koschei’s land in detail, Azriel’s was suspiciously empty where the lake was concerned. The two fit together like puzzle pieces. “What’s the nearest harbor town?”

“Tournnes.” Azriel replied without needing to look down. You’d memorized one map, he’d memorized the other. “It’s a small fishing village located twenty-three miles to the southwest. Most of the inhabitants are men that come and go with the season and travel west from Slairn and Friesieg. It will be empty this time of year.” The fish would have gone south in search of warmer waters. Even here the Sidra had turned frigid, crusts of ice lapping up against grey sand shores.

Cassian shook his head, examining the map with a scowl. “There’s poor coverage getting from Tournnes to Koschei. And an abandoned town’s too obvious a place to hide any soldiers. It’d be better to come in from the east, through the woods.”

“Then we’d need to take the long way around Koschei’s territory.” Lucien argued back, “Our soldiers would need to trek through foreign lands for weeks and we’d lose any advantage Tarquin could give us by staying close to the coast.”

“You can’t trust those woods,” you gasped, your eyes flashing with fear that didn’t wholly belong to you.

Never enter those woods. Henna had once warned her Andrian. Never. Do you understand me?

Azriel tightened his hold on you, pressing his lips into your hair to brush against your ear. “Breathe, my love. Breathe.”

You hadn’t realized you’d stopped.

It was a heavy burden carrying the memories of others. Like a weight tied around your belly that hadn’t been properly woven into flesh. Something both part and apart from you. And you’d been feeling too many of Andrian’s memories in the past week since his death.

Silence flung itself over growing irritation and anxiety as everyone circled back to the same conclusion.

They wouldn’t be able to bring their armies abroad. And with limited numbers, brute strength would only go so far when forced to bring a fight to a foreign land against a foreign god. This would be decided by few. It would be as intimate as lovers. As ruthless as enemies.

“There’s still the other plan.” Nesta reminded them, glancing first at Feyre and you with the faintest of nods.

“I hate that plan, Nes.” Cassian gripped the back of her wing-backed chair and she reached up to take his hand in her own. She looked like a queen in her own right — harsh, pragmatic, unwavering. And he her mirror — a roguish knight, rough and wild and raw.

“I know. Unfortunately for you, it’s the best one we’ve got.”

“It’s the only one we’ve got.” Mor said with a sigh, rubbing her temples to alleviate the ache there. “We’re asking for a blood bath one way or the other.”

“Ione is still with us.” Rhys squeezed his cousin’s knee. “Without her, he can be killed.”

“But for how long, Rhys? How long until he finds someone else? Some other way?”

The question hung in the air like an ax ready to fall. An invisible clock ticking its way towards doom. Koschei had read the book’s contents. He had to know the secret to freeing himself was sheltered in Ione’s veins. So long as she was alive and breathing she was a threat as much as she was a tantalizing prize for him to tear his teeth into.

Feyre’s fingernails clicked on the glossy tabletop, eyes narrowed in on that splash of black on paper. Through the golden string tied to her lower ribs, she felt the tug of her mate’s silent agreement. Her eyes flickered upward for a brief moment, as if she could see through the layers of the House to the skies above. “For as long as we have Ione, we have the upper hand. But we can’t rely on it forever.” She looked at you, “ We go with the first plan. It will have to be enough.”

You shivered.

Four years ago, when the Day Court had first opened its borders to foreigners from other Courts, you’d encountered a male in the market. He’d been young and reckless and glamoured himself to live amongst the humans for six months. In that time, he’d learned their version of magic — the sleight of hand tricks and elaborate games of misdirection humans played on one another. Caped entertainers bedazzling crowds with obvious moves, while the real work happened just out of frame.

You thought of him now. You pictured him in the marketplace as he made a hand-painted playing card disappear from his hand into the fold of his suit jacket, only to reappear under an overturned teacup.

Yes.

It would have to be enough.

The crisp blade flashed in the dull light as you moved your feet back and forth in a practiced dance.

Left, left, right, duck, keep your wrist straight and slice up. Just like Azriel had instructed you. He stood off the narrow mat, hazel eyes tracing every slow movement of yours with a critical gaze.

“Practice makes permanence.” He’d reminded you earlier. “Get it right first, then we’ll worry about speed.”

Magic hovered over the House of Wind’s training gym, warping the air like a soap bubble as it shielded you from the frigid rain. Even so, the scent of petrichor and the cleanliness of frosted wind hung close to warn of the storm churning its way down from the north, carrying with it the promise of rainfall or the first true flakes of snow.

How poetic that winter should come with death chasing its heels while you were learning a dozen ways to kill a man.

“Here.” Azriel took your wrist in a loose grip, arching your arm and sticking the point of the knife into the training dummy’s jugular. Hay crinkled and burst out from the burlap covering instead of blood and you stepped away, locating the points in the liver, the lungs, the heart, the throat, under the arms, and more. Gruesome things made digestible by the motionless, fake body propped up on wooden poles.

You didn’t need to imagine what it would feel like for your blade to meet flesh.

Your arms ached. Hot, unfamiliar stretches of muscle trembling while slick with sweat. You could taste salt on your tongue as Azriel repeated himself.

“Be precise. Be quick if you can. Then run like hell.”

Incapacitation and speed. Those were the only two things you could rely on if things went south on the Continent.

Precise. Quick. Run.

“Emphasis on run,” You muttered beneath your breath. You adjusted your feet to match Azriel’s stance, feeling the strength of his muscles close to your body and imagining some of that power seeping into the ground for you to drink up.

The corner of his mouth twitched, then rose in a smile. “Exactly.” He stepped in, hands twisting your hips to be straight and then drifting up to your wrist. “Too much.” He corrected your bones with a feather-light touch. He wasn’t smiling anymore.

It should have been romantic. Him touching you like this with his front pressed against your back and his breath sliding over your skin as he taught you to wield a knife. Instead his insides churned relentlessly. Visions of you, blood-splattered and motionless on the ground, flashed through his mind. He’d be damned if he let that happen again.

You practiced on him next. Blunt, stone knife gripped in your hands as he moved in slow-motion. Azriel must have had everything custom made for you. The balance felt right in your hands, the movement as fluid as your awkward limbs could manage.

You clasped a hand around the back of his neck, dragging him forward as you swung up.

Where the head goes, the body will follow.

He didn’t so much as grunt as the stone wedged itself into his ribs.

You locked eyes with him and saw his pupils blown wide as a doe’s. “Good.” He murmured. “Again.”

On and on you went for hours, Azriel’s panic fueling the training he put you through, as if he could fit a hundred years of combat into a handful of hours.

You grunted when Azriel easily flipped you over onto your back, a scarred hand catching the nape of your neck so your head wouldn’t slam into the floor. The knife slipped out from your sweaty fingers, skittering away and disappearing beneath one of the weapons racks along the wall. You breathed heavily beneath him, feeling the grit of the ground and the sweat sliding into your hair and the leather brushing your chest with every breath he took.

In a real fight, Azriel would have killed you a thousand times over and he knew it. There was not a single moment where you could have saved yourself.

You saw the tell tale flicker in his eyes, the tensing of his jaw before he gritted his teeth and swore beneath his breath.

You felt shame seep into your stomach again. “Az—”

“I want you to take my memories,” he said. “Everything I’ve learned over 500 years.”

Metal whispered against leather as a tendril of shadow retrieved the knife and slid it into the thigh sheath Azriel had tied around your legs only hours ago. It felt strange to have such an unfamiliar weight against your thighs. To know that only leather kept the wicked blade from slicing you to the bone.

“We’ve been over this before, Azriel. I can take however many memories I want from you until I can picture every way to take down an enemy in my mind’s eye. But that doesn’t mean my body will obey or follow through correctly. Knowing things mentally isn’t the same thing as knowing things physically.”

Azriel huffed in frustration, dropping one hand to your waist like he often did and gripping the flesh there to ground him.

“If we had more time—”

“When this is over we’ll have more time.”

If I make it.

Because if there was anyone who would survive what was to come. It was Azriel. And you could find a great deal of comfort in that.

Azriel must have read your doubt because his eyes hardened and his hands came up to cup your jaw. “We will have more time. We’ll have time for everything, do you understand me?”

“Like what?”

“Whatever you want. We’ll travel the Courts. I’ll take you dancing and—”

“You’ll teach me a dozen new ways to kill someone?”

“Exactly.”

“Should I start keeping a tally?”

“If that would help, then yes.” He dipped his head down, kissing you firmly on the lips, the taste salty and warm to the touch. Kissing you came easy now. Touches were a comforting drug he craved daily.

“If things go wrong—” He whispered, flicking a strand of hair out of your eyes. “Promise me you’ll find me.”

You blinked up at him, tracing fragments of gold in his eyes.

“Find you,” you echoed, your voice tinged with sadness. “You’re not going to convince me to run?”

He laughed bitterly. “I know you too well, my love. You wouldn’t listen even if I did. If anything, it would make you want to stay and fight even more, just to prove me wrong.“ “Then is this some reverse psychology? You tell me the opposite of what you want, so I end up doing what you intended all along?”

“You’re thinking too deeply about this.” He slid his arms around the small of your back, dropping his weight until you were flush against him. Until you could feel his heart beating beneath his skin in time to yours. “Find me, so I can protect you. And so if anything happens, we won’t be alone. I want you to promise me.”

You caressed his cheek, the coarse bandages he’d wound around your wrists and knuckles scratching the skin of his jaw and the faint stubble that had grown there over sleepless nights. “I promise I’ll find you, Azriel. We’re better together anyways.”

He could never disagree with you. He lifted you back onto your feet, kissing your forehead. “Three more drills, then we’ll be done for the day.”

He made you run five. The bastard.

You’d dreamed of what might come. Nightmares filled with glassy-eyed children and skeletal forests where the dead roamed free. A black lake with stones of bleached bone to fill your lungs and choke the life out of you.

You wanted to make Azriel proud. You wanted to be the kind of warrior who could match him physically, not just mentally. The kind of female he’d never have to worry about protecting in that way. But violence had never been beaten into your bones and you could only hope that the skills you did possess would see you through to the end.

You and Azriel would make it. You’d all make it.

Some way.

Somehow.

Then there would be time for everything you had ever wanted and everything you’d never had the courage to ask for.

You woke up to a world shivering beneath a dusting of snow. Frost creeped up the windowsill, trying to slither inside before the House’s magic burned it away. A grey, ashen sky hung low over the mountains, mist blowing over and gathering in valleys until they were transformed into pools of smoke.

So this is it. You thought wearily, tasting the change in the air. Winter’s finally here to choke the world into submission.

You burrowed further under Azriel’s wings, chasing the heat that rolled off his skin. When you looked up at his eyes they were already trained on the weather, some similar tangle of thoughts running through his mind that had his grip around your waist tightening.

“The other death gods. Have you met any of them, Az?” You whispered your question into the hollow of his neck, feeling the blood rushing beneath your lips until he answered.

“I’ve met a fair few. The Bone Carver, Stryga, and Bryaxis joined our side in the final battle against Hybern and Nesta was equivalent in power when she first emerged from the Cauldron.”

“Nesta?” You asked questionably.

She was a collection of sharp edges wrapped in silk and cunning, but a death god?

Azriel smiled ever so slightly. “You didn’t know her then, but she was a terror to behold. You could feel her presence in a room like a knife in your back or a flame licking at your heels so hold it starts to freeze. Only Cassian was foolish and lovestruck enough to approach her at the time.”

You tried to imagine it — Cassian’s wild, borderline arrogant mannerisms going toe-to-toe against Nesta’s magnified sharp grace. “That sounds about right.”

“Feyre knows the most about the death gods. Has come face to face with the most. Rhys sent her into the Weaver’s cabin to retrieve her engagement ring — don’t give me that look, my love, I don’t understand it either — and she’s the one who convinced The Bone Carver and Bryaxis to fight for us.”

“Feyre has a penchant for endearing herself to monsters.”

Azriel smirked, pearly teeth flashing. “You have no idea.” Then he said something that stuck with you. “The Bone Carver was especially close to her.”

Anytime the Bone Carver — Thanatos — was mentioned, you could only think of Bethsevah. The one person who had ever looked upon his true face and never flinched.

“How so?”

Shadows swarmed around his ears, as much a sign of his thinking as it was a sign that whispers beyond your own understanding were reaching him.

“When Feyre met with the Bone Carver, he made a bargain that he’d only fight for her if she could descend into the Court of Nightmares and bring back an enchanted mirror without going mad. Feyre said she saw her true form when she looked into her reflection, and that it was only by accepting this form that she was able to keep the madness at bay. The Bone Carver was impressed with her and pledged his loyalty to her from then on.” Azriel shook his head, wings flaring out in another sign of his thinking. “It never made sense to me why a being like him would even make that bargain to begin with.”

“Even death gods can be surprised. We should consider ourselves lucky.”

“It wasn’t just that though. I was watching when he died. He… he turned his face up to the field at Feyre and he smiled at her. It felt like a bittersweet ending to a story I didn’t know. Like he was saying goodbye to more than just this world.”

You draped your arm over his chest, tracing the black ink swirling across his chest and over his shoulders like ocean waves. The Bone Carver was more myth than legend to the few fae that had known of his existence and you knew with each passing century his story would be steadily wiped from the earth like wind shaving down stone. His name would become a whisper. His story, and Beth’s, a tragedy for no one but the stars to weep to.

But you were still here, and your time with Bethsevah’s book had left you with no small amount of fondness for him. For now you would still be able to whisper his true name.

“Thanatos.” You said. “He loved this world and the people in it. He sacrificed his life for it. I think he had many things he wanted to say goodbye to.”

“To Thanatos then.” Azriel raised an invisible cup towards the ceiling of his bedroom, silk sheets sliding down his arms.

“To Thanatos,” you echoed.

You eventually went through the morning motions together —Azriel helped lace up the back of your dress, and you buttoned up his shirts, careful to avoid the fragile membrane of his wings as you stood at his back.

He tugged you away from the bedroom door at the last moment, your questioning eyes softening when he cradled your face in his hands and stole one last kiss in the privacy of your room, murmuring "Beautiful," against the crown of your freshly brushed hair.

"Do the others know you're such a hopeless romantic?" You asked, finally opening the door and breaking the spell of privacy.

Before Azriel could answer, Cassian blew past the room, shockingly quiet for his mountainous size. "Yes, we all know," he shouted before disappearing down the hall.

Ione stood proud and tall in front of the windows, grey eyes narrowed at the Sidra as it wound through the valley like a snake. Cassian slid into the space beside her and handed her her cane. She knew instinctively where the warrior stood and where his hand reached out towards her. She took the cane without the second glance. A golden lion’s head roared from atop its wooden post, Ione’s fingers resting squarely between its glistening teeth as she leaned experimentally on the new device. Cassian had ordered it custom for her and she knew that hidden within the sleeve of glistening redwood was an iron rod forged in enchanted flames that rendered it near unbreakable.

“Careful.” She reminded Cassian when she caught him staring for too long. “This body may be different, but I can still bring you to your knees.”

Cassian chuckled, “I don’t doubt that.”

She slammed the cane against the ground once. Twice. Testing its strength and finding it worthy. “Do you think it will happen soon?”

This waiting — it was beginning to grate on her nerves. This foreboding calm that threatened to fall away into chaos and bloodshed. She almost wished she were living three years into the future, when she was finally done healing from her wounds and the future had faded into the background of her life once more.

“If I could see into the future, I would not be here right now waiting.”

“And yet here we are.” Ione sighed, shoulders rising and falling elegantly beneath a wrinkled but slender neck.

Cassian would have said more had Feyre and Rhys not entered the room together, bruises layered beneath their eyes as they plastered on bright smiles for their family, tension visible through the cracks in their porcelain teeth.

The Inner Circle had assembled in their entirety at the request of their High Lord and High Lady. There was no holiday to be celebrated. No birthdays or anniversaries or special occasions. The fare that had been laid out on the table was simple and everyone filled their plates before spilling out across the sofas and the armchairs or carving out a space on one of Rhysand’s expensive hand-woven rugs. There would be no special meal around the new table devoid of scratches and watermarks and the passage of time and love. This was their family, and for their family it was the company that put finery to shame.

Elain was a flutter of movement in and out of the kitchen, shepherding pots of tea and fruit tarts before Lucien finally caught her around the waist and made her rest. The House was equally restless. The lights strung above the fireplace mantle flickered like lantern flies.

Mor sat with Emerie’s wings draped around her shoulders like a cape and Gwyn sat on the floor, hugging her knees close to her chest as she rested her head against the Illyrian female’s knee. To no one’s surprise, you and Azriel clung to the corner of the room, content to watch everyone’s laughter with your arm subtly looped around his.

He still hasn’t told her, I see. Emerie noted, watching your smile stretch into place when Azriel leaned close to whisper in your ear.

Does it matter? Mor teased, kissing Emerie’s nose reverently. The Illyrian’s cheeks turned warm. Emerie had not been granted the freedom to explore romance to the same degree as Mor, something she’d worried about when they first started their courtship. But if anyone asked the blonde, she’d tell them it drove her wild to see how such simple gestures could reduce the fearsome warrior to a puddle, even now. Mor tucked herself into Emerie’s side, throwing her long legs over the armrest. It’s probably a good thing. If they could speak to each other like this, we’d never hear from them again.

Emerie laughed into Mor’s golden hair.

Conversations rose and fell. Plates emptied and clicked as they were laid out on the coffee table.

It was a simple peace they welcomed with open arms.

They didn’t hear the faintest thud coming from above their heads.

You smiled when one of Azriel’s shadows wove themselves into your hair, tickling the sensitive skin behind your ear and along your neck.

“Sorry,” Azriel whispered, trying and failing to draw them back to him for the nth time that day. “I don’t know what’s gotten into them.” They’d been especially touchy as of late, nipping at your heels like a litter of puppies vying for attention or hiding in your pockets. It was a mixture of Azriel’s own feelings that spurred them on and their own desire to protect what they’d claimed as theirs.

“It’s alright, Azriel. I like having them around.”

They hummed amongst themselves, happy to see you so pleased. Sometimes, Azriel wondered if you’d be able to learn to listen to them as well. To tease apart that secret language he couldn’t begin to describe.

Maybe you were listening to them now without even realizing it.

Maybe that’s why you and Azriel were the only ones whose eyes snapped towards the hallway before the first creak of wood sounded throughout the House.

The shuffling of a new, unfamiliar set of feet down the stairs had the hair on the back of your neck rising and crackling with energy.

It wasn’t Jurian. It wasn’t loud enough to be Jurian. He so rarely descended from the attic that he made a habit of making his presence known, tired feet shuffling along the rugged staircase with measured drags.

You walked over to your brother and tugged on the back of his shirt. “Jurian—”

“That’s not Jurian.” Lucien said with bated breath. He was the third person in the room to hear the sound.

He’d checked on his friends less than a handful of hours ago. Jurian had been as he always was — weary but hopeful as one hand had clenched the bundle of morphine and the other had leaned against the food cart Lucien had carried up to the top floor.

And Vassa… Vassa had been uncharacteristically quiet, slouching against the wall of her gilded cage, raw skin and thin feathers trembling with her haggard breath as she slept.

“You should come down.” Lucien had said. “You deserve a break.”

But Jurian had only shook his head and flashed a tight smile. “As much as I would love to bless you with my presence, I won’t leave her like this. But one day, my friend, we’ll both walk down those steps together and have a proper celebration. I promise you.”

Vassa came down the steps.

Alone.

Naked.

Shivering.

You eyed the window where the mid-afternoon sun beat down on a frosted city.

It was the middle of the day… and Vassa was human.

You clutched Lucien’s arm, fingernails digging through his cotton shirt before he could take another step forward. Silence suffocated the room. There was something deeply wrong with the cursed queen. She trembled like a newborn fawn unceremoniously dumped into the world, her skin puckered and pock-marked from where she’d picked at old scabs and opened new wounds. The whole array hung from bones so thin they may as well have belonged to a bird.

“Vassa…” Lucien’s voice broke on her name.

A path of bloody feathers trailed behind her.

She grasped at strands of her fiery red hair and tugged. Hard. You focused all your energy on keeping the food in your stomach when strands fell through her bloody fingers and saliva rose in your mouth.

“I’m so sorry, Lucien. I can’t… It won’t stop.” Her voice, which had once been beautiful, grated your ears. “My skin. It feels like I’m crawling out of it.”

“Vassa.” Lucien held out his hands, showing her they were empty. “Where’s Jurian?” He would come down. He would help her in ways only he was capable of.

“I don’t… I don’t know…”

“Where’s Jurian?”

At the second mention of her lover’s name, Vassa broke down crying. Fat, ugly tears streaking down tan cheeks that had turned sallow and grey. She wiped them away, fingers dripping. There was a deep, unyielding hunger evident in every stutter of her body as her eyes raked across the room. You flinched when those milky, teal eyes passed over you… and landed on Ione.

Elderly, painfully human, Ione.

Vassa’s left eye twitched and Azriel had only enough time to tackle you to the ground and cover your body with his own before the mortal queen burst into flames.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

^^ Visual depiction of how I've felt the last week like what in the world? I'm getting enough sleep I swear but every morning I feel like I'm dragging a two ton boulder behind me until I get a sip of that bitter goodness. Ugh. Hope y'all are resting better than I am.

Anyways, I know it's been a while since I posted, but the chapter is here! Whoop! And I hope you enjoyed :) As always, feedback is appreciated and welcome if you have burning things you need to get off your chest (doesn't even have to be SSIB-related honestly my inbox is there).

#the shadowsinger and the inkbird #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader slowburn #azriel x reader angst

461 notes · View notes

fleetinginfinities · 5 months

Text

first ever of these but … the bachelors and my random headcanons/quotes/song lyrics/slices of whatever that fit them 🫶 apologies it doesn’t include everyone, these guys are my favorites and I’m having trouble channeling the others lmao

Sam

- drums his fingers/knuckles on tables, his legs, any surface when he’s anxious or impatient or excited or anticipating something. which, he’s always feeling at least one of the above…so

- his fingers. that’s all

- plays footsie under the table but not in a weird way, in more of a “I literally need to be touching you at all times to ground myself to this present moment and be happy” way

- loves full body contact — huuuge tight hugs, rolling on top of you in bed, pulling you into his chest from behind

- mumbles in his sleep and tosses and turns, constantly reaching for you and pulling you close

- blushes a lot. his cheeks turn the most beautiful peachy color

- talks at the speed of light as his default setting

- speeds when he drives, speeds when he walks, just Does Everything Quickly and with much energy

- is somehow both a morning person and a night owl most of the time

- but when he’s lazy or tired, there’s never been anyone lazier or sleepier

- always answers phone calls on speaker mode

- is unaware of his strength when showing affection sometimes, like an oversized dog

- prominent arm veins. enough said.

- makes you feel so alive. present. his energy is contagious

- there’s not a soul he can’t make friends with

- would absolutely love early/mid 2000s pop punk

- blindingly sunny smile

- beautiful, soft golden hair that he wears messy and literally sticks out every direction but in the hottest way ever

- he’s like the summer solstice. an everlasting day that’s sweet and warm and full of life but also peace. Sam, in all of his chaos, is your peace

- “i’m so in love that I might stop breathing”

- doesn’t ever hold a grudge

- smells like lavender and lemon. no I won’t be taking any feedback with this one

- big fan of flowers

- like, it’s not uncommon for him to show up with a hand-picked bouquet for you he collected on the way over

- could’ve worked in a bakery instead of joja mart and would’ve been much happier. sweet cinnamon roll boy

- is actually the heartthrob of the town

- as sweet and pure as he is, he also has a rebellious side and is often trying to sneak you in his room and toe the line of authority whenever he can

- is quite adventurous and doesn’t really have an ego if he’s bad at things or much fear in general. the results are constant entertainment and occasional catastrophes.

Elliott

- “I dream about you every night now. It’s really quite beautiful”

- is actually strong and built and muscular (totally looks like a red headed Thor in my brain)

- but touches and holds you so gently that it makes you want to cry

- extremely strong jawline

- gives that aloof kind of mysteriousness and quiet confidence that is magnetizing to literally everyone

- doesn’t have a toxically masculine bone in his body

- will talk to you for hours about philosophy, literature, films, art, the meaning of life, etc etc etc

- traces his fingers on your bare skin, lost in thought

- has the most mesmerizing, starry eyes

- being around him makes you feel like you’re living in a dream. everything feels ethereal and hazy

- if Sam is the summer solstice, Elliott is like the peak of autumn, when all of the leaves are at their most colorful and bright just before they fall, and you feel like he’s both the beginning and the ending of something all at once

- as a matter of fact: “is this the end of all the endings?”

- “you showed me colors you know I can’t see with anyone else. you taught me a secret language I can’t speak with anyone else”

- loving him is the most intense, passionate experience of your life

- he would a b s o l u t e l y be the one that got away if you split up

- big fan of candles and crackling log fireplaces

- really enjoys a good row in his boat in the cool, dewy mornings and his back muscles show it

- his emotional intelligence is unmatched. you’ll never meet a more well-adjusted man

- romanticizes life in only the way a writer can

- isn’t just all depth and somber. also isn’t all pizazz and flamboyance. actually has a great sense of humor as a secret third thing

Sebastian

- despite how much he closes himself off at first, you feel an instant connection with him. you just understand him innately. and you feel like he gets you, too

- downplays how smart he really is

- genuinely loves to let everyone else shine. loves that Sam commands all the attention in the room. loves watching others praise you.

- is never competitive with anyone else and absolutely loves when the people around him win. the most supportive person ever

- really has a soft spot for animals

- incredibly intuitive. can read your mind like a book and anticipate your needs

- if he loves you, there is not another person on earth that would ever catch his attention or temptation. 1000% the most loyal boy

- “he looks up grinning like a devil”

- motorcycle rides in the city late at night when it’s raining

- sometimes doing something reckless is the only way that makes him feel alive

- in other words, he’s a closet adrenaline junkie

- can absolutely rival Elliott in terms of being the most romantic with his words sometimes — though it’s few and far between, he will never stop telling you that you’re the first person that he ever did, well, basically *anything* with and how special you are to him and how you’re his one and only

Alex

- it takes a special person to command his attention, he has always had fleeting attractions but he has never felt for anyone what he feels for you

- is absolutely a great person to go to with any problem. he has a clear and straightforward answer or solution

- is the number one person you want to be around if you just want someone genuinely uplifting to spend time with

- *always* notices physical changes and gives fantastic compliments

- is absolutely the dude who keeps his friend group together well into adulthood and middle age and beyond. he’s the one planning beach days, weekend recreational sports and activities, cooking out or tailgating on game days, inviting you for a bite to eat at the saloon if he hasn’t seen you in awhile, etc.

- genuinely loves a good romance or romcom as much as he loves the newest action movie

- fantastic with kids

- is very committed to you from the start

- will go to great lengths to maintain a happy and healthy and successful relationship. it’s the athlete determination in him

- has quite good taste in aesthetics. definitely has an opinion about fashion, home decor, etc

- has perfect teeth and a beautiful complexion in my mind

#stardew valley #stardew valley x reader #sdv #sdv elliott #sdv sam #sdv sebastian #yo what is with all the new formatting options here #they’re a Very Good Thing dont get me wrong #but I haven’t regularly used this site since like 2017 #relearning it as we go!

111 notes · View notes

dreaming-medium · 7 months

Text

Animals Without Direction

Chapter Three - Red and Gold Throw Pillows

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Masterlist

Is this a prison sentence? No, if it was a prison sentence, you would be in a cell, bound and chained.

If it was a prison sentence, you wouldn’t have had the ropes removed from your wrists to shake hands with Bang Chan, Jarl of Miroh.

If it was a prison sentence, you wouldn’t be being led throughout the keep by the Jarl’s squire to your room.

And if it was a prison sentence, you most certainly would not be thinking about if you were allowed access to the collection of books that decorate every shelf in the building.

“Miroh is pleasant this time of year,” Jeongin’s voice brings you out of your head. “The Harvest Festival is in a few weeks.”

Erbus had only two festivals: one for the Summer Solstice and one for the Winter Solstice. Even then, the celebrations were scarce.

Based on what your mother used to tell you, the celebrations used to be poem worthy. People would dance in the streets, food covered every inch of the tables, songs would be sung for the entire night and into the next morning.

Not anymore. Now they were merely a formality. Some shopkeepers would set up their wares outside the store. A few taverns would serve a special dish, perhaps charge half price for ale.

Once Elves were banished, everything took a turn for the worst in Erbus.

“I have never heard of The Harvest Festival.” You answered Jeongin. You might as well attempt to be civil with him; you still feel bad for that nasty kick to the stomach.

Also, if this is your new life, may as well make friends.

Jeongin looked over at you surprised, “Really? I thought all kingdoms on the continent celebrated The Harvest Festival.”

“Nay, not in Erbus.”

Jeongin nodded, “Do you enjoy celebrations?”

You thought for a moment, keeping your eyes in front of you to watch where you were walking. “I do, I enjoy them very much.”

“Then you will love The Harvest Festival.”

A small smile creeps over your face. “I trust your word then.”

After climbing a set of steps, Jeongin takes you down a hallway with doors lining the walls.

“This is where higher level positions of the court sleep. Lord Minho, Felix, and Sir Changbin’s rooms are here as well.”

Looking at each door, they all looked the same. Except for one door that had a floral wreath on the front of it. Orange and purple flowers blooming on the ring.

“Is that Felix’s room?”

“Aye, perceptive, my Lady.”

“Oh,” you scoff, “I am no Lady. Please refer to me casually.”

Jeongin smiles and nods. When you look at him, you see the little dimples in his cheeks and it makes your heart melt. He looks so boyish when he smiles.

“Here we are then.” He says, opening one of the doors. The door directly next to Felix’s.

“I am to sleep up here?” You asked incredulously.

Jeongin blinked at you, “You are the Jarl’s mercenary, of course.”

He said it like it was the most obvious statement ever.

Truly, you were expecting to be put into a shared room littered with cots and one chest to put your belongings. Maybe if you were lucky there would be a divider between beds for some privacy.

“I…” your voice got caught in your throat, “I have my own room?”

Jeongin just stares at you as if you have three heads. His hand is still on the doorknob, keeping the door open.

“Yes, Y/N.” He smiles, it reaches his eyes, “You have your own room.”

Finally, you look away from him and into the room. The sun is setting, bathing the space in a brilliant orange and pink light. From your position in the hallway, you’re only able to see the foot of the bed and straight to the grand window on the opposite wall from the door.

It overlooked the heart of Miroh’s capital. In front of the window there was a cushioned bench tucked against it, creating a perfect nook to sit in. Various throw blankets draped over the red pillows.

Jeongin watched your face with a hint of his own amusement before stepping into the room and motioning for you to follow him.

Slowly, you let your feet bring you inside. It’s already warm, but not in an uncomfortable way. In a ‘blanket wrapped around your shoulders’ way.

That warmth was coming from the small fireplace inside the wall opposite the bed.

The large bed sat against the left wall, jutting out into the room. A large, fabric canopy covered the mattress. You had seen drawings of beds like this in books before. Usually princesses slept upon them.

The softest of linens covered the mattress with at least eight pillows on top of it. At the foot of the bed was a large wooden chest, a circular rug underneath it.

On the other side of the bed, to the left of the window, was a vanity. A plush stool tucked underneath it.

Reds and golds decorated every cloth in the room in a regal manor.

Your feet carried you towards the bed, fingers reaching down and running over the blankets. It’s so soft you could cry.

On either side of the fireplace were two large bookcases. The shelves were scarce, which, to you, meant endless possibilities. A wardrobe against the wall next to the door.

The flames in the hearth lick up the walls and crackle in a comforting manor.

Is this truly Miroh? This is the same Miroh that you were warned about?

Back when you were a child, when you would play pretend with the other kids, the evil monsters were always from Miroh.

“I never had my own bedroom before.” You whisper quietly, keeping your hand on the blankets. “Even as a youngling, the house my family lived in had one room. There was one table, one cooking spit, and one bed.”

Jeongin stands by the door, his lips press together in a thin line as if he doesn’t know what to say. He only watches you move around with a sympathetic look to him.

“Up until today, I slept on a bedroll every night, the night sky was my ceiling. Most summers I would save my coin so that I may pay for a room in the inn on those blustering winter nights where I just couldn’t take the cold.”

Sitting down on the side of the bed, you let yourself feel the softness underneath your body.

Every night, you’ll get to sleep on this bed every single night.

Your fingers glide over the fabric, it feels so luxurious and divine. The pillows look so soft.

“Well,” Jeongin grabs your attention, “I will leave you to decompress. I believe you’ve had a long day.”

The joke pushes a laugh from your chest.

“If you are looking to train at all, you could always join us on the training grounds tomorrow. The guards and soldiers all train together at first light.”

“You train with the guards?”

“Aye, even a Jarl’s squire needs to practice his sword arm.”

You smile at him, “I’ll consider it.” There’s a pause. “I apologize for the kick, Jeongin.” You apologize bashfully.

The squire simply laughs, it sounds so genuine. “No need, really. If anything, I should be appealing to you to teach me some of your abilities.”

“If I decide to show my face on the training grounds, I’ll practice with you as my apology.”

Jeongin smiles back at you and nods. “I’m holding you to that.” He laughs, “I will leave you to it then. If you ever need to find me, my quarters are down by the armory.”

You watch him turn to leave before a thought comes to your head. “Oh, Jeongin!” You catch his attention, he whips around to look at you. “Do– ah– are we able to get food somewhere?”

He chuckles, “The kitchens are always open. Help yourself.”

You nod a thank you and he leaves, the door clicking shut behind him.

There’s a few moments where you sit there, listening to Jeongin’s footsteps fade away.

Is this real? Are you going to wake up any second now and you’re going to be chained to a torture table to be drawn and quartered?

Quickly, you reach over and pinch your arm.

No, this is real. The small sting of pain fades almost immediately.

Your room. This is your room.

Your body falls backwards onto the bed and your hands cover your face. A bright smile stretching over your lips no matter how much you try to stop yourself. Bubbling laughter comes from your chest and you cover your mouth to stop it.

How is this even possible?

The plushness of the mattress keeps you there for an undetermined amount of time. It’s like the furniture came with invisible arms, keeping you wrapped up in its tight embrace. It’s the comfiest thing you’ve ever laid on.

The sunlight in your room begins to shift and darken as the day passes. You simply lay there with your eyes closed. Not quite sleeping, but also not quite awake.

Three quick knocks at your door brings you out of your dream-like state.

Slowly, you stand up and make your way towards the door. Who could that be?

When you pull open the door, you peak outside warily and you’re met with with a ray of sunshine.

Felix’s smile immediately brings the sun back into your room and you open the door a bit wider to greet him.

“Y/N,” he smiles even brighter, “I believe I promised you the safe return of your belongings.”

When you look down, you notice a bundle of armor with a sword on top. A small sigh of relief comes out as you grab everything from him.

“Thank you very much, Felix.”

“It is no trouble at all. I am relived to see you in front of me, I have to say.”

“Oh?” You ask, turning around. You walk back into your room, leaving the door open for Felix to come in. The cleric follows after you, but sticks close to the door.

“Aye, some part of me worried that you would not take kindly to the Jarl’s offer.” He admits.

“It is not like I had a choice,” you mumble, setting your armor down on top of the chest. “It was either take the deal or be tried and hung.”

Felix makes a noise that he agrees with you, a small laugh coming after it.

A comfortable silence settles over the two of you as you take your sword in your hands, pulling it from its sheath slightly to inspect it.

Sliding the sword back in, you lean it against your bed.

“Y/N.” Felix’s voice catches your attention.

Without turning to look at him, you answer, “Yes, Felix?”

“Are you certain you took a tonic?”

Your heart thuds against your chest, a chill ripping through your arms. But you don’t show any sort of reaction, you take it in stride.

“Quite. I had picked it up from an alchemist a few weeks ago. It proved quite useful, no?”

“It is just…” When Felix trails off, that’s when you choose to look at him. His bottom lip caught between his teeth, eyes watching the fire dance. “In my years of study, I have never seen a regenerative tonic have effects longer than an hour. If you were to have taken it before-“ he cuts himself off, sighing and finally looking back at you.

Those blue eyes. It looks like they see right through you. It’s a miracle you don’t begin squirming.

“Do you remember which alchemist you purchased it from? Perhaps I can study it?”

Quickly, you shook your head. “I’m afraid I do not. They were a traveling merchant I met on the roads of Erbus.”

The lies fell through your teeth too easily. This was more than lying, though, it was self preservation.

Felix stares at you for a long moment, an emotion flickers behind his eyes briefly, his eyebrows twitched and his lip quivered.

“I see. I fear it may be hard to obtain this tonic again, then. You see, I never travel to Erbus, I go out of my way not to.”

Your eyebrows pull together and your body turns towards his. “Felix?”

“Have a great night, Y/N.”

Without another word, Felix turns on a heel and quickly walks out of your room, closing the door behind him.

“That was… odd…” you whisper to yourself, staring at the door. ----------------------------------------------

You waited until the moon was in the sky for at least 4 hours before venturing out of your room to find the kitchens. If you waited any longer, your stomach may have eaten itself.

The only problem was that you had absolutely no idea where you were going. Every single hallway in this keep looked identical.

Sconces with lit candles sat between windows that allowed moonlight to stream in. Deep red curtains hung on either side of each window.

Occasionally you would see a small table with two chairs on either side, a candle or a bundle of flowers would be on top.

And of course, shelves upon shelves of books.

Most of the titles you had never even heard of. Some were in different languages and others appeared to be sold old as if they were stolen from tombs of the ancient.

You were stopped in front of one of the many windows, looking outside to what looked like the gardens.

Even at night, some of them seemed to glow. Perhaps Felix had some part of that, they looked like the flowers that hung in the healing ward.

A large stone fountain sat in the middle of a light cobblestone path, lined with beautiful rose bushes. The flowers were no longer in bloom, but you were able to identify them, even from this distance.

When you turned on your heel to leave, you accidentally smacked right into a body. A startled yelp leaving your lips.

“By The Six, I apologize. I usually have my bearings.” You say quickly, looking at who you ran into. His hands hot shot out to grab your arms to keep you steady.

He was tall, dressed in the same black leather armor that Minho was wearing earlier. Straighter brown hair hung over his forehead and stopped right above a sharp set of eyes. His lips were pulled in a straight line.

“You must be the mercenary then.” His voice is low, and if you’re being honest, much softer than you were expecting.

With the way his eyes track even the smallest movement you make, you expected his voice to be harsh.

“I am. I hope what you’ve heard is not too cruel.”

He takes his hands away, but you can still feel the warmth of where he grabbed them.

“What I heard is that an outsider came into Miroh, slaughtered four men in an extraordinary fashion, and was then offered a job.”

“I—“ you open your mouth to defend yourself but he cuts you off again.

“I must say, I could not wait to see you for myself. It is not every day we have such excitement within the keep, nonetheless receive a new court member.” A smirk crosses his face and your mouth snaps shut. “My position is similar to yours, except when the Jarl sends me on jobs, no one knows about it.”

“A rogue, then?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. Your arms come up and cross over your chest.

“Aye, you may call it that.”

“You and I are two sides of the same coin then.” A smirk on your face mirrors his for a moment. His sneaky, playful nature seems to have rubbed off on you rather quickly.

“It seems that way.”

The two of you study each other for a moment.

“You have a name?” You ask.

“Seungmin.”

“Can you do me a favor, Seungmin?” His response to you is a lift of the brow. “Can you please show me where the kitchens are in this maze of a castle.”

A soft chuckle comes from his chest and the corners of his lips twitch. “Aye, I can do that.”

Without another word, Seungmin turns on his heel and walks in another direction. “Let’s go, Y/N.” ----------------------------------------------

“Erbus? I do not see why you were so adamant on returning there.” Seungmin scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. He was leaning against one of the countertops in the kitchens.

The staff went to sleep hours ago, leaving the ingredients to you. Instead of actually making something, you chose to sample some of the bread and cheese that was available.

“Perhaps it is not the best, but it is where I was born and raised.” you answered, taking a bite out of the loaf of bread in your hand.

Seungmin was holding the other half in his. He took a bite. “I have heard naught but cruelty and stories of woe from Erbus.”

“I have only heard the same of Miroh. My father used to tell me that the former Jarl was going to come get me during the night if I did not finish my chores.”

The rogue laughs under his breath. “We had similar stories about Erbus. As a youngling I was told that one of the villages was constantly bathed in flame.”

You bite your bread, “We do,” you tease, “it is awfully hot there this time of year.” The quick joke falls from your lips and is well received by the rogue, who lets out another easy chuckle.

“Are you always awake this late Seungmin?”

“Nay, I was departing for an assignment when I ran into you.”

Your jaw falls open, a bit shocked at his statement. “I apologize, I did not mean to distract you.”

He held up his hand to stop your rambling.

“It is quite alright, a quick detour to the kitchens will not cause my quest to fail.”

You let out a small breath before taking another bite of your bread. “Are you able to tell me what your mission is?”

Seungmin only smiles, “Of course not, silly mercenary. I would not even want to tell you and bore you with all the details.”

He pushes his weight off the counter and walks towards the door, passing you on the way out. Seungmin’s shoulder brushes lightly against yours as he passes you. “I trust you can find your way back to your chambers?”

“Probably not, but I will find it eventually.”

“Have a great night, Y/N. Speak soon.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you to your own thoughts once more. Every time you enter a new part of the keep, you’re met with a new face.

With the bread now in your stomach, you turn and fill a mug with some fresh water and take a long sip.

It’s your first night in Miroh. The first night of many to come it seems. When do you suppose that the Jarl will give you your first mission? What sort of quests is he going to send you out on anyway?

He’s the Jarl of the entire hold, what would he need you for that he cannot send out guards?

It wasn’t until you finished the mug of water that you realized how thirsty you were. When was the last time you had a sip of water? Most likely this morning when you and Guatier came to the hold.

That was another thing, what ever happened to him?

You assume he was killed based upon what they tried to do with you. But killing him seems too nice for what he did to them.

Perhaps he was down in their dungeons.

That was a question for another day.

Tomorrow, you’ll take Jeongin up on that offer to train with him and the rest of the guards.

But, for right now there was an enormous, cozy, warm mattress in your own personal bedroom waiting for you to rest your head in.

That was if you ever found your room again.

#stray kids reader insert #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #bang chan x reader #lee know x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #han jisung x reader #felix x reader #seungmin x reader #jeongin x reader #stray kids fantasy au #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic

104 notes · View notes