#And Nesta and Elain just keep raising the goddamn bar he was trying to ignore even existed

[flowerflamestars]

Another alternative Effloresce pov. Azriel, as the slow moving shitshow train wreck his life is is quickly becoming a fast moving shit show train wreck.

I cannot tell you how much I love this one!

So, I would say across all my fics Azriel is a character who is the most consistent? Especially since almost all of them were written before acosf TERRIBLY let us in his actually creepy little headspace, and I've additionally chosen to keep my made up shadowman as he is.

Effloresce Az is basically Starlight Az but SADDER. He's Daylight Az without a kiddo and husband, Shoreless Sea Az without the absolutely beneficial retirement, and man is he TIRED.

You're Azriel, and your job sucks. Your inborn skillset leaves you zero other options, and you know this. It's better to be the left hand of power than in a cell for life, but you know what? Sometimes you can only do so goddamn much.

You're Azriel and that's kind of all you've got. You're one of a kind, literally. Alone forever in that. But you love Cassian. You play the little games with Mor for harmony. You respect- alien, ancient, different, probably what you'll feel like in a thousand goddamn years if you live that long- Amren.

You see the good in Rhysand, limited as it is to personal things, but you also see the vast potential for failure.

You see him listening to this CHILD OF A GIRL- who seems nice, yeah. You're worried about her, frankly. The Courts of Prythian revived her and will not just let that go- but that doesn't mean you think she has, shall we say, good ideas.

You watch Cassian spend days arguing against this.

You rock up over the wall and realize these two mortal, innocent women have probably been taken captive by Spring. Your orders are a mistake, you have a war to fight that has nothing to do with these people, but you're here, and you might as well do some good.

You move to neutralize the threat.

Lucien Vanserra does not act like a vassal of Spring. No, not even at Autumn prince. You can drown fire in the dark, but you can't swallow the sun or an ocean of flame without end.

That doesn't matter either, because this determined little slip of blond sunshine just fucking stabbed you. And for the first time in maybe decades, you just want to laugh. You've fucked up, clearly, but you're okay. (You can live through so much worse than letting a human woman stab you to feel safe.)

You hear Cassian coming, and you know.

It doesn't matter what Feyre is saying. Has said. You're Azriel and you can't not know or not hear- she's wrong or she lied. You have a High Lord sweating blood to protect a stunningly, dangerously charming woman and you have her sister, who feels less like delight and more like a dream.

You're a shadowsinger, whose providence is secrets and these two woman are shrouded.

You're fucked, essentially.

You know they're not really human.

You know they're hiding, and Feyre is going to break that right open if Rhysand has his way, no matter how many times you point out that the Queens want nothing to do with Prythian's fae.

You're Azriel, and you've always been smart enough to stay quiet when you have no orders forcing you to do otherwise. You're polite. You're frankly, horrified. You have no idea what to do with the Archeron sisters acting like you're nothing to be afraid of.

You know, before Cassian knows, that every wind that has ever carried him had lead him right here.

(You remember what that felt like. The fear, the euphoria. You were young and stupid enough to consider it simple rightness, your extra senses on your side, pulling you toward the correct choice in fealty. You didn't know what it was until too late. You didn't know and you never even got to know or got to mourn. You didn't have the right to mourn a girl dead too soon, who would have never been anything but your queen had she grown old enough to wear a crown.)

(Dead before the start, just like you.)

You decide, immediately, you cannot let what happened to you happen to Cassian. Nesta Archeron might be a compelling power, might be a fighter with ash in her hair and a cunning mind, but Shahar was a High Lady born. Not even that could save her.

You understand the instant way you like Elain is magic, whether she knows it or not. (She does not). Real affection follows quickly, you are, despite all magic to the contrary, as Illyrian as Cassian. You cannot not know. You like Nesta too- if only for her ferocity. Her bleeding, present fury.

They treat you like a person.

Fearlessly.

Easily.

You watch as their sister breaks their hearts, cracks already laid. You watch Rhysand act more and more territorial, and of course you know why too. You watch Lucien Vanserra safeguard the lives and livelihoods of hundreds of humans and you understand this, here, is a Court too.

A better one.

You quietly, a secret, kill their father.

You bind yourself in blood to a favor, and use it to unshackle the Archeron bloodline and their vassals from the Queens.

You watch Nesta Archeron kneel in the snow, watch Elain Archeron pull a knife on a High Lord of Prythian over human lives, and think, with dread and barren exhaustion, you're making the right choice.

The hard choice.

(How many noncombatants died in Sangravah? In every city Amarantha occupied? How many servants in the Hewn City every year? How many Illyrian children in the starving north? How many deaths were Azriel's fault, because Rhysand didn't care?)

(The Archerons would rather die with their people than live. Were educating their maids. Sending their kitchen boys to university. Taking in the orphans of other estates, having never forgotten what it was to be forgotten, hungry and alone.)

You're Azriel, and you can't not know how badly this is going to hurt.

#FAST MOVING TRAIN WRECK AHOY #I only covered what's posted because the next chapter is truly #THE BONES OF MY SOUL IN MY HANDS THE WORLD ON FIRE AND I HAVE NOTHING LEFT TO GIVE BUT MORE DEATH #from Az's POV #he takes finding Shahars remains NOT WELL #plus you know #the war kickstarts #Cassian continues to act basically insane in a good way #And Nesta and Elain just keep raising the goddamn bar he was trying to ignore even existed #The Shahar stuff is actually really important #he does not tell Rhys #EVER! #Bones are literally he closest he's ever going to come #they weren't in love #they didn't even know each other #HE DIDN'T KNOW UNTIL SHE DIED #and of course #Rhys made that entirely about himself #Az just. I think he likes Feyre in this impish way canon always wants Cassian to (but then Cassian put her on such a high altar it failed) #but also? is too deep in the shit of it all #not to be like: she's a really powerful symbol #but she shouldn't be in charge????

[hellas-himself]

@sorry-im-an-aries​ asked for a Mob Au. And I PROMISE I am not abandoning my fics, but I welcomed the mental break from everything else. It probably doesn’t make sense, but when I’m working on a bunch of stuff at once, I can focus better? Anyway. This was super fun and it’ll probably be a few chapters long (because why not). With my kid back to school, I’ll probably be able to going back to updating stuff frequently. Y’all know how terrible I am at titles so it’s free game if anyone wants to name it lol

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The Present

I did this for you...

 The first gun shot made me jump, and I hoped to god no one noticed. To my luck, everyone- even Luce- was focused on Tamlin and the lifeless body on the floor. 

 I did this...

 The second gunshot forced me to stand up a little straighter, schooling my features into that of cool indifference. They looked up to Tam for his strength, his fearlessness. If I wanted to keep my place at his side, I had to be just as strong. Just as fearless. 

I…

The third gunshot sounded and I was no longer in the abandoned warehouse, but in a mansion in the suburbs. Overturned tables and broken glass. Two dead at my feet, my gun pointed at her even as she laughed and called me nobody. Worthless. And maybe she was right. But it was her or Tamlin. 

 Bronn and Hart were ordered to get rid of the bodies, the sound bringing me back to the present. Before I could speak Tamlin was already telling Lucien to take me home. As Luce placed a hand to the small of my back, I turned to find Tamlin leading Ianthe out another way. Once, this would have broken me. I would have made a scene. But I knew better now. 

 Lucien was quiet on the drive home, but I noticed him looking back at me through the mirror. It was silly to look for decency in a world of mobsters and crooked men. But Lucien was decent. 

“Hey, are you alright?” he asked quietly. 

“I just want to go to sleep,” I replied. A blatant lie, one I used far too often. But Lucien had been there, he knew what I had done just to keep Tamlin safe. Lucien said nothing else until he parked the car outside of the house. Two guards stood out front and greeted us before Lucien unlocked the door. We walked inside. I started to go up the stairs and stopped when Lucien called my name.

 “He just wants to keep you safe,” he said and I scoffed.

 “Yeah, the way he’s keeping Ianthe safe every night.”

 “It’s not like that.”

 “He wouldn’t have you defending him if it wasn’t.”

 I continued on and I made my way upstairs to my room. Because Tamlin still refused to share his with me. But that didn’t matter anymore. 

 I pulled my jacket off and tossed it on the dresser. I took my time untying the laces of my boots, the buttons of my shirt. Tamlin didn’t come to my room anymore, and that was alright. It didn’t matter anymore, either. 

 “You’re slacking,” I said in a teasing voice as I heard my bedroom door open and close. The lock click. I looked at Lucien through the mirror, my heart near aching at the way he smiled at me. 

 “That was quite the performance,” Lucien said and I rolled my eyes.

 “You forgot to promise to talk to him on my behalf,” I said in jest.

“Well, Tamlin isn’t coming home tonight and he asked me to make sure you didn’t notice.”

I laughed, a sound reserved solely for him. For him and-

 “Rhys called,” Lucien said as he approached me, placing his hands on my shoulders. “It’s as if he knew, somehow, that tonight had been… trying.” 

“How? When?” 

“Just right after Tamlin hung up on me. Don’t worry, we were both careful.”

 I nodded, unable to fight the tears that stung my eyes. Lucien’s hands trailed down the sides of my arms until he held my hands. 

 “Soon,” he whispered. “I promise.”

He kissed away the tears, a gesture that reminded me so much of Rhys I wasted no time in guiding Lucien towards the bed. 

 “Come on. You have to make sure I don’t notice Tamlin isn’t home,” I teased.

“I can think of a few things,” Lucien said, pulling me into his arms. 

 ***

 One Year Ago 

 I hated closing the bar and having to walk home alone at night. Truth be told, it didn’t matter what time of day it was. This godforsaken town was a nightmare. It was full of naïve man children who liked to play at mafia, as if the great families of Prythian would resort to robbing old ladies in pure daylight, breaking into peoples’ cars and coming to the bar every night to get shit faced and talk about all the stupid things they did. But it was enough for me to keep a knife on me everywhere I went.

 I fumbled with the keys to the house, cursing the outside light that had blown out once again. I lived here long enough to know all that could go wrong in the dark. I reminded myself that I would get paid on Thursday and if I didn’t buy any coffee this week, I could get a new lightbulb and that set of paints I saw at the store. 

 All the lights were off save for the television my father was asleep in front of, his TV dinner mostly untouched. His medicine still where I’d left it before I went to work. A noise from upstairs made me roll my eyes- Elain probably had Grayson over which meant Nesta wasn’t home. With our shared bedroom occupied, I put my wallet and keys in the pantry closet, a habit I picked up after one of our dad’s friends went through my purse and helped himself to all he found. 

I shut off the tv and dropped myself unceremoniously on the sofa and closed my eyes… and was startled awake by someone banging on our front door. My dad was yelling for me to answer it and with a mumbled curse I got up. 

“I swear to god, Nesta-” I began but froze when I was met with green eyes, not icy blue. The man outside my door seemed surprised to see me as well but quickly scowled. Great. He practically shoved me aside as he stormed into my house, shouting my father’s name. 

“Hey, what the hell are you doing?” I snapped, following after him. I had to fight the urge to cry when my dad told me to shut up. 

 “I had another month,” my dad said to the man who had reached behind his back.

“A month for what?” I asked and my dad made to speak but the man stopped him.

“Your dad owes me money. Lots of it.”

“How?” I asked. “I’m responsible for everything here. And I don’t remember asking you for shit.”

 The man chuckled and I wanted to smack that smirk off his face. He was far too sure of himself to be another boy playing make believe. He dressed too fine to even be from this part of town.

 “When your father gambled everything away, how do you think he moved you all to this lovely little apartment?”

The tone in his voice made me look at my dad who was in tears. How long had he been doing this? I wanted to strangle him, I wanted to scream but then there was a gun pointed at his face and without thinking I was standing in front of it, arms outstretched. 

 “If you kill him, how are you getting your money back?”

“There are three of you. I’ll make it happen.”

 “Nesta would slit your throat first,” I said and he laughed. 

 “Feyre, you don’t know who you’re talking to,” my dad said but I paid him no mind.

 “Feisty, are we?” the man asked, as if my father weren’t even there.

 “How much?” I asked and he raised a brow. “How much does he owe you?” 

 He stepped forward, pressing the gun to my chest. 

“Far too much for a barmaid to pay back.”

“So let me work for you,” I blurted out. 

“What?” 

“I can’t pay you with the job I currently have. Let me work for you. Pay off his debts and I’ll make sure he never asks you for another goddamn thing.”

 “Feyre-” my father began but I turned to look at him.

 “You’ve done enough,” I said. “This is the last mess I clean up for you.”

When I turned back around, Elain and Grayson were standing at the foot of the stairs. She was crying and he had an arm around her. 

 “How can I trust you? You could all disappear in the night?” the man said, and I dared to put my hand over his.

 “My sisters are more important than saving my own skin,” I replied, even though I knew if roles were reversed, our father would be dead. My sisters would have run.

 No one would fight for me.

 “Then you’re coming with me,” he said.

 “Where?”

 “Where I can make sure you stay true to your word.”

 “You’ll leave my family alone?”

 “Yes.”

 “Fine.”

 When my sister began to protest, the man stepped back and I let out a sigh of relief. 

“Get your shit.” 

 Up in our room, Elain was begging me to reconsider, to let her go instead. I grabbed my bag and put my wallet and phone in and what little clothes I had. 

 “Nesta needs this,” I said as I walked to the dresser and pushed it back. I knelt down and lifted the wooden panel, retrieving the envelope full of money. “Give this to her. Don’t tell dad you have it.”

“Fey…”

“I’m doing exactly what I’ve been doing since mom died. Where I lay my head at night doesn’t change that.”

 I gave her a hug and hurried back downstairs to where the man waited. The gun was no longer in sight despite my father on the floor kneeling, begging. Grayson seemed to have left. 

“That’s it?” the man asked. 

 “That’s it.”

 I looked down at my dad and sighed.

“Clean up before Nesta gets here. She’s got exams this week and doesn’t need any more stress.”

The green eyed man opened the door and I followed him out. I said nothing as he led me away and towards a black car. When he opened the door for me, I didn’t move.

 “Having second thoughts?” he asked with a knowing smile.

“You seem to know every goddamn thing about us. I think I should know who you are before I get in the car… even if I’m going to end up in a ditch by the end of the night.”

 He laughed, running a hand through his long, blonde hair.

“Tamlin,” he said as he held out a hand. “Tamlin Moran.”

Moran… 

“You’re Wes Moran’s son.”

“So you do know me.”

I shook his hand, ignoring him. Tamlin helped me into his car and I wondered just how much shit I’d just put myself in. The Moran’s were one of the oldest, most powerful families in Prythian. And now I was working for them. 

#I literally have no idea why the spacing came out this way but MS word is annoying #this WILL be a feyrhycien fic #because I live for it #feyrhycien mob au #Tamlin is so annoying no matter where he is #feyrhycien #rolling in this trash