"Gwyn Goes Down in Training” - Gwynriel fic
I’m working on a huge Gwynriel fic - it’s almost 100 pages already - which I plan to start publishing soon, and this scene was originally done in the course of that writing but I decided it wasn’t right for the fic. So I’m offering it up instead as a Gwynriel one shot.
Summary: Gwyn falls one day in training. Established relationship. One shot.
Gwyn Goes Down in Training
Up in the ring under the beating summer sun, Nesta was sweating profusely in her leathers. She, Gwyn, and Emerie were working through yet another sadistic obstacle course that Cassian and Azriel had put together.
Cassian was overseeing the three of them on the course, while Azriel worked with the more inexperienced priestesses on the basics of hand-to-hand combat.
Since they could only do the obstacle course one at a time, then while one of them was on it Cassian made the other two do push-ups and lunges to keep their muscles from going cold.
Gwyn was currently the one up on the obstacle course. She had barely made it through the first time, but had improved on her second time through, nailing all but the very end.
“One more time, Gwyn,” Cassian said.
Breathing heavily, hands on her knees, Gwyn said, “Can I get some water first?”
“One more time through,” Cassian said, “Then you can get some water.”
“How about I drink some water first.” She squinted against the sun.
Cassian stood firm. “One more time, and then you can get water.”
Gwyn sighed and started the first leg of the course again. She made it about three-quarters of the way through, then at the barriers they had to leap over, she cleared them but instead of coming down on her feet, she went limp mid-air and came down hard on her shoulder and arm, crumpled in a heap in the middle of the course.
“Gwyn!” Nesta shrieked, running towards her prone form with Cassian on her heels. Azriel jerked his head around at the sound of Gwyn’s name, leaving the others and sprinting towards her.
Nesta tugged Gwyn’s arm, flipping her over onto her back as Azriel crashed to his knees at Gwyn’s head, slipping a hand underneath to cradle it. Her lips were dry and cracked, her skin white under her freckles. Her eyes were still closed.
The water jug over on the table floated toward them swiftly, borne on a wind of blue light. Catching it, Azriel poured a small stream of water over her face and she came to, disoriented.
Gwyn’s eyes, normally a limpid teal, had darkened and a slight film coated them. Her cracked lips parted and she croaked, “Az…”
“Shh, don’t talk yet,” he whispered soothingly. A glass floated over to them and he filled it, handing the jug to Cassian, who was crouched beside him, without giving him a glance.
Azriel angled Gwyn’s head up further, murmuring to her, “Try to drink, sweetheart.” He put the glass to her lips and her hands covered his as she drank deeply, lifting her head up more. He helped her, slipping behind her to raise her upper body so she leaned against his chest as she drank. She drained the glass and Cassian refilled it from the jug, panic and concern frozen over his features.
Azriel kissed her temple softly as she drank the second glass as quickly as the first.
“Look at me,” he murmured quietly.
Gwyn turned her head to look at him over her shoulder and he examined her closely. Her eyes had cleared, nearly back to their normal bright blue, and the cracks in her lips were gradually smoothing out. He ran a thumb gently over her lower lip. “That’s better.”
“I’m fine.” Her voice was still rough. “Just needed some water.”
“You want some more?”
She nodded and Cassian filled the glass a third time while Azriel glared at him and muttered, “She told you twice she needed water.”
Cassian looked ashamed. “I’m so sorry, Gwyn, I didn’t realize it was…” Cassian trailed off, biting his lip. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” She said hoarsely, even as Azriel still glowered at Cassian. “I’ll be fine in a minute. Just…in the future, if a water nymph says they need water,” she gave him a wry smile, “They really need water.”
Cassian nodded solemnly.
After Gwyn had finished the last cup of water, Azriel helped her to her feet, his hands lingering over her shoulders and arms.
All the other priestesses were staring at the two of them, and Nesta realized––they were just now finding out about Gwyn and Azriel. As it was, she and Cassian had only known a couple weeks.
Gwyn and Azriel stood with their heads close, talking quietly. Even barely touching, there was an intimacy between them that was unmistakable. Any idiot could look at them and see plain as day they were together.
Azriel brushed the back of a scarred hand down Gwyn’s arm and smiled down at her. Nesta couldn’t hear the words but whatever he said to her made her glow like the moon, her eyes sparkling at him.
Now all the priestesses were flat-out gawking. Roselin’s jaw was literally hanging open, a glass of water in her hand frozen in mid-air partway to her mouth.
Nesta tore her gaze away and turned to Cassian, still anxiously staring after Gwyn. She put her arm through his, kissed him on the cheek, and said with a grin, “Serves you right for being a hard ass.”
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Autumn in Velaris
Drabbles and one-shots written all within just a random, modern AU in the city of Velaris that will likely be randomly used. It's lovely in the autumn. Nesta and Cassian share a nice apartment, Azriel and Gwyn are growing closer in more ways than one, and fall festivities abound.
Pieces listed by ship, and then chronologically in the timeline (when relevant).
Salute This Moon
A Touch of Spice
Full Body, Right?
Don’t Think Too Hard
A Good Boy
Never a Waste
Can’t Scare Me Away
Something To Look Forward To
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Burn and Fade, pt01
Everyone has a breaking point—a moment where it all becomes too much. It’s one thing too many, one mistake or burden more than can be handled. One truth more than should have been revealed. One betrayal more than can be forgiven.
For Cassian, it’s probably this moment. Two souls meeting on a battlefield, two former lovers with a connection that neither of them wants to acknowledge. Two opposing families fighting for control in a world that is growing smaller by the second.
Because Nesta Archeron, enemy of the Night Court, is standing before him with her sword drawn, and the only way that Cassian is leaving this place alive is if Nesta leaves with him.
OR, that AU I decided to write for some reason, where the Archeron sisters are fae and raised in the Night Court until Mama Archeron decided to start a war to take over and everything went to hell. Mentions of blood and violence, implied character death (spoiler--I can't bring myself to kill my babies), tons of angst, kind of dark, Nesta almost kills Cassian, and oh yeah, where did Feyre and Rhys run off to? And where did Lucien take Elain? Story will look at all three sisters, but starts with Nessian.
Read it on AO3 or Check out my Masterlist for more chapters and stories
OR leave me an ask with a request or comment on the story, I DARE YOU
Pt01 behind the cut
Everyone has a breaking point—a moment where it all becomes too much. It’s one thing too many, one mistake or burden more than can be handled. One truth more than should have been revealed. One betrayal more than can be forgiven.
For Cassian, it’s probably this moment. Two souls meeting on a battlefield, two former lovers with a connection that neither of them wants to acknowledge. Two opposing families fighting for control in a world that is growing smaller by the second.
“Nesta,” Cassian can barely catch his breath to force her name out, his voice ragged and pained. He’s holding his side where he’s already been stabbed by an enemy blade, nearly run through, the warm blood seeping through his fingers and caking in the lines of his hand. If he somehow manages to survive this, if he somehow makes it back to Velaris, it will take hours to scrub his palms clean, and probably even longer to clean the blood from around his fingernails. But it’s hard for Cassian to imagine that far ahead right now, harder still for him to contemplate what it would mean.
Because Nesta Archeron, enemy of the Night Court, is standing before him with her sword drawn, and the only way that Cassian is leaving this place alive is if Nesta leaves with him.
Her blue-gray eyes are cool and distant as she gazes at him, but Cassian knows it’s only for show. He’s seen Nesta when her guard is up, when she’s determined to keep her emotions at bay for the sake of whatever task is at hand. He fought side by side with her once, years ago, to help protect the humans and find freedom for them on the other side of the wall. He knows that she’s trying to distance herself from what has to be done.
“Nesta,” Cassian breathes, barely able to speak at all. At this point, he’s not sure how he’s still standing. The battlefield has grown cold and quiet. The world around him is dimming. Even in the coming darkness, however, he can still make out Nesta. “Nesta, don’t—don’t do this. You don’t want this.”
The problem is that Nesta really doesn’t want this. Maybe, once upon a time. So long ago, now, that she can barely remember where the idea of it started. Two powerful fae families, the Night Court split between them, and each vying for control. Power.
Where had the idea for war come from? Was it her mother? Was that how it had happened—her mother, beautiful and cruel and filled with ambition, whispering quietly in her father’s ear. Her father, desperate to please a wife who would never be satisfied. Like Feyre and Rhys, she and Cassian fought together, killed together, bled together. In those days, they had gone into battle as if they were born to fight, feeling fully alive. It was like a game, then. To see who could fight the longest, who could survive the worst, who could kill the most. In the hours and days after a battle, they’d come together and compare their wounds, counting the bodies of those they’d slain without any thought of what it truly meant—the lives they had ended, the families they’d destroyed. It was a heady rush of violence and sex that was deliciously distracting in the face of whatever it was her mother had been planning.
A political marriage between Feyre and Rhys, one meant to end in murder. Instead, the lovers disappeared. War began.
The Court of Nightmares was bathed in blood and Velaris was in shambles.
And for what—Nesta stares at Cassian and wonders. What is all of this for?
A court that Nesta never wanted? Revenge for a sister who wanted to escape?
Blood drips from the tip of Nesta’s sword, the sound carrying to her ears over the quiet breeze that sweeps the battlefield, and Nesta can feel her heart keeping pace with each droplet that falls. The blood belongs to Cassian. Her former lover. The beautiful male who once stood by her side through unspeakable darkness, when it felt as though all the world was ending and she would cling to anything, anything, to feel grounded. To survive.
Cassian had once been her survival.
No, she doesn’t want this. But she doesn’t know how to walk away, either. “Give up, Cassian.” She takes a step forward on blood soaked ground, the dirt caking like mud around her heels. She’s wearing the Illyrian leathers she trained in so long ago, the same ones that still bear the scars from when she’d practically been cut open in the last war. She was certain that she was going to die. Cassian had rushed to her side. He’d cradled her in his arms. He’d spoken things...things he hadn’t meant for her to hear.
She’d heard the word that neither of them wanted to say, the truth that neither of them could bring themselves to speak. It quietly whispered to them, then, a gentle tug in the back of their minds, the same way it whispered to them now in a strangled sort of agony. Mate.
“You can’t win this.” She closes the distance between them, trying to ignore the something inside of her that’s screaming with panic at the scent of Cassian’s blood, the sight of him barely standing, the knowledge that time is running out. She watches Cassian fall to his knees, wincing as he does, and crouches down beside him so that they’re close to eye level. He’s in so much pain. She can hear the thought as it passes through her mind, as if someone else is speaking to her. He’s in so much pain. He’s not going to make it. “Give up, Cassian.”
It’s hard to keep his eyes open. It’s hard to keep his hand in place. It’s hard to hold onto his sword. Cassian can tell that his siphons are beginning to dim. He can feel his wings drooping lazily, splayed on the ground behind him. The walls are closing in. He can still see Nesta clearly, her golden hair bright even on such a cloudy, bloody day as this. The blue-gray in her eyes is thawing.
Good, he thinks softly. He prefers when they blaze, when all her fire and passion is on display instead of hidden behind that practiced indifference that she worked to master all those years so she could please her mother. He likes it best when they blaze at him, bright and unyielding, filled with humor or hatred, or desperate need, anything but that cold look. “I can’t.” He pants, sword falling from his hand. It barely makes a sound. “I can’t.”
Nesta wants to be angry. She wants to scream, to cry in frustration, to tear this godsforsaken world into two. She wants it to end—all of it. She can’t keep fighting. She can’t keep killing. She wants to see Feyre, to know that she’s okay. She wants to find where Lucien has hidden Elain, stolen away in the night to try and protect her from watching her friends and family destroy the only home she’s ever known. She wants to go back in time and stop all of this from happening.
She wants Cassian to live.
He’s in so much pain. He’s not going to make it.
“Velaris is gone,” Nesta can hear her voice cracking, the sound of her heart finally beginning to break. “There’s nothing left. The Court of Nightmares already belongs to us.” Us, Nesta thinks. Her. Nothing has ever belonged to Nesta, not really. Nothing except what she once shared with Cassian. “You don’t have anything left to fight for.”
She hates to see Cassian so weak, pulling his hand from his side to reach out and support himself as he falls forward. She rushes to catch him and prop him up, silently hating herself for making him so weak. She hates her mother, for raising her to fight and scheme and envy power. She hates Prythian for not stopping any of it from happening. She could destroy everything, everyone, for what this fight has come to.
He surprises her, though. He smirks. It reminds her of the first day she met him, when they were barely more than children and he and Rhys were still fighting with each other more often than not. He’d made some smartass remark about Nesta then, about how she’d never be a good fighter with all that golden brown hair of hers always getting in the way. It had only taken one hit for her to knock him on his ass. She’d come back to training the very next day, her long hair pulled up into a braided crown. He’d said she looked like a queen, then. A goddess.
His voice had been mocking, but they both knew it was sincere.
He smirks and looks up at Nesta through eyes that are half-open and drifting closed. “I wasn’t fighting for Velaris.”
Cassian and Azriel had already saved everyone they could. Everyone, Cassian had thought, except for one person—the one person.
Cassian had been fighting for Nesta. To stop the war. To save her from her mother. To save her from doing anything else she would regret.
Nesta. How strange it is to be at the end of the story, to know that you’re dying and to feel the life leaving your body, and to hear that small voice, that gentle tug. Mate. It was terrifying that first time he’d heard it, still barely more than a child. She’d knocked him to the ground when they were sparring together, taunting him with a kiss. The thread between them had snapped into place, pulling so sharply that it had stolen his breath. He hadn’t been ready to acknowledge that voice then, the quiet whisper in the back of his mind, even as that thread kept pulling them together day after day, night after night.
Mate. It’s not frightening now. It’s soothing. It’s comforting. If Cassian has to die, then at least he’ll die for something good. For someone, Cassian thinks, that he loves.
But Nesta is not comforted. She is not soothed, nor placated, nor appeased or satisfied. Nesta Archeron is furious and panicked. Mate. It’s not a whisper for her now but a scream, sharp and unrelenting in her ears. Her heart is pounding so fast that it aches, the adrenaline flooding her body so quickly that her hands are starting to shake. Cassian’s eyes close and his breathing slows, and Nesta can’t ignore the truth anymore. She can’t pretend that it isn’t Cassian’s blood on her sword, that she hasn’t brought destruction to the home that she loved, that she wasn’t complicit in unforgivable atrocities. She fought in her mother’s name. She destroyed everything that mattered to her.
Including, she thinks, her mate.
The sound that escapes her then is something she can’t comprehend. It’s too filled with pain and terror, with knowledge of what she’s done and who’s become, and everything she’s lost.
Her home is destroyed. Her sisters are gone. Her mate is dying.
Everyone has a breaking point, that moment when you can endure no longer. For Nesta, it is this moment. All thoughts of war forgotten, she cradles Cassian in her arms, the last few moments of his life slipping away. She closes her eyes, silently praying that there’s still enough time.
She thinks of the farthest place from this wretched court she can, holding Cassian tightly, and winnows them away from the battlefield to find a healer.
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The Hewn City - Azriel x Reader
Fanart by rosalynnart on DeviantArt
Summary: As a member of the Inner Circle, Rhys has requested you accompany them for their routine visit to the Court of Nightmares. You’re terrified - enter protective Azriel.
Warnings: crappy parents, brief mentions of violence
Word Count: 5,000
A/N: I love Azriel, that’s all. Requests are still open, and my request guidelines are linked on my masterlist. I hope you enjoy, please consider liking/following and all those things! :)
You hated the Court of Nightmares.
It was the place you’d been born and raised, tormented by your greedy parents and their fake friends. It hadn’t taken long for you to become disillusioned and disgusted by life in the Hewn City; you hated the way everyone was watched and judged, the way any and all relationships could be sabotaged in a matter of seconds all for a little bit of power.
You ran away when you turned 18, right as the War began. Everyone important (including your parents) was preoccupied with funding and logistics, and so no one chased after you. You weren’t surprised, you hadn’t expected them to send a cavalry after you. Of course you were a little hurt by their lack of interest in you, but it only reminded you why you were leaving in the first place.
You walked for days with hardly any food or water, until you were so exhausted you thought you might collapse in the woods and die. So be it, you had thought, I’d prefer death to living in that Cauldron-forsaken city, anyways.
It was pure luck that you stumbled upon a camp of Night Court soldiers, all of whom were shocked by the appearance of your starving, disheveled self. None of them had jumped to help you, save for one Illyrian soldier with long hair and bright red siphons. He’d caught you as you all but collapsed onto him, carrying you to the healers’ tent and then to his own, where he fed you a really disgusting, genuinely awful stew.
“At least it’s warm,” he said with a shrug, handing you a bowl of steaming grayish slop.
You frowned, prodding a particularly chunky bit with your spoon. “What’s this supposed to be?” you asked, pointing to one of the lumps.
“Rabbit? Maybe deer?” he tried. “I have no idea, I’ve stopped asking.” You sighed, shaking your head as you brought the spoon to your mouth.
And that was how you met Cassian. Though it took all your effort not to throw up whatever it was he’d given you, you were still grateful for the meal, learning a little while later he’d given you his only dinner ration for that night. You were being honest when you told him that was the kindest thing anyone had ever done for you.
Cassian convinced his commander to let you stay with the legion. You were more than happy to help the healers tend to the many wounded, often collecting herbs for them since they had very little time to do so.
After a few months you began to befriend the seemingly brute soldiers, all of whom were actually quite funny and caring in their own way. You had assumed wrongly that they were only fighting out of obligation to the Night Court - on the contrary, many of them genuinely cared about freeing the humans, and were willing to fight and die for such a cause.
You began helping them advocate for themselves, acting as a messenger between them and their superiors whenever they needed anything. They’d been moved when you convinced the commander to get them waterproof bedding. You were just happy to help your new friends.
As the war progressed your legion became quite well known for its strength and enthusiasm in battle. Eventually, they caught the attention of the High Lord, who was eager to know how your commander kept them all so motivated. Your commander never told you that in his response, he attributed the soldiers’ high morale to you.
You didn’t find out about it until the High Lord himself summoned you to his encampment, wanting to meet you for himself.
“Y/N, is it?” he asked. You gulped and nodded, hating the way all the High Lord’s advisors were just staring at you.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said, walking over to you and clasping your hand. “You’ve made quite a name for yourself.”
“Oh, not really,” you replied dismissively.
“On the contrary, your commander attributed most of your legion’s success to you,” the High Lord said. Your eyes widened.
“He did?” you asked meekly.
“Yes, he did.” The High Lord led you over to the large table in the middle of the tent, covered in various maps and reports. You quickly recognized the different markings noting the enemy’s various armies in relation to your own.
“Their reinforcements are closer than I thought they were,” you said, pointing to an enemy group only half a day’s travel away from the front lines.
“Straight to the point, eh?” he chucked. You shrugged.
“Their proximity is worrying since our own reinforcements are two days away,” he continued. “I’m hoping my son will be able to urge them faster.”
“Your son?” you inquired. The High Lord nodded.
“My son Rhysand is the commander of this legion,” he said, pointing to one of the markers on the map. “He does a good job, though his troops are not as eager to fight as yours are.”
“Our soldiers want to see the humans freed,” you said. “Many of them have told me they would willingly die to win this war. I believe that has helped them stay strong when the fighting gets rough.”
“Very admirable of them,” the High Lord said thoughtfully. “I wish all our troops thought similarly.”
You nodded, still looking down at the table. “This map is very impressive, sir.”
“Thank you,” he replied. “It’s the most accurate information we have.”
“How often do you update it?” you asked, looking up at him.
“We track the enemy’s movements down to the hour. Every shift, every change is reflected here.”
“Down to the hour?” you exclaimed, eyes wide. “How do you accomplish such a thing?”
“You’d have to ask him,” the High Lord replied, gesturing behind you.
You turned around, eyes landing on an Illyrian man clad in black leather. His hair was shorter than Cassian’s, wielding blue siphons instead of red. The biggest difference between the two, however, were the dark shadows that circled around him slowly. Your cheeks flushed as his gaze met yours, hazel eyes piercing. You smiled and gave him a small wave, but his face remained the same.
“That’s Azriel, the official shadowsinger of the Night Court,” explained the High Lord. You nodded slowly, turning back towards the table.
“Go introduce yourself, if you’d like,” he added. “He’s quiet, but perhaps he’ll enjoy some conversation.”
“Yes sir,” you said with a nod, looking again at the shadowsinger and walking in his direction, pushing through the swarm of advisors and generals.
“Hello,” you said softly as you stopped in front of him, craning your neck upwards a bit to meet his eyes. “I’m Y/N.” His eyes widened as he looked down at you.
You bit your lip nervously and offered him your hand, though he kept his clasped firmly behind his back. You dropped your arm awkwardly, grabbing at the bottom of your shirt.
“I’m from the western legion,” you added, trying to make conversation. His eyes softened somewhat at that.
“Do you know a Cassian?” he asked quietly, voice deep and rumbling.
“Yes!” you replied brightly, trying to ignore the way your stomach had flip-flopped when he spoke. “He was the one who rescued me, actually, and convinced our commander to let me stay. He’s a close friend of mine.”
“Rescue?” he inquired. You nodded, not really wanting to elaborate.
“Well, any friend of Cassian’s a friend of mine,” he said, giving you a small smile. “I’m Azriel.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Azriel,” you said with a grin.
“It’s nice to meet you too, Y/N.”
You met Rhysand a little while after as he’d been giving a report to his father. When you returned to your legion and asked Cassian about both of them, he told you the story of how they’d met and became friends. You were shocked by all the horrors they’d endured, and a little mad at the High Lord for separating them.
“We probably could’ve won this war months ago if he let you all fight together,” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest.
“Damn right, Y/N,” Cassian replied.
When the war ended, you were there to watch their reunion. You’d become a little emotional at the sight of them together, all smiling brighter than you’d ever seen before (even Azriel). You had tried to hide your teary eyes from them, only to start bawling when they grabbed you and pulled you into the group hug.
Rhysand had left soon after for the Court of Nightmares with his father. You’d urged Cassian and Azriel to go with him, insisting they needed some time to catch up with each other. You had opted to stay with the soldiers, helping them sort through their belongings and figure out where to go next. Like you, not all of them wanted to return to where they were from. You’d ended up in a small Illyrian camp with several of the soldiers from your legion, where you helped them settle in and begin navigating the ins and outs of running what was essentially a small town.
The next time you saw Rhysand, he was High Lord.
With his father dead, Rhysand was appointing a new Inner Circle with different values and morals than the one before it. He had asked you to be his advisor for social affairs, and you’d very emotionally accepted (“Do you cry at everything?” he teased, wrapping you in a hug as you nodded dramatically).
You were thrilled to learn Cassian and Azriel were also a part of the Inner Circle, as well as Rhysand’s cousin Morrigan and friend Amren. You were thrilled to have female friends for the first time in your entire life.
You also loved your job. As social advisor, you helped the various camps and smaller settlements throughout the court communicate with the High Lord, negotiating financial agreements and the like. It also meant you got to visit all your old friends, many of whom were starting families and working to change social standards in their towns.
The only part you did not like were the mandatory visits to the Hewn City once every few months, just to make sure everything there was running smoothly. For the many years you’d been working for Rhysand you’d managed to get out of every single visit, claiming you had scheduled trips to check up on camps and emergency meetings with different war-lords.
You had, however, run out of excuses.
“Y/N, I cannot allow you to miss another one of these trips,” Rhysand said sternly over breakfast. You glared pointedly at the plate of eggs in front of you, refusing to make eye contact with Rhys. Azriel and Cassian were sitting silently at the table, watching the two of you argue.
“Don’t you think,” you seethed, “that after years of trying to avoid this, I might have some reason not to go?”
“All of us have reasons not to go,” Rhysand said plainly. “No one enjoys these visits, but they’re mandatory. And you’re the only member of the Inner Circle who’s never visited. People have started talking.”
“Let them talk,” you scoffed, stuffing a forkful of eggs in your mouth.
“I don’t want to let them talk,” Rhys countered. “I don’t like them calling members of my Inner Circle weak, or negligent, or cowardly.”
“Well, I don’t care what they think of me,” you dismissed with a wave of your hand. “Amren hasn’t gone on the last few trips, either. I hope you’re planning on having this conversation with her as well.”
“First of all, I’d be a damn fool to try and tell Amren what to do,” Rhys stated, Cassian and Azriel nodding in agreement. “Second, she’s been to the Court of Nightmares before. Like I said, you’re the only one who hasn’t gone.”
You sat in silence, staring blankly in front of you. Rhys sighed.
“Y/N, I’m going to have to remove you from the Inner Circle if you don’t make this next trip,” he said finally. Your head snapped up, staring at him with wide eyes.
“You wouldn’t,” you hissed.
“Rhys,” Azriel warned softly, glancing between the two of you.
“I won’t have anyone thinking my Inner Circle is weak,” Rhys said, throwing his hands up. “I don’t want to remove you, but don’t think I won’t do it.”
You sat back in your chair in defeat, thoughts of your childhood and parents racing through your mind. Your breaths became faster, the three Illyrians at the table looked at you in concern.
“Y/N-” Cassian started, but you stood up abruptly, hoping they wouldn’t notice the tears forming in your eyes.
“Fine,” you choked. “Fuck you, Rhys.” You stormed out of the room, racing up the stairs, leaving the three of them staring after you in alarmed confusion.
You didn’t talk to anyone until the day of the trip, when you met them downstairs to leave. You were wearing a tight black dress that draped down to the floor, hair and makeup done nicely. You would be able to fit in without calling too much attention to yourself.
“Hi,” Rhysand started hopefully, but you just stared at the ground in front of you, refusing to acknowledge him. He sighed.
“I’m sure you know already, but you’ll have to play the part when we get there. Acting all cunning and ruthless, bowing to me, those sorts of things.”
“I’ll behave,” you replied numbly. Azriel moved next to you, grabbing your hand as you prepared to winnow. You didn’t miss the slight rub of his thumb against the back of your hand, the slight squeeze as you closed your eyes.
When you opened them, you were standing in a dimly lit room, stone walls covered in black banners, no windows to be seen. You breathed heavily, hoping Azriel hadn’t noticed how much your hands were shaking.
“Mor will send for us when the Court’s assembled in the throne area,” Rhysand said, taking a seat in a large plush chair.
“Y/N are you alright?” Cassian asked, concern evident in his voice. You hadn’t once looked up from your feet.
You shook your head, no you were not alright. In fact, you were far from alright, seeing as you were back in the one place you’d never wanted to return to.
You stiffened as Azriel wrapped his arm behind you, rubbing your shoulder comfortingly. You relaxed immediately, leaning into his side.
The room remained silent for a few minutes, Azriel trying his best to comfort you. You were almost sad when he pulled away as Mor walked into the room. You could’ve stayed nestled against him for hours.
“They’re ready for us,” Mor started. “Y/N, your parents are waiting outside. They want to talk to you.”
You felt Azriel tense up next to you as Rhys and Cass looked at you with wide eyes. You felt like breaking something, rage quickly replacing your fear. How dare they want to speak with you, after letting you walk out of their lives into a war?
“I’m going to wring their necks,” you muttered, stalking past Mor with Azriel following closely behind you. You didn’t need her to lead you to the throne room, you knew well enough where everything was in this damned city yourself.
You kept your eyes focused in front of you as you walked through the doorway, shoulders pushed back, features neutral. You ignored the figures waiting by the wall, ignored the calls of your name.
“You filthy runaway!” you heard your mother shriek from behind you. You ground your teeth, refusing to acknowledge her. Azriel caught up to you within a few strides, moving beside you as you continued forward.
“I didn’t know you had family here,” he said, eyes fixed forward just as yours were. Everything was a careful performance here.
“I was born here,” you said coldly. Azriel was silent next to you.
“I had no idea,” he replied finally.
“I never told anyone.”. The entrance to the throne room was now in sight. You could sense Cassian coming up behind you, moving to flank your other side.
“I’m sorry,” Azriel added. He glanced at you, grabbing your hand and squeezing it before dropping it quickly. “I would’ve argued with Rhys about you coming if I had known.”
“I know you would’ve,” you said, watching him adopt the emotionless soldier persona once again. “Thank you.”
The three of you entered the throne room together, walking in sync past the crowds of Hewn City residents to the opposite wall. They fell silent as you approached. It almost made you smile, them at least pretending to respect you for the first time ever. You almost hoped someone would dare to say something out of line, just to see what Rhys and Cassian and Azriel might do. At the same time, you wanted to curl up into a ball in your bed and never see anyone again. Your confidence, as convincing as it was, was still an act.
You stood between them, waiting for Rhys to enter. You watched Mor saunter past her parents, giving them a taunting smirk. Maybe one day you’d be able to do the same.
You straightened as Rhys walked in behind her, purple eyes gleaming despite the terrible lighting of Hewn City.
“Your High Lord, ladies and gentlemen,” Mor announced, dropping to one knee as he sauntered into the room. You did the same, admiring the way Rhys emanated power and control. A quick glance to your left and you made brief eye contact with Azriel, whose muscular thighs were only accentuated by his kneeling. Your eyes widened, gulping as you looked back towards Rhys.
“My subjects,” he drawled with a grin, making his way up to the throne and sitting down casually. He scanned the room for a moment, then nodded. “Rise.”
You stood up slowly, watching Mor’s father step forward to deliver his report on city happenings. You weren’t really paying attention, choosing instead to let your gaze wander over to Azriel again. He was wearing all of his siphons, wings folded behind his back neatly. He looked somewhat relaxed, though his hands were positioned to draw his weapons if needed.
You loved Az’s hands, the hands he had tried to hide from you for months. When you finally asked him why he hid his scars, he’d reluctantly told you about his childhood. He’d been surprised when your reaction was not one of pity, but rather one of immense anger. How dare anyone do that to him? Azriel, who was so selfless and giving, did not deserve such pain.
“You’re staring,” Az muttered, a small smirk on his face.
“Am not,” you replied with a glare, fixing your eyes in front of you as your face heated up.
“Are too,” he teased. You rolled your eyes, hoping he didn’t notice the blush tinging your cheeks.
Kier was just finishing up his dull speech. Rhys looked beyond bored, though you knew it was all just a front. He would probably spend hours reviewing whatever information Kier had told him when you returned home.
“My Lord,” Mor’s father drawled. “I noticed the sixth member of your Inner Circle has joined you today.”
You stiffened as the whole room glanced in your direction.
“Y/N?” Rhys said, gesturing to you. You took a step forward and bowed, quickly returning to your place between Az and Cass.
“Welcome home, Y/N,” Kier said, a twisted grin on his face. “We missed you.”
“I’m sure,” you replied cooly, voice echoing off the stone walls. You picked out your parents rather quickly in the crowd, almost shuddering at the way they were glaring at you. You raised your eyebrows, taunting them to say something. They remained silent.
“If there is nothing more to discuss, I’ll be going now,” Rhys announced, pushing himself up from his seat and making his way towards the door. “Thank you for this, truly. You’re all dismissed.”
You waited until him and Mor had left to follow, making your way through the crowd with Azriel and Cassian on your heels. You failed to see your mother stalking towards you as you approached the doorway, failed to see her until she was right beside you. She grabbed your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks and turning you to face her forcefully.
Your heart skidded to a stop, face palling at the furious look on her face.
“You ungrateful child,” she hissed, nails digging into the skin on your shoulder.
“Let go of me,” you whispered. “Let go.” The whole room had stopped to watch the two of you.
“How dare you align yourself with him,” she screeched. You pulled away from her, heart pounding as she continued moving towards you.
“You’re pathetic,” you spat defensively, wanting nothing more than to push her away from you. She only cackled, eyes blazing as she lunged at you.
You gritted your teeth, bracing yourself for impact, but a leather-clad arm reached out from beside you before she could reach you.
Azriel, who you’d almost forgotten was with you, had grabbed your mother mid-air, pinning her to his side as she struggled in his grip.
He looked more furious than you’d ever seen him, a rarity for the shadowsinger who hid his emotions like secrets. His massive wings were unfurled, jaw clenched as he looked down at her like she was a criminal Rhys had asked him to torture. You almost smiled at how fearful she looked as she glanced up at him, powerless.
“If you touch her,” he said, his voice a deadly whisper, “I will gut you, and throw you off the mountain again and again until you stop screaming.”
Her face blanched, looking around nervously as she tried to get away. Azriel did not let her budge.
“Let me go,” she asked, voice shaking. “Please, let-”
“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t break every bone in your body right here in front of everyone,” he said, voice calm despite the rage so clear on his face.
“Please,” she begged again. “Please.”
He looked back at you and you nodded, watching as he threw her to the ground in front of you. She let out a shaky breath, carefully drawing herself up from the floor…
She was not expecting your punch, eyes widening as your fist connected with the side of your face. Neither was Azriel, if his look of pleasant shock was anything to go by. You admired the way her body crumpled back onto the ground, grinned openly at the frightened look she gave you.
“I hope you die a painful death,” you said, almost cheerily. You turned, seeking out your father in the crowd and pointing to him. “You too,” you shouted, watching as he paled.
You turned on your heel and stalked out of the room, giving Mor a thumbs up as you passed her in the doorway. She gave you a small smile and an approving nod.
You waited until Rhys winnowed you all back to Velaris to let yourself relax, your shoulders slumping as you collapsed into a chair. You were exhausted.
“I’m fucking starving,” Cassian grumbled, lumbering out of the room just as quickly as you arrived. You smiled a bit, opening your eyes to see Rhys watching you intently.
“Y/N,” he started, but you raised a hand to silence him.
“I don’t want you to say anything,” you said flatly.
“I had no idea,” he continued anyway. “I would have let you stay…”
“What’s done is done,” you sighed. “Besides, if I hadn’t gone I never would’ve gotten to punch the shit out of my mom.” He chuckled and you gave him a sick grin.
“I can arrange to have Azriel torture them, if you’d like,” Rhys offered, the same option he’d given Mor when she’d returned to the Court of Nightmares. Azriel nodded earnestly, as if he’d be happy to do it.
“Thanks, but I’d like to do it myself, when the time is right,” you replied. The two of them nodded in understanding. Rhys gave you a small smile and disappeared from view, probably to join Cassian.
Azriel walked over towards you carefully, sitting down in a chair next to yours. He reached his hand out, slowly brushing a stray hair out of your face. You hummed and leaned into his touch, so soft and caring despite the scars.
“I wasn’t expecting you to punch her,” he said quietly. You chucked.
“I wasn’t either, but I’m glad I did,” you replied, opening your eyes and finding his hazel ones gazing at you fondly.
“You’re staring,” you teased lightly, quoting him. He smiled but didn’t look away. You blushed, biting your lip and looking down at your lap.
“Thank you for keeping her away from me,” you almost whispered. “I don’t know what I would’ve done had she actually, you know…” You trailed off, remembering the fear you had felt when she grabbed at you. “It was like I was frozen, I couldn’t move.”
“I think I would’ve actually killed her if she had gotten to you,” he said. You glanced up at him, his face carefully neutral as he thought about his words. “I was just...so mad at her, for calling you filthy and ungrateful, for insulting you in front of everyone.” He met your gaze and his face softened.
“Az,” you said gently, reaching out and gently taking his hands in your own.
“I’m sorry if it was out of line-”
“No,” you interrupted, “no, thank you for doing it. It gave me enough time to remember how little I care about her opinion of me.”
“She still shouldn’t call you such things,” he said, jaw clenching. “You’re one of the bravest people I know, running away from home and joining an Illyrian war camp, of all places.” You laughed, giving his hands a small squeeze.
“That place wasn’t home,” you said with a shake of your head. “That’s why I ran away, I wanted to find a place where people actually cared about me.”
“Did you?” he asked softly, eyes darting nervously between your face and your hands, still intertwined with his.
“Yes,” you whispered, heart surging as he smiled at you.
“You don’t have to go back, ever,” he said, looking at you intently. “I won’t let him force you again. I promise.”
“Thank you, Az,” you said gratefully.
“And I swear,” he continued, “if either of your parents steps one toe out of line I’ll make them regret every minute of their lives.” You grinned.
“Well, if that happens let me know,” you said, “I wouldn’t want to miss any of the fun.”
He laughed then, truly laughed, scooting his chair closer to yours.
“I won’t let anyone touch you,” he murmured, your heart almost stopping as he leaned forward and pressed his forehead against yours.
“Az,” you breathed, stomach fluttering.
“Y/N,” he replied, voice husky with some emotion that made your head swirl.
“Az,” you giggled, sticking your tongue out, licking the tip of his nose.
His eyes widened, a smile spreading across his face. “Gross,” he joked, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek. His eyes became serious, searching your face for any hesitation.
You leaned forward, closing your eyes as you pressed your lips against his. You could’ve sworn you felt his heart leap as he began to kiss you back, reaching around you to pull your body onto his lap. You couldn’t ignore the sparks of joy you felt as his hands roamed your back, nose pressed against your cheek as his lips molded against yours again and again.
You were the first one to pull away, needing air, heart melting as you opened your eyes and saw Azriel watching you with such obvious adoration. You admired the small smile on his face, the flush of his cheeks and his tousled hair, the quickened rising and falling of his chest…
And then something clicked, something deep inside you, and your eyes widened with immediate realization.
“It’s...it’s you,” you gasped, overcome with emotion. He gulped and nodded, looking at you hopefully.
“Yes,” he breathed. “Yes.” He paused, panting heavily. “Is that...okay?” he asked, looking more nervous than you’d ever seen him before.
“It’s perfect,” you choked out, grabbing his face and pulling him in again. He groaned, your stomach doing flip flops as his hands came up to cradle the back of your head. He tucked his thumbs under your ears, claiming your mouth as his own.
“How...how long have you known?” you asked between kisses, your hands exploring the firm expanse of his chest.
“Since the first day I met you,” he mumbled against your lips, breathing heavily as you pulled back again.
“You’ve known for that long?” you asked incredulously, eyes wide. He nodded, grinning like he was the happiest man alive. “And you still waited for me?” You were touched.
“I would’ve waited until the end of time for you,” he said, ducking his head down and nuzzling your neck with his nose. “Though, I will say, it took you forever to realize.”
You swatted his shoulder playfully, resting your chin on the top of his head and closing your eyes. “I’ll cook dinner tonight, okay?” you said softly. You felt his whole body tense.
“Are...are you sure?” he asked thickly, as if you still might reject the mating bond.
But how could you ever think of such a thing, when you were sitting in the lap of the most protecting and caring person you’d ever met?
“I’m positive,” you murmured, tilting his head upwards and pressing a kiss to his forehead.
“Well in that case, I’m quite fond of chicken,” he teased.
“You’ll get whatever I feel like making,” you huffed, relishing in the way his whole body vibrated as he laughed.
“And I will happily eat whatever that is,” he replied lovingly.
“Even toast?” you asked.
“Even toast,” he grinned, capturing your lips in another kiss.
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Rhysand: What.... in the fuck....
Azriel frozen from neck to toe:
Cassian: Feyre lost control while training
Feyre: I'm sorry I didn't mean to....
Cassian: It's okay sweetie you're doing great
Azriel: How tf do I get out of here
Cassian: *takes out a huge ass sword* Let's hack you with this
Rhysand: Cassian no!
Cassian clearly dissapointed: *lowers sword*
Rhysand: *brings out even bigger sword thats on fire* let's try this.
Azriel: RHYSAND NO
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summary: A story between the forgotten Vanserra sister and her mate, the shadowsinger of the Night Court.
"The Autumn Court was silent. Completely and utterly silent, save for the ear-splitting screams coming from the Lady of Autumn’s bed chambers as she gave birth to the seventh and eighth children of the Vanserra line."
pairing: azriel x vanserra sister!oc
word count: 1.9k
series warnings: graphic sexual assault, mental illness, graphic violence, falling in love, soft sex, mentions/recalling of past rape, right person-wrong time, tragic love story, fluff.
notes: hehe. the way its actually hard for me to write this because of how sad it is. like im scared to finish this because then that means i'll have broken my own heart. i want some feedback here before i begin posting on ao3 and wattpad so please leave comments and reblog <3.
The Autumn Court was silent. Completely and utterly silent, save for the ear-splitting screams coming from the Lady of Autumn’s bed chambers as she gave birth to the seventh and eighth children of the Vanserra line. After the birth of her first two sons - Eris and Damon - Beron had stopped showing up and had even ripped away her accommodations in the Healer's temple. Instead, he ordered for her to be confined to her room during the process, from the beginning of the labor until she has pushed the child out.
The brothers, however, went. Sat outside her room for hours as they listened to her screams. Beron had granted them this small reprieve, to welcome their new sibling into the world. Eris had watched it happen six times, each time harder and more complicated than the last. She had never come close to dying, thankfully.
Eris wasn’t sure he could say the same about this birth.
“That bastard is going to kill her, isn’t he?” Aliath, the youngest boy, asked. He was only six years of age. And at a time like this, Eris didn't have the energy to correct his language. This was the closest time frame in which two siblings had been born, the rest of the boys had decades, centuries even, spanning between them. His question went ignored as Odessa screamed again. You could vaguely hear the sounds of the midwives' attempts to calm her nerves by offering her medicinal herbs, ones they knew she would refuse anyways.
“Probably,” Damon sneered as he kicked a rock with the toe of his boot.
“What do you care?” Neels asked. He was the third-born son, not too useless to be forgotten, but not as important to be cared about. He and Finnagan - the fourth born - took after their father the most with their appetites for senseless violence and destroying anything good that came their way.
“Neels, he’s a child.” Johan chastised his older brother.
“And?” Eris rolled his eyes. Useless, callous bastards, the lot of them.
“You’ve been awfully quiet brother, what’s your wager? Do you think it's our dear mother's time to finally leave this world?” Finnagan asked him, that hellish smirk sitting forever plastered on his face. And just when Eris thought he would make it through the conversation unbothered.
“I wish she had died during your birth only to save us the misfortune of having to speak with you now.” He didn’t mean it...most of it. He did wish Finnagan a long and painful death, but not at the expense of his mother. His, because he, Aliath and Damon seemed to be the only ones who gave a shit about her. Johan cared more than the remaining brothers, but he kept his distance.
It wasn’t until Eris had said that did he realize that it had gone quiet, the rest of the boys seeming to catch onto that as well. He could feel the nervousness and possible regret as they waited for a sound to be heard from that room.
Maybe she truly had died.
Finn and Damon must have thought the same if their taut muscles were anything to go by.
A collective sigh of relief came from them when they heard the cries of a baby clang through the room. The door opened not a second later, the midwives scurrying quickly out of the room. That was also custom, for the women overseeing her to leave directly after delivery. Beron didn’t want to give her any more comfort than he had to, instead forcing her to wash and clean the babies by herself.
Aliath rushed in first, his little legs running to his mother's bedside. He tried to cover the fear on his face when he saw her, his body stopping short. She was pale, so pale. Blood stained her once white covers, legs, and arms. Her breaths were coming in in short, shallow pants.
“Mommy?” He asked, moving to get into bed with her.
“Get away from her.” Eris’s voice carried through the room. Aliath moved back quickly, stepping to the side so that Eris could inspect her. Her pulse was still there, and her chest was moving.
He didn’t know for how much longer.
“The twins.” His voice shot to Odessa at her barely audible words. “Where are they?” She questioned, weakly holding Eris’s shirt.
“What the fuck?” Damon said from the other side of her chambers.
“Holy shit,” Neels said, standing over the two cribs with the rest of his brothers.
Aliath had joined them as well, awe written all over his features as he looked at his new siblings.
“There’s two of them.” He said dumbly, reaching into the crib on the right. The babe was wailing, its tiny hands balled into fists as he cried and cried. Aliath cooed at him, making faces that were doing nothing to calm it down.
Him. The baby on the right was male.
The one on the left was quiet, suspiciously quiet.
“Eris,” Johan called. Eris didn’t hear him as he tried to soothe their mother, pressing a damp cloth left by one of the healers to her head.
“Eris!” He repeated, louder this time.
“What.” He seethed.
Eris was scared. Odessa had never looked this terrible after a birth before, there was always a small kernel of light flickering in her as she beheld her new child. But now, there was nothing. No happiness or light shown in those eyes. Only exhaustion.
“She’s not breathing.”
“Who’s not breathing?” Eris asked.
“The child, Eris. She’s not breathing.”
Eris strode across the room, pushing his brother aside as he looked at the little one.
A girl. Odessa had given birth to a baby girl.
Beron would kill her. Hell, he’d kill both of them for this.
Maybe it would be better to not try and help her, allow her a premature escape from the hell that would be her life if they tried to revive her.
No. No, he would not think like that.
He had never been more thankful for the time he had spent in this bedroom on these very occasions, watching as the healers helped his mother. Aliath had been born like the girl as well, still until one of the females had revived him.
He began to gently press on her chest with two fingers, before bending down to blow oxygen into her mouth. He repeated those same steps multiple times. Give the child oxygen, then tap her chest. Next, he tapped her feet gently, flicking her skin with his pointer finger.
Again, and again, and again, until he was sure that there was nothing he could do to save her.
A soft breath, a whimper, and then a scream.
Eris nearly sunk to the floor in relief as the baby girl began throwing a fit much like her brother in the next crib. Tears rushed to his eyes as he smiled, grabbing the girl from her crib to tuck her into his chest.
A sister, he had a sister.
He let himself be happy for a moment. Let himself think of raising a girl, allowing her to grow up happy and live a life full of happiness. He knew it was foolish to think such things, but for a few seconds, he let himself dream.
Johan had picked up the boy and had already placed him in Odessa’s arms. Eris walked over to her, the rest of his brothers following them like a hoard of seagulls.
A watery gasp left her mouth when both of her babies were swaddled in her arms. She hung her head as she cried. Tears of happiness or regret, Eris couldn’t tell. But he stayed and watched, they all did, as they all came to terms with what this meant.
“Do you have names?” Neels asked, a rare moment to even address his mother.
“Lucien,” She said as she looked towards the boy.
“And Freya.” The Ancient Goddess of Love.
That was enough for Neels. He left the room after hearing the names, Finn and Damon following him. The three no doubt were going to the throne room to tell Beron of the news. While Eris wished his mother could have some peace after this strenuous birth, there wasn’t much he could do to stop them.
“Congratulations, mother,” Johan said before he began to leave the room.
“I want to hold them,” Aliath whined from the side of the bed, standing on his toes to try and get another glimpse at his two siblings.
“Mother is very tired, you can see them tomorrow when she’s better.” He looked like he was going to retort, but the look on Eris’ face made him reconsider. With a small nod and a sad look thrown towards his mother, he left the room with Johan.
“I should have killed them both.” Odessa cried once she was alone with her eldest. Eris looked at his mother in alarm, his eyes widening as he stood from the chair he had dragged over.
“What the fuck did you just say?” He looked at the children. Would she kill them if he left the room? Why? Why would she say such a terrible thing? To kill innocent children. She couldn’t- she wasn’t capable.
“I’m sorry, my children.” She said, her thumb stroking Freya’s face.
“What is going on?” Eris asked, feeling like the scared little kid his brother was.
Eris had to grasp the arms of the chair he was sitting in to keep from falling out of it as his mother opened her heart to him. Her decades-long affair with the High Lord of Day that resulted in the conceivement of these two children.
“Beron will kill you when he finds out the truth,” Eris said as he looked at Freya. He had asked to hold her halfway through his mother’s tale, knowing it would hinder his ability to lash out if he were holding one of his siblings.
“He won’t find out,” Odessa said, shooting a rare, sharp look in Eris’ direction. He knew what she was asking. Would her favorite son betray her to gain favor with his father and her bastard husband? Eris knew the answer, had known the answer the very second he had laid eyes on the children.
“He won’t.” Eris agreed.
“You couldn’t have been more careful though. Lucien. Really?” At least she hadn’t gone and named Freya something that meant day.
“Helion picked the name Freya. He told me that if he ever had a girl, he’d give her that name.” Eris ate his words.
“Are you going to tell him?”
“No. He can never know about them.” Eris nodded. To keep them safe, Eris knowing was already a risk, but if she told Helion...who knows what would happen. He could claim the children as his own, start a civil war that would be more trouble than it's worth for the birthright of two children.
“You have to protect them.” Eris knew that too.
“Freya. You have to - keep her from Beron as long as you can. Please, my son. You are the only one.” Aliath would most likely help him when he got older, if Beron didn’t corrupt his good heart before then.
He would try. He would try his best to give these children a childhood that wouldn’t haunt them for the rest of their immortal lives. He would be there for them when they cried, listen as they told him stories, comfort them when they were chased from sleep by nightmares of his father.
He would do all of it.
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Prompt: Nesta works at a law firm and everyone is terrified of her, but then one day she forget her lunch or something, and her husband waltzes in, hands her the lunch and kisses her on the forehead. When Nesta blushes as he walked away- people realize she’s softer han she seems. Told from 3rd persona of the pov of her collgue or whatever u want. Also congrats on the milestone !!!!
Thank you for this prompt-- I love the idea of others seeing Nesta's layers when she least expects it. Please enjoy this shameless Nessian fluff! ❤️
Seeing Nesta off of her game shouldn't be so satisfying. She isn't the one who thrives on the downfall of other women or rejoices in their struggles. She knows the journey it is to be a woman with a strong personality and even stronger set of competencies in a male-dominated law office.
Nesta Archeron is a woman that begs to be measured against, who regularly sets the bar and raises it moments later. There are times she glimpses the large stone on Nesta's left ring finger and wonders what it's like in her household, for her partner. Does that explicit insistence on perfection bleed into her personal life? Who is the man or woman deemed worthy of, not only her time, but her affections?
It's not so much that Nesta's having an off-day that's satisfying, she realizes. It's rather the idea that her colleague is human in any capacity, that she too falls victim to the inconveniences of the mortal realm.
"Absolutely not," Nesta barks into her phone, her stilettos wearing a path in the stone beneath her feet. "That's ridiculous."
She tenses at the venom in Nesta's voice, but her curiosity snags on the way her shoulders slump seconds later. Her voice is softer, quieter.
"You don't have to do that." A pause, and then, "Thank you. I'll be somewhere around the third floor."
Interesting. Nesta is clinging to her usual control, but whoever the recipient of the call may have been has her seeming as though she would dare pass the reins of that control to someone else and trust them to wield it.
Before she can dwell on the idea of who a person like that may be, the answer comes in the form of a tower of a man, striding across the floor like one of the partners of their law firm. That's if any of those partners would decide to wear black joggers, sneakers, and a rather fitted black tee into the office on a Wednesday.
He is impossibly tall, and the muscles of his chest ripple beneath the cotton of his shirt. His skin is a deep bronze that highlights his bright, hazel eyes. When he smiles, his chiseled face softens into a boyish charm that would disarm almost anyone, she bets.
He holds a small container in his left hand and runs his other through his long, black hair. It seems like a show of nerves, but she doesn't think on it too long. The action tugs at a memory of her own husband's long hair, cut short years ago when he decided it no longer suited him. The man before her seems like his hair may be long because he can't be bothered otherwise. His carefree demeanor emanates through the space like it's too small to contain him.
"I'm looking for Nesta Archeron."
His voice is a soft baritone that rolls over her skin. She blinks at him before saying, "She's around here somewhere. I'll go look for her."
She stands and smoothes her trousers, straightens her cropped blazer. She's just brushed by his hulking form into the hallway when she hears Nesta's authoritarian voice around the corner.
"I'm right here," she nearly snaps, but that razor-sharp edge that usually accompanies her tone is lacking. In a heartbeat, she's in front of them, and her steel blue eyes are locked on their guest.
She decides to leave the pair in the hallway in favor of returning to her desk. She has no interest in going head-to-head with Nesta Archeron; not today, anyway. She'll save the energy for the next time they want the same case assignment.
That smooth voice sounds through the hallway, low enough be be a purr. It's unintelligible at first, then, "Consider it my service to the others in the office. I doubt any of them deserve to be at the end of your wrath when you're hungry." There's laughter laced through every word.
"That's enough out of you," Nesta retorts, but the edge in her voice is now non-existent.
The absence of it makes the moment seem oddly intimate despite the teasing nature, enough that she wishes she couldn't hear anymore. She busies herself with the numerous tasks she juggles any given day, but the man's laughter grabs her attention. She wonders what sense of humor Nesta possesses to earn such an open show of amusement.
When she glances at them through her doorway, Nesta's face showcases a gentleness she doubts many have seen. Her eyes peer up at the man's handsome face, and she draws her lip between her teeth before he leans down to press a chaste kiss to her mouth.
"I'll see you at home later," he promises against her forehead. He presses a lingering kiss there and finishes, "Don't be too long. I love you."
Nesta's eyes flutter closed at the contact, and she leans into his body without hesitation. He presses his free hand to the small of her back in the barest hug she'll allow, then straightens to his full height.
She blinks lazily at him, temporarily disoriented by his proximity. The sight of them makes her own heart squeeze, makes her miss her husband in a way that makes her pull her phone from the drawer of her desk to send him a quick message.
"Thank you," Nesta murmurs. "I love you, too."
The man offers a blinding smile before taking a couple of steps backward, his eyes lingering on hers before he pivots fully toward the elevators. Nesta's gaze follows him for a time before it locks on her own, and there's no time to pretend she didn't see the interaction. She's caught red-handed.
"You saw nothing, Galathynius."
Aelin tucks the end of her pen between her teeth and smiles, looking down her nose while she spins slowly in her chair.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
A satisfied nod is her only acknowledgement before Nesta smooths her pencil skirt and walks away.
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Can u please do azriel fluff with 2 and 10 please
Dawn in Velaris // Azriel
Fluff 2: “Can I kiss you?”
Fluff 10: “Are you wearing my clothes?”
There was no sight that could compare to the sight of the dawn in Velaris. The sky painted a light peach as the sun begins to chase away the dark of the night. As you stand at the window of your home, you can see the many lights of the businesses below - their windows falling dark as they let in the natural light of day.
The sun rays meet your face; warming your skin, bringing a small smile to your face as you continue to stand at the window, leaning against the glass, letting the cold seep into your bones.
Azriel’s shirt hangs loose on your body; barely buttoned, you fiddle with the hem, thinking back to the previous night. Your body ached in places you didn't know could ache, and you already spied purple bruises littering your chest and your thighs, knowing full well they would match the ones on your neck.
“Are you wearing my clothes?” A husky voice sounds from your bed.
Turning, you find Azriel sprawled across the whole bed, his wings taking up the most room. A sleepy smile spreads across his lips, lighting up his whole face as he blinks rapidly against the invading light. He looks like an angel, you think to yourself - a deadly, beautiful angel.
“I couldn't wear my dress,” You smile, nodding your head to the shredded garment. “You cut it off me last night.”
Azriel’s laugh warms your body more than the morning sun. He shifts in the bed, throwing an arm over the top of his head. He’s the picture of perfect laziness doubled with self satisfaction, though you could see the undercurrent of the Night Court’s spymaster lingering.
With a single hand, Azriel motions to you. Following, you perch on the side of the bed, leaning over to meet the eyes of the male who had you so distracted.
“Can I kiss you?” You ask, your hair becoming a curtain between yourself, Azriel and the morning light.
“You can always kiss me,” He answers quietly, his hand hooking itself into your hair, anchoring you to him.
Azriel meets you halfway; lips pressing to yours, igniting a heat within you that could rival the sun now steadily rising outside. As you shift on the bed, straddling Azriel, you smile into the kiss, happy to be distracted from more sunrises.
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Azriel x reader
Authors note: Someone send help, I can’t stop writing fics about Az or Cass. 🥴 if you have other characters you’d like to read things for, send me prompts/ideas with characters from the following fandoms:
Otherwise enjoy some fluff with everyone’s favorite friendly neighborhood shadowsinger. 🥰
I landed straight on my back on the mat. Again.
“You have to engage your core. Your left side is weak, you need to watch your blind spots.”
Azriel had agreed to meet me early in the morning to train. I still hadn’t fully recovered from the last mission, when one of the warriors had nearly speared me like a kabob. However, I knew if I didn’t start training again soon, I’d never fully regain all my strength.
“I did engage my core! I even leaned left to try and brace for your impact!” I growled, hands over my face. “What more can I do?”
“Let’s take a quick break. You’re still healing, and even though I’m proud of you for getting back in the ring, you’ve gotta take it easy for a while.”
I smirked at the shadowsinger, “You’re proud of me?”
A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, “Don’t get mushy on me now, soldier.”
I set down my water, and walked towards him until I was standing toe to toe with him. I craned my neck to look up at him, poking one finger into his chest, “Oh, trust me. I’m definitely not the mushy one in this friendship.”
Cauldron boil and fry me.
I can’t pinpoint the exact moment where my feelings for Azriel had gone from purely platonic to something more. It happened like a summer storm - out of no where, full force. But I refuse to risk ruining the time we spend together over some silly feelings. He means too much to me.
“You okay in there?” Azriel tapped gentle on my temple, tearing my attention from my thoughts.
“Hey lovebirds! You mind if I take a turn sparing with your boy-toy?”
“We are NOT- “
“He is NOT my-“
We both stopped and glared at Cassian as a playful grin crept across his face. I grabbed my water and slid on my boots, bracing myself for the cold to come as I trudged back to the main part of the house.
After dinner that night, things got a little out of hand. It started with some ridiculous drinking game Mor begged me to play with her. She dragged all of us into it, and then I had the idiotic idea to challenge Cassian by saying I could out-drink him.
“I want to **hic** dance!! Azzie, can we dance, pleaseee?!” The strong arms that carried me away from the rest of the circle held me tighter.
“You can barely even stand upright, let alone dance.”
“Nuh-uh. I can **hic** totally stand. Watch. **hic** Put me down and I’ll walk in a straight line.”
“You’re full of shit and you know it.”
I smirk up at the shadowsinger, “Actually, **hic** I’m technically full of tequila.”
“If you want to be a smartass,” Azriel chuckles, “I can take us for a fun little flight and see how well you handle your liquor.”
My stomach lurched even at the thought of tumbling through the air, doing loops and turns…
Azriel gently set me down, keeping me between his arms as he opened the door to steady me. As we entered the dark room, I walked towards the bed and threw off my awfully uncomfortable shoes.
When I looked up, all I could see was those glimmering hazel eyes and incredible sapphire siphons illuminating Azriel’s face as he stood in the doorway.
“Stay,” I whispered, so quietly I wasn’t even certain he would hear.
He stood, still as a statue. The only sound was our breathing, and a muffled conversation from the rest of the circle in the living room.
“Stay,” I repeated, a little louder, a little more brave this time.
Those hazel eyes widened, and it took Azriel only two strides across the room to reach me.
He placed one hand on my cheek, the other tilting my head up to look at him.
“Fuck it. I can’t be your friend any longer.” He exhaled.
I tried to move my chin from his grasp and turn away, offended by his words. He held my face gently but firm.
“You’re so much more than that.”
And then we kissed. It was like, I was a star during Starfall, and I had finally found my way home. Like I had been waiting to find the missing piece of me, and it had been right there all along. I felt a tug in my chest as Azriel’s tongue swept over mine.
I gasped as he pulled away, feeling completely sober now, regardless of how many drinks I had downstairs.
“How long have you known?”
“A month. When that soldier had almost taken you from us. From me.”
I was completely in awe.
“While you were unconscious and the healers were working, I could feel the bond fraying. I tugged on it every now and then to keep you with me. I was a complete mess. You can ask Rhys or Cass -“
“They’ve known this whole time?”
“I didn’t intentionally tell Rhys, but when you were hit I lost all control over my mental shield and he could sense it. I told Cassian not long after.”
I stared up at him, completely at a loss for words. This whole time, he had known and continued to care for me out of fear of losing me.
He leaned down to kiss me again, but I took the opportunity to grab his wrists and twist him over onto the bed, pining him down.
“You need to engage your core, and watch your blind spots, Spymaster.” I smirked down at him.
His eyes were like burning embers, flaming with lust and desire.
“Oh, sweetheart, I’ll let you take me down anytime.”
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･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.
Azriel x pregnant! reader (part two)
word count: 1391
For a month after your encounter with the High Lady, it became the norm for you to spot one of the Court members lingering across the street, outside one of the many stores on the same street as your's. None had approached you in that time, but it still made you feel anxious to walk home after work. It was Morrigan more often than not, and Cassian (who made his presence known by waving at you through the window but never actually entering). You must have seen the High Lord twice at least, and the High Lady a couple more times than that.
After that month, however, it had stopped. It was a good job too, as your growing bump was becoming something that was increasingly hard to hide. Well, it was practically impossible to hide now. At thirty one weeks, your belly was round before you, and you knew with the rate at which it grew, you wouldn't be able to see your own feet soon. It was quite a queasy thought to have.
Maria - one of your shop workers and seamstresses - had been the one you had approached with the hopes she would step in as manager as you were away on maternity (for a raise of course). The dark skinned fae had agreed readily, a smile so bright on her face that it nearly blinded you. She had worked for you the longest out of your current workers in store, nearly five decades actually. As fae lived so long, changing professions was not uncommon, and you knew that eventually Maria would want to move to something else, so perhaps this would be good experience for her. Maria had also been excited at the prospect of seeing a tiny baby at business meetings you would eventually have to attend again.
Working had become increasingly harder for you as they grew, your feet swollen and body aching all over as you lugged through the day. And with the added stresses of Azriel on your mind, you just wanted to curl up into a ball and cry more often than not. For your own sanity, you had cut your own workload down significantly in preparation for when you'd be out of work for at least three months. Knowing how much you struggled now, you had little doubt that you would be out for longer than that. So far, you had planned a total of three months with no meetings and no in shop work time. Meetings had been changed and rescheduled, and quite a lot of work had been slowed down.
You slumped into the black velvet armchair in the dimly lit break room, lifting your feet onto the stool carefully. A hand placed over your belly, you felt the little being thump against it gently. A smile spread across your tired face at the feel of them. "I know, I know. I'm stressed out. I know you don't like that," you mumbled, leaning your head back against the plush pillow, sighing contentedly.
There was still so much to do so much to prepare for still. The nursery wasn't even half completed yet, your house hadn't been baby-proofed at all, and there was still so much to buy —
Your eyes snapped open, staring up at the dark green ceiling, heart speeding up. The familiar tugging you felt whenever your lover was near nagged within your chest. It appeared that the shadowsinger had finally returned.
You sat up straight in the chair, awkwardly shuffling your legs to the ground, heart beginning to beat faster in your chest. Shit, did he even know? Of course he did, that had most likely been the reason he had left. Or had he truly not known and had just had enough of you?
"Y/N," he spoke, already stood in the doorway, looking ashamed in the least. He was earlier than Feyre had said by two weeks, though you hadn't believed he would seek you out after his return.
You pushed yourself up from the plush chair to give yourself some even footing against the Illyrian, though he still towered above you. "Azriel. I wasn't expecting you."
He pursed his lips and nodded, staring at the bump. He didn't particularly seem surprised by the roundness of it, perhaps only a little startled at the size. But you could tell by the shame in his hazel eyes that he had known.
"I'm sorry," he said, meeting your intense gaze.
You shook you head, a frown creasing your features, "sorry? You just walked away when I needed you the most. And I thought you loved me."
"I do, I was just being a coward and I didn't know what else to do."
You scoffed at him. "You should have stayed, Azriel. We've been together for decades. Years of commitment down the drain just because you were scared of being a father."
"Did walking away help at all?" you pressed on, despite the discomfort evident on his face. This confrontation was one which you had to have, he couldn't just come walking back in only to back out again.
He shook his head, "no, it didn't. I was stupid."
"You were. We've worked through hardships before, why couldn't you just talk to me about it before making any rash decisions?" you looked up at him expectantly. Of course you understood the reasons for his abandonment, but it still wasn't enough to prove to you that it was a good enough reason for him to never come back to you. And it wasn't enough to prove he would be a terrible parent as he had apparently convinced himself he would be if he was involved. Apparently that had given him a good enough reason to leave you. Did he not truly love you enough if that was all it took?
"I don't want to hurt them. I don't want to hurt you. But I did. I know that now," he stated, looking down to his feet through the swirling darkness surrounding him, that now nearly swallowed him, yet still reached out to be closer to you.
"And you didn't know that then?" you asked him pointedly.
"I did. I just thought it would hurt less than me doing something wrong and messing up them up for good."
"I know that your father wasn't a good person," you stepped closer to him, close enough to touch him, "and I know that you are nothing like him. So do you. But you still walked out. Did you think not being there would be better than making mistakes, by what... not being good enough?"
You blinked back you tears, bottom lip jutting out slightly, he met your gaze again, "it was stupid. I don't want our child to feel abandoned, like they're worthless and that I don't care about them."
"Then you need to be able to prove it. Can you do that? Or is it too much to ask of you?" it was a gentle question, but the words hit him hard.
"I want to be there," he admitted.
You felt relieved to hear those words, but it did not change the fact that he had still left. What if he would go on to do it again? It wasn't just you that you had to think about anymore, it was the life you were bringing into this cruel world. No matter how much you loved him, how much he had hurt you too, you had to put your child first.
"Then you will be. But you can't go back and fourth."
"I won't. I'll make sure to be there, I'll make sure to give them everything that I can," he promised, sincerity lacing his gruff voice.
"We should talk more about this when I've finished. Can you be at mine at eight?"
Work still had to be done, and it would be best to discuss this more thoroughly in a private environment. There was no doubt that you would be tired at that time, but you could not put this conversation off as you feared that if you did that for too long, it would never end up happening.
He nodded his head, "see you soon Y/N."
You watched as he retreated from the room, heading back through the shop he had entered through.
"You too, Azriel."
･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.
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Other Ships Masterlist (Gwynriel, Elucien, Other)
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The Bond - azriel
azriel x gn reader
genre: angst to fluff
warnings: blood, cursing, kidnapping
The reader is a healer & Rhysand's sister during the human versus fae war 500 years before acotar takes place
The silence on the battlefield was mind-numbing, broken only by the sounds of birds sweeping across the field of corpses.
Carefully I picked my across the ground, my boots squelching with each footstep on the damp dirt. Not unlike the vultures circling above the mounds of bodies, I too sifted through the deceased. The Fae corpses I left with markers for the gravediggers to retrieve, and for those who still clung to life I did my best to safe. With soothing magic, I eased the path of those near the end of this life.
The humans I passed over – their wide eyes pleading and fingers grasping at the heels of my boots. It was a cruel practice, and their faces would haunt me late at night, but I knew greeting death here would be far better than whatever life they might find in the Fae encampment as a prisoner, prey, or someone's disposable toy.
Besides, we were at war.
My gaze drifted back to the ocean of tents stretching as far I could see just as a unit of Illyrians took to the skies. Soul aching, I turned back to my work, my body carrying on automatically even as my mind drifted towards the clouds.
Azriel and Cassian searched me out once the fighting was over, relief washing over their features as our gazes met across the medical tent, The trio did this after every battle and although it warmed my heart, I did not know how to tell them the ridiculousness of it. They were the ones fighting on the frontlines, I was just a healer in a tent miles from the clash. It should be the other way around.
I peered around their shoulders waiting for Rhysand to appear from the crowd. Only once I caught a clear glimpse of their faces did my heart sink. The two grim-faced Illyrians made their way across the tent as quickly and unobtrusively as their large frames allowed.
Scrubbing my hands clean in a nearby tub, I left my patient in the hands of an assistant and rushed to meet them halfway. Sweeping my gaze across their mud-splattered, blood-covered armor I immediately began triaging the wounds I found just as I had done for each soldier that entered the tent. It was purely on instinct after the large number of consecutive hours spent deep in my work under the same canvas ceiling. But other than a few shallow cuts and scrapes they seemed fine, and any blood on them smelled human.
Azriel reached me first, his hand drifting towards me before he pulled it back to his side, his face turning away quickly. It stung and I wanted nothing more than to reach out and make sure he really was okay, but no – now was not the time to brood over past mistakes choices or hurt feelings.
I pinned my gaze on Cassian. "Where's Rhysand?"
Our last conversation was hours ago. Cassian and Az had left to prepare search parties and I was here. Left behind as usual. And I let them because I knew what none of us were saying: if Rhysand was dead i was the last of my family line. They ignored my pleas using the excuse that it was too dangerous and my expertise was needed here.
However as soon as they left the other healers quickly pushed me from the tent once it became clear I was in no stable place of mind to focus in the high-stress environment. It bothered me less than being left alone because it was true. But it was impossible to focus when my heart thoughts were miles away.
Wandering in the direction I had not yet searched, I found myself in a copse of trees kneeling in the mud at the side of a deceased Illyrian. Heart in my throat, I gently rolled the body onto its side.
His dark eyes, blank and clouded, are the last thing I would remember.
The first thing I noticed was the cold. It was bone chilling, blood-freezing – the sort of cold I remembered from my childhood visits to the Illyrian mountains. The type of bitter chill Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian had grown up in.
Cassian used to laugh at me while I shivered beneath the protection of Azriel's coat and Rhys's magic. He would offer me his body warmth to warm me up with a few flirtatious winks until my brother would hit him.
I shivered as the memories faded, the iron chains around my wrists and ankles clashing in an awful grating noise as I folded my body in on itself to keep in as much body heat as possible.
A short distance from me a group of human soldiers clustered around a fire turned to look in my direction. Seeing me conscious, one of them rose to their feet and ducked inside a tent, returning quickly with a tall man. With his decorated uniform and the cleanliness of his hands I knew he was the man in charge.
He strode with purpose around the firepit, coming to a stop in front of my face. Somehow he managed to look down on me and still keep the narcissistic tilt of his chin. "You're one of those..." He paused and from the look on his face I wondered if he would be sick right there on his shiny boots. "...Fae healers, yes?"
Questioning what sort of plan he was brewing I stared at him, the miserable cold and the lingering shock making it hard to form coherent, connecting thoughts.
He frowned, forcing me to roll onto my back with a hard nudge from his boot. "You live or die at my word, animal. Remember this before you answer dishonestly."
I licked my lips, begging my voice not to break as I responded honestly – yes. My powers had always been inclined towards medicine much to the chagrin of my warrior father.
The leader tilted his head in my direction and the two soldiers hauled me to my feet by my armpits. They half dragged, half walked me across the camp to a thick group of trees where a lone figure knelt strung up between trees, head bowed, Illyrian wings tucked tightly.
My captors let go of me, dropping me unceremoniously into the dirt before my High Lord, my brother, my blood.
Every inch of exposed skin was covered in his own blood – the smell was overwhelming – and a steady stream of droplets fell to the earth and splattered on the damp leaves below. Smeared with mud and blood, the stark lines of the tattoos inked above his knees seemed to mock us both.
Wild and red-hot anger rumbled through me, heating my skin, and warm tears blurred my vision. I wanted to rip them all apart for what they had done and stain the leaves a brighter, fresh shade of red.
Reining in the wave of emotions I hid them deep in my heart – somewhere the mortals would never find. They were fond of saying we were heartless creatures.
Control yourself. Think. Find a way out. At the least, give Azriel and Cassian time to find you. For Rhysand.
Do it for your family.
The leader's footfalls felt like eternity as he approached Rhysand.
Would he see any resemblance between us? Or did he already know?
Rhysand's eyes fluttered open, and a sigh of relief slipped from my mouth before I could stop it. He was alive.
He blinked as our eyes met, alarm flaring through the familiar violet. Snarling at the man in front of him, the chains rattled as his arms strained against their iron fetters.
"Keep this Fae alive," The man commanded me, gripping Rhysand's chin tightly to stop his movement, "and he will keep you alive in turn by answering our questions." Releasing his grip, another soldier took his place in front of my brother.
Rhys had always been the protective older brother – even forcing Azriel and Cassian to promise never to court me. His exact words were, "Unless you're mates, I never want to see either of your dirty paws touching Y/N."
My stomach rolled as the torturer began sorting through his tools.
Rhys, it is my turn to protect you.
I'll find us a way out of here and then we'll find our family.
We will end this ridiculous war and go home.
I wanted us all to be together again one last time. I dreamed about our home and Velaris every night and daydreamed so often it was bleeding my days and real memories together.
I wanted to hear Cassian's laughter. With the war it had been too long since I saw real light fill his eyes.
I wanted to watch Rhysand change the Night Court and then the world.
I wanted to be by Morrigan's side as she grew and healed in the real Night Court - the Court of Dreams.
I just wanted Azriel to take my hand.
The only time I had with Rhysand was usually after a particularly vicious session. As awful as it was I looked forward to tending to his wounds, because then at least I knew he was not bleeding out alone in the frozen forest.
That was the only time I had with him. Unless I needed to relieve myself, I was left in a tent, forced to listen to everything they inflicted on him. Alone with my thoughts I thought up a hundred plans, scenarios, strategies, but the chains never came off, there was never an attack by our forces, and the guards would beat me unconscious if I spoke a single word.
I tried many times.
The two of us flirted with a dangerous line, death hovering around every sun rise. Rhysand literally, his life force waning with each new day under the cruel hands of the soldiers. For me, I could see the decision to rid the camp of its two fae prisoners lingering in the leader's eyes each time Rhys's answers became less and less satisfying. We were running out of time.
I wanted to see Azriel one more time.
I wish he had taken my hand just once.
Forget the bond, we should have run away and saw the world like we talked about a hundred times.
Where are you, Azriel?
I thought I was still dreaming as my eyes watched the back of the tent open and Azriel slipped soundlessly inside. Struck mute, silent tears streamed down my face. His small smile was so tender, so soft, I thought I would break as his hand gently cupped my face. There were so many things I wanted to say.
He raised my hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the palm that left my heart barely beating. I do not think my voice would work if I tried to speak.
"Rhysand." He murmured, his shadows swirling to protect us from eavesdropping ears.
Wordlessly, I pointed towards the spot they kept Rhysand bound. He nodded, slowly releasing my hand. Before he could pull away, I gripped his hand with both of mine. Please don't go.
"I'm coming back to you," He promised, leaving a soul-rending kiss on my forehead. His thumb stroked my cheekbone, smudging the salty tears and grime on my skin. "And then not even you will be able to keep me from your side."
He pulled his hand from my grip and I watched him and his shadows fade into the darkness. He glanced back once, and in his hazel irises I saw reflected the same empty pain I felt.
I laid down, alone once more, overanalyzing every sound I heard until suddenly the camp roared to life with sounds of battle and soon Azriel was standing in the entrance, a pair of keys jingling in one hand.
He started with the manacles on my wrists, his touch careful against the raw skin as he moved on to the chains around my feet. I stood, taking his offered hand and following him from the tent into the night air.
Around us the humans were quickly failing under the night of the Far and Azriel’s grip on me was secure, but my thoughts raced as we passed tent after tent, and eventually I stopped moving altogether.
"Azriel," I called his name quietly, our joined hands tugging him to a stop. He turned to face me, his brow furrowed in question. I knew we were in the middle of a rescue mission, a war, and I was filthy, and this was quite possibly the worst time to talk about anything, but I could not let us go back to whatever we were before.
Whatever limbo from hell that was.
I stepped closer, giving him time to pull away before placing my mouth on his. I wound my fingers in his hair; his hands settling on my waist before drifting to my back as he pulled me even closer.
The mating bond snapped into place quietly, like it was pretending to have been there all along. It was unlike anything I could imagine and yet somehow everything I ever dreamed of. The soul I felt connected to mine I already knew as well as my own. It was vast and shadowed and warm and familiar – home. It was Azriel.
I heard someone groan and disentangled myself from Azriel long enough to see Rhysand standing. Leaning on Cassian's shoulder, his tired violet eyes flickering in the light of the rising sun, but standing.
He was okay. We were okay. They had come for us.
I smiled at Cassian, his smile infectious.
Azriel growled in warning as Cassian took a step in my direction, his grip on me tightening.
Cassian's mouth twisted into a smirk and Rhysand groaned, his nose wrinkling, "I cannot wait for this phase to be over and I'm not sure whether to be extremely happy or completely disgusted by that."
Sorry for going MIA! My excuses: traveled across the country, was moving around living in my car for a few weeks, had to get a new phone (lost the requests which is super fun and cool). I'm much more stable now so I should have more time to write :)
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Not requested but I wanted to do a one shot about azriel taking care of his mate during her cycle. I just feel like he would be THE best and THE most caring and understanding person to walk on the earth. Hope you enjoy :)
Warnings: none just fluff.
A/n: I didn’t proof read so there will be some mistakes, I’m sorry.
It hurted so bad.
You could not focus anywhere but the piercing pain on your lower stomach.
Yes, both, Feyre and mor had warned you, they told you about how painful your cycle would be. At first you thought it was just an exaggeration, but when Mor said that there were days where she couldn’t even stand up or even sleep from the pain you couldn’t help the terror that washed through you.
You knew it was just your hormones but you couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed when azriel hadn’t came home, your cycle had started a couple of hours ago, Azriel had already left and you didn’t feel like distracting him from work. You also knew that Azriel’s guilt would eat him alive if he came home and saw you in this state. He always knew when your cycle was on its way, when you asked him he said something about his shadows noticing the change in your body temperature.
When you realize that Azriel had about two more hours of work before coming home your brushed a uncomfortable pained feeling through the bond hoping that he would realize.
You were curled up on the couch, unable to stand up and walk to yours and your mates shared bedroom when you heard the front door open and close. At first you were confused, it was too early for azriel to be home and the only person who had keys for your apartment was Feyre - the only person you trusted to respect your privacy- but you doubted Feyre would come.
“Love, I’m back” a too soft voice said and you glanced towards the door, only to see your mates hulking figure walking towards where you were currently laid. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier? How do you feel?”
“Hey. you were busy” you murmured softly, the sound barely audible.
“Oh love” he sighted and sat on the edge of the couch, his hand sliding on your lower stomach, staying there. “I brought you pastries”
“Really?” You widened your eyes excitedly. He chuckled “yeah, really”. He helped you sit properly on the couch and opened the bag, revealing a strawberry pastry (your favourite).
“I’m gonna go and run you bath, okey?” You nodded and he kissed your temple stroking your head lightly.
Once you ate, Azriel was back, he picked you up and carried you to the bathroom. Once you both bathed together he helped you dress up and laid you on the bed “I’ll be back soon okey?” He said.
He left the room only to come back five minutes later with tea and a book, the book you were currently reading. “Drink” he urged as you picked the mug and took a sip. “It will help with the pain, I travelled to the day court a couple of months ago and a healer there told me that this would helped, it’s specifically for your cycle, it will help ease the pain” you smiled softly “thank you”
While you drunk the tea, he read you the book. You couldn’t help but smile at how caring he was being- not that it was the first time- but it never failed to make you smile.
Once you finished, Azriel decide that it would be better if you slept. He closed the book and gathered you in his arms “thank you Azriel, for everything” you murmured as you buried your head deeper on his chest. “I love you” he said before kissing the top of your head.
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Frenzy [ Elucien ]
Prompt: Elain and Lucien like to spend their yearly mating anniversary fully wrapped in each other, sinking into a frenzy. Inspired by this and this.
Rating: 🌶🌶🌶🌶— I will preface this by saying I have not written smut in quite some time and really went for it with my otp. They deserve it.
Tagging: @vanserrasvalkyrie | @helion-ism | @chloepereyra | @queen-hypaxia | @asteria-of-mars | @princessofmerchants | @foxboylucien | @gingerwritess | @gwyns | @foxybananaaaz | @tealnymph24 | @live-the-fangirl-life |
Elain shuddered, her body slick with sweat as Lucien’s fingers went in, out, in, out, his pacing slow, almost lazy.
His head was settled on her inner thigh and he kissed it gently then let his eyes flicker up to hers.
“Please.” she whispered softly, her hand gripping his sinful one, the other fisted in the sheets.
“I don’t think you can handle any more, dove.” he whispered with a smile. “You’re trembling all over.”
“You’re so close. Please kiss me there.” she whined. “Please kiss me everywhere.”
Lucien chuckled, content to just sit back and watch her body tremor beneath him, his fingers keeping their lazy pace, her juices coated them.
“What if I don’t want to just kiss you?” he whispered against her skin. “What if I want to devour you whole?”
Elain bucked up her hips, a soft mewl slipping from her lips and she opened her knees wider.
“Please.” her pleading an almost sob. He had been torturing her for what felt like hours — days, leaving her on the edge and always so close but never letting her fall. He hadn’t even fucked her yet. It was only his fingers and that blessed tongue.
“How do you want me then?” he whispered again, his eyes never leaving her face, his free hand now tracing softly up her body. Between the valley of her breasts, around the delicate swell of them.
“In any way you’ll have me.” she breathed desperately.
“Such a good girl, aren’t you?” he said sensually, his low tone skating over her skin, goosebumps erupting all over her. “You’re just so cooperative. How should I reward you?”
“Anything?” he asked, a smirk forming as he chuckled darkly.
“Any way you want me, please.”
“That’s so dangerous to say, pet.” Lucien said, his thumb teasing her bundle of nerves as his fingers went even slower. “I could do so much.”
“Just please, please, please — oh.”
For Lucien had removed his fingers and buried his tongue into her, earning him a loud enough moan, he was sure the neighbors four houses down had heard.
He feasted on her, his arm pinning her waist down to the bed as he licked and sucked, his tongue diving deep into her. He groaned into her, the taste of her sweetness causing his hips to roll into their bed as her fingers tangled into his hair and yanked.
“Yes, yes, oh yes.” Elain chanted, her back arching off the bed. “Please let me come — I’m almost there.”
Lucien’s head shot up and she let out a cry of outrage, her body twitching desperately underneath him. “No.” he ordered and shifted up. “You will come with me buried inside you or you don’t come at all.”
Without warning, he pulled her by the hips, bringing the hot center of her to his mouth and again, Lucien let his tongue delve into her, traveling in and out then sliding to her clit and back, his pace torturous as Elain’s legs trembled around his shoulders. He kissed her noisily then pulled back, dropping her on the bed and immediately flipping her over.
Pulling her by her hips closer to him, Lucien ran a hand down Elain’s back as she eagerly spread her legs for him, shuddering as he smacked her ass. “I want you like this, on all fours with my cock buried deep in you, little dove.” he said, his chest to her back as he whispered in her ear, a hand gently gripping her jaw. He kissed the shell of her ear and she practically panted in response. “Will you have me this way?”
“Gods, yes.” she choked out, arching her hips higher for him to take — to claim.
He chuckled darkly, the octave of his voice dropping even lower as he squeezed her ass and said again, “Such a good girl.”
He kissed her shoulder then slid his other hand down to her center, teasing her once more before his hand wrapped around his cock, rubbing it slowly. Lucien teased her opening with the tip of his shaft, his smirk wicked as Elain let out a string of filthy curses. He pushed her down by the shoulders and agonizingly slow, slid just an inch into her before pulling out.
“Lucien, please.” her begging continued, and a soft laugh slipped from his lips.
“I do like it when you beg.” he said and because he could no longer handle not being buried in her, because her body was shuddering so deliciously beneath him, Lucien obliged.
He thrust into her fully, holding still as Elain let out a ragged moan. He allowed her a few seconds to feel him fill her up before pulling out completely then thrusting in hard once more.
Elain groaned beneath him, hands fisted in the sheets as she bucked back into him, hoping — praying for him to give her what she desperately wanted. For him to start moving but he held still.
“How much more do I have to beg?” she whined, near sobbing, turning her head to glance at him over her shoulder.
Lucien’s grin was sinful as he gently moved her hair to the side and leaned down to leave featherlike kisses along her spine until he was near her ear once more.
“Beg me one more time, Elain.” he said sweetly, his hands tightening on her hips. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want you to please fuck me.”
“So hard I can’t move properly for the next three days.”
“That hard, hm?”
“Hard enough that everyone in this damn city will know exactly what we’re doing and who is making me moan this way.” she whispered desperately.
“And who is going to make you moan this way?” he asked, rolling his hips ever so slightly, leaving no space between their bodies. “Who is going to make you come?”
“You.” she rasped. “Only you.”
“That’s right.” he whispered and pulled out slowly for the last time. “You are mine. And I am yours. Mate.”
Lucien finally thrust his cock into her hard, filling her to the hilt and Elain let out a broken moan as Lucien began at a relentless pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room and Elain could do nothing but moan and whine and whimper enthusiastically as he filled and stretched her, driving into her body over and over again. His grip on her hips tightened enough to leave a mark as he pulled her into him, thrusting deeper.
Elain welcomed the roll of his hips and thrust back into him, matching his pace as she panted softly.
“You’re so pretty when you’re getting fucked by my cock, my love.” he grunted, and Elain flashed him a coy smile over her shoulder as her breath quickened.
“I — feel so pretty when I’m — I’m getting fucked by your cock, my love.” she replied with a breathless giggle and Lucien grinned.
His hand wrapped around her lovely throat and Lucien pulled her up, her back against his chest as he thrust up into her harder, hitting deeper. His grip tightened gently around her throat and Elain’s moan was laced in a sob as he drove into her, his pace quickening, sinking into a frantic rhythm that had Elain’s heart beating wildly.
“Lucien I’m almost —” she whimpered loudly, biting her lip as her eyes rolled back, her gasps getting louder, and her body shivered as he continued to hit the deepest spot in her.
“I know, dove.” he replied, his voice husky. His thumb caressed her throat lightly as his grip tightened a fraction. “I can hear your heart.”
“And I can hear yours.” she replied, her voice a strained whimper and Lucien thrust harder.
“Then come undone for me, Elain.” he growled. “Come all over my cock.”
And it was the dominance in his demand that finally sent her over the edge.
Elain let out a strangled cry as her walls tightened around him and her sweet release surged through her body. Lucien let go of her throat and pushed her body down, gripping her hips tightly again as his thrusts became more frantic, his grunts low and rough as Elain shuddered through her climax.
“Come inside me.” she breathed out as she slipped a hand beneath her to rub at her swollen clit. “I want you to fill me up. Drip out of me.”
“Fuck.” Lucien groaned and with a string of curses slipping from his lips, he set an even more brutal pace, Elain’s little whimpers filling the room in time with his wild thrusts.
The sight of her beneath him, her body eagerly taking all that he gave her while still touching herself and whining so beautifully was too much for Lucien and finally, he came undone.
Panting, he thrust more slowly as he emptied himself in her, and the feeling of her silken walls still clenching around him, milking him into her, had him rolling his eyes back. He breathed shakily as his hips still rolled slowly, trying to come down from this high. Even with her body still trembling beneath him, unable to fully move, Elain tried to arch her hips further for him, mewling needily as his seed started to spill out of her.
A moment passed between the two of them panting heavily before Lucien pulled out of her, dragging his seed with him. He leaned down with a breathy smirk and placed a kiss on the center of her spine, squeezing her ass. “You did so good, baby.” his voice low as she hummed in pleasure and Lucien’s expression went feral at the sight of his seed trickling out of her. “You did so good and you look so good with my come dripping out of you.”
“I love your come dripping out of me.” she whispered hoarsely and arched her hips up again for him, wiggling slightly. “I always like it when you’re on me and in me and all over me.”
Chuckling, Lucien smacked her ass again, earning him a throaty moan from Elain before she slowly turned over.
Lucien watched with delight as she spread her legs widely for him, her hand traveling to her center and all his seed still spilling out of her. Without breaking eye contact with him, Elain let her fingers delicately touch herself, rubbing and spreading his come all over her cunt.
With a needy gasp, she let her hand travel higher, spreading his seed all over her stomach and smearing it up and around her breasts. Her eyes never leaving his, she brought a finger laced with his come to her mouth and sucked noisily then let it find its way back to her folds, rubbing his come into her with a sweet little cry, squeezing a breast with the other.
Lucien immediately started to harden at the sight, and he closed his eyes, settling on his knees across from her. Licking his lips, his hand gripped his cock and slowly started to pump.
When he opened them again, he found Elain’s eyes hooded and cheeks flushed with desire as she watched him. “You aren’t satisfied with what we just did, pet? You think you can just touch yourself like that without me saying so?” he demanded quietly, and Elain quivered in need, her hand still teasing her cunt.
“I want more.” she whispered and reached out to him with her free hand. “I always want more of you.”
Grabbing both of her hands, Lucien yanked Elain up as she squealed, and he crashed his lips into hers. She melted into him, their lips making up for the lost time away from each other and Elain moaned into his mouth.
Hand fisting into her hair, Lucien bit her lower lip and groaned when her tongue brushed against his. He pulled back, breathing heavily as he looked at his mate, soft pants slipping from her swollen lips and his gaze traveled over her body covered in him.
“You want more of me?” he asked, his voice low and Elain arched her chest, breasts peaked as she nodded quickly. “Good, because you touching yourself like that and spreading me all over you makes me want my cock in that pretty mouth of yours really badly. Think you can suck me good, little dove?”
“Yes, my love. Yes.”
“You really want to suck my cock don’t you, my love?” he said gently, though a dark chuckle laced his words, his fingers tightening in her hair.
“It’s all I ever want.” she whispered eagerly, and Lucien’s grin was a feral one as Elain surged forward and started planting kisses down his chest, even with his hand still fisted in her hair.
Lucien growled softly and sat back on his knees, pulling her down until she was eye to eye with his hardened length. Elain let out an excited whimper, her tongue already darting out to lick her lips as Lucien guided her with his hand.
“Suck.” was his only command and Elain didn’t need to be told twice, taking him in her mouth.
She moaned in delight and Lucien rolled his head back as she swirled her tongue around him, his precome already sliding down her throat. Elain looked up at him, slowly sliding his length out of her mouth until her tongue circled just the tip, before she moaned softly again, taking more of him. Her hand slid to pump what didn’t fit in her mouth and when the tip of him hit the back of her throat, she groaned at the sensation.
Lucien let out a low grunt, his grip on her hair tightening as she quickened her pace, squeezing him a little harder. Biting his lip, he slid his hand down her body until it was between her legs, rubbing her cunt to the rhythm of her bobbing.
Elain let out a desperately filthy noise, her hips grinding against his fingers and she hummed, sucking him harder.
“You’re such a dirty girl, aren’t you?” he grounded out, his hips thrusting slightly as she hollowed her cheeks and hummed again, pumped him in her mouth. “Trying to ride my fingers while my cock is in your mouth? I can’t wait until my come is dripping out of your mouth next.”
Her eyes rolled back in her head as the words caused a fire to course through her. Her mouth bobbed as he rolled his hips, the hand fisting her hair guiding her back and forth. Soft gasps slipped from Elain’s mouth as he pumped himself inside her mouth, gladly taking as much of him as she could, especially as his pace started to quicken. Elain’s hand squeezed him hard, letting her teeth gently scrape against his length causing Lucien to curse and jerk into her.
“Close.” he groaned, his fingers quickening on her cunt and in return, Elain’s tongue swirled around him and she sucked harder. Glancing up at him again, Elain fingers dug into his hip to get his attention. Lucien looked down and cursed profusely as she smiled around his cock, grinding her hips into his fingers. The giggle that followed vibrated through Lucien and the very loose control he had on himself snapped. Lucien let out a low grunt, throwing his head back, fisting both hands into her hair now and held her against him as he thrust, his release surging through him.
Elain let out a pleased hum as she tried to swallow every bit of him, some dripping out of her mouth as Lucien had wanted and her eyes never left his face as he slowed the roll of his hips. Breathing heavily, Lucien finally looked down, gently releasing her hair and brushing it back. Elain slowly released him from her mouth with a pop, her hand still gently pumping him, the remainder of his seed spilling on her hand.
She smiled coyly at him and kissed the tip, causing Lucien to shudder this time. He gazed at her fondly then reached out and removed her hand from his length, his thumb delicately wiping at her chin.
“A masterpiece.” he whispered, and Elain preened under his touch.
“Yours.” was her whisper in return.
Lucien leaned in close and kissed each eyelid softly. “Wait here.” was all he said as he slipped from their bed and all Elain could do was admire his magnificent body and lick her lips, catching her breath. He returned with a warm washcloth and with tender touches, Lucien cleaned her up, her eyes watching him adoringly.
He finished and then gently pulled her down over him as he relaxed back into their bed, both of their heartbeats still slightly erratic. Elain shuddered happily as he traced his hands all over her back, squeezing her ass as he went then back up. Without saying a word, he brushed her hair back and kissed her slightly swollen lips tenderly.
Elain arched into him, kissing him with fervor, her hands gliding across his strong body feverishly until he pulled back and chuckled at her eagerness.
“Was that good for you, my love?” she whispered.
“It was excellent, my naughty girl.” he whispered to her, pulling her face closer to him and leaving a trail of kisses on her jawline. “Was it good for you? Are you okay, my love?”
She grinned at him, her cheeks flushing as she wrapped her legs with his. “I’m perfect. Very satisfied.”
Lucien chuckled, his hands sliding down her legs. “Is that so? You didn’t get to finish the second time before I did though.” he said softly, his fingers still trailing up and down her body. For he couldn’t stop touching her and she couldn’t stop touching him.
The primal urge of the mating bond always lit a flame especially hot this time of year but the well of affection and love they had for each other always made it even more intense.
“I can think of a way for you to make it up for me.” she said with a grin.
“So can I.” he growled playfully and Elain giggled. “I was thinking about making you come all over my face so I can suffocate happily but if you have other ideas...”
She flushed in delight. “I thought you got enough of a taste of me already?”
“I could spend an eternity between your legs and never have enough.” he said huskily and Elain shivered with another giggle.
“Let me have you at my mercy for a little while then.” she whispered and with a seductive smile, she rolled over and slowly straddled him, leaning back slightly to give him the perfect view of where she wanted his mouth to be next. “And after I’m done tormenting you, you can do whatever else you want with me.”
Lucien’s smirk was wolffish. “Is that so, pet?” He said lowly, his hands traveled down her sides and back up to squeeze her breasts firmly causing Elain’s eyes to flutter shut for a moment. “Whatever else I want?”
Elain bit her lip, the sensation of his hands on her already igniting the urge in her body again. “I have nowhere else to be than at your mercy.” She replied and looked him in the eyes as she licked her lip. “...What do you say?”
Lucien’s only response was a growl as he grabbed her by the hips and pulled her right down onto his sinful mouth without a warning. She arched into his tongue with a loud cry and knew that whatever day and time they finished thoroughly loving each other, movement of any kind would be strictly off the table.
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summary: a story between the forgotten vanserra sister and her mate, the shadowsinger of the night court.
pairing: azriel x vanserra oc
word count: 5.4k
series warnings: graphic sexual assault, mental illness, graphic violence, falling in love, soft sex, misogyny, mentions/recalling of past rape, right person-wrong time, tragic love story, fluff.
notes: haha not that it's been three months of anything...but i'm back w another chapter. after this one, shit hits the FAN. please leave comments and REBLOG. REBLOG. REBLOG.
That’s what she had always been and would continue to be.
“Freya!” She heard her mother gasp. She blinked - once, twice, until the sharp pain in her finger sunk into her bones.
“Get your head out of the clouds and be careful, child.” Odessa rushed to grab the napkin that sat at her side, standing up from her chair to kneel in front of her daughter. Freya’s eyebrows scrunched as her mother took the sewing needle from her pointer finger, dabbing it with the orange cloth.
A dreamer, yes. But at what cost? Her finger it would seem, would pay the price for her lofty thoughts.
“I’m sorry mother I was-,”
“Dreaming,” The older fae cut her off. “I know, I know.” Freya bent her head and smiled, trying to conceal it from her mothers view.
There was silence for multiple minutes until Odessa asked, “Where were you this time?” Freya’s smile brightened at the question, always happy to answer any and every question about her dreams.
“The cabin,” She said matter-of-factly. Ever since she was little, she would dream of this cabin. It happened every few months or so, and everytime she dreamt of it the scene was the same. It was a simple wooden structure. There were bright yellow curtains hanging on the two windows in the front of the house, as well as a raised porch that it sat on. She had never been able to go inside of it during her daydreams, but she had imagined what it would look like if she did. It laid in the middle of a field, much unlike the redwoods that sprawled over the expanse of the autumn court.
The cabin was everything that her life wasn't. Quaint, quiet, and peaceful.
“Of course you were,” Odessa said with a smile, continuing to stitch her fabric.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” The young woman grumbled, aggressively stabbing her own cloth with her needle, careful to not impale her finger like she had just done.
“Nothing,” Her mother shook her head. She took note of the way Freya cut through her fabric and added, “You need to stop spending so much time with your brothers.” The ones that cared enough to spend time with her at least.
Neels and Finnagan never spent time with the other six siblings to begin with, preferring the company of each other instead. Damon was present enough in Freya’s life to where they shared somewhat of a familial bond. The rest of the Vanserra boys made a point to be involved in the upbringing of their littlest siblings, Eris leading the charge. Most of the boys shared little kind feelings towards her twin, but Freya was the apple of their eye.
The moon, they liked to call her.
For their life was no fairytale, they did not exist in the sun or day with the rest of the creatures of this world. They only knew darkness, the cold unyielding night that was their lives. But then she was born and added a light. A soft glow that managed to ease the coldest of their hearts.
“Have you thought of what you might want for your birthday?” Odessa asked. The subject of Freya’s upcoming eighteenth birthday had been a...touchy subject amongst the other members of the Vanserra family. It was a slow, brutal tourture, watching Freya grow up like a pig being led to the slaughter house. Almost all of the siblings had begged Beron at some point to delay her inevitable shipment to the highest bidder, but their words did little to sway his mind.
“No, not yet.” She wasn’t stupid, even though she loved to act like she was. She saw the way her mother hesitated to ask her the question, and saw the way her hands clenched on the edge of the cross stitch board. Not wanting to leave the conversation like that, Freya said “But I’ll let you know when I do.”
Two months, she had two months until her birthday. She didn’t know how much time she’d have left at the Forest House after that day, so she intended to make these next couple months count.
“Can I go now? I’ve finished just like you told me to.” Indeed she had, Odessa noted as she looked over to see her daughter's finished piece.
“When you see your Eris, tell him that I would like to speak with him.” Freya nodded, rushing to pick up her materials and put them away in her carrier. There was little time she had outside of lessons with her mother and servants, but when she did have free time she often spent it with her older brothers.
“Thank you mama. I’ll see you for dinner!” Freya called as she hurriedly walked back into the estate. Two guards flanked her the second she stepped inside, a silent presence as she flitted through the halls that lead towards her bedroom. She slyly greeted servants as she went, waving and offering kind smiles. She wasn’t supposed to acknowledge them as a member of the royal family. According to her father and brothers, they were no better than dogs for them to use as they pleased.
She dumped the materials on her desk the second she entered her room, her shoulders dropping in time with the loud clang that the metal in her bag made against her old wooden desk. Not wanting to waste any more of the day than she already had, she ran herself a quick bath. As much as she enjoyed stupidly twiddling her thumbs with her equally bored mother in the courtyard, Freya had better things to do with her day.
She changed into a looser maroon dress that fell to her ankles, as well as a pair of delicate flats. Beron had forbidden her to wear boots, pants, or shirts outside of her room. The only articles of clothing she owned that was not bought and tailored for her was a pair of boots Lucien had gifted her for her sixteenth birthday, a black tunic and a pair of brown riding pants, both of which had been another gift from Eris for the fall harvest. Grabbing her leather satchel, gifted to her by Johan, she stuffed the three items into her bag. She layered a picnic blanket on top so as to not rouse suspicion before setting out again.
Loud voices turned to hushed whispers as she stepped out into the hall. Her two guards had been caught in a conversation, or scolding by the looks of it, with the eldest Vanserra child.
“Prince Eris, we are under orders from our High Lord.” Ajax said. He had always been Freya’s favorite guard, he had been with her since before her memory served. He was the most lenient, if only because he enjoyed seeing that rare smile grace her features. Tolin was her other personal guard. He was much more strict than Ajax, but only because he wished to see the princess unharmed.
Beron had never laid hands on her before, and Tolin would make damn sure it stayed that way.
“Good for you. Freya, let's go.” Her eldest brother beckoned her to him with an impatient crook of his pointer finger. There was always an argument when Eris came to retrieve her. Halfhearted on her guards’ part, but an argument nonetheless.
“Be back before dinner,” Tolin muttered as Freya was yanked away from them by Eris. She nodded her head and smiled towards the male before the scene in front of her disappeared.
When her feet touched the ground again she was standing outside of Eris’s personal residence. All the boys had at least one house that they managed to hide from their father, Eris’s was the most popular.
“Can you tell your glorified babysitters to stop pestering me about father’s bullshit orders everytime I come to retrive you?” Freya smiled.
“Oh, but it's so fun to see how much they aggravate you.”
“Not to me it's not, you little minx.” Eris ruffled her straight hair, earning him a grunt and something else about how long it had taken to fix her hair that morning. Straight only because the curls she had been gifted by her father had been burned out by a flame many years ago. Eris had always wondered what she would have looked like with fiery red hair that sat around her head like a halo.
The first thing Freya did upon crashing the threshold into the house was run to the large bathroom on the first floor. Calling it a house would be too modest, for the foyer they were standing in said the exact opposite. But somehow, in his two hundred years or some odd years of living, Eris had managed to turn the grandeur estate into a place fit for a family.
After quickly relieving herself, the second order of business Freya had to attend to was raiding the kitchen. It was always stocked with her favorites, and Lucien’s. Who, speaking of the devil, was eating her can of peaches, perched atop the counter looking for all the world like he belonged there.
“Those were for me,” Freya whined as she approached him, readying to snatch the jar out of his hand. Lucien only flashed her that oh-so-aggravating smirk of his and held the can above his head, out of her reach.
“That's the best you got? Try harder next time,” He mocked, sliding a peach slice into his mouth. Lucien nearly shit himself when he saw the first tear cascade down Freya’s face.
The little bitch, he thought as he watched his twin burst out into tears. Quicker than he could stop her she moved behind him to stick her hand under the faucet. She dunked her face underneath the water, effectively soaking the top of her head.
“No. Freya. Stop it.” If Eris heard her. No, when Eris heard her, he was sure to have Lucien's head for making his favorite sibling cry.
Maybe he hadn’t heard. Lucien rationalized, maybe he’s occupied with something.
“What the hell happened. I leave for two seconds and,” Eris had been yelling at them before he had even set foot in the kitchen, and he cut himself off at what he saw. Lucien, sitting on the counter with a jar of peaches raised above his head. And Freya drenched standing beneath him.
“Out.” Eris barked at Lucien.
“No. Hey, I didn’t even do anything. I swear she just came in here and-,”
“Out, you fucking idiot. Don’t make me tell you again.” Eris wasn’t looking at him as he spoke, for he had already tucked Freya to his chest and started to dry her soaked head with a towel. Lucien scowled as he trudged out of the kitchen to find another room in the house to inhabit. Freya couldn’t help the small smirk that came to her face as she watched her brother leave, feeling more than satisfied with herself and her little performance.
“You can stop sniffling now, I get it.” Eris said when he was sure Lucien was out of hearing range. Freya laughed, taking the towel he had been using to dry her out of his hands to clean herself.
“That was fun.” Yes, tormenting her twin had become her favorite pastime recently. As her boredom grew with each day, so did her ambitiousness around her brothers.
“I think he might’ve pissed himself a bit. You terrified the poor lad.”
“He’ll live.” Eris smiled.
“I hid another can for you on the lowest level of the pantry. Take it up to your room.” Freya squealed with glee, clapped her hands together and dashed towards the cupboard, returning to Eris with a can of peaches in her hand and a bright smile on her face. He handed her a spoon before motioning with his head to the staircase that led to the upper three levels of the house. Freya took care not to run into Lucien again as she made her way to her room.
When she was younger, Eris had let her choose and design her room in the house. It was one of the first times she had ever been able to choose what she wanted, even if it was over something as simple as choosing a chest of drawers to store her clothes in. The room was beautiful, with a balcony and a bathroom built into it. Her other brothers always gave her shit for the fact that she was the only one with an en suite bathroom, and when they asked Eris about it he told them that it wouldn’t be fair for her to have to share it with the rest of the animals she was related to.
“Did Lucien steal your peaches again?” A voice asked from the doorway of the room.
“Of course he did. Eris saved me another can.”
“Of course he did,” Aliath said as he walked to the balcony.
“Is there a reason for this impromptu visit?” Freya asked as she took a sip of the tea she had poured for herself. She made sure to keep a stash of leaves in her room at all times. It was fairly easy to make considering the fact that she could boil whenever she wanted thanks to the small amount of firepower she had inherited from her mother.
“I see your vocabulary lessons are going smoothly. Yes, there was, actually.” He reached into his jacket to pull out a rectangular box.
“Happy Early Birthday, sister.” Freya smiled as she took the box from his hands, beginning to unwrap the delicate paper that encased it.
“My birthday isn’t for another two months.” Aliath shrugged like that statement meant nothing at all. Freya gasped when she finally saw the contents wrapped within, causing her to rip away the paper all more furiously.
A book, not a box. And not just any.
A book documenting the history of all the Solar Courts.
The histories of all the Seasonal Courts were grilled into her head since forever, her mother had insisted on teaching her about the relations of their neighboring courts, ones that they would be in alliance for many years to come. Her father had been less than thrilled and monitored her every step of her educational journey, but as long as she sat quietly and didn’t go getting any crazy ideas from her teachings he had no issue.
One thing Beron hated more than anything in this world was one of his children acting out of line. That was where the punishments came in.
“I’ll never understand why you enjoy reading this nonsense. But, if it brings that smile to your face everytime you lay your eyes upon it, I'll continue to empty my coffers.” He had always been the most charming, in a boyish sort of way. His shaggy red hair and freckled face only added to the appeal that had women shyly handing him their letters of confession whenever he went into town.
“Thank you, Ali,” Freya said as she smoothed the intricately designed cover of the book. It was full of golden swirls that weaved through the letters that created the title. It had been risen from the page in a way that only a few book makers knew how to do. He must have searched long and hard for this copy.
“Does this make me your favorite brother now?” He asked.
“No. But this does significantly drop Lucien's ranking,” He laughed, smacking his hand against the door.
“I expect something as magnificent for my name day as well.”
“Goodbye Ali. You gave me this book so let me read it in peace.” Another laugh fluttered through the hallway as he left her alone to explore her new gift. Freya managed to read a little under a quarter of the Dawn Court section before she was called to dinner by one of the few maids that Eris had hired. Few, because most everyone in the Autumn Court was too scared or cowardly to go against Beron and serve his sons.
“Dinner is ready, princess.” The older faerie called after she placed three quiet knocks on her bedroom door. Freya made sure to clean up the small mess she had made and find a place for her new book on her massive shelf before leaving the room to go to the first level of the house. The dining room overlooked the sprawling grounds, with massive windows scaling the walls.
“You managed to tear yourself away,” Aliath noted as she took a seat. “I’m impressed.” Freya rolled her eyes. They ate dinner an hour before the main estate did, ensuring that whoever stayed at Eris’ would have enough time to eat and make it back to the manor before Beron’s mandatory family dinner each night. Because of this, the meals they ate here were usually smaller; appetizer courses, at least for Freya. The boys could eat their weight thrice over, especially Lucien. Among the other idiotic rules Beron has placed on Freya over the course of her life, her strict meal time and portions was one of them.
He had always said he needed to keep her slim and small because those features were more likely to attract better males. A baby, he wanted to keep her a baby for her future husband. The thought made her sick.
Not that his methods had worked. Beron had no idea how the female body operated.
“Tear herself away from what?” Lucien asked as he entered the room, taking his spot next to his sister.
“Her birthday present.”
“Her birthday isn’t for another two months.” Lucien responded.
“That’s what I said!”
“Pushover,” Lucien muttered as he glared at his plate.
“Do you three ever shut up?” Eris said by way of greeting as he too walked into the room.
“If you don’t like it you can leave.” Aliath responded.
“This is my house.” The answering eyebrow raise he received made it clear that Ali didn’t care.
“Eat, you fucking vultures.” With a wave of his hand, plates of food appeared on the table. Freya speared straight for the desert; peach cobbler was her favorite. But, after receiving a look of disapproval from Eris she scooped mashed potatoes and a small portion of steak onto her plate as well.
They drank, ate and laughed until the hour was over, and it was time to return to the Forest House. Freya had over indulged that evening, resulting in her current groggy state. She always got tired after a big meal.
“I am not carrying you. You got me in trouble earlier.” Lucien said with a look of exasperation as he turned to his sister, his arms flapping wildly in front of his face.
“And I said I was sorry. Please,” Freya begged for the upteenth time in the past five minutes.
“No.” Lucien said.
“Yes.” His face morphed into one of indignation. “You’re supposed to do things for me as my older brother.” She continued.
“I will savor those five minutes until the day I die.” Nothing had ever been easy with Lucien. Sure, the twins had their tender moments, but they were few and far between. Freya enjoyed pushing him to the edge of his patience, then putting him in a compromising position with one of her other brothers. It never failed to amuse her how he’d stand there with his mouth open, gaping like a fish.
“Nobody’s carrying anyone. Freya, you have two perfectly capable legs. Use them.” Eris always knew when to step in to stop a potentially disastrous fight.
“Pampered Princess.” Aliath muttered under his breath as he passed them on his way out the front door. Freya was going to retort, but she couldn’t argue much with the truth.
“Any day now you three. Am I the only one in this god forsaken family with a sense of time?” And just like that, the Aliath that Freya hated had returned.
She savored the nights like this where they congregated at Eris’ estate. Free to roam the ground as they wished - free to be as they wished. It was never easy to say goodbye to the secret that was their familiar bond whenever they returned to the castle, but it had to be done. For all of their sakes. Aliath was cocky, so incredibly cocky it made her want to vomit. Eris’ was too, but he had always had a knack for pissing people off with his smooth words, where Ali usually used his talents to sleep with the various men and women of the court.
Lucien, as the seventh and last son, was mostly forgotten about, which allowed him to run rampant through the towns and cities in Autumn with little regard to how it reflected on his father. Hell, some people didn’t even know their High Lord had a seventh son. Damon was the stoic serious one, and that wasn’t a facade. Freya enjoyed the quiet that his company brought. He never forced her to speak, or bothered her with terrible jokes and stories. He sat with her, read with her, drank tea with her when she wished. Johan was rarely at home. He spent most of his time living in the small region of his court that Beron let him rule over; he only returned for holidays and special occasions. She missed him, he had always been soft with her, even more so than Eris. The other two though … she was convinced being heartless assholes was really just who they were.
Grabbing the bag she left in the foyer, she followed Eris out of the house. When he finished locking the doors and securing the wards, he winnowed them back to the lower levels of the House. Lucien and Aliath left directly after, each winnowing into their own quarters.
“I’ll walk you back.” Eris said in a way that made it seem like he wasn’t waiting for a response. He offered her his arm, which she gladly took, before walking up the stairs. Freya kept her gaze straight and eyes down as they passed people, servants and nobles. Eris stopped to make conversation a few times about things she couldn’t care less about. But she stood, and smiled stupidly just the same. It was hard not to cringe as the men eyed her like a piece of meat, and it didn’t help that Eris even added his two cents in.
He’s just pretending. She often found herself saying. This isn’t real.
“When is her name day, My Lord.” Oh god.
“A little under two months time,” Eris responded. Freya kept her eyes glued to the floor.
“My, how quickly has she grown. I remember when she was just a little babe.” She didn’t even know who this man was.
“Have you found her a husband yet?” The other man asked. There it was, she thought. People didn’t bother to address her anymore unless it had to do with the fact that Beron still hadn’t secured a match for her.
“Not yet. There are not many fit to have such a beautiful bride.” The three men chuckled and turned all their gazes towards her.
“What about you little lady? You must be thrilled.”
“I am very! These next two months couldn’t go any faster.” She didn’t wish that at all.
“If I may, my lord, I recommend my son as an excellent choice. Whatever her dowry, we can pay it. It would do both of our houses good to have such a fortunate match.” Right, this man was the top trader for Autumn Court, securing most if not all of their Seafood from the Summer Court. She had a feeling that Beron wanted to aim higher than a mere trader's son.
“That won’t be necessary. Your son is nowhere near the stature we are looking for, and neither is your family.” She tried, she really did, to keep her laughter to herself, but gods, was it hard. Instead what managed to slip past her lips was something between a gasp and a cough, resulting in Eris roughly squeezing her arm in warning.
“My lord, I didn’t mean to insult,”
“But you did. That will be all gentlemen.” There was no more room for the other men to talk with Eris’s closing statement. Bowing deep at the waist, the men left, mumbling incoherently to each other as they nearly ran from her brother's sight.
“Over my dead body are you marrying a man that smells like fish.” Eris grumbled as they continued their trek to the dining hall.
Finn, Neels and Damon had already arrived and taken their informally assigned seats next to each other on the left side of the table. Eris went to claim his seat next to Neels, the closest to their father who sat at the head. Their mother’s seat was opposite of Eris on Beron’s other side, where she sat quietly until called upon, which was rarely ever. Lucien and Aliath had yet to make themselves known, but she assumed they’d be here soon enough. Walking to the table, Freya took her spot at the very end of the right side of the table, diagonal from Finn. Johan’s seat was in front of hers, but it was left empty most of the year, leaving her sat at the end of the table. Isolated.
“Sister,” He said in a way that could only be described as a sneer. Freya bowed her head out of respect for her older brother, keeping her eyes off of his until he chose to regard her for a second time.
“Look at you, little lamb. You know your manners.” Neels chuckled from beside him as he watched the exchange.
“Speak.” He demanded.
“Thank you, brother.” They were grown ass men, why did they derive such pleasure from making her humiliate herself?
“Am I going deaf or did I just hear our dearest sister thank Finnagan?” Aliath said by way of greeting as he flung open the double doors to the hall, Lucien hot on his heels.
“She was practicing her manners.”
“Oh? And what of your manners Finny? I haven’t seen them in well over fifty years.”
“You haven’t even been alive that long.”
Aliath shrugged, “I rest my case.”
Freya looked up at Lucien as he pulled his seat from the table to perch next to her, and the look he gave her said that he had no idea what their older brother was on about either. She looked down at her silverware before she accidentally let her face shift. It was silent after that, at least until Damon spoke.
“Do any of you have the slightest idea why father was so chipper today?” Freya nearly choked. Her father? Chipper? No.
“Chipper? Not sure if that’s the word I’d use for it. More like predatory satisfaction.” Aliath said. He sure loved to hear himself talk.
“Predatory indeed,” Eris scoffed.
“He’s been bragging about ‘it’ all day. I sat in on the war council meeting earlier and he seemed about ready to hold a feast.”
“It. What’s ‘it’?” Lucien asked. Damon cut him a glare.
“Do you think I’d be calling it, ‘it’ if I fucking knew what it was?” Lucien’s mouth snapped shut, Neels snickered.
“I suppose we’ll find out to-,” The booming sound of the double doors crashing yet again cut one of the siblings off, and none of them had to turn around to figure out who it was.
Speak of the devil and he shall appear.
Beron stalked silently across the hall, Odessa following quietly behind him. He wore his official clothes and his crown of fire sat proudly atop his head. An occasion indeed for their father to be dressed to the nines for a simple family dinner. But Damon had been right, Beron was positively thrilled as he took his seat at the head of the table. He didn’t greet his children before snapping his fingers to make their feast appear on the table. Lamb and steak were the meats for the night, followed with glorious side dishes. Gravy, potatoes, stew, vegetables, fruits, cheeses, and tons of new, fancy looking foods that Freya had never seen before.
And she could eat next to none of it.
Beron clapped his hands once more and Freya and Odessa’s meager plates appeared in front of them. A small portion of vegetables next to a few pieces of the lamb, and a full cup of wine.
“I’ve never seen this kind of meat before, father. Where on earth did you acquire it from?” Aliath asked as he looked at something that appeared to be some sort of winged animal...with...legs?
“Cornelious, my boy.” Eris’ eyes shot up at the term of endearment from Beron, directed at Aliath no less, who was an embarrassment to the family that their father made a point to ignore.
“The High Lord of Spring?” Damon questioned, suddenly interested in the topic of conversation. Freya looked down the table towards her mother to see what she might gauge of all this. Unsurprisingly, her face was blank, eyes cast down onto her plate as she picked at it pathetically.
“Indeed.” He refused to go on but looked down the table like he was itching for someone to ask him another question about his oh-so-fancy meats and who exactly had given them to him. A spoiled little boy, that’s what her father was.
“And why, exactly, is Cornelious giving you expensive Spring dishes? Don’t tell me it’s out of the goodness of that bastard’s heart.” Neels was the one who decided to humor the man.
Beron smiled, a terrifying thing that held nothing but the promise of pain, and looked to his daughter. It was too knowing, too unkind to be something that would make her happy.
“I’d be careful how you speak of your in-laws, Neels.”
Freya was incredibly thankful that there wasn’t much in her stomach at that moment, because she truly thought she might throw it up all over their expensive table.
“What?” Eris said, struck dumb by the words that left his mouth. All eyes were frantically moving between where Freya sat, shaking, and Beron at the head of the table. Freya’s mind was reeling. Which brother? Tamlin? Gods, she hoped so. Please let it be that absolute angel of a boy. Donivan, potentially, but he was the middle son and held no standing. That only left…
She felt Lucien’s hand grab hers under the table, a tether to reality that she so desperately needed. In the few seconds she had dove into her own mind, the table had erupted into chaos. Eris and Aliath were shouting, actually shouting at Beron. Damon, like the saint he was, was trying to diffuse the situation. Odessa was silently crying, and for once in their lives, Neels and Finn didn’t know what to do.
“...to that monster. How could you!” Ali yelled, pointing an accusatory finger in Berons face. He called for the guards outside the door, snarling something to the boy about a promised beating later. She wanted to leave again and escape into her mind, but the clamor of dishes being thrown and the loud voices made it hard. Aliath and Eris were both dragged from the room by the guards, and when the doors slammed shut so did everyone's mouths.
“Do any of you other impudent fuck-ups have anything else to say on your dear sister’s behalf?” Beron roared. A vein popped from his forehead, his usually tan-white face the color of the leaves that littered her home.
“Please, no,” She whimpered. The reality of it all came crashing down on her.
He would be here to see her before securing the match, and they would travel between Spring and Autumn until the wedding. The months would turn into weeks, then days, then hours before she left. Before she became a wife. Before she became her mother.
“Not a word from you. Not a fucking word.” Freya flinched and squeezed Lucien’s hand till his skin ran pale. He did not wince. For once in their godforsaken lives, Neels and Finn sat quietly, and neither would meet her eye.
Cowards. All of them were fucking cowards.
But so was she.
So who was she to judge?
“May I ask who?” Freya said after what could have been hours of silence. Beron quirked an eyebrow and looked ready to strike her down, but she asked again.
“Which brother will I be wed to?”
“Cornelious’ heir, you stupid little thing. Kane. Kane Ambrose.”
194 notes · View notes
I’ve finally done it, all three Bat Boys caught on camera! The Polaroid style border was to make sure I didn’t get carried away, spending unseemly amounts of time on drawing when I do in fact have real-life responsibilities!
These are for a friend who is obsessed with ACOTAR as birthday surprise! Next on my agenda, the fierce and beautiful ACOTAR women!
P.s feel free to reblog my art but please don’t steal it and claim it as your own x
135 notes · View notes
The Bet (Elriel, NSFW)
Just a silly little one-shot that I wrote today.
It’s not edited and I just read it once before posting it.
I just missed writing smut, so this is what I felt like writing today.
If you like it, let me know!
“I said, wanna bet?”
Elain laughed, “Bet on what?”
“On who can go the longest without having sex.”
This fic includes: A bet, a lot of teasing, gray sweatpants, horny thoughts, frustration and dirty talk.
Elain was making breakfast when Azriel snuck up behind her, wrapping his strong arms around her waist. Elain’s hair was up in a messy bun, which Azriel most definitely took advantage of when he let his lips kiss her just below her ear, and then travel down the side of her neck.
Azriel loved Elain’s neck. He loved kissing it and biting it and leaving little marks for her to find later. She loved it too, even though she complained about having to buy more turtlenecks and scarves to cover up his love bruises. But she didn’t mind. At the end of the day, she loved taking off her clothes to find evidence of his love on her body.
As Azriel let his tongue taste her sensitive skin, Elain chuckled, “What are you doing, Az?”
“Seducing you,” he murmured, his lips pressed just where her neck met her shoulders.
“I have to go to work,” she complained, but she didn’t push him away.
Azriel nibbled her earlobe lightly. “You can be late.”
Elain sighed, ”I really can’t. I have a big shipment coming in and I’m alone in the store today.”
Azriel’s hands traveled lower, massaging her hips. His lips never left her skin. It was making her crazy. He knew exactly how to turn her on, exactly which buttons to press to make her submit to him. And she wanted nothing more. They had sex just a few hours ago; when Elain woke up in the middle of the night to find Azriel’s erection pressing against her back. She had reached back and fisted him through his boxers until he woke up and gave her what she needed. And yet, here she was, already desperate to feel him again.
But she couldn’t. She really couldn’t.
She turned around and pulled away from him. There was heat in his eyes, and it made her even hotter, even wetter, to see the evidence of how much he wanted her written so plainly on his face. But he didn’t reach for her again. She had said no, and that was that.
He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead, “Later then.”
Elain shook her head and let out a laugh. “I’m starting to think that it’s impossible for you to go without sex for even one day.”
Azriel raised his eyebrows, “Oh really? Who was it that woke up all needy in the middle of the night, huh? Who couldn’t go to sleep without feeling me inside her?”
The memories of their slow midnight lovemaking made her want to say fuck it, and take him to the bedroom. But with a quick glance at the clock that hung on the wall behind Azriel, she knew that she had to leave in a few minutes if she wanted to be on time for work.
She picked up her coffee mug and walked around the kitchen island. Away from him. She couldn’t think clearly when he was standing so close. They stood on opposite sides of the kitchen island now, Elain with her hands around her coffee mug and Azriel with his forearms leaning against the countertop. It made his biceps look even bigger.
Elain cursed the fact that her boyfriend preferred to walk around shirtless.
It was something she usually loved, but today, it was torture to see his perfectly sculpted body like that. Elain took a sip from her coffee and met his gaze, “I have way more self-control than you do,” she teased. “I could go weeks without sex.”
Azriel raised an eyebrow in challenge, “Wanna bet?”
“I said, wanna bet?”
Elain laughed, “Bet on what?”
“On who can go the longest without having sex.”
Elain was still smiling. Her boyfriend had to be joking, right? They had sex every day, sometimes multiple times a day. He would definitely not be able to win this silly bet. But the serious look on Azriel’s face told her that he was serious. Dead serious.
“You will lose,” she said.
She regarded her boyfriend for a moment. He looked so confident, and she felt like teasing him. Just like he had teased her just moments ago.
“Okay, let’s bet.”
He gave her a purely male grin. “Good girl,” he cooed, and she wanted to throw her cup at him. He wasn’t playing fair.
“That’s cheating. You can’t call me...that.”
Azriel chuckled. “Okay, that’s fair. So that’s your rule; no nicknames. My rule is that we will not touch ourselves.”
Elain shrugged. “Easy.”
“You say that now, Elain. But when it’s been five days and you’re feeling all desperate and needy, I think you will be singing a different tune.”
Elain snorted. “As if you can go without sex for five days.”
“Oh, I am very determined.” Azriel stood up to his full height, crossing his arms over his chest.
“So,” Elain began. “The first one to give in and ask for sex is the loser, right?”
Azriel nodded. “Yes.”
Elain reached a hand over the island, “You’re on.”
Azriel took her hand in his, and they shook on it. And at that moment, Elain had a wonderful idea. “The loser has to do the dishes for a month.”
“But you hate doing the dishes,” Azriel teased.
It was true. They had moved into their flat a few months ago and even though she loved their home, she hated the fact that it didn’t come with a dishwasher. Elain and Azriel had divided all of the chores 50/50, which meant that she had to do the dishes every other day. It would be amazing to get out of that for a whole month.
“Well, it doesn’t matter because I’m not going to lose,” Elain answered matter of factly.
As she walked to work, she felt very confident in herself. She also felt very confident in the fact that Azriel would give in before the day was over. He could never keep his hands off her, so it would just be a matter of hours before he decided that doing the dishes was way better than not having sex.
But there was one small thing that Elain had forgotten to take into consideration: Azriel was very competitive and to this day, he had never lost a bet.
He was not planning on losing this one either.
When Elain came home that evening, she didn’t think much about their bet. They just went about their usual routine; they made dinner together, they ate dinner, they watched some TV, and then they went to bed. Azriel was already in bed when Elain walked out of the bathroom. She was wearing one of his shirts, as she so often did. She liked the fit and the smell of him so close to her body.
And it didn’t hurt that he liked seeing her in his clothes.
But tonight, Azriel had already gotten beneath the covers. She knew that he was only wearing boxers and she was aching to feel his skin on hers. But to her dismay, he didn’t reach for her as she curled up next to him. He didn’t start teasing her when she pressed her cold feet against his warm leg. No, he just kissed her temple and continued reading his book.
But she knew he would give in. She was sure of it.
Azriel closed his book and reached over to the lamp on his bedside table. When the room was completely dark, he said, “Goodnight, Elain,” and turned around, his back against her.
Elain felt cold. She usually fell asleep with her body draped over Azriel’s, or with Azriel spooning her.
But she would not give in. So she also turned around and told herself that one day was nothing. Anyone could go without sex for one day.
However, tomorrow. Tomorrow he would give in.
Elain couldn’t be more wrong
When Elain got out of bed, Azriel was already gone. Just like all other Fridays, he had an early morning workout session with Cassian before work. Elain poured herself some coffee in the biggest mug she could find. She needed something to wake her up.
It had taken her almost two hours to fall asleep, which meant that she was running on five hours of sleep this morning. She walked back to the bedroom and opened the closet. While sipping her coffee, she started making a plan on how to get her stubborn boyfriend to lose this stupid bet. Because she was not going to lose. No way.
When Azriel came home from work, he went straight to the bathroom to have a shower. He always did this - as if he needed to wash away the day from his skin. Elain used this time to slip into the dress she had picked out this morning. The dress was not appropriate for work, but it most definitely was appropriate for what she was planning.
The dress was cobalt blue and skin-tight. It reached just below her knees, and there was a slit going up to her thigh. Azriel had bought it for her for their anniversary last year when he had taken her out to dinner and then checked them into a hotel. And then he had spent hours worshipping her body. She hoped that the dress would bring back certain memories and that Azriel would find himself unable to stay away from her.
She poured him a glass of wine and put it on the kitchen island while she waited for him to join her in the kitchen. For dinner, she had made one of his favorite dishes.
The plan was perfect.
She could hear him shuffle around in their bedroom, and when he opened the door, he stopped dead in his tracks. He was wearing black slacks and a t-shirt today, which meant that Elain had the upper hand.
“What are you wearing?” he asked, his voice almost angry.
Elain just smiled at him, “Oh, this old thing,” she said and gestured to the dress before handing him the wine glass she had prepared earlier, “wine?”
He took the glass, but he never took his eyes off of her. She turned around, knowing exactly how good her ass looked in the dress. She was going to make him sweat.
“I made dinner,” she called over her shoulder.
“I can tell,” Azriel muttered and downed the wine.
They sat down for dinner at the kitchen table. They talked about their day and their plans for the weekend. When Elain moved all of her hair to one side, leaving her neck bare, Azriel stopped talking mid-sentence. He let out a low breath and Elain could have sworn that she saw his hand reach for her for just a second before he curled it into a fist.
Elain stood up and started to clear the table. She might have leaned very close to Azriel when reaching for his plate, and she might have made sure that her breasts were very, very close to his face when doing so.
She heard him mutter, “For fucks sake,” under his breath, which made her smile to herself.
She was going to get laid tonight.
Elain went to bed earlier than Azriel. She feigned sleep when he joined her. He lay down on his side of the bed, and then; silence. She half expected him to go to sleep with his back towards her again, but then, one of his strong arms encircled her waist and pulled her close. His chest was warm against her back. He was only wearing boxers, she was only wearing his shirt. Elain shivered when she felt Azriel’s breath on her neck and she almost moaned when he pressed his lips to that spot just below her ear.
“You looked beautiful tonight, Elain,” he whispered, lips moving against her skin.
“Thank you.” Elain grabbed his arm with one hand and pressed herself closer to him.
He was giving in. She won!
“Did you do all this for me, hmm?” Azriel moved his hand to her thigh, slowly lifting her shirt.
She knew that he would find her bare underneath. Just like she had planned. And just like he liked it.
“Yes,” she breathed and reached behind her to press his face closer to her neck. She needed his lips and his tongue and his teeth. She just needed him so badly.
Azriel snickered behind her, stopping his hand just as he reached her hip. “Did you think I would get down on my knees and beg for you?”
“Did you honestly think that I was that weak?” he asked, and Elain couldn’t answer.
Because, yes. Yes, she had thought that the dress and the food and the wine would make him beg for her. What more could she do?
“Sleep tight, Elain. I hope you’re not too...needy,” he whispered and turned away, leaving her cold and aching.
She knew that he wanted her to. She had felt his erection. But apparently, his need to win was stronger than his sexual needs. Elain wanted to scream into her pillow.
Damn his self-control. And damn him for teasing her like that. And damn him for making her even more desperate for him. She wanted to touch herself, but that was against the rules.
Elain had to watch silly animal videos for an hour before she was calm enough to fall asleep. Azriel was already snoring softly beside her.
When Elain woke up, she was in a foul mood. She could hear Azriel in the kitchen, probably making breakfast and coffee. Stupid breakfast and stupid coffee and stupid Azriel, Elain thought as she got out of bed. She reached for a pair of panties and pulled them on before going out to the kitchen.
“Goodmor…” she started, but she was caught off guard by the sight of Azriel. Her boyfriend was indeed making breakfast. And he was wearing gray sweatpants that hung dangerously low on his hips.
He was not wearing any underwear.
Elain cursed the inventor of gray sweatpants as she sat down on one of the barstools at the kitchen island. Azriel placed a plate in front of her.
She stared at him. “What is this?”
“Breakfast,” he answered, a crooked smile playing on his face.
“I hate you,” Elain said and took a bite. The food was delicious. “You’re the worst.”
Azriel laughed. “That’s not very polite, Elain.”
“Yeah, well, those pants aren’t very polite either.” Elain pointed at his crotch with her fork.
“You’re very angry this morning, sunshine. Whatever could have your knickers in a twist?” Azriel teased.
Elain shot him a death glare. “I thought you would have given up this stupid bet by now.”
“You know, it would be very easy for you to just give in, Elain. If you want me so much, you just have to say the word…”
Elain pouted, and she knew that Azriel was thinking about sinking his own teeth into her bottom lip. “But you’re a man. Aren’t men supposed to get blueballs or something? Men should want sex more than women.”
Azriel threw his head back and laughed. “That’s not very feminist of you. Also, blueballs is not really a thing. I mean, yes, it can be a bit uncomfortable to be horny for a long time, but it won’t kill us. And if you just think of anything else, it will go away. Eventually.”
“I hope you’re uncomfortable all day,” Elain muttered.
Azriel took this opportunity to scratch his stomach, making sure that Elain’s eyes went to just that spot that she liked to kiss before going down on him. Elain let out a groan and leaned her forehead on the cool marble. “You are evil.”
Azriel chuckled, “I never said I play fair.”
Elain spent the entire Saturday with her sister Nesta. Nesta and Cassian owned a gym, and Elain had decided to join Nesta and her friends for a workout session. She hoped it would make her think about anything other than her stupid sexy boyfriend.
She had dinner at Nesta and Cassian’s place just to avoid going home to Azriel. She decided that avoidance was the best plan of action right now.
She had to win. Not just because she didn’t want to do the dishes, but because she couldn’t stand the thought of Azriel’s smug face if he won.
On the fourth day, a Sunday, Elain woke up before Azriel. She got up, made herself a cup of coffee, and sat down on one of the barstools. She was facing away from the bedroom door, which meant that Azriel would see the back of her as soon as he stepped out of their bedroom.
Good, Elain thought to herself while sipping her coffee and scrolling through Pinterest on her phone.
She heard the bedroom door open, followed by a sharp intake of air.
“This has to be against the rules,” Azriel muttered.
“What?” Elain asked innocently and looked at her boyfriend over her shoulder.
He just stared at her in answer. It didn’t matter, because Elain knew exactly what Azriel was referring to.
She was naked. She was sitting in the kitchen wearing absolutely nothing.
She heard Azriel grab something from their bedroom. “I’m going to the gym,” he said and walked quickly to the front door.
Elain laughed. “Azriel, you’re not wearing any shoes,” she called after him as he slammed the door behind him.
This day, it was Azriel’s turn to stay away.
On the fifth day, Azriel sent Elain a very detailed description of what he would do to her if she gave in. Elain answered by sending Azriel a few selfies. Some with clothes, some without.
On the sixth day, Elain could barely look at her boyfriend.
He could barely look at her.
Elain was happy that she spent most of her day at work, but she was dreading going home. She had never been so horny in her life. She felt like a teenager. She couldn’t stop thinking about Azriel. About his body. About how he felt above her. Inside her.
How he could please her for hours and still have her asking for more.
Elain walked home that evening, knowing fully well that she wouldn’t be able to last one more day.
She fell asleep on the couch to avoid having to go to bed and have him face away from her. She couldn’t stand going to sleep without his body pressed against hers anymore. She missed him more than she ever had, and he was just a few inches away.
It was torture.
On the seventh day, Elain woke up in bed. Azriel must have carried her to bed.
She knew that he couldn’t sleep without her either.
Azriel’s side of the bed was empty, but when she stroked her hand over the sheets, they were still warm. He must have just gotten up.
Elain could hear the shower which made her imagine Azriel’s wet, naked body.
Which then made her imagine Azriel’s wet naked body having sex with her own wet naked body.
And that’s when she knew that she had lost.
After what felt like a small eternity, she could hear Azriel turn off the shower. When he entered the bedroom again, he was wearing nothing but his towel around his hips. He looked at her where she sat in the middle of their bed, amusement dancing in his eyes.
“What are you doing, darling?”
She stared at his chest. “I need you to fuck me.”
“Come again?” Azriel teased.
“I need you to fuck me, Azriel,” she gritted out. “I’m going crazy. I can’t go to work like this. Yesterday, I had to re-write a birthday card twice because I wrote your name instead. I need…”
“You need me, Elain?” Azriel purred and walked closer to the bed.
Azriel grabbed her chin in one of his big hands, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Do you admit that you lost the bet?”
Elain narrowed her eyes. She didn’t want to admit it. She didn’t want to be the loser. But goddamnit, she really needed to have sex.
“Yes, I’m the loser.” She reached for his towel, “You’re the winner.” With one flick of her wrist, Azriel stood before her in all his naked glory. She could almost feel her mouth water.
“Sweeter words were never spoken,” Azriel said and crashed his lips against hers. The kiss wasn’t slow or sweet; it was hungry and desperate. They were both letting out one week of pent of frustration on each other. Azriel leaned over her, supporting himself with one knee on the bed while tangling his hand in her hair. He pulled it slightly, making her move her head until he had perfect access to her neck.
Elain moaned when Azriel gently bit her neck. “God, I’ve missed this,” Azriel sighed against her skin and continued to press kisses down her throat. Azriel climbed onto the bed, making Elain lay down underneath him. She was still wearing one of his shirts.
Elain grabbed his shoulders as he continued kissing and licking and nibbling her neck. She moved her hips against his erection, showing him exactly where she needed him.
“Greedy girl,” Azriel chuckled, but he didn’t give her what she needed. Instead, he just pressed his lips to hers again, kissing her hungrily. He knew that he didn’t have to be at the office for a few hours, and he knew that Nuala was managing Elain’s shop. He could take his time.
He could make her beg.
He placed one hand next to Elain’s head and let the other hand find Elain’s breast. He massaged it gently through the shirt. Elain moaned and tried to move against him again, but to no avail. “Azriel, stop teasing me.”
She could feel Azriel smile against her lips.
He reached down with one hand and grabbed the hem of her shirt, slowly lifting it up and off her body. He grabbed her wrists before she could lower her arms and held them firmly over her head with just one of his hands. She tried to pull her arms free, but he was too strong.
And admittedly, she wasn’t trying very hard. She liked it when he pinned her down. She liked it when he was rough.
Azriel let his eyes travel down Elain’s body, “god, you’re beautiful,” he groaned and kissed her cheek. And then her ear. And then her neck. He trailed kisses over her collarbones, down to her breasts. Azriel flattened his tongue and slowly licked one nipple. Elain arched her back at the sensation, already feeling over-stimulated. Azriel just chuckled and sucked her sensitive nipple into his mouth.
A moan escaped Elain’s lips. God, she needed him. And she needed him now.
He grazed her nipple with his teeth before soothing it with his tongue. “Please what?”
“Please, I need…” she panted as he moved his mouth to her other nipple. “I need more.”
“What do you need, sweetheart?”
She could feel Azriel smile.
Azriel let go of her hands and continued kissing his way down her body.
“Is this where you need me?” he asked when he was laying between Elain’s legs, his face just inches from her heat.
“Yes,” she whimpered. “Please.”
“Hmm, since you beg so nicely.”
And then his mouth was on her. He held her hips with both hands as he flattened his tongue and licked her. He did it again, and Elain’s body jerked as he reached her clit. “So sensitive…” he murmured and licked her between her folds. She was so wet, so desperate. She wanted everything he would give her. She would take anything he offered.
He licked and sucked her until she was a panting mess underneath him.
“Azriel, I’m gonna…” she whimpered, clutching at the sheets. She was so close. She just needed a little bit more. Just a little bit…
He stopped. “You’re not allowed to come yet, sweetheart.”
She groaned. “Don’t tease me right now, Az. I’m dying.”
With one finger, he gently caressed her pussy. He circled her entrance, “You’ve been teasing me for a fucking week, Elain. You can wait a little longer.”
“No, I can’t,” she whined.
Slowly, Azriel pushed his finger inside. It was torture. Slow, wonderful, agonizing torture. “So wet for me,” he murmured, lowering his face again. “Don’t come,” he warned before sucking her clit into his mouth. Elain had to bite her lip to keep herself from screaming. Azriel fucked her with one long finger, his mouth never leaving her clit. It was too much and not enough.
She reached down, grabbing his hair. She didn’t know if she wanted to pull him off her or push him closer. “Fuck, Azriel… Please.”
Azriel answered by pushing another finger into her pussy. Elain’s entire body was shaking. She needed release. She needed it so badly, but she couldn’t have it. She had to wait. She had to be good.
Azriel lifted his mouth from her, giving her a moment to catch her breath. “Are you going to be a good girl for me?” Azriel’s voice was thick with lust, his chin covered with her wetness. Elain looked down to meet his eyes. “Yes, please. I’ll be so good. Just please, let me come.”
Azriel’s eyes never left hers as he started pumping his fingers into her again. “Beg.”
“Please, Azriel. Can I come? I need to come, please,” she begged. She didn’t care if she sounded needy or desperate. She only cared about the orgasm that was just beyond reach.
“Will you thank me if I give you what you need?”
Elain just nodded.
“Then come, Elain.” Azriel lowered his head again, and this time when she felt his lips and his tongue on her clit, she didn’t have to hold back. Elain moved her hips against her face, seeking all the friction she could get. “Thank you,” she moaned. “Thank you so.. so much. Thank..you,” Elain babbled, so lost in her pleasure. Azriel’s clever tongue and wonderful hands brought her closer and closer to her orgasm and when he sucked her clit into his mouth again, she saw stars. It was like an explosion in her body. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. All she knew was that this was everything she ever needed.
She had closed her eyes and she was so lost to her orgasm that she didn’t even notice that Azriel pulled out his fingers and moved up her body. She didn’t notice until his cock was pressing against her. Azriel didn’t say anything before pushing inside.
He wasn’t gentle. With one, single thrust, he filled her completely. Elain moaned and thanked him again. She would thank him forever. Azriel grabbed her chin with one hand, “Who’s the winner?”
“You are, Azriel,” she whimpered as he pulled out again, leaving only the tip of his cock inside her heat.
“That’s right. And what are you?”
Elain refused to call herself a loser again. But she knew exactly what to call herself to make Azriel go crazy.
“I’m your good girl.”
The words had the desired effect.
“Yes, you are,” he growled and thrust into her again. He set a punishing pace, and Elain tried to meet every thrust. She grabbed his shoulders for support, digging her nails into his skin. She knew it would leave marks. She knew he would love it.
Azriel buried his face in the crook of her neck. “Fuck, Elain. I won’t last long.”
Elain hugged his hips with her legs, pushing him even closer with her feet on his ass. “I want you to come inside,” she moaned in his ear, making him curse under his breath. He fucked her even harder, even faster, and Elain could feel her pleasure build again.
Azriel snaked a hand between their bodies, letting it travel down until he reached her pussy. He gathered up her wetness with two fingers and started massaging her clit.
“Be a good girl and come for me again,” Azriel purred. “Come on my cock.”
Elain couldn’t answer, couldn’t think. She had no control of her body as her second orgasm washed over her. Azriel wasn’t far behind, coming with her name on his lips. When she felt him spill into her, she almost wanted to weep from happiness. She loved feeling this full. This blissed out.
Azriel’s body was pressed against hers and she hugged him close. He was still inside her, and she wanted to savor this moment until they both had to start their days.
“Let’s never go without sex for a week again,” Azriel said when his breathing had gone back to normal.
“Deal,” Elain laughed.
Azriel brought his lips to hers again, but this time the kiss was soft and slow. “I love you, Elain,” he whispered against her lips.
“I love you more.”
When Elain came home from work that evening, she found a gift on the kitchen island.
It was wrapped in purple paper and decorated with a green bow. There was a small note attached to the front;
'You’ll need these.'
Elain ripped open the paper, and inside she found the ugliest dishwashing gloves she had ever seen. They were hot pink with leopard details, and there were even some rhinestones decorating the top of the gloves. Elain could do nothing but laugh as she put them on. They looked ridiculous.
She sent a selfie of herself wearing the gloves to Azriel. She didn’t expect him to answer since he was working late, but the answer came almost immediately.
You look lovely. They suit you! ;)
If you like them so much, I can wear them to bed tonight :)
Elain did wear the gloves to bed.
Azriel didn’t complain.
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Rhysand’s Kinks Headcannon
Warnings(s): smut obviously, choking, bondage, squirting, edging, exhibitionism, marking, daddy kink
-It was no secret that Rhysand was a sex god.
-He loved nothing more than edging you all night long, his fingers drumming against your clit feverishly, then stopping right when you were close. Right when he felt you clench around his fingers, signaling that you were about to let go. He could literally do this all night, but he’s too kind to ever torture you for that long. Give him your signature puppy eyes and he’ll let you cum.
-Even better than the latter, he loves to make you squirt. It’s physical proof that stays on the sheets all night that he truly pressed all the right buttons inside of you. Squirt in his face too, he’ll say “good girl” and let you choke on his dick.
-Exhibitionism. But, only in other courts. He adores having you sit on top of him, legs spread as he toys with your clit through your panties. (think that one scene in acomaf 👀) the shocked gasps and embarrassed looks from the other fae around fills his ego up even more, if that were even possible.
-Daddy kink. I will not accept anything less. This. Man. Is. Daddy. He’ll refer to himself that way, too. Saying things like “Does someone want daddy’s cock tonight?” “Want daddy to make your pretty pussy cum? Hmmm? Be a good girl.” If you call him that in public, good luck…he will take you in an alleyway pressed up against the brick.
-Bondage. Simple. He enjoys tying you up so that you can’t close your legs when he hits that sensitive part of your g-spot, or when he keeps licking your clit languidly even after you came.
-Choking. Nothing too intense, but he does think his large hand looks rather pretty like a necklace around your sensitive neck. He might just have a thing for necks in general, though. He loves kissing and sucking on your neck just as much as when you do it to him. And fuck…do those growls and moans he makes when you do it encourage you.
-Impact play. Again, nothing too intense. In fact, you’re the one who brought it up. You were being a tease, he called you naughty. You replied with “maybe you should punish me then. spank the brat out of me?” You could of swore you saw the feral horny look in his eyes illuminate. He was still hesitant to lay a hand on you like that, but when you moaned in pleasure and soaked your panties after his first little smack, he knew how much of a pain slut you were. Your safe word is wingspan.
-Marking. You belong to him, and he wants everyone to know that. Expect to have dark purple bruises all over your neck, tits, and in between your thighs. You swore that Rhys could make you cum just from sucking on your jugular…
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Embers and Light (Chapter 45 teaser)
Notes: Hi everyone, finally an E&L teaser for you all as I think the end of me writing chapter 45 is in sight! I'm optimistically hoping to post the chapter on Sunday 21st. Prepare yourself for what I hope will be an emotional rollercoaster... and this is just a taste...
Also, I've been refining my tag list over the past week, just to check who still wants to receive my fic updates. If you haven't already (you're in bold), please lemme know whether you want to stay or go, otherwise you'll get the boot :)
Chapter 45: Teaser
Nesta’s gaze dragged from Cassian to study the wall behind him—to the dark blue paint the colour of illuminated dusk—that final blue hour before the sky receded to an inky black and the stars came out to rule. Then to her bedroom, where clothes were strewn haphazardly over her bed.
Cassian tried to swallow down his nerves as Nesta’s hand fell away. He steeled himself as he followed suit. Tried to dampen the thundering of his heart, the pounding of his pulse as it slammed against his skin.
He took a sharp breath inwards but it hitched. Faltered, as he repeated a question he’d asked days ago only for Nesta to turn around and ask him to leave her alone. “Do you want me?”
Nesta’s eyes connected with his again, and there was something devastating in her expression, something so tangibly painful it hung in the air around them like mist. When she spoke, each word dropped like stone, every one of them trailblazing—stunning him with surprise. “I’ve always wanted you.”
Tags (let me know if you want to be added/removed): @arinbelle @superspiritfestival @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @mylittlebigplanet @biggestwingspan-az @bellsqueen @ekaterinakostrova @bookstantrash @prophecyerised @rainbowcheetah512 @awesomelena555 @wannawriteyouabook @starksravings @lovelynesta @melphss @laylaameer01 @a-trifling-matter @fanboy7794 @thalia-2-rose @champanheandluxxury @swankii-art-teacher @princessconsuela02 @lavendergoomsltd @princessofmerchants-reads @jeakat @imwritingthesewords @nestable @inejbrekkxr @silvernesta @inyourmindeye @amelie775 @helen-the-weirdo @pizzaneverdisappoints @wishfulimaginings @trash-for-nessian @my-fan-side @sophilightwood @valkyriesupremacy @vidalinav @onceupona-chaos @inardour @thesunremembersyourface @teagoddess99 @ellies-iced-coffee @misswonderflower
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TO WHOEVER FOLLOWED ME THANK YOH SO MUCH! IM AT 1K!
I’ll be prepping my Elucien novella for upload tonight and will do a live to celebrate!
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