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#azriel has been getting on my nerves lately
hellwantfuckme · 2 months
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her warmth
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summary: Azriel returns injured from a mission, he could have visited Madja, who would make quick work of healing his wounds, he prefers to stay with her, even if it will hurt a little more, as long as the solitary wound lodged in his chest also heals.
warnings: injuries, blood
author's note: Azriel has my heart.
Eclipse's face twisted into a minuscule expression of disgust as she looked at the brutal wound, fifteen centimeters long on Azriel's muscular back, just below his shoulder, a generous space between the gash and his shoulder blades where his wings began. The expression on her face increased, her eyebrows furrowing into a frown.
"Do you still insist on not going to a healer?" Eclipse asked, her voice weak as she saw the blood. A small knot lodged in her throat.
She had had wounds like that on her body a thousand times, and had treated them on her own, miraculously, only one or two had become infected. Eclipse was thankful that Azriel was sitting on the edge of her bed, looking forward, unable to see the slight disgust on her face. She was on her knees just behind him, keeping a reckless distance from his wings. The left wing comfortably stretched across the length of her bed, the other, somewhat more uncomfortable, reaching the headboard. But both were down, relaxed, perhaps. Or maybe he was just so tired that keeping them firm, as he normally did, was heavy. Eclipse had seen him sprawled out on a sofa, totally drunk, and still his wings didn't touch the ground. She had seen him sit on his bed other times, with his wings well tucked against his back.
Eclipse didn't know how to process that information. What it meant. She took a deep breath, cleared her mind. That was something for another time, to think about his body language and analyze it until reaching a thousand conclusions, she would do it later, when the Illyrian was not sitting on her bed. When there were only remnants of his scent left.
"Is it really bad?" Azriel asked, his hoarse voice sending a shiver through her spine and making her heart race. He remained downcast, bone-tired.
She hated seeing him like this, her frown only deepened. She didn't want to acknowledge that the feeling that ran through her veins was raw concern. Eclipse looked at the wound again.
"W-well, yes, it looks pretty bad. When did you get it? A day ago, two?" Eclipse inquired, although by the way the wound looked, it was clear to her that it had been more than 24 hours. She spoke without letting Azriel answer. "From Windhaven to here is two hours, flown two hours and it still hasn't healed on its own, it will need stitches. It looks deep," Eclipse said, voicing what had been going through her mind since Azriel had taken off the leathers covering the upper part of his body and sat on the bed.
The blue-gray light from the faelights gave her perfect illumination, the wing membranes appearing more of a light pink than the usual red.
Azriel stiffened, nerves attacking her, and she tried to keep them buried, push them down. She couldn't help but overanalyze every gesture, every change, to a conclusion that had as many opportunities to be correct as to be miles away from reality.
"Or so I think, I have no idea how Illyrians heal," Eclipse muttered doubtfully. She was no healer, just a twenty-two-year-old girl who had had to heal this kind of wounds more than once. "I don't even know how Faeries... do it. But from the times that..."
"No," Azriel interrupted. "It's... you're right. If it hasn't healed yet, it won't heal on its own."
"You said you've sewn wounds on yourself more than once, right?"
A conversation they had had months ago, Eclipse blinked, the only sign of surprise. She hadn't really thought he would remember it, it had been something she had only mentioned once, less than a minute.
"I could help you with the wound, it's not too late tho, we can still call Madja and..." Her doubts about herself grew denser.
"Can you do it?" Azriel interrupted again, his shoulders rigid.
Eclipse felt the tortured way the words came out of his lips, tense as well.
Eclipse sighed, not thinking too much about the fact that he was indirectly asking her to take care of his wounds, had a kind of meaning. The kind of meaning that Eclipse would spend hours thinking about, hours tossing and turning in her bed repeating every tiny interaction over and over again.
Her hand rested on Azriel's other shoulder, a mere sign of seeking balance as she got out of her bed and headed to the bathroom attached to her room. She didn't stop to think about the much-exposed skin she was showing with that barely thigh-length blue silk nightgown, or the discrete way his eyes roamed the length of her legs, to her exposed collarbones.
She entered and left the bathroom without taking too long, gathering everything she needed.
The House had provided her with a bowl of hot water and a clean cloth, as well as a sterilized needle and thread. And also, herbs that Eclipse knew very well. Yarrow leaves that would prevent bacteria in the wound, marigold flowers that would help with inflammation, and lavender, for the pain. She had prepared this mixture a thousand times, the smell of everything reminding her of all the times she had gotten into street fights, or bar fights, and especially, the scar along her forearm itched with the memory.
She banished the mental image of all the blood and panic she had felt back then. Now she knew what to do, although the fact that she would be treating someone who wasn't herself still sparked a slight panic in her chest. Eclipse filled her lungs with air for six seconds, held it for four, and released it for another six seconds.
«Calm down.»
She carefully left everything on her nightstand, with Azriel's gaze fixed on her, his usually stoic expression interrupted by a slight frown and a very slight pink shade on his cheeks. Eclipse must have imagined it.
She dipped the cloth tip in the hot water, then submerged the fabric a little more until half of it was wet and withdrew it, wringing it to remove the excess water.
Their eyes met for just a second while Eclipse stood up, there was a glimmer in his eyes that she could not decipher. It was incredible how, even without trying to hide his emotions, it was difficult to read him.
Eclipse turned the bed around, got on it, positioning herself just behind him. Her warm, somewhat wet hand from the cloth, touched his shoulder again to recompose properly. Eclipse felt him bristle. She didn't know if it was because of the contact or because she was too close to his wings, either way she backed off a little. Still close enough to easily reach his wound but maintaining a distance between her and his wings.
She cleared her throat.
"It might hurt a little," she said.
"I've dealt with worse," Azriel told her, his voice almost guttural and tense. Eclipse stopped for a second.
Was it the pain? Or perhaps, had he changed his mind about this and wanted to leave? Maybe he had seen her nerves. Maybe the pain clouded his judgment and he hadn't thought it through.
Eclipse heard a sigh escape his nose, and she looked at the wound again, unsure of how to proceed. The idea of reminding him that he could leave if he wasn't comfortable, that they could still call Madja, was a quick order to her vocal cords, and when she was about to speak, Azriel beat her to it.
"How did you learn to heal wounds like this?" he inquired. His voice notably less tense.
Eclipse took it as an invitation and gently placed the cloth over the beginning of his smooth, firm skin break.
"I used to get into fights," Eclipse murmured as the cloth gently crossed the wound, cleaning impurities.
The smell of blood reached her, the blood and the cedar and exhaustion. Eclipse still wasn't used to the fact that emotions gave off a smell, even though she had been Fae for three years, with countless years ahead of her.
"The friends I had were all from extremely questionable security neighborhoods. They solved everything with violence, the slightest offense, the smallest debt…"
Eclipse sighed.
"I've broken my thumb twice punching wrong, and I have thousands of small scars from learning to use a dagger properly. And I've had wounds like this more times than I care to remember," she explained.
She finished cleaning the wound without giving any further explanations, and Azriel didn't speak or make any sounds of pain, he just clenched his jaw so hard she thought a tooth would break. Eclipse remembered how she had screamed, they had made her bite a belt, the first time she had gotten a wound like this and they had simply cleaned it. Although there was also the fact that she had been infinitely gentler cleaning Azriel's wound than her friends had been cleaning hers.
Eclipse got out of bed, leaving the cloth on the nightstand.
The house conjured up another wooden bowl, right next to the herbs. She put each of the herbs in the bowl, poured some hot water over them, and crushed them as best as she could. It took her longer than she would have liked, Azriel's gaze, once again, fixed on her.
"You've broken your thumb twice?" Azriel asked, raising an eyebrow. She saw curiosity and a bit of fun on his face and snorted.
"At least you know how to throw a punch," she joked, halfheartedly.
"If I haven't, are you going to push me into the ring with Cassian and have him yell orders at me?" Eclipse joked.
"Cassian would be too soft for someone who has broken their thumb twice giving a punch, and done it wrong."
"I was fifteen!" Eclipse excused herself, her voice rising only slightly. The corners of his lips curved into a tiny smile. "But I do know how to throw a punch."
"I'd like to see that," Eclipse rolled her eyes; his smile grew slightly broader.
When the ointment was ready, Eclipse positioned herself behind him again. Every time Eclipse saw the wound it seemed to get larger, bloodier.
She applied the ointment carefully on the wound, Azriel let out a small groan of pain, almost imperceptible. Eclipse grimaced and swallowed.
"Sorry," she murmured. When she finished, she looked at the needle. "Could you pass me the needle?"
Azriel handed it over without objection.
"I imagine I don't need to tell you it's going to hurt," she murmured again.
Azriel closed his eyes when the needle pierced his skin, his fists tightened the sheets beneath him.
Eclipse sewed the wound with expert hands, a process that took long minutes until it was closed. Azriel let out a sigh, and she, as gently as she could, bandaged the wound.
"Go see Madja tomorrow morning, Azriel," she practically ordered. He just nodded. Eclipse got off the bed, then, standing in front of him. He straightened up, even when a grimace of pain settled on his face at doing so, just to be able to look at her better. For the first time, he had to lift his chin to look her in the eyes.
Eclipse noticed a few drops of blood staining his face, and her muscles moved without thinking. Azriel spread his knees wide enough to make room for Eclipse between them, while her hand cradled his face, her thumb tracing the dried drop of blood on his cheek.
Azriel inevitably closed his eyes, tilting his face to the incredibly soft touch of her hand.
Her chest filled with warmth.
"You have to rest, Az," she murmured, not breaking the chocolate gaze of the man who seemed so... vulnerable. "My bed is yours if you want it."
He opened his eyes, as if wanting to confirm that she had just said that. That he wasn't imagining it. He blinked.
"Where will you sleep?" he asked, barely more than a whisper.
Eclipse nodded towards the sofa in front of the windows, it was actually large enough for her to sleep well, although she knew she wouldn't. In reality, she didn't know why she had offered it. But she didn't have time to regret it.
"No, I..."
"If you want to stay, you will stay in bed," Eclipse said, her voice firm. Azriel blinked again, surprise disappearing as quickly as it appeared.
Azriel knew it would be tremendously selfish to let the kind woman who had healed him, and who was looking after him right now, sleep on a sofa. But he couldn't leave her warmth, her scent around him. He couldn't bear to return to his room, alone. Just as he had been for five hundred years, because he had discovered that she filled a heavy void in his chest. That there wasn't a corner that felt uncomfortable with her, he couldn't find a flaw in her. Not one.
So he simply nodded. And let himself be taken care of.
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foxglovebells · 11 months
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The Winter Writer
Azriel x Reader
Summary: One day Mor brings her best friend to the house of wind for game night with the inner circle. Azriel takes immediate interest, as well as Nesta, Feyre, and Gwyn when they find out she’s the author to their favorite smutty romances.
Warnings: None
Notes: My first fic! This is just the first part and there will me much more to come (😏)
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“They’re going to love you” Mor squeals excitedly as she finishes up your makeup. “You have no idea.”
You and Mor had been best friends for centuries. You both knew absolutely everything about each other. Even after all these years you had still never met her family. Though, you weren’t very adamant on pushing it because they made you very nervous. She didn’t want them to scare you away, she had said, when you brought them up once.
You take a deep breath to gather your nerves before replying, “I don’t know Mor, I feel like I’m intruding on your inner circle.” You look up at her from where you’re sitting on the vanity in your apartment. Mor stands and looks down on you as she roles her eyes.
“I don’t think anyone could hate you, you’re like the most likable person I’ve ever met, and trust me, I’ve been alive for a long time.”
You moved to Velaris from the winter court half a century ago. Mor had said she would feel more secure knowing that her best friend was safe and not being caught up in the Amarantha drama. Having parents that had high positions in the Winter court put you too close to danger for Mor’s liking.
While you had never met the inner circle, you had heard almost everything about each one of them. Rhysand was the almighty, powerful high lord who had the biggest soft spot for everyone he loved and cared about. Feyre was kind, selfless, and had a touch for art. Cassian was an Illyrian who was cocky and funny but also gave the best hugs. Amren was a little scary and fierce, but she would always stand up and fight for her friends. Nesta was a tough shell to crack, but she still managed to be the best to talk to when you need advice. Elain was quiet but kind and nurturing. And Azriel, oh Azriel, you had never met him, but Mor always described him as silent, observant, kind, and so many more things. Was it possible to have a crush on someone you’d never met? You based a couple of your book characters on what you had heard of him. Of course, he could be completely different than what you imagined, in that case, you would be severely disappointed.
But even having heard all these things, you’ve yet to meet a single one of them, and because of this you were freaking the fuck out.
“I promise, hun.” She places her hands on either side of your face and looks straight into your eyes, “Plus, I know for a fact that the girls will like you. They have a little book club that has read every single one of your books.” A mischievous expression takes over her face.
“No way, Mor.” Your eyes widen. “You didn’t tell me they’ve read my books.” You shoot up from the vanity chair and pace through the room with your hands twirling a piece of hair to occupy yourself. “Cauldron, Mor, that would have been nice to know.”
Mor throws her head back in laughter, “They haven’t just read them darling, you’re a common talk amongst the library, you’re their favorite.” She walks up and boops you on the nose, you swat her hand away. “Nesta and Feyre are always talking about how sexy they are, I’ve even seen Amren reading one from time to time.”
“Is it too late to back out now?” You sigh in exasperation.
“Even if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t let you.”
You glare at her, “I know.”
“Come on, sugar plum, we gotta get going.” Before you can protest she takes your hand and winnows you out of your apartment.
***
“Do we even know if she’s real?” Cassian mutters as he nurses a glass of whiskey. “I mean, Mor said she’s lived here for nearly 50 years—and been friends with her for longer—but we’ve never met her.”
“Probably because she didn’t want your horny ass to hit on her.” Azriel buts in as Rhys lets out a laugh in agreement.
“Your not much better, brother.” Cassian shoots him an amused glare but it’s ignored as Az takes a sip from his glass.
“I can’t say I’m not curious, though.” Rhys starts, “Mor said she was trustworthy enough to know about Velaris, and that she knew her for centuries before she moved here.”
“And yet we’ve never met her and when ever she comes up Mor shuts the subject down.” Cassian replies.
It did make Azriel wonder, he could send his shadows to get information on her, but she’s coming tonight so he might as well just wait and ask her—like a normal person.
All at once the 3 brothers perked up as soon and the felt someone winnow into the house.
“Guess it’s time to finally meet the mystery girl.” Rhys says before sauntering off and going to the main living area where the girls were already there drinking wine and gossiping about the latest book by their favorite author—Y/n Y/l/n.
***
When they enter the room Feyre, Nesta, Elain, Gwyn, and Emerie are all sitting in front of the fire, drinking wine and giggling quietly.
“Where’s Nyx, darling?” Was the first thing Rhys asks as he makes his way to Feyre’s side and places a loving kiss on her cheek.
Azriel always envied their mating bond, Cassian’s too. He had waited so long to feel the love of a mate, but he would wait as long as it took. He often tried to occupy his heart with harmless relationships to fill the void that hopefully would one day be filled with his mate. But even after centuries of waiting he had yet to even suspect someone. It made him insecure sometimes, how could anyone love someone as scared and broken as him? So to refrain from thinking these thoughts he buried himself into other activities, spying, reading, training. Anything that could take his mind off of the restless thoughts that invaded his brain.
“He ran off to greet Mor.” She replied while leaning into his kiss.
All the males looked slightly of put as they recalled the new unknown guest around around Nyx. Rhys stood straight and was about to go seek them out when they heard the sound of footsteps making their way towards them from the hall.
They all stood and watched as Mor entered the room followed by someone who was still out of view behind Mor.
Mor moved to the side and revealed the most beautiful female Azriel had even seen in his life. You were wearing a silky slip style dress in a deep midnight blue, it contrasted beautifully to the long white waves cascading down to your waist. Winter court, Azriel thought. What caught his attention the most was the small Illyrian at your side with his hand in yours.
“Daddy I found a girl!” Nyx shouts as he tries to drag you towards his father.
You have a small nervous smile on your face and you allow yourself to be dragged towards Rhysand.
“Nyx!” Feyre shoots up from her seat on the chaise and rushes over to snatch up Nyx, releasing your hand in the process. “I’m so sorry.” She says turning to you.
Mor makes her way back up to your side and you look over to her for reassurance. She nods at you and you look back to Feyre with a sweet smile. “That’s all right, nothing to be sorry about” you reply. “I’m Y/n, you must be Feyre.” Rhysand takes Nyx out of his mates arms and you hold out your hand to shake hers. She shakes her head at your hand and instead wraps her arms around you in a hug. You freeze slightly in surprise but quickly relax and return the hug.
“It’s lovely to finally meet you, Y/n. Mor is awfully protective.” Feyre sends a playful glare to your best friend and she returns it with a sheepish smile. You simply laugh at the exchange.
Mor takes your arm and walks you to the seating area and you take a seat on an armchair close to the fire.
“Y/n,” Mor starts, “This is Nesta, Elain, Gwyn, Emerie and you’ve already met Feyre.” She takes her time pointing to each female around the room. Gwyn and Nesta are sat beside each other on a two seater lounge while Elain sits on the arm chair across from you. Mor walks over to Emerie and lays a hand on her shoulder. You try to hide your smirk behind your hand as you glance between the two of them. The look she gives you is a mix between shut the fuck up and she’s hot isn’t she. It became clear to you that her family doesn’t know about her sexually orientation, that became more clear when you caught the confusion in the eyes of a couple of the others.
“Anyway,” she claps her hands together and walks back to where Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel were standing. “This is Rhysand—“
“Call me Rhys, please, any friend of Mor’s is a friends of mine.” You smile at him before Mor continues.
“Then my most favorite nephew, Nyx, whom you’ve already met.” She walks up and pinched the little boys cheeks, who squirms in his dads arms, resulting in him putting Nyx down. Nyx does something no one expects—especially not you—when he runs up to you, climbs onto your chair, and settles into your lap as if nothing was wrong in the world. Every one stares in shock while you just let it has happen, chuckling slightly.
Azriel watches you along with everyone else, but the thought churning in his mind aren’t ones that revolve around Nyx, no, the only thing he can think about is how, beautiful and sweet you are, he might not be able to forgive Mor for keeping you from him. Of course, not literally, but he had never felt to drawn to someone, especially not someone he had never met in his life.
“Sorry.” You say with a small laugh. “Is he normally this friendly?” You look up to see Feyre snickering and Rhys shaking his head in amusement. Mor just looks as if she’s having a proud mother moment.
“Not usually, but he doesn’t meet new people often.” Rhys supplies. “But if he’s bothering you feel free to tell us, we won’t be offended.”
“Oh no, he’s perfect.” You look to the little boy in your lap who’s the split image of his father. His big violet eyes are looking up at you as you smile down at him.
You remember that you hadn’t been introduced to everyone yet. “And I’m guessing these two are Cassian and Azriel.” You gesture to each of them.
Cassian beamed at you, “The one and only, nice to meet you Y/n.”
“You too, Cassian.”
Azriel kept silent but he gave you a forced tight lipped smile, that made your stomach drop a little. He didn’t like you, you concluded.
You looked over to Mor who noticed the interaction and noticed that slightly devastated look on your face. She was quick to change the subject.
“Nice going, asshole.” Cassian says to Azriel out of your ear shot, “She thinks you hate her.”
“What?” Azriel heart sinks, “Why would she think that?” He could never hate you, he knew it the minute he saw you. He wanted to talk to you but he didn’t know what to say.
“You gave her the same obviously fake smile that you give every female that any of us try to set you up with.” Cassian sends him a looks that screams could you be any more oblivious, “Didn’t you see her smile drop slightly and her look to Mor for reassurance?”
No, he did not, and now he feels like a dick. “I didn’t mean too.” He replies solemnly.
“Y/n’s from the winter court. We became friends the first time a visited when I was a child.” Mor smiled at you cheekily before continuing, “I wanted her to move here a few decades ago—“
“—because you’re like an overprotective mother hen.” You cut her off with a laugh but she shushes you playfully.
“No,” she asserts firmly with a glare in your direction, “Well, yes I guess a little.” The group around you laughs.
“If she’s lived here for decades why have we never met her?” Cassian asks and Mor roles her eyes at the questions.
“Did you not hear Y/n, Cass, protective mother hen.” She gestures to herself while you along with everyone else smiles at the interaction. “She needed protecting from the like of you, all of you and your corrupt sense of humor. Now, drinks.”
“Ugh, Yes please” and other mutters of agreement are heard from all around. Rhysand snaps his fingers and wine appears atop the coffee table at the center of the seating.
Elain pours you a glass and hands it to you, you smile gratefully. Nyx has since fallen asleep on your lap, his face tucked into your neck and you run your hand over his head while paying attention to conversation around you.
“So Y/n, you want to tell everyone what you do for a living?” Mor says, bringing everyone’s attention to you once more, though, you couldn’t help but notice that one particular person attention had been on you the whole time.
You glare at Mor, a real glare this time, no playfulness in your stare. “Morrigan, what did we talk about.” You say to her while everyone listens with interest. She doesn’t reply, but instead hold your stare with a challenging look. Eventually giving up you cave. “I’m an author.”
“I expected something completely different from the way you two were looking at each other.” Nesta laughs as she finished her glass of wine.
“Me too.” Pipes Gwyn who was sitting on the lounge where Feyre had once been. Feyre was now curled up in the lap of the high lord. “Are you published.”
“Um—” you hesitate.
“Yes, she is.” Mor states simply once she’s decided that you’re taking far to long to answer such an easy question.
“Do you think we’d know any?” Gwyn asks curiously. “The girls and I are in a book club, I’m sure we’ve had to at least heard of it.”
“Oh I write under pseudonym, you probably haven’t heard of me.” You attempt to laugh it off, but Nesta and Gwyn seem keen on getting the answer out of you.
“Try us.” Nesta pushes.
“Sellyn Drake.” You say quietly with a slight embarrassed chuckle. Please tell me they haven’t read my books, please, please, ple—
“Fucking shit!” Nesta shoots up, her refilled glass of wine spilling over the lip of the glass. Every female in the room seems to sit up, even Feyre from where she was comfortably tucked into Rhysand.
“You’re kidding, right?” Gwyn shrieks with an excited smile on her face.
“You’ve heard of me?” You say sheepishly.
“Heard of you!” Nesta snaps her fingers and every single book that you’ve ever published appears directly in front of you. You reach for a book, trying not to jostle the sleeping Illyrian in your arms. Opening the book you’re surprised to see annotations on every page, highlighted words and thoughts fill each blank space.
“Um wow, I didn’t expect this.” You laugh as you flip through the pages coming across and especially spicy scene before slamming the book shut and placing it back on the pile.
“Would it be weird if I asked you to sign them?”
“Not at all, how about we meet for coffee sometime, I can even bring the manuscript for my next book, I’ve been looking for some insight on it.” You suggest, a little bit nervous that she might turn you down.
“Holy shit, of course!” She looks over to Feyre, Gwyn, and Emerie. “You know what? What do you think about coming to our next book club meeting?”
You return her excitement at that, “That sounds perfect.”
Nesta excitedly goes to Cassian and plops in his lap. His arms wrap around her waist and kisses her neck.
“You’re the smutty romance author, eh.” Cassian guesses in response to his mates excitement.
Your face burns red and you attempt to hide it by looking away. Azriel watched the exchange with a barely there smirk on his face. Ah maybe he could use that as a conversation starter, he thought. He would only have to get you alone first. He observed that you weren’t to comfortable talking about your occupation in a large group like this with new people. Though, he didn’t understand why an extremely successful author wouldn’t want to flaunt her talents.
“Y/n?” Starts Rhys. “Are you comfortable talking about your family?” He didn’t want to pry, but he was curious, something about you was just so familiar.
“Oh, of course.” You loved your family dearly and enjoyed any excuse to talk about them, especially your sister. “My sister is the lady of the winter court.”
“Viviane?” Feyre asks and you nod in response.
“Yes, we’re fraternal twins.” You smile as you think about your twin sister who was such a talented warrior.
“She’s amazing, and so is my niece, Seely, who was born 3 years ago, about the same age as Nyx actually.” You gesture to the sleeping form wrapped in your arms.
“I hadn’t realized you had such useful connections—” Rhys starts.
“—No.” Mor cuts him off before he can continue. “You are not using my best friend for a winter court alliance. You want an alliance, figure out how to get it without using her as pawn.”
Rhys looked apologetic, “She’s right, I apologize Y/n.”
“No harm done, if it’s any reassurance Kallias and Vivian are rather fond of your inner circle. I’m sure if you ever did want an alliance you wouldn’t have trouble achieving it, with or without my assistance.” You reply, you truly didn’t mind, you actually found it quite comforting that he was willing to talk politics with you, even if it was an odd situation to do so.
A new voice speaks up, surprising everyone in the room. “So you can fight?” Azriel kicks off from his place in the shadows against the wall, finally stepping into the light of the fire and taking the empty seat to your left.
“What do you mean?” You ask him to specify.
“We’ll Viviane is a highly trained warrior, and I’ve seen how well trained the winter court army is. I was wondering if you were trained similarly.”
“Yes, Viviane and I were trained by our father from the moment we could walk.” You smile in remembrance, your father was such a good teacher and was kind and gave you advice on how to improve rather than yelling. Many of your favorite memories were training beside him and your sister. “It’s been several years though, I probably a bit rusty.”
“I could always help.” He rushes out, as if he didn’t really mean to say that. He clears his throat. “I mean, if you ever wanted to train again I would be happy to be your partner.” Azriel cursed himself for not controlling his words, he hoped you wouldn’t turn him down.
“I would love that Azriel, thank you.” You smile widely at him and you look back to the group.
Feyre stands up and begins to make her way towards you. “As much fun as this has been I really need to get Nyx into his bed.”
“Of course, do you want to take him or I would be happy to walk up with you so he doesn’t wake.” You offer, cradling Nyx against your chest in preparation for her answer.
“That would be amazing, Y/n.” She smiles graciously at you. You stand from the comfy armchair and follow Feyre out of the room and through a series of hallways. She comes to a bedroom and you both go in and put Nyx to bed. “I’ve never seen him act so attached to someone new before. He really likes you.”
“I’m glad, I really like him too.” You both make your way back to the sitting room as you yawn.
“I’ve had so much fun, but I really should get going before I become too tired to winnow home.” You stay standing up instead of sitting back down. You were sure that if you sat back down you would surely fall asleep.
“Stay the night, please.” Rhys offers, “you could join us tomorrow for breakfast and training.”
“And a book club meeting, the girls and I have one in the library tomorrow.” Nesta adds while each of the girls agrees.
“I don’t know,” you start to reply “I don’t want to intrude—”
“Y/n! How many times do I have to repeat myself before you process it in you thick skull.” Mor throws her hand up, exasperated. “You. Are. Not. Intruding.”
You fidget with a strand of your snowy white hair before replying. “Just because you feel that way doesn’t mean the others do. You’re biased Mor.”
“Oh Mother.” She pinches the bridge of her nose as if you are a insulant child.
“If you fear that you are intruding I can guarantee that you are not.” Feyre tells you kindly, a much kinder approach than Mor’s.
You’re still hesitant, but you make up your mind. “Alright, I guess I’ll stay.”
Everyone looks content with your response. But it’s Nesta who’s the first to talk. “Perfect. Training starts at sunrise.”
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honeybeefae · 8 months
Note
Mornin’! For the bingo card, could I request Second Chances with either Eris or Azriel? And you can choose nsfw or sfw. Your writing is great either way and you don’t have to do this at all…
thank you
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Can We Start Again? (Eris Vanserra x Reader)
BINGO: Second Chances
(This has HEAVY Taylor Swift vibes so if you needed a mood playlist, put on Illicit Affairs. Also, I had the option between NSFW and SFW and I did SFW just cause I’ve been writing so much smut lately! I wanted to write some hurt/comfort. Idk if anyone is still reading these bingos but I want to finish them so thank you if you are still keeping up and I love you guys!! <3)
WARNINGS: Angst, Hurt/Comfort
You weaved through the crowd of bodies as they spun and dipped, offering pleasant smiles whenever your eyes would connect with someone. It was getting late and you were yearning to go back home and rest, your body aching for the soft mattress and warm sheets that awaited you.
It took you a few more strides before you were able to break free from everyone and get out to the balcony for fresh air. Luckily for you, no one else was out here, your body leaning against the cool stone as you took a deep breath to enjoy the silence.
The party was the same as all the others you attended this year. The same people, the same atmosphere, the same music, it felt as if you were stuck in a never-ending loop. 
For once you just wished something new and exciting would happen. Hell, you would even settle for a new dessert at this point. 
“I thought I saw you escape.” A low, warm voice said behind you. It made you jump and you turned with a frown, wondering what this person could possibly want until your eyes met his very familiar amber ones. 
“Eris?” You ask, your tone full of disbelief. 
“In the flesh.” He smirked, giving you a little bow. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you relaxed and rested your elbow on the railing. 
He looked the same as the last time you saw him, with long red hair and eyes full of secrets. You had heard the rumors that he might be here tonight but you had also heard the same at every other party this summer. 
“What are you doing here tonight?” You question, your nerves fizzing from how long it had been since you last talked. “And don’t tell me it’s for the tantalizing conversation. Unless, of course, you have a secret love for court gossip and talks of the harvest.”
Eris shook his head and watched you, his head slightly cocked as he studied you and searched for something. It made you anxious and you suddenly felt very self-conscious, your hands immediately tugging at your outfit. He noticed.
“Stop fidgeting.” He chastised, walking closer to you to take your hand and give it a gentle kiss. “You look beautiful as always.”
“Thank you.” You hum, your hand buzzing as you immediately placed it back at your side. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“Would you believe me if I told you it was because I wanted to see you again?” Eris spoke softly, watching the flicker of emotions that went through your eyes at his confession. You frowned, your aura immediately turning cold as you took a step back from him.
It had been years, years, since you had seen Eris. The last time you had he had left you in the middle of the night, a love confession having just sprouted from your lips after he had made you feel like no one else before. You had been a casual thing for years, the two of you gravitating toward one another for a while until it all came to a head that night.
Some nameless fae male who your parents had chosen for you had asked for your hand in marriage that night, his voice arrogant and head high. He was assured that you would say yes but when you looked at Eris, his face fallen, you realized just how deeply you felt for him. So, you refused the propsal.
Chaos had erupted and Eris was quick to step in and remove you from the situation, taking you to that small cabin in the woods that you two escaped to on nights where you just wanted to be alone. He had wiped your tears, held you close, and then made your toes curl and your body feel electrified.
And afterwards, when you were both lazy with sleep, you told him you loved him. You realized your mistake as soon as you saw his eyes, that look forever haunting you. He had then stood, gave you the key to the house, and left. Never contacting you again.
Yet here he stood, smiling at you as if none of that had happened, and you couldn’t stop the anger from rising.
“No. I don’t.” You respond coldly, your jaw clenching as he frowned. 
“Come on, Y/N, don’t be like this.” He sighed, standing straight to run a hand through his hair. It was something he did when he was frustrated. “I want to make amends.”
“Amends?” You scoff, that anger now turning to rage. It felt as if you were about to spit fire at him. “After all these years? After you left me alone? I am fine to be cordial with you but if you think I would ever want to make amends with you, to be friends, you are denser than I thought you were.”
“What I did was wrong, I know. I live with that guilt every day but I want to explain myself, to let you know that I was wrong and stupid and that I’m sorry.”
You had always wanted to hear him say those words to you, to come in like a white knight in a fairytale and profess his love to you. It had been your dream for years…until you realized you didn’t need it. You were fine without him. If he wanted to leave you, to pretend as if you didn’t exist, then you could do the same.
But what you told yourself and what you actually felt were two completely different stories. You could pretend all you want but at night, or in hazy mornings, your heart yearned for his arms wrapping around you.
“I don’t want your sorry, Eris.” You said with a shaky breath, willing your emotions to stay hidden. “I wanted you. I wanted a life with you. I refused proposals, opprotunites, everything for you. You were it for me. And you left.”
“Oh, Y/N,” He murmured, his voice tight as he reached out for you. “My little fox-”
“Don’t call me that,” You snapped, tears now welling up in your eyes. “Don’t act like you have a right to that anymore. You lost it when you walked out that door, Eris. You ruined everything, left our castle crumbling, and the saddest part is that I still try to rebuild it.”
“I loved you. I wanted a life with you, to run away from the courts and just pretend we were the only ones that existed. I had dreams for us. I still do and it’s the most pathetic thing. I hate it.” The tears were now freely falling down your cheeks as you turned away from him, blearily looking out over the dark forest as you tried to control your breathing. 
You hadn’t meant to reveal all of that to him, to let him know just how much he still affected you, but it was like you couldn’t stop. It was as if someone had taken over your mouth. And maybe that’s what you needed. Maybe now that you got all of it, you could finally move on. You could try to find happiness again.
His footsteps came closer as he stood behind you, careful to not touch you. You tensed, waiting for laughter or anger, just wanting him to finally reject you to be done with it. 
“I’m not expecting your forgiveness nor your understanding.” Eris began, his voice barely above a whisper. “The pain I caused you, after all you sacrificed for me, it is truly unexcusable. Something a monster would do…and maybe that’s what I am.”
Your heart clenched as he struggled with the last part. The two of you had talked about how he saw himself, about the things he was going through with his father, and you knew how much it tormented him. It was a dark stain on his soul and you had tried your best to heal it, to show him how love could heal anything. 
“You always saw the best in me, little fox. Even on my worst days, even now, I’m sure, you’re wanting to soothe me. It’s who you are.” He smiled, his hand raising to graze your back before stalling. “I’ve never met someone like you, Y/N. Someone who cares, truly cares, about others and who loves without conspiracy or greed. You simply love to love and that is such a rare, precious trait.”
The knuckles of your hand were white as you gripped the stone of the balcony. 
“Our past was always full of ill-defined lines between lovers and friends. It was what I thought I wanted, no strings attached, because I had convinced myself in my mind that once it was gone I wouldn’t have anything to grieve.” Eris continued, lowering his hand and sighing. “And when you told me you loved me you made me feel alive. It was the first time in my life I thought life was truly worth living, that I had finally be granted true happiness after the hell that I had been through.”
“I remember looking at you, shock, awe, love, and devotion taking hold of me…until reality washed it all away. You have no idea how badly I wanted to say it back, Y/N.” He suddenly cupped your face, the chilly night air causing your breaths to puff out as he trained his eyes on you. “But I could not give you the life you deserved.”
“The only life I wanted was with you, Eris. I only needed you.” You whispered, placing your hands over his. 
“I couldn’t promise you protection, Y/N. Do you think all those years I wanted us to stay secret? To hide you away like I was ashamed of us?” His voice was desperate now. “I would get on my very knees before you in front of the Court, proclaim you as you mine in front of the Gods, but for all I could do the only thing I couldn’t was keep you safe from my family.”
“What they did to my brother’s lover still haunts me. She was an innocent soul but they deemed her ‘unworthy’ and ripped her limb from limb. I couldn’t, wouldn’t, subject you to that.” Eris shook his head, his thumb running slowly over your cheek as a tear rolled down it. “It was easier to leave you to hate me, to wish me dead. I would gladly ruin myself if it meant I was keeping you safe.”
“Why now? Why after all these years have you come to find me?” You asked, your lips quivering. “I don’t understand. That danger is still there, your family is still alive. What difference does it make?”
Eris gave you a soft smile and pulled your hand to his lips, kissing it tenderly. You felt yourself warm in his arms. He was looking at you the same way he had that night only this time, this time it didn’t fade into horror and pain. This time all you saw was adoration.
“I realized I couldn’t live without you.” He murmured, pressing his forehead against yours. “I was a coward and a fool to throw away someone like you, Y/N. I’ve loved you since the moment we met and I haven’t stopped.”
Your lips turned up in a shaky smile at finally hearing those words. All of the anger and sadness you had been holding onto with him vanished, replaced with that love and devotion that had been buried underneath it all. You closed your eyes and allowed yourself to simply be in the moment, his magic warming the two of you up as the party continued inside. 
He started swaying you gently, the music barely loud enough as you let out a small giggle as you twirled away and back into his arms. Eris pressed his lips against your ear, smiling from ear to ear as turned you and took a step back.
“Can we start again, please?” He asked, his signature smirk on his lips as he gave you a deep bow and a wink. 
You rolled your eyes but gave him an exaggerated curtsy, returning his wink and holding your hand out for him to take. “A pleasure to meet you, my Lord.”
Eris yanked you into his arms and you let out a small shriek, hitting his shoulder playfully as he dipped his head until your lips were near touching. You looked up at him through your lashes, your cheeks flushed, waiting in anticipation.
“I think we’ve both done enough waiting, little fox. Let’s just skip to the good part.” He flirted, sealing your lips against his as you both savored finding each other again. 
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starcrossedreaders · 1 year
Text
Grossly Dependent
Azriel x Reader
Warnings: Angst with fluff at the end, self doubt, injury
Authors note: YOU GUYS MATTER! Don’t let anyone else convince you other wise.  There will always be someone out there that loves you. <3
'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'
I never meant to get myself in this situation. Being noisy had it’s perks till it didn’t, and currently I was suffering from the down fall of Fae hearing. 
“Honestly, my condolences go out to whoever her mate is, it must be hard to be putting up with such a dependent mate.”  Hushed voices turned into giggles that escaped their lips.
 I never knew my co-workers to be so cruel. Was I really that dependent on Azriel? Does he hate it? He never seemed to hate it, but he isn’t the shadow master for no reason. 
My mind was processing 100 thoughts at once, like waves coming up and washing away any self respect I had. I let out a sadden sigh, threw up the wall to the bond and got to shelving books. 
I had worked longer tonight in hopes to clear my mind before I face my mate but all attempts had failed miserably.  If anything, it made it worse. I thought to every time I had needed his help and how he reacted, this only resulted in me to drop the books in my arms, or almost fall off of the stool I needed to use to reach the highest shelves. Maybe they were right. Azriel had been the soul reason I left my bed when the sun rose. The reason I had worked so hard to make a better life for myself, the reason I was living not just existing. But maybe, just maybe I’m only living because of he has helped me every step of the way, from wrapping my hand when I burned it, to holding me through the late hours of the night when I was having a hard day.  
As I was getting ready to close the bookstore a notably handsome male walked through the doors. Tall, somewhat well built with blond hair that swept his face and blue eyes. Nothing he has would beat Azriel and all of his artistry. I often found myself comparing my mate to the art we would see on our dates, nothing can beat him; the art was as close as one could get.
“Hi welcome in, may I help you find anything?” I smile at him as he walks up to register. As I walked up he eyed me up and down taking in my figure, creep.
“Well of course, do you guys have any history books?”  He tilted his head to the side taking more time to observe me.
“Right this way. Are you looking for a certain book?” I started walking towards the designated section as he stated the title of his book.
When we made it to the spot I scanned the binds of the books to, of course to find the book to be on the top shelf.  As I go to reach it on the tips of my toes my fingers nearly grazing the thick bind, I lost balance.  As I began to tip backwards and tripping on my own feet  the male behind me braced me by the waist. I clenched my eyes shut hoping to hide from my embarrassment. After a few heart beats I began to back away only for the male to strengthen his grip of me. 
“You can let go now,” I looked up to him giving him a deadpanned look. He looked back at me grinning slightly.
“No ‘thank you’ for saving you?” His arrogant manner was starting to get on my nerves.
“Thanks. You can let go now,” I tried to push his hands off of me. Everything about his hands on me gave my stomach a twist. It’s not my mate, in no way shape or form.
He tried to pull me closer until shadows swept pass us going straight towards my ankles and arms to protect me.
Azriel.
“She said to let go. You have 3 seconds to let go or your hands are mine.” His cold voice sent shivers up my spine. 
The male growled, ripped his hands from my waist and angerly walked out.
He had saved me once again, I was truly and utterly defenseless. Being oh so dependent on my mate, once again. The chills from my spine soon felt like hot lava pouring down on my spine. Anger, blind rage and anger surged through me.
“Are you okay my love? Did he hurt you?” His protective, yet warming words reached my ears.
“I’m fine.” I curled my fists and walked past him to close the store. I know I shouldn’t be so cold towards my mate, especially after he saved me. But my co-workers words kept repeating in my mind. 
Dependent.
Dependent.
Dependent.
“Are you sure? You seem kind of upset,”  
“I said I’m fine Az, let me close the store and then we can go home.” I left no room for him to try again as I began my closing duties. Azriel just sent a warm loving feeling down the bond that I embraced. I sagged my shoulders as I counted the money.
As my mates feet touched the ground I was off to the kitchen to start dinner. I didn’t really want to talk about today, or how I was feeling for that matter. I went  to occupy my mind again in hopes to better myself for my mate. 
Starting dinner took a lot of work and restraint to not just go fall into our bed and sleep for the rest of my immortal life. I truly don’t know why I was feeling this way, Azriel was the best mate I could have ever asked for, even if he was little overbearing and protective. He can’t help it, working for the High Lord is never easy and his work brings a lot of threats around but still. Nesta and Feyre are never this dependent on their mates, in fact most of the time they were the ones to wear the pants in the relationship. Rhys gave Feyre time and knows she can handle herself. Cassian knows how Nesta is and respects that she is as independent as they come. Azriel...
Before I could finish my thought a sharp wave of pin surged through my hand. Lost in my thoughts I hadn’t realized that the knife was so close to my finger and I sliced it open. It took a minute to fully understand what happened and then the strong copper sent wafted up in the air. The shadow Az left to make sure I was okay was gone before I could blink and Az was booming down the stairs after I opened my eyes. 
I stood up straight and faced my back towards him as I began to rinse out the wound.
“Y/N, are you okay, is the cut deep, what happened?” So, so, many questions
dependent.
dependent.
dependent.
The words rattled throughout my skull.
“I’m fine, I can handle it on my own. You don’t have to be protecting me all the time Az. Nothing is going to happen to me if you look away for one second. S-So just go finish your work or whatever you were doing, I can do this myself.” The words stumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them, and soon after the air become still.
“Love...” Love rushed down the bond as he face turned from concerned to hurt. I couldn’t handle that look. 
I go to walk past him but he flung his wing out stopping me in my tracks.
“Talk to me, Love. Why do you feel this way,” His shadows left to get the first aid-kit leaving us to each other. His beautiful hazel eyes bored into me. My bottom lip began to quiver as tears rose to my eyes and my throat burned. Az was quick to bring his hand to my cheek, wiping the running tears away. I place my hand on top of his and leaned into his touch. He connected his forehead to mine in hopes that my thoughts would pour into his mind.
“Talk to me.” He whispered hot breath ran down my face as he slide his thumb back and forth on my cheek.
“Every day, all I hear is how reliant I am on you. For the longest time I refused to listen to their words. I thought you enjoyed being there for me as much as I do for you but then, you introduced your friends to me. Gods they looked so happy with their mates. Both sisters being strong and independent, if anything their mates needed them. Sometimes I wonder if you want something like that, a person to lean on.... not a burden,” I took in a deep breath and closed my eyes. How did I just confess that to my mate...
Az pulled back letting out a sigh and he began to work on bandaging my finger.
“My mate, my lovely mate. How could you ever be a burden, I don’t think you realize how much you  lift me up as much I lift you up. We help each other in different aspects of our lives. You helped me with my insecurities, my hands, self destructive thoughts, showing that I do deserve your love. Remember when we first met?” He lets out a small life and I grinned a little.
“Yea, I do,” 
“You tripped on cauldron knows what with a coffee in one hand and books in the other. You just so happened to be graced by my chivalrous acts and I saved you. That day I knew, just knew you were my mate. Even if you fall hundred times over I would never change you for the world. Mother has blessed me with you and I could never thank her enough. You are enough, you are wanted, and you are most certainly not. a. burden. So get those thoughts out of your head,” Az finished wrapping my finger as he placed a soft kiss on the cut. 
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
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violet-shadows · 2 years
Text
I knew it the first night that I saw you. (Part One)
Part One | Part Two - Azriel’s POV | Masterlist 
Summary: When the High Lady’s sister sends a friend to your shop in her stead, you find your thoughts are soon captivated by a certain member of the Inner Circle.
Word Count: 2.1k
Pairing: Azriel x Reader
Warnings: none
A/N: Thank you to this anon for the request!! I really hope you enjoyed this one. Thank you everyone who has requested, reblogged, replied, liked, and otherwise interacted with my work. It means a lot!
⊱ —————— ❈  —————— ⊰
 It was late Autumn when you first saw him, just a few weeks after you opened your shop on the Rainbow. The bookstore had been a staple in Velaris for many decades, but after the attack on the Rainbow, its previous owner had not reopened, taking it as a sign to retire instead. When you bought the shop, it was largely in shambles, the mahogany shelves covered in thick layers of dust and the remaining inventory moth-eaten and water damaged. It took you the entire spring and summer to fix up the place and source new books, but the effort had been worth it. The fae of Velaris welcomed the renewed presence of the bookshop on the Rainbow and you breathed a sigh of relief as it appeared your investment would pay off after all. Still, you were reluctant to incur any unnecessary expenses so early on and, in lieu of hiring staff, you worked open to close each day. Your hard work meant you didn’t get out much, staying cooped up inside the shop for the bulk of your time since you settled in Velaris, but when you looked around at the fruits of your labor, you didn’t regret a moment of it.
You had acquired a few regular customers in the short time since you opened, including, to your surprise, the High Lady’s sister. Nesta had been intimidating at first, her regal presence and piercing gaze was enough to make anyone a bit apprehensive. A few conversations about various books had warmed her to you, and you found yourself looking forward to her weekly visits now. It was during one of those visits, as you showed her your new inventory and discussed the latest book in a series you both enjoyed, that he appeared for the first time. You, of course, knew of the Shadowsinger, but he was one of the few members of the High Lord’s Inner Circle that you had never actually seen before. You weren’t sure what compelled you to turn and look, but as he walked by the window of your shop, you lost your train of thought.
He was gorgeous. Although you were not one to typically be swayed by aesthetics, you couldn’t help but take a moment to admire the infamous Spymaster as he surveyed the streets of Velaris, apparently unaware of your eyes on him. Nesta followed your gaze and gave a knowing smirk. “I better go. Az is giving me a lift home while Cassian is out of town. It was good to talk to you again.”
Az. Short for Azriel, if your memory served you. You resisted the urge to repeat his name when she said it, instead bidding her adieu and busying yourself with updating her tab to you wouldn’t embarrass yourself by watching him go. For the remainder of the evening, you found yourself blushing as your thoughts traveled back to the Spymaster inexplicably. The effect he had on you was puzzling at best, but several weeks later, it all made sense.
It was minutes before closing and you were expecting Nesta, who was supposed to drop by to pick up a new release you had set aside for her. When the bell on the door rang, you were surprised, to say the least, to find none other than Azriel in your doorway. Up close, he was even more beautiful, his features sharp and symmetrical, as though chiseled from stone by a skilled sculpture. You stammered a greeting and his expression remained neutral as he responded politely.
“Nesta said you set a book aside for her and asked me to pick it up. She and Cassian as unexpectedly… occupied.” You tried to keep your nerves in check as you nodded, fumbling behind the counter for the package you set aside.
“Yes! It’s right here. That was kind of you, to pick it up for her,” you caught his eyes as you spoke, momentarily lost in the intense, molten hazel. As he reached out for the book, something peculiar happened. Your hands brushed, just barely, and his shadows, which had been largely hidden since he arrived, surged forward to curl around your wrist like cool, sentient smoke. Azriel startled, his grip on the book slipping, and in an instant, the shadows were pulled back from you.
“I’m sorry!” He took several steps back, his eyes wide. If you didn’t know better, it almost seemed as though his outstretched hand was shaking. “They don’t usually— I’m so sorry.” His neutral expression was wiped away, replaced by a look of bewilderment that was both puzzling and endearing.
“It’s okay! Really!” You rushed to reassure him, “They don’t bother me. I think they’re actually quite fascinating.” He took another step back, his expression still twisted in shock. “Really, I don’t mind. They’re beautiful.” The words came tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop them and you felt your cheeks heat in embarrassment. He swallowed thickly then, regaining some composure.
“I—um. I have to go. Have a nice evening.” He rushed out, gently shutting the shop door behind him disappearing into shadows a few paces outside your shop door. The book he had come to retrieve was left on the counter, entirely forgotten and you fretted, replaying the interaction in your mind. Had you offended him? Committed some unknown faux pas? Was it rude to acknowledge his shadows?
You closed up shop immediately, thereafter, putting the book back behind the counter. Would he come back for it? It was doubtful, given the speed at which he’d rushed off. What would he tell Nesta? What would you tell Nesta? The thoughts churning in your mind kept you awake for the better part of the night, tossing and turning well into the wee hours of the morning. When you woke to the sun cresting the horizon, the idea of dragging yourself from bed felt torturous. Despite your exhaustion, you willed yourself out of bed and set about your morning routine, determined to push through the day.
When you arrived at the shop, you were surprised, to say the least, to find your first customer patiently waiting for you to open. At the first sight of Illyrian wings, your heart skipped a beat, calming only marginally when you realized it was Cassian, not Azriel, that was waiting outside your door. You had met Cassian one before in passing when Nesta had dragged him into the store. As far as you were concerned, the General was one of the more intimidating members of the Inner Circle from a distance, but upon being introduced, he had been nothing but warm and easygoing.
Still, you steeled yourself as you approached, an irrational part of your brain worried that he might be here to talk to you about the incident with Azriel. Surely he wasn’t upset with you, you reasoned. You hadn’t done anything wrong. Had you? It was a foolish thought, you realized then, to think yourself so important that the General of the Night Court would seek you out for offending a courtier.
“Y/N,” he turned to greet you as you approached, a jolly smile on his face, and you let out a sigh of relief. “Good morning!”
“Good morning, Lo—Cassian.” You stopped yourself, remembering his mirthful smile when you addressed him as “Lord Cassian” during your first meeting. “What can I do for you today?”
“Nesta sent me to pick up a few things. But I realized you don’t open for another twenty minutes. I can wait.” He was grinning from ear to ear, unusually cheerful for the hour.
“Nonsense,” You opened the door, gesturing for him to enter. “Please, do come in.” You rushed behind the counter to retrieve the book as your visitor strolled through the shop, taking stock of various books as he went.
“I hope you’ll forgive Azriel for forgetting it.” You were glad you were turned away from him as you felt the blood drain from your face. “It seems he was quite… distracted last night.”
“I, um… I hope I didn’t offend him too terribly,” you cast your gaze down, willing your cheeks not to heat.
“You offend him? I don’t—,” Cassian seemed to stop himself then, his eyes glinting mischievously. He seemed at ease about the situation, though, and you took it as a sign that you would relax. “Az is not easily offended. I think he was quite taken with your shop, though. I’m sure you’ll be seeing more of him.”
You inclined your head, your mind flitting back to the previous night when he hadn’t seemed the least bit interested in your wares. Before you could ask any more questions, Cassian grabbed the book off the counter and made his way towards the door.
“Thank you, again. I’m sure I’ll see you soon!” You stared after him for a moment before deciding that you had already wasted far too much time reading into the habits of the Inner Circle and resolving to let it go. You were sufficiently distracted for the remainder of the day, busying yourself with bookkeeping and inventory so your mind wouldn’t drift to a certain Illyrian. You were absorbed in your work towards the end of the day, the afternoon thrum of customers having died out as twilight fell. Hunched over your records with your back to the door, you didn’t hear the jingle of the bell or the creek of the floorboard that usually accompanied a customer’s arrival. Instead, a quiet, deep voice had you jumping out of your skin, your pen going flying as you whirled around to face your guest.
“Hello,” said none other than the Spymaster himself, once again stood in the middle of your store just minutes before closing time. For a moment, you stared at him, wide-eyed, and struggled to conjure a socially acceptable response. Or any response, for that matter. Azriel shifted ever so slightly, betraying his discomfort as the silence stretched on a bit too long to be normal.
Finally, you spoke. “Hello! Welcome! I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in and I was just… What can I do for you?”. The words came out hurried and high pitched and you cringed internally. You were nervous, that much was clear to the both of you, but why the male before you had such an effect was still a mystery.
“I wanted to come to apologize. For last night. My shadows were out of line and I left quickly and forgot the book. It was rude of me.” Unconsciously, you had stepped out from behind the counter, moving to stand in front of Azriel.
“Really, there’s no need. I’m sure you’re very busy. I do apologize that you came all this way. Cassian came by this morning and picked it up.”
The corner of Azriel’s lips drew upward ever so slightly and he took a step forward, “I know, I wanted to make things right in person, though and—,” he paused midsentence, as though hesitating to continue. “And perhaps walk you home this evening.”
⊱ —————— ❈  —————— ⊰
Azriel indeed walked you home that evening, as well as every evening after for the next week. You tried to tell him it wasn’t necessary, but he brushed you off. “It makes me feel better knowing you made it home safely,” he confessed on the fourth night when you pressed. You waited for him to qualify it, to add that something like, ‘it would look bad if Velaris lost its book shop on the Rainbow for a second time’. But he didn’t, and the sincerity in his eyes when he said it set your heart aflutter. With each passing night, you found yourselves opening up to one another, falling into conversation like old friends, rather than practical strangers. For the first time, you wished you lived further from your shop, your evening walks coming to an end far before you wanted to part from the male. On the sixth night, he seemed to read your mind and asked you a question when you reached your doorstep. “Tomorrow night,” he began, his shadows crowding his face as he spoke, “would you allow me to take you to dinner?”
You nodded, your cheeks heating of their own volition, and replied, “I’d like that very much, Azriel.”
The next evening you closed the shop slightly early, giving you a moment to slip into a cobalt blue dress before your escort-turned-date arrived. The restaurant he brought you to overlooked the Sidra and the gentle flow of the river could be heard from the veranda where you sat. As the night progressed, the two of you loosened up, falling into easy conversation. It was towards the end of the meal, as you sat and marveled at the feeling of contentment that had settled into you, that you had the realization.
The connection glowed to life within you, his presence a comforting weight on the end of an invisible cord between you. A jolt of gentle euphoria shot through you, not unlike letting out a long-held breath. You gasped, your eyes going wide, and suddenly, Azriel’s behavior made perfect sense.
“You knew,” you were grinning as you spoke and Azriel’s expression was one of hope.
“I knew it the first night that I saw you. That…”
“We’re mates.”
⊱ —————— ❈  —————— ⊰
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queen--of--shadows · 1 year
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A Formidable Pair: Part 3
Azriel x Reader
Summary: As spymaster to the Spring Court, the Reader meets her unfriendly match from the Night Court as they work together to train, rebuild and repair Court relations.
Warnings: none
Word Count: 1224
Notes: so sorry for the delay in getting part 3 out! work has been kicking my ass and i’ve barely had time to write 🥲 let me know how you like the story so far 🖤 ENJOY xx
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5
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Gods, she moved faster than lightning.
Punch, kick, dodge, strike.
As if they could sense each other’s next move, Azriel danced and twirled with her across the dry dirt pit, dust clouds forming in the wake.
The feral amusement in her eyes as she lunged for him sparked something in the Shadowsinger’s blood.
Years of lethal training in the Autumn Court under Eris became apparent as she struck and dodged each of his blows, swift as a gazelle prancing in the last glowing rays of the setting sun.
Azriel kept his eyes averted from her unnecessarily distracting training leathers that clung to her lithe, muscled body.
A living weapon—that’s what she was, he came to realize with every hit and jab, every twirl and leap. Defiant, cunning, wild.  
He had, of course, provoked it—that rage that simmered under the surface, the familiar deadly calm that glittered in her eyes. And even though he had accepted her challenge, he didn’t think she would go for a full-blown attack.
Azriel had underestimated her.
When Rhys told him weeks ago about their upcoming trip to the Spring Court, Aziel adamantly refused, unwilling to travel to his Lord and Lady’s enemy lands.
Well, ally lands now. Azriel still didn’t trust Tamlin or his sudden attempts at peace and rectification.
But with enough persuasion and persistence from Feyre, he begrudgingly obliged. There was no way he would knowingly let Rhys go alone and spend an entire week there unguarded, even if he knew his brother could handle himself perfectly fine.
And he definitely wasn’t going without doing his own research on the spy he was supposedly working with, and her underlings that he was meant to train.
Y/N. It tasted distant and foreign on his tongue.
He didn’t care to get to know her. Didn’t bother to speak to her more than necessary.
A spy for his two most hated Courts. Born and raised in Autumn, bred like a bloodhound in the Spring.
Despite knowing that Lucien dragged her here to give her a break from Eris’s vile, demanding missions, Azriel expected a timid, shy thing, fumbling and feeble and meek.
Nothing like the cool, lethal killer now in front of him, moving with the nimble grace of a jungle cat circling its prey before going for the killing blow.
Azriel suddenly wondered if they had indeed been cut from the same cloth.
The thought cost him.
He registered her attack a second too late, unable to maneuver his way out. She wrapped her muscled legs around his torso while flipping around and back, grabbing his head and pinning him down. Azriel found himself immovable against the ground in a headlock, her body wrapped around his. One movement from him, and she could snap his neck.
She was fury, wrath, vengeance.
Yes, he had definitely underestimated her.
As if she was suddenly aware of the entanglement of their bodies, she undid herself from the position and got up, quick and smooth as a snake.
Loose strands of hair that escaped her braid whipped around her face in the dusky breeze. The new spies all stood gaping, eyes darting from Azriel to her.
“Care for round two, Spymaster?” she asked, her voice like death and bloodshed.
Azriel shook off his nerves and let himself fall into the mask of the cold, unforgiving warrior. “Be ready to leave at dawn,” was all he managed to say. Thank Gods his voice didn’t reveal his anger, rage and embarrassment. He brushed the dirt off his leathers and turned back towards the Manor.
---------------------------
It was early enough that the dim morning light hadn’t begun to brighten the night sky. As much as he hated the Spring Court, Azriel couldn’t help but sleep with the windows open to let in the sweet, balmy breeze that cooled the pit of anger coiled in his gut since last night. He hadn’t even gone down for dinner, despite Rhysand’s request to join him. He had to avoid seeing her for as long as possible, not wanting his self-loathing of being caught off guard by some young spy to ruin his brother’s meal.
Pulling on his leathers and sheathing his blades, Azriel made his way to the training ring again, ready to get in a quick morning workout before heading back home for the Winter Solstice Party. A small smile bloomed at the thought of being around his family again and celebrating Feyre’s birthday.
His shadows led the way down and around Tamlin’s massive home, the only noise coming from his leather boots against the black and white marble tiles.
A soft, lilting voice stopped him in his tracks.
He crossed the last few steps of the hallway and cracked open the gilded doorframe that led to the training court, just enough to hear the quiet melody:
“Fly me to the moon…”
Given his luck, he knew there could only be one person awake and out there this early.
“Let me play among the stars…”
As if in a trance, he cracked the door wider, staring at her while she hummed the rest of the tune to herself, unaware that he was behind her as she stretched out her limbs.
At the sound of his step out into the court, she whipped her head back, locking those harsh, unforgiving eyes with his own. Azriel didn’t bother greeting her as he walked past where she sat and swaggered toward the edge of the ring where weights and bars were littered across the dirt.
It was still dark out, the crescent moon now at the distant edge of the sky and the pink morning light inching above the horizon. Azriel had told her to be ready at dawn, and here she was, bag packed and weapons sharpened before daybreak.
“How long are you going to take,” she said from where she sat, her words nothing like the sweet, honeyed voice that was singing moments ago.
Not a question, but a demand.
“Give me 15 minutes to warm up, then we can head out,” he muttered back.
Before she could respond, Lucien, Tamlin and Rhysand made their way out of the Manor and into the yard.
“Azriel, you and Y/N will be stopping at the Autumn Court first. Y/N has to give her report to Eris since he won’t be making it to the party,” Rhysand drawled, amusement dancing in his violet eyes. “It should take about a half day to fly there, then another few hours before you can winnow back home.”
Neither she nor Azriel responded.
Fine, they would take the long way, then. Together.
Azriel ground his teeth but nodded in agreement, noting how she tensed up from across the ring.
“Thank you for coming and helping Y/N train the new spies, Azriel,” Tamlin said gently. “I appreciate it, and apologize again for missing out on the Solstice Party. I wish I could be there, but I know Y/N will have a wonderful time in my place,” he finished, winking at her before turning on his heel and heading back inside, Rhysand and Lucien trailing him with equally amused expressions.
“Hurry up and finish. I want to head out before it gets too hot,” she barked at him.
As Azriel began his workout, annoyance and dread sluiced through him.
Well, this should be fun.
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taglist: @cute-baby-ducks @brekkershadowsinger @iangelofmusic @j-pendragonx @foggypeanutmongeroaf @luckypersonmentality @eddiesbixch696 @davinaclaire16 @lexie1o9 @thewarriormoon @halfmeltedcandles @cartoonnerdgirl @wrensical003 @abigailrose98 @cafe-inaaa @moonlightazriel @caosfanblr @redbleedingrose @lovebookie123 @sarahstone217 @bookish-dream @blurredlamplight @rellik181 @simplywitchy @his-sweet-nightmare @theravenphoenix26 @icantthinkofanythingplease @sebby-staan @brooke3132 @azriels-angels @mrs-azriel @sparklymiraclecheesecake @aroseinvelaris @dreambeliever13 @fo-cus @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @elenas-safe-spot @dreambeliever13 @mysticalcheescakemiracle @marina468 @kennedy-brooke @margssstuff @atlascorriganlovescookies @ragegarage @judewife @littleblackcatinwonderland @thesillyyogourt @wolfyland07 ​
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theanonymousopossum · 11 months
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Elriel Part 2: Love Language
Hey all,
Back atcha with more fanfiction. This one is pretty short, but I love it. I'm definitely most excited for Solstice, and I hope y'all are looking forward to all the fanfiction still to come. Hope you enjoy my take on Elain and Azriel's language of love.
TW: None
Word count: 1.2K
Azriel walked in, tired and grumpy. He had just finished a mission, which usually meant he would make a beeline straight for bed, and sleep until his shadows reminded him that he had responsibilities, and the cycle would repeat. As he entered his room at the townhouse, a strange scent came to him. Jasmine and honey. Elain lived in the townhouse too, he knew, however why had she been in his room? And then he looked to his desk, and amidst all the paperwork and stationery, he saw it.
It was a single white lily flower. It was gorgeous, and seemed almost to glow. And it bore her scent strongly. She must have left it there while he was away. He knew that she had been growing lilies out in the garden, and he had listened to her talk about them for hours on end. And although he didn't care about flowers, there was something about talking with Elain that just made him at complete ease. Around her, his shadows seemed to fade, sensing that there was no danger or darkness present, because Elain's mere existence drove away whatever evil or misery was nearby. He picked up the lily, and found a small note tied to the stem. Come and meet me in the archway. It was in Elain's elegant handwriting, and based on the dampness of the ink, she had written it not all that long ago. He knew the archway she was referring to, a lovely thing at the entrance of the garden that was covered in roses.
Elain had worked hard to get it that way, Az was sure, and maintained it very well. He looked out of his window and saw it, the gorgeous crimson flowers amidst the sea of dark green leaves. Behind it was a circular walkway, paved with little stepping stones. Benches surrounded it, and in the middle was an ornate fountain, with sky blue water flowing from the statue of a naiad in the centre. And there, hurrying along the path, past the columns covered in wisteria and bushels of hydrangeas, was Elain, wearing a pale pink dress with a white cardigan over top. She reached the fountain, and sat at the edge. She waits for you, his shadows whispered in his ear, she wishes to speak with you. Do not leave her waiting.
Az knew better than to mess up this chance he'd been given, either by the gods or the Mother or whoever dwelt up in the clouds. He winnowed out onto the lawn, and walked briskly towards her. As she sensed his arrival, she looked up, and smiled at him, shifting over so he could take a seat. Az was shocked. Why was she being so nice to him, after what had happened on Solstice? He took a seat next to her, albeit tentatively.
"Hello Elain. How have you been?" He asked politely, hoping she didn't notice his shadows were now playing in her hair and in the folds of her dress, deliberately ignoring his commands to return for the first time ever.
"I've been well. The garden has kept me busy, as well as all the wonderful things here in life. Nyx has been growing, I've learned new recipes, new things to craft, and I've even taken up weaving as of late. But that's not why I wanted you to come. I wanted to...to speak with you. And to give you these." Elain held out a small bouquet of gorgeous white lilies, just like the one he'd received on his desk.
"I know what happened on Solstice, Rhys told Feyre and she told me. I do not hold it against you. And the lilies have been blooming wonderfully as of late, so I thought...I thought you might like them, they're a nice spot of colour, and I know they're very popular in the Night Court and-" she was rambling now, Azriel assumed out of nerves, and he did something he never in a million years thought he would do. He leaned forward and shut her up with a kiss.
He pulled back quickly, worried she might not have wanted it, that he had ruined whatever olive branch she had been extending to him.
"Elain, I-" he began, wondering what he could possibly say. But he didn't need to. Elain leaned forward and kissed him back. Azriel decided that if he died right there, right then, he would die a happy male, because he had kissed Elain Archeron. He had had his fair share of lovers over the centuries, some whom he'd enjoyed more than others, but all paled in comparison to her. Even his long-standing crush on Mor was nothing on what he felt for her. She slid onto his lap, and they kissed for seconds, minutes, hours, days, Az had no idea, it all seemed a blur. All he knew was that he could never get enough of her, of kissing her, of loving her.
Eventually she pulled back, panting slightly, lips red and swollen from kisses.
"I love you Azriel," she said, "and that's what I wanted to talk to you about. I wanted to tell you that I chose you, I choose you, I will forever choose you, and, if you will have me, I wish to be with you."
Az was sure he must have been dreaming. His heart hadn't sang that much since the first time he'd flown 500 years ago. But it was real, the woman he loved was here, sitting on his lap, saying that she wanted him.
"Yes. I love you too, very much so. I choose you, if you will have me," he said, earning a beaming smile from Elain, and he decided that he would die to make her smile like that again. He set his hand down, and they brushed the lilies.
"These lilies...do they have a special meaning to you?" he asked, because something about her gift seemed like a special language of love, even beyond her willingness to give the thing she'd spent so long growing.
"Yes. Back when mama was alive and we were still all together, my father used to bring my mother lilies at least once a week. It was the flower they had at their wedding, and he used to bring them to her as a sign of their love. I always thought it was very touching."
"Indeed, that is...so very, very special. I'm honoured you would share this with me." And he was. It meant the world to him that she'd shared this personal aspect about herself, carrying on this tradition. That night, when Elain had retired for the night and he was back in his chambers, curled into bed, he looked at the delicate white blossoms, illuminated in the moonlight from the window, and smiled. He slept better than he ever had before, now that he had a token of Elain's love to keep him company.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed this! It's one of my personal headcanons that Elain will give Azriel her favourite flower if their book becomes canon. Also, shoutout to my bestie, I won't tag you for privacy's sake but you know who you are, for the inspiration on the lily idea.
Please like or comment if you enjoyed, and have a wonderful time celebrating our favourite seer and shadowsinger!
Taglist:
@elriel-month
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pascalmode · 2 years
Text
In The Stars (4 - The Rematch)
Hello, hello! This is dedicated to @im-tired-please-stop because their support has been everything to me so far during this writing process. They always send me a kind message (hi, i love you). Let me know what you think of this, because it feels very different than what I'm used to writing. I LOVE YOU! ENJOY!
Az x TOG!OC
Words: 3.8k
Warnings: Sword fight, violence, drinking alcohol, and idk??? Maybe a bit sad??? Minor angst??? Find out, I guess.
Asteria cannot take her eyes off of the Shadowsinger. 
Even warming up next to Cassian on the training ring, stretching out her limbs and clashing a blunt-edged practice sword against one that Feyre holds, Asteria can’t seem to get her stare off of the winged male for more than a few seconds at a time. 
He’s so beautiful it hurts to look at him. The elegant and sharp panes of his face draw her attention, and the hazel of his eyes only make her want to inspect him further. 
More than anything, though, she’s curious. What even is a Shadowsinger? Rhysand hadn’t mentioned anything about Azriel’s abilities, but Asteria wants to know everything. She wants to know about the blue gems gleaming on his dark, scaled armor, and about the shadows peering at her over his shoulders, moving as if they have a mind of their own. 
She’s so fixated on them, that she almost doesn’t block Feyre’s practice sword as it jabs towards her abdomen. Asteria wards it off with late swipe of her blade, making her jaw clench. She needs to focus. 
“Not so good with a blade, are you?” Cassian taunts, a teasing smile on his face as he rests his own blunted sword upon his shoulder and saunters over.
Asteria lowers her weapon, ignoring the chill of ice-lined wind swirling around her as she turns to the absurdly tall male, “You sure love to hear yourself talk, don’t you?”
“I’m just saying, we can always lose the blades and even out the odds,” Cassian says, “Maybe it’ll give you an actual chance.”
“Right, because you had me pinned so quickly last time,” Asteria smirks, seeing her jab land when the winged male rolls his eyes, an amused smile growing on his face.
Cassian lets out a chuckle, his free hand perching itself on his hip, “How about a wager?”
Asteria’s brows raise, intrigued by the winged male’s words, and she gives him a nod, urging him to continue. 
“If I win, I get that sword you had on you earlier, and you apologize to me, Mor, and to the window that you needlessly shattered.”
“And if I win?”
“Then drinks are on me at Rita’s tonight.”
Asteria makes a show of taking a long inhale through her nose, and exhaling through her mouth; contemplating before she speaks. The reward is severely uneven, and Asteria is about to drive up the bargain, and hopefully amuse not only Cassian, but the rest of the Inner Circle, “So just to clarify; you want my mother’s sword, one that I’ve carried my entire life, my groveling, but all I get in return is wine?”
“Do you not like wine?”
“Oh no, I love wine, but it’s not enough,” Asteria smirks, “I’ll take your offer of drinks, for me and your Inner Circle, but when I win, I want you on your knees telling me that I am the most skilled fighter you’ve ever encountered, and whatever other flattery you can come up with.”
“Groveling for groveling?” Cassian repeats, earning a proud nod from Asteria, “Seems like we have a deal.”
“Seems like we do,” Asteria says, holding out her leather gloved hand. Cassian takes it, the rough callouses of his palms rubbing on fabric as he giving it a firm shake before he releases her.
A yell from the group of fae gathered at the sidelines of the mat make both of the fighter’s heads whip towards it, “Are we getting this started anytime soon? The wine is getting warm out here!” Mor calls, hugging her fur lined cloak tighter around her body.
Instead of putting her attention to the female, though, Asteria’s eyes find Azriel, finding his burning hazel eyes already scanning over her form. Her nerve endings fire, a tingling spreading over her entire body under his gaze. When their eyes meet, neither of them turn away. Hazel meets green and refuses to move anywhere else.
Asteria swallows her nerves, forcing herself to look back to Cassian as he responds to Mor’s taunts. 
“It’s winter! Stop hugging the bottle and put it in the snow!” Cassian shouts back, chuckling when the blonde responds with a vulgar gesture. The long-haired male turns back to Asteria, tapping his blunted, harmless sword against his palm, “We go until there’s a blow that would fatally wound, or one of us yields, got it?”
Asteria nods, taking a few steps back and spinning her blade at her side, Cassian mirroring her movements. 
They begin to move around the training ring, circling each other, eyes turning from playful and taunting to analytical and careful. Cassian is a General, Asteria remembers, and he’s had time to strategize since their last bout. She’d have to be more careful. She’d draw him out.
Asteria jolts forward a few steps, baiting the male into launching to her, his weapon raised. 
Cassian swings hard, his sword slashing down with a strong, two handed grip. Asteria ducks under it. She doesn’t make for a blow as she usually would, instead, she bats his advance away easily with her own blade, smirking as she does. 
Her smirk falters, however, when Cassian uses that momentum, turning bringing his sword into a high arch and bringing it down on Asteria in a fast, fluid motion.
She blocks it, and their swords clang together, the crisp noise ringing loudly through cold air. Asteria’s hand tightens on her hilt, and her free arm supports the steel of the blade, already sore from Cassian’s brute strength. 
Wrenching to one side, Asteria turns, sword swinging out and connecting hard with Cassian’s as he blocks. She pulls back quickly only to lunge forward again, trying to use her speed as an asset only for Cassian to parry the blow. 
The winged male lurches forward, drawing back only to repeat the action again and again without relent. His swings are strong, strategically placed. He moves like a soldier. Like the feared General of the Night Court Armies he’s known to be. 
He’s giving Asteria a good fight.
The silver haired female grits her teeth, growling as their blades clash together once again, the sound darting through the winter-chilled air. Cassian’s pure strength pushing Asteria back a step. 
Her arms are growing weaker by the second. With every swing of his blade Cassian is advancing on her, wearing her down. Asteria doesn’t have the muscle to take hit after hit, her arms vibrating from the impacts, as if the blows are echoing through her. But she’s faster than him. She’s proved that already. She just has to turn the fight in her favor.  
Cassian slices towards her again, and Asteria makes her move. Grabbing onto the General’s arm, Asteria pulls him forward. Ducking under his arm and kicking out, the female sends him tumbling forward, off balance. 
He whips around in a second, wings flapping once to help him regain his footing, and Asteria saunters towards him, making sure she swings her hips and draws arrogance into her steps as she switches her grip on the practice-sword. She holds the hilt in a reverse grip, and picks up her pace. 
Asteria wants Cassian to know that she’s taking control, and with the way he squares his stance, his lips pulled back in a silent snarl, she knows he hasn’t quite gotten the message. 
She’ll have to prove it to him the only way she knows how. 
Asteria darts towards Cassian before he can advance, catching him as flat-footed as he can be. Whirling around, Asteria spins as she engages the male once again, a growl ripping out of her throat. She attacks him with speed, and quick momentum. She bounces off of his parries and keeps swinging, and slicing, making him keep up with her. Her speed is the only advantage she has against him, so she’s put herself in an all out sprint of assaults 
The reverse grip she holds on her sword, the one Asteria prefers, is tricky. His blocks come with a new hesitation, as though he isn’t sure where the silver-haired female is actually going to strike. She’s making him rethink through his defenses. 
He’s trying desperately to regain the upper hand he once held, but every attack Cassian tries, Asteria turns against him. Each attempt to stop her momentum, to slow her down, falters, Asteria moving out of his reach like water through his fingers. 
She’s too fast for him, and Asteria knows she’s about to have him beat, just a couple more moves and she can use his own strength against him. Asteria manages to bat Cassian’s sword away, spinning and swinging for his chest, his throat. She’s thinks she’s about to win.
Until Cassian’s leg swings out in a desperate attempt to save himself and the match, and he trips her. 
Asteria doesn’t falter when she hits the mat, her mind telling her to movemovemove. Her head whips up as Cassian darts forward, and she kicks out, her foot hooking around his knee and pulling with all of her immortal strength.
Cassian falls back hard, laying out on the mat just as Asteria had for a split second, and much like their encounter the day before, Asteria is on him in the blink of an eye.
With no time to waste, Asteria rams the hilt of her sword into Cassian’s ribs and digs her knee into his chest, pressing her weight in to keep him down. 
Not yet defeated, Cassian swings his sword one last time, the blunted metal meeting Asteria’s forearm, held up to deflect the blow while she presses her blade into his throat, the both of them panting hard. 
The match is over. 
“You lose a hand,” Cassian lets out between labored breaths. 
“And you lose your head,” Asteria points out, pressing her harmless sword a little harder into the male’s neck, “I wonder what’s more important.”
“Depends on the hand,” Cassian smirks, and Asteria bites back her laugh at the crude humor.
From the sidelines, Rhysand, Amren, Mor, Feyre, and Azriel all cheer loudly, clapping their hands and yelling taunts to the General. They had been yelling the entire fight, constantly switching sides throughout. Asteria had barely noticed Rhysand calling, ‘Oh, it’s over for him now’ when Asteria took up her reverse grip on the blade. She’d been to focused on trying to slice through Prythian’s fearless General.
“You lose, Cassian,” The silver-haired female proudly says, pulling herself up to her feet, “Time for some groveling.”
Another round of cheers comes from the Inner Circle, and Cassian releases a dramatic sigh, raising himself up to his knees and holding his arms up in grandeur, drawing all the eyes around to him. 
“Asteria Relridaar,” Cassian begins, a delighted smirk on his lips, “Not only are you one of the most infuriating females I have ever encountered in my five centuries of existence, but you are also the most skilled fighter. You move faster than I can keep up with, and you have bested me twice. And I didn’t think it was possible, but you may be the only person to have better hair than me. I will forever be endlessly jealous. How’s that for flattery and grovelling?”
“It’ll have to do, won’t it?” Asteria teases, nonchalantly, offering the General her hand. He takes it, pulling himself up to his feet. The silver haired female half expects him to use the gesture to throw her to the mat and pin her to save a semblance of that fragile male pride fae are so well known for. He would never succeed, obviously, because Asteria was trained better than that, but it surprises her when he makes no such move. 
Cassian is sportsmanlike when he playfully claps her on the shoulder, and it feels so kind, so otherworldly, that Asteria stiffens. 
The female looks upon the group that had gathered, eyes lingering on the Shadowsinger for a moment too long before she’s clearing her throat, “I’ll see you all when it’s time for Rita’s,” Asteria hurriedly says, heart hammering in her chest as she moves away from Cassian and sets her practice blade on a nearby rack before hurrying back inside the house.
When she slams the door to her bedroom behind her, she tries to shake off the feeling of hazel eyes burning into her back as she fled. 
Since it was established a few hundred years ago, the Inner Circle had sought out Rita’s for excitement, a few good drinks, and a sense of comradery. There’s a booth always reserved for them, and bottles of their favorite wine and ale always on hand. 
Azriel always looked forward to nights spent there. It was the one place there were no spies needing his attention, no reports to follow up with, and where the shadows that are always dancing around him tend to relax, quiet down, just slightly. 
Sat on the edge of the booth, Rhys clamping down on his shoulder while he barks a laugh at something the Shadowsinger had muttered in response to an exaggerated story from Cassian, Azriel should be enjoying himself. He should be focusing on the words leaving Mor’s red-painted lips, as he usually would. Her mere presence should be absolutely gripping him from where she sits across from her.
But he’s distracted.
Truthfully, he’s the most off his game that he’s been in centuries, purely because of the introduction of the Realm Reader. The same silver haired female he can’t seem to pry his stare off of for more than a few moments at a time. 
He couldn’t read her. As the Spymaster to his beloved Court, Azriel prides himself for his observation skills. He watches from the shadows that always welcome him like an old friend, and often feels like he knows a person after a few moments. He’d proved that skill more times than he can count.
But not with Asteria. He can’t figure her out. 
She isn’t at their booth. She had been for a few minutes, chuckling along with the inside jokes Mor had shared with her during their first round of wine, but somehow never offering more than a small, crooked smile. She’d been enjoying herself, amused even.
But in a moment, it’s like a switch was flipped. Azriel had watched as something changed in her evergreen eyes, like a wall slowly being propped up, and she excused herself, lingering by herself at the corner of the bar instead. 
Even so, it’s as if Asteria’s presence demands Azriel’s attention, her green eyes, the shade of the evergreens that line the forests of the Night Court, are more careful than anyone Azriel had seen before. Maybe even more than his. As though she’s truly taking in and assessing every detail in the room, and had been since they arrived. 
Her posture is straight, her long, silver hair tightly braided and falling to the small of her back. She holds herself with a quiet dignity that only comes with centuries of training, and battle. Based off the lethal skill she’d displayed earlier, Azriel can’t help but admire the way she stands; Confidently, like she’s a mountain that no one can move. 
Why shouldn’t she be confident? She’d bested one of the most powerful Illyrians in history. She’s fast, and knows how to use a sword well. Outside of her fighting, her beauty is an elegant, dangerous variety. Tricky. Like she’d lure him in only to shatter him completely. 
Azriel’s eyes skim over her soft, feminine features betrayed by the slashing scars littered up and around her delicately long neck and collar bones, disappearing beneath her tunic. He’s curious if there are more underneath, and about the stories behind them. 
Most of all, he’s curious about why he finds himself unable to look away from her.
With his goblet suddenly empty, Azriel excuses himself from the booth, moving through the crows of both High and Low Fae, moving to the far corner of the bar.
Asteria doesn’t say anything when he stands beside her, his elbows leaning on the bar and shadows that were once settled waking up and screaming in his ear that she’s looking at him. Her scent wafts through the air, citrus and amber and something faintly woodsy he can’t quite place.
When she raises her cup to her lips, sipping her wine, Azriel notes how smooth the motion is. He thinks back to her battle with Cassian, remembering the lethal grace she’d moved with. She’d been sure of herself, the reverse grip she’d held on her sword acting as an asset to her speed and agility. Asteria had swiped at Cassian’s chest, and neck, deadly swipes if the practice blades were actually sharp enough to cause harm. He’d seen combat like that before on a few occasions from hired fighters. Ones that don’t end the match when their opponent yields.
“You fight like an assassin,” Azriel says, glancing over to the silver haired female to see her quirking a brow at him from over the rim of her goblet. 
She swallows before speaking, those dark green eyes of hers running over his face, that same careful observation he recognizes so deeply in himself, “Is that a bad thing?”
“Not necessarily,” Azriel quietly shrugs, “Are you an assassin?”
“I was. A long time ago,” Asteria breathes, looking away from Azriel and towards the booth housing his boisterously laughing friends, “I’ve been a lot of things since then.”
Azriel finds himself nodding, waving over the bar maid to fill up his cup, thanking her when she pours the wine and immediately taking a sip, letting the crisp taste flood through him, “What are you now?”
Asteria eyes him, her eyes lingering on the marred skin of his hands. He supposes that’s one of the worst parts, people notice, they ask, and Azriel has to tell the story again and again. He’s had females shrink away from his touch, and Illyrians up in the mountains make a point of mocking him about them. The scars don’t define him, but that doesn’t stop the shame that crawls up his spine when they’re mentioned. 
 “I don’t know,” She says her eyes finding his, almost hesitantly, as if she’s standing on uneven ground, “Being here feels,” The female pauses, her brows furrowing, “It feels like-”
Before she can continue, a strum runs through the air, and Azriel turns around, seeing that the house band that he’d gotten to know very well over the past hundred years they’d been performing had taken their place on a small elevated stage. 
The quintette starts an upbeat opening number, the beat of a lambskin drum coming in beneath the melody of two loots, the players facing each other with glee at the beginning of their performance, the other instruments; a pianoforte and a standing bass come in a moment later, their sounds full and complete as they mix together with familiarity.
Azriel looks back to Asteria, and what he sees almost makes him drop his cup.
The female stares at the band with a wonder-filled intensity, eyes lined with tears and lips parted. As though she hadn’t been prepared for the music, but the surprise was exactly what she needed.
“Are you okay?”
Gaze snapping back to the Shadowsinger, Asteria rushes to wipe at her wet eyes, nodding, “Yes, sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” Azriel says, trying his best to sound soothing.
“It’s just-” Asteria utters, frantic gaze back on the musicians, “It’s been two hundred years since I’ve heard it.”
“A band?”
Asteria shakes her head, the melody swirling around them, building loud enough that if she didn’t hold every ounce of his attention, Azriel wouldn’t have heard her devastating words.
“Music,” She whispers, voice shaking, “It’s been two hundred years since I’ve heard music.”
Azriel can’t help it when his brows raise in surprise, bewildered, he looks back to the band, and then to Asteria. He swallows, eyes grazing over the scars on the sides of her neck, traveling to the low, thin scar that runs across the base of her throat. It looks as though it would be a killing blow. His fist clenches at his side, and he can’t help but wonder what fresh hell the female had endured to not only be rid of music for so long, but also get such lethal looking scars from wounds that probably should have killed her.
“Do you…” Azriel trails off, finding her silver lined eyes again and clearing his throat, “Do you want to dance?”
“No,” Asteria breathes, shaking her head, “No. I just want to listen.”
He watches as her eyes close, the unique shade of green in her eyes hidden as she tilts her head back, letting the music consume, and thunder through her. Azriel doesn’t move from her side, the shadows in his ears scolding him for even looking away from the female, let alone putting distance between them. 
One song melts into another, and then another, and Azriel doesn’t know how much time passes, but all he does is listen. He hears the band perform a set he’s sat through before, but his attention isn’t on them. It’s on Asteria. 
Asteria, who he can’t seem to figure out. 
Another song ends, and the female blinks open her eyes, looking over to the Shadowsinger, content, “This Realm is familiar,” She suddenly says, and when Azriel raises a brow, confused, she clarifies for him, “That’s what I was going to say before they started playing. Being here feels familiar.”
Azriel can’t help the curious tilt of his head, “Really?”
“Prythian and Erilea don’t seem to be very different from one another,” Asteria says, her eyes still locked on the musicians, the pianoforte in particular, “I think— I think I got lucky, ending up here, of all places. You’ve all been kind to me.”
“They’re all very kind,” Azriel utters, looking towards his friends, his family, with a warm, fond feeling spreading over his chest at the light hearted expressions on their faces, as if the war is already long behind them. A joy recovered by their love, their friendship. Bonds that will never be broken, “They make me proud to serve this Court.”
Asteria nods, her eyes filled with longing as the piano leads the way into a new song, “Do you think I can come back here again?” She asks, her voice coming out timid, and almost afraid. A stark contrast to the seemingly fearless female he’d seen in the ring earlier in the day, “To listen to more music?”
“Asteria, you don’t have to ask permission,” Azriel says, his tone serious enough to bring the devastatingly beautiful female’s eyes to his, “You can come here whenever you’d like.”
“Right,” Asteria nods, waving over the bar maid for more wine. 
When her cup is full, she takes a long sip, and Azriel watches as that wall she put up earlier eases down. It doesn’t move by much, but it’s progress. A sliver of progress. It’s enough that the Shadowsinger is able to make an easy decision.
He can’t seem to figure out Asteria, but he wants to. He desperately wants to.
-----
Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added) :
@bionic-donut @hollyismentallyillhelp​ @younxii @feyretopia @hideing
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thomasisaslut · 4 months
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The High Lord and The Courtier: Chapter Ten | Azriel
Chapter Index
Word Count: 1k.
Once arriving home for the second time in the day, or well, now night, he was angry. Azriel was visibly furious that he couldn't spend more time with his mate, and to see him with fucking wings, it sent a wave of heat to his cock.
"Az!" Cassian tackles him in a tight hug, the two Illyrians fall to the floor, Cassian now lying on top of Azriel.
"Cass, what are you doing? It's late." Azriel questions his brother, not wondering why he is on his chest though, the man was known to tackle hug.
"It's only ten at night, I'm not Nyx." The Lord of Bloodshed laughs before standing up, Azriel takes his offered hand and gets lifted to his feet, it remind him of Eris.
"Why were you gone for so long?" Cassian asks, his dark, brown eyebrow raising as he questions his brother.
"I have my reasons." Azriel snaps back.
"Yes I bet, I mean, you reek of the High Lord." Cassian smirks, teasing.
In a second a fist connects with the Lord of Bloodshed's face, sending him stumbling backwards but not yet off balance. Cassian looks at him after rubbing his nose that is now bleeding.
"Did I strike a nerve?" Cassian asks, however, the concern in his tone was evident.
Azriel shadow walks them to the top of the Illyrian Steppes, they stand in the ring, Azriel ready to spar.
"Do you need an outlet, Az?" When the Shadowsinger remains silent his worry only grows. "Alright, come on." Cassian lifts his hands, readying up.
The brawl begins, fists being thrown left and right, they hit the different boxing positions, from one to six. The moonlight dances along the Illyrians, illuminating their already defined features, if anyone were to be watching, they would be sure to swoon.
"What's..." Cassian throws another hit, Azriel puts up his arms and counters by kicking the Lord of Bloodshed's knee, his leg locks and he falls. "Wrong?"
Azriel raises his fists against but Cassian quickly moves, now behind the spymaster. He wraps his arm around his neck, holding Azriel in a tight headlock, Azriel flails his arms in an attempt to escape but eventually gives up.
"Tell me what is wrong Az, I'm worried." Cassian says slowly as Azriel taps out of the match.
The Shadowsinger slouches before sitting criss-cross on the sand boxing ring floor. Cassian follows, he sits opposite to Azriel, the word ‘concern’ practically written all over his face.
"He... fuck. I..." Azriel struggles to find his words when Cassian looks at his forearm.
"Bargain?" Cassian says as he looks at the Day Court mark on his arm.
The perfect cover. "Yes. I had to make a bargain with Helion, it has been bothering me. Nothing bad, of course, I'm just..."
"Stop." Cassian cuts him off. "I know when you're lying, Azriel."
Azriel glares. Not the perfect cover. “I… I can’t tell you, Cass.” He pauses. “Plus, I’m not fully lying, I did have to go to Helion for help.”
“Why not?” He exclaims. “I am your brother!” Cassian rises. “What did you have to ask Helion about that you couldn’t ask our own High Lady, you know the one with powers of all courts?”
Azriel stands up soon after, he sighs. “You can’t tell anyone. I’ve already fucked up by telling five other people.” His eyes narrow. “And don’t bring Feyre into this, it was a different story.”
“You’ve told five other people and not a single member of your family?” Cassian crosses his arms.
“Eris Vanserra is my mate.” Azriel shouts, screaming at Cassian out of rage.
He stays silent. “Point taken.” Cassian sighs before rubbing his temples with his single hand, using his thumb and middle finger. “We can’t fully trust him yet… we don’t even know what truly happened with Mor.”
“Cassian.” The Lord of Bloodshed stiffens, Azriel hardly says his full name. “You, of all people, know that’s not how mating bonds work. I feel as if I am obligated to trust him… care for him… love him.” The anger in Azriel’s tone fades away, now sounding near disappointed.
“Az. Listen to me, I think it is amazing that you have found your mate, even if it is… him. But, you don’t know him as himself, you know him through magic from the Cauldron!” He places his hand on Azriel’s shoulder. “If you really want to explore this bond… I will always support you, however, get to know how he truly acts before throwing around strong words.”
Azriel takes in his brothers words, he nods. “I know what you mean, thank you, Cass.” He smiles at his brother. “And, sorry about your nose. But, I do believe Eris isn’t bad… at least not as bad as we thought he was previously.”
Cassian’s laugh booms on the mountain top. “Don’t worry about it, Az. If I had your situation I would do the same.” He then nods. “Yes… I once said he was a good person hiding behind a coward.” Cassian smirks.
The Shadowsinger smirks back. “You once did, Cass. And, when did that conversation happen?” His eyebrow raises.
“Oh, you’re going to pay for that, Az.” Cassian then flares out his wings. “After the human queen.”
Azriel only nods before the two of them, warriors, begin to spar again, however, this time it was much more a test of strength than hitting of fury.
Cassian’s fist hits Azriel’s side, sending him stumbling to the side before Azriel regains his balance, his own fist raises before punching Cassian in the upper chest.
The Inner Circle members continue this until Cassian gets an ‘urgent’ call from Nesta, Azriel only chuckles and swats at him, urging him to leave. After all, they wouldn’t want a cranky, horny, Nesta Archeon running around the city loose.
Once the Lord of Bloodshed does eventually leave though, Azriel is left with a feeling of emptiness deep in his chest, one day, he hopes he can feel that happiness coming from someone, especially his mate.
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bloodycassian · 3 years
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Reader x Cassian - Hellish Prompt: Reader is an assassin/spy that was caught and azriel has spent months torturing her for information and can’t get anything out of her and cassian eventually goes to see who this assassin/spy is and the mating bond snaps and cassian beats the $hitt out of az bc of the mating bond instincts and rhys has to intervene and break up the fight (i was thinking this could switch between azriel’s POV at the start and then switch to cassian's POV)
AN- this was SO fun to make. Please more requests like this!! I love the idea of unexpected mates!
TW -blood/ blades.  
Drip, drip, drip. Copper smell filled the small room. Blood leaked down the drain in the floor. You wheezed a laugh bitterly and spat on the ground at his feet. Azriel's rage simmered calmly under his dark shadows. They coiled, ready to strike. Wanting to strike. The sound of your feeble laughs was practically the only sound Azriel had gotten from you for the first week of torture.  The second week was worse, even for him. Truth teller revealed nothing when he gouged into your skin from the bottom up. Truthfully, he was impressed beyond measure. But that didnt mean that he could stop the job at hand. He had to know, and wished he didnt have to do this kind of thing to get the information from you. "Listen..." He sighed, cleaning his blade. He was always nervous whenever he had a back turned to an enemy, no matter how well they were restrained. But he trusted his shadows enough to tell him if something was wrong.  "If you just.. Cooperate and tell me where the Queens are, we can let you go. No trouble, just releasing you back to Rask." He tried to keep his tone neutral, but he was nearing an exhaustion point. Torture every day for two weeks had its toll not only on the victim, but the dealer as well. His shadows seemed to be growing restless too, waiting for a chance to strike.  He watched your reaction from the corner of his eye. Noted the way your head hanging loosely seemed to gain a bit more strength before you spoke. "Losing your touch, Spymaster?" You revealed a row of bloody teeth to him, and grunted when the chains at your wrists stung the magic that weakly attempted to help you.  Azriel could have sighed. He could have laughed and bled you dry. Have a healer come and patch you up enough to keep you alive. The idea was tempting, but he didn't like having anyone besides his brothers see him in this mode of darkness. He could have brought Rhys down to attempt to break into your mind again. After the first attempt and Rhys' reaction to being blocked, he wasn't eager for that again. So he sighed, and brought out the potions laced with Faebane.  + He was convinced you weren't a normal Fae. After months of his best torture methods he was a wreck. "She just-" He tried to hide his frustration, but his brothers knew him best. Cassian smirked by the fire, warming his wings. Rhys seemed a bit more concerned, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Azriel had never been one to spend a long time on torture. Rhys saw the frustration flowing from him after every session with the stubborn Fae in the dungeon cell.  "I dont know what to do anymore. She's the only one to have never broken." He ran a hand though his hair. His shadows seemed weak, exhausted like him.  Rhys considered for a moment, looking between his two brothers. Cassian seemed to be enjoying Azriel's frustration. Maybe a bit too much. Rhys sipped his wine then, with a look of innocence, "Maybe we will have Cassian end it. Perhaps seeing the Lord of Death in front of her will knock something loose."  Cassian's stare whipped to him, a silent plea on his face. "We should leave it to our expert Rhys-" Azriel laughed, cold and bitter. "The expert hasn't got a damn thing out of her. We either kill her or send her back to Rask with all the information she's collected about us. With nothing in return." Shame lined his features. The sense of failure to his high lord was a heavy weight to bear. "Cas...I expect you down there tomorrow afternoon. It will be her last chance." Rhys' no nonsense tone shut down Cassian's retort. His jaw locked with distaste. He hated the cramped cells below the house of wind. Hated the way going underground made his wings feel like they needed to stretch. The worst was when that stale air was laced with the rotting smell of dead mice or old blood. It made his skin crawl just thinking about it.  "Come on Cas, dont you want to see the only one that's outlasted me?" Az asked with a mock grin. He couldn't give the same smile back. Turmoil spilled inside him at the thought of going so far below the mountain.  + Cassian took a long time to go to bed that night. His restlessness about the next day made him wake up over and over, never having more than an hour of peace before being waken up.  Azriel held up a mug of tea to him the next morning. "You look like shit." He handed his brother the mug with a small smile. Cassian glared at him, but took it anyway. He went to the balcony, his heavy wings needing to feel the fresh air. It was like taking a bath after being covered in grime. He sighed in relief, letting the late morning sun graze his body. The cold wind from Illyria was beginning to come in for the winter, and the familiar smell ignited something in him. He felt a draw, but shoved it to the back of his mind. He knew what he had to be this day. "Why the hell do we have to keep them so far down again?" Cassian complained. Around and around and around. Down deeper and deeper into the pit of the mountain that the house above was carved out of. Cassian felt like his lungs were collapsing the further they went. He tried not to let his nerves show, but he knew Az's shadows would pick up on it anyway.  "Remember when you broke your arm chasing down that Attor?" Azriel could have laughed at that memory, but the story surrounding it made the experience soured. More shame on top of the guilt already there.  Cassian hummed in approval, welcoming the distraction the memory brought. He tried not to focus on how each turn of the staircase got darker and darker. How the air seemed to compress around him. He locked his eyes on the scar on one of Az's wings. "And we spent a week fixing the top story of that apothecary?" He asked, keeping his voice steady.  "Yes. Dont you remember how the Attor got out?" Cassian shook his head, and Azriel huffed a laugh. "I left the door open for just a second to get a new knife and..." He shook his head, part in anger and regret, part in shame. "It had escaped before I turned around. I dont know how it happened, to this day."  Cassian stared at the back of the shadowmaster's head. The dark ripples around him seemed to spike. "It happens Az, you can't be perfect."  "It's not perfection, its basic thought. After that we moved all enemies to the lower dungeons. No matter the threat. Rhys even put wards on the arches." He ran a hand over the walls, his fingers catching a few of the grooves that linked each spelled archway to the other.  Cassian left the conversation at that. At least his brother wasn't brooding as much as before. The dim lights began to come into view, and his heart began hammering. Adrenaline singing through his veins. His polished siphons glowed, reflecting red off the dark stone ceiling. He had polished all his black armor the night before, when he couldn't sleep. Something poked, prodded at him all night. Keeping him awake. He figured he may as well make use out of it.  "She's not going to talk to you unless you show..weakness first." Azriel said in a low voice. Cassian nodded, reaching the end of the stairwell with him.  Cassian couldn't see the dark figure in the cell, but he felt the presence nonetheless. The dark draw that you demanded. He wondered how Azriel had dealt with that pull this whole time. The tantalizing draw to you. He shook his head, pushed the hair out of his face and nodded to Azriel.  He opened the door, then began his ritual. At the start of every session he would toss a bucket of water over your body, then a bucket of salt. It made the wounds that handn't healed fully scream in pain. You jolted at the suddenness of it this time. "Good morning, shadowsinger." You ground out, voice rough with strain. Cassian watched in awe at his brother.  Cassian was never one for torture. There was a reason Azriel was appointed to this position. Watching the calm cruelness of him was jarring, but Cassian kept his face straight. He stood behind you, watching the flimsy attempts to pull at the shackles holding your arms up. Lacerations dotted each arm, some light pink scars. Some were still scabbing over. A chill ran down his spine.  "You have a guest today, would you like to see him?" Azriel's voice was cool, calm. Like he was speaking orders to a group of soldiers. He began slicing new lines into your arms, moving up to your neck. He had left your ears in tact, as a last resort if you refused to speak to Cassian. The pull Cassian felt was overwhelming. He walked a bit too quickly around you, plastered on a wicked smile for show, then crouched down. The smile faded when he finally saw your face. Your dripping hair was a horror on its own. Plastered to the skeletal cheekbones, and pale eyes. Those eyes were brighter than anything he'd ever seen. A field of flowers down the slope of Illyrian mountains. His world shifted, drawing the breath from him. "Mine." His mind seemed to roar with that alone, but in a thousand different variations. "Lover, friend, partner, mine mine mine. Mate. My mate." His lips quivered with the realization. With the way his heart soared, and the way he moved without realizing it. He choked a gasp, and fell forward on his knees before you. He saw the same astonishment in your reaction. Azriel dropped his sword, confusion and concern alert on his features. "Cas wh-" Before he could finish, before his shadows could detect that Cassian had even moved, his brother was on top of him. Cassian's knuckles stung with every punch. A new kind of rage flared inside him. It made his muscles yearn for violence. Made his teeth crave the flesh of those that so much as looked at you wrong. There was no mercy for Azriel, it was as if he was an enemy on the battlefield. Cassian held nothing back. You hung limply from the chains that bound you. Crunch after crunch sounded from Azriel. He eventually managed to push Cassian off of him. Then they locked together in battle again. Clashes of armor against armor were deafening. The snarls they ripped at each other were loud enough to make you cringe. Your heart squeezed at the sounds of Cassian's breath. At the scent of blood spilling. You pulled feebly at the chains, your mind roaring to protect him.  Your mate. You tried to watch the battle, but the weakness in your body refused to let you turn more than a few inches. They were panting, Cassian fighting with a ferocity Azriel had never seen. His eyes flared with rage, like he was possessed. "Cas-" Azriel grunted, shoving his brother backwards. His back hit yours, pushing you down and digging those stone cuffs into your wrists. You hissed in pain. Cassian roared and lunged at his brother again, and again.  The darkness that boomed outside the cell was jarring. The stone ceiling shuddered, small rocks and dirt falling from it. Cassian did not stop. He didn't hesitate, coming at Azriel with punch after punch. His fist crushed the wall behind where Az's head had been. 
"Enough." The high lord's cool command was enough to make you still your weak attempts at looking at the two. Cassian's chest heaved as he tried lifting his arm to punch Az again. Pure fury in his heart was enough to make him disobey Rhysand's order.
  Then Rhys' talons gripped him. Freezing his mind, stilling him. Rhys' face shifted to surprise at what he glimpsed at there. "Oh.." He breathed. Azriel panted, backing away from his brother, out of the cell. He locked the cell and wiped the blood from himself, his wings hanging limply behind him. "What- the hell." He panted, nursing his arm. Cassian's eyes locked to your small frame. How your muscles quivered, how your arms shook with the effort of holding yourself up. He felt Rhys' claws recede slowly from his mind, releasing each part of him one by one. He rushed to you.  He picked up Azriel's sword and with a clean, masterful swipe, broke the enchanted stone that bound you. The weak sigh that came from you was heartbreaking. His eyes pricked with tears, and he caught you before you could fall to the floor into the puddle of dried blood. He didnt notice, or care that it was there. He sat there with you, cradled you and shook with you. 
"Cassian... She's.. Cassian's mate." Rhys said slowly, astonished. He didn't take his eyes from his brother in the cell. Azriel froze in place. For a moment, the dungeon was completely still. Totally silent, as if the world waited for what was to come next.
Azriel turned on a heel and left, trudging up the stairs. Rhys dared not touch his mind. "Cassian...." He spoke, trying to get his brother's attention. He did not glance at Rhys, just curled around your body more. Protecting, nesting almost. Rhys knew the feeling too well from the weeks after he and Feyre's bond snapped into place.  "We will check in tomorrow. Be safe, brother." Rhys spoke to Cassian's mind. It was nothing but an ocean of rushing thoughts. Cassian could have bared his teeth, could have tried to fight his brother through the bars of the cell. Hell, he could have probably broken through those bars with the primal strength flowing through him with the rush from the bond. 
But he didn't. He stayed, his warm body pressed against yours. Those siphons glowing against your skin like a fire. He stroked your hair soothingly, his tears like rainfall on your body, through your bloodstained clothes. He didn't remember falling asleep there, but it was the most restful, peaceful night he'd ever had in his existence. 
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ncssian · 3 years
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A Favor: Part Twenty-Two
Nessian Modern AU
Masterlist
content warnings: secondhand embarrassment, i dont know how skiing works, poor editing, NSFW 🔥
***
To Nesta’s horror, Cassian was serious when he said he’d teach her how to ski. Nevermind the fact that it’s his birthday, and they should be having a lazy morning together filled with cuddles and breakfast in bed. Instead, they’ve been up since six in the morning without food or drink, just to shuffle around in the snow while Cassian repeats the same instructions over and over. By late morning, the rest of their group has gotten up and joined them at the beginner’s trail to be firsthand witnesses to Nesta’s humiliation.
She stares down at the blinding white slope before her and inhales a breath of frigid mountain air, trying to steel her nerves before she has to push off the ground and take flight.
Cassian sees her hesitation and sighs. “Come on, Nesta,” he urges. “It’s thirty feet to the bottom of the hill.”
“Why is it so steep?” she demands, even though she knows this is a practice hill. Toddlers in skis are shuffling around them, hand in hand with their parents.
“You’re not falling to the bottom,” Cassian says, growing impatient. “You’re gliding.”
He’s already shown her how to maneuver with skis a dozen times already, and Nesta can see that he doesn’t have another dozen times left in him. Unfortunately for him, Nesta’s own patience was used up hours ago. Her stomach pangs with hunger, and she has a pounding headache from the cold and lack of sleep.
“Oh, come on, Nesta,” Gwyn calls from behind her. She hops up and down in her snow boots like a cheerleader. “You can do it!”
Nesta does not want to do it. She looks down at the hill, then back at Cassian with pleading eyes—eyes that he can’t see under her ski goggles anyway.
“I can’t take this anymore,” Azriel mutters from somewhere. He picks up his ski poles and points to Emerie. “Ski lift?”
“Sure—” she starts to say, and then remembers that she’s here to support Nesta. “Not now,” she amends.
“Just go,” Cassian turns to tell them. “At least some of us will be having fun.” Nesta watches as he goes over to Emerie and Az to give advice on the trails, the same frustration from last night building in her chest.
Stupid ski trip. Stupid uninvited guests. Stupid birthday that Cassian isn’t even treating like a birthday.
Gritting her teeth, Nesta jabs her ski poles into the ground. She’ll conquer this hill, and then she’ll conquer the rest of the trail, and then she’ll take her skis and set them on fire.
With everyone briefly preoccupied and no eyes on her, Nesta pushes herself downhill. Her skis slip a little as she takes off but she readjusts her feet the way Cassian showed her, regaining control. She takes a deep breath, realizing the height isn’t as scary as she thought it would be. Testingly, she bends her knees and pushes herself farther, gaining speed.
“Oh, oh, look!” she hears Gwyn say from behind her. “She’s doing it!”
The voice breaks Nesta out of her precarious concentration, and she almost misses the kid right in front of her skiing at the pace of a turtle. Gasping, Nesta swerves at the last second to avoid running him over.
Her skis clack into each other and she feels her ankle twist, and then she’s down. Hard. Her face meets snow and her ski gear jabs into her body as she tumbles down the rest of the hill, until she finally meets flat ground and rolls to a painful stop.
Nesta only hears a dull roar in her ears as she slowly pushes herself upright. Ignoring alarmed looks from stray skiers around her, she reaches forward and unstraps one ski from her foot, then the other. Her goggles fall to the ground next. Once free, she stands up and walks away, ignoring the calls of her friends from the hilltop.
She walks until she loses sight of the trail and then the resort, until the flattened and trampled snow piles up into powdery mounds untouched by human presence. A cropping of towering evergreens appears before her, and she heads straight for the thicket without pausing.
Once safely entombed by the dark tree trunks and frosted branches, Nesta releases a breath and screams. Screams until the frustration and anger within her bluntens just a little.
The forest absorbs her fire and answers with silence.
“Better now?” Cassian’s voice comes from behind her.
Nesta whirls, ready to fling her next scream at him for having the nerve to follow her, but she only restrains herself because it’s his birthday. Guilt and humiliation nips at her; she shouldn’t be doing this on his birthday. “Leave me alone.” Her voice is raw from shrieking.
Cassian only takes a step closer to Nesta, eyeing her up and down. “You’re not hurt, right? ’Cause that would be embarrassing for you.”
Any edge that was taken off starts to build up again, and Nesta really doesn’t want to look at him right now. “Cassian—”
“Your face is turning red,” he suddenly gasps, pointing. “You should try yelling again, babe. I don’t think the entire resort heard you last time.”
Done with her boyfriend’s shit, Nesta releases a growl and rushes at him. He’s a lot closer than she realized, and in a blink she slams right into his broad chest and shoves him with all her might.
Cassian laughs, short and blunt, and pushes her right back. Her back hits hard-packed snow and then he’s on top of her, pinning her wrists loosely beside her head. Icy wetness seeps past the neck of her jacket.
“Do you want me to fucking bite you?” Nesta snarls, getting in Cassian’s face.
“Always,” he says without hesitation, pressing closer to her. “But first you gotta take a breather.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” she seethes back. At this rate, she really might bite him. She wants to see his smug face drop when he realizes he pushed her too far.
“You might have an aneurysm at this rate with your anger issues.” He pouts prettily. “Imagine how sad that would make me.”
“I DON’T HAVE ANGER ISSUES!” she shrieks.
Cassian barely blinks. Nesta breathes heavily in the ensuing silence, realizing how embarrassing this is for her. Yet she doesn’t know how to stop.
Closing her eyes, she drops her head to the ground and turns away. Wishing she could sink into the ground and vanish for a few minutes, at least until she gets herself under control again.
After a moment of quiet, she feels the back of Cassian’s fingers brush her neck. “I wondered where that spitfire girl went,” he says lowly. “She didn’t die. You just hid her very well.”
Nesta’s body doesn’t know whether to feel soothed or incited by the touch, the words. “Does it make you happy?” she breathes, her eyes still closed. “That she’s still there?”
“It would be murder if you ever got rid of her. Don’t you dare,” he threatens.
Nesta huffs a derisive laugh. It’s easy for him to say, when he isn’t the one that has to live with it. “I bet you’re enjoying this.”
“Only if you are.” He sounds completely genuine, and Nesta feels him pluck something out of her hair—likely a snowflake.
Realizing Cassian has long since released her wrists, she opens her eyes and stares at the column of his neck. She doesn’t see the regret and concern on his face when he says, “I ruined today, didn’t I?” She watches him swallow before he adds, “I’m sorry, Nes.”
“It’s your birthday,” she mutters, looking away. “You can do whatever you want.” Even if it’s spending the whole day skiing.
“You’re right about that.” His warm breath hits her nose, and now that Nesta’s head is somewhat clear, she can feel every place where his body settles into hers.
Before she can betray herself and forget how upset she was at him only a few minutes ago, Cassian pushes up and off of her. Frigid air replaces where he was just sprawled, and then he’s holding out a hand to Nesta. “We’re going back to our room,” he says, watching Nesta’s feet closely as he helps her stand. “You can ride on my back.”
“Why?” Nesta grumbles, brushing herself off. “I can walk fine.”
“You twisted your right ankle on the way down that hill, and you started limping as soon as you thought you were out of sight.” Cassian turns around and points at his back. “Get on while I’m being nice.”
That makes Nesta scoff, because he’s always nice, but she has little fight left today. She tries to reach up to wrap her arms around his neck, but Cassian grabs her legs and hitches her up onto his back before she can struggle.
She responds with a scowl, clasping her hands across his chest and getting comfortable. “You noticed I was hurt but didn’t have a problem with tackling me to the ground?”
Cassian squeezes her thighs and holds her closer, tossing a blinding smile over his shoulder. “Sorry if I wasn’t expecting you to try to jump me with an injured foot. You took me by surprise.”
“Bullshit,” Nesta says as they start walking out of the trees. “You did it on purpose.”
“Do you like starting fights, Archeron?”
“Do you?” she retorts.
They bicker back and forth like that until they reach the resort, and even once they’re inside the lobby, Cassian doesn’t put Nesta down. The exhaustion of the day has settled over the both of them by then, and the elevator ride up to the penthouse is peacefully quiet.
Back at the empty suite, Cassian carefully lowers Nesta to her feet. “Take your clothes off,” is all he says before heading for the bathroom, shedding his heavy outer jacket as he goes. Nesta has no problem listening; she’s all too happy to take her snow-drenched gear off and breathe air-conditioned air again.
She only realizes as she’s removing her boots that her overwrought emotions must have dulled the real pain of her fall. Her entire body aches down to the bone, and her twisted ankle has it the worst. Inspecting the swollen skin around her foot, she wonders if Cassian will make her see a doctor when the sound of a running faucet pulls her attention. Still dressed in her thermal underwear, Nesta pads over to the bathroom.
Inside, the room is dim, and the only light comes in from the single window panel at the far end of the room. Cassian sits on the rim of the clawfoot tub as it fills with heated water, already naked.
Nesta coughs, caught off guard. The sight is far from unfamiliar to her, and yet she hates to admit that she’ll never not react to it.
Cassian looks up at her, meeting her eyes head on, and a giggle almost escapes her.
“What’s that dumb look on your face?” he says with high brows. “Take your clothes off and get in.”
Nesta firmly schools her face into obedience. Is she a grown woman or a schoolgirl? she chides herself as she strips naked. But as soon as she’s free of her top and leggings, Cassian stops her. “Turn around,” he says.
Is this a sex thing? She hopes it’s a sex thing. She does as she’s told, and hears Cassian hiss in a breath. Glancing at the mirror over the sink, Nesta winces when she realizes what he sees. “Damn.” Her back is peppered with still-forming bruises from her fall, along with her legs and ribs.
Getting up, Cassian approaches her and cautiously runs his fingers over a reddened spot on her ribs. “I think a ski pole stabbed me there,” Nesta says, frowning down at the bruise. She looks like shit, and not at all in a desirable way.
“How’s your ankle?” Cassian kneels to check for himself, handling her like a porcelain doll. He presses gently above the bone where she twisted it. “Does that hurt?”
Nesta considers saying yes, just so he can keep fussing over her like this, but she shakes her head. “I’m fine. Just a little achy.”
A sudden chaste kiss between her legs makes her yelp, and she twists to find Cassian still on his knees, grinning sheepishly up at her. “You know what can help with those aches?”
Nesta blanks as Cassian runs a calloused hand up her inner leg. “Uh…really good dick?”
Cassian is visibly trying not to smile when he says, “A bath.” He stands and turns the faucet off, before going to help Nesta into the tub.
Steaming hot water just beneath the point of being uncomfortable hits Nesta’s calves, then her hips and chest. She might moan in relief as she sinks into the bath.
Cassian settles in across from her, taking up most of the tub space as Nesta twists her ponytail into a bun. He takes her ankle onto his lap and starts massaging above the injury. He notes, “We haven’t been alone like this in ages.”
“I remember when it was my job to be the chill guy,” he continues, rubbing circles into her leg. “I was the one doing stupid shit, and now I have to tell other people to knock it off when they do stupid shit. Since when did Azriel take my role?” he mutters to himself.
Nesta tilts her head against the lip of the tub and watches Cassian, taking in the barely visible lines of weariness on his face. She was once in a similar boat, too, where she had no one to answer to but herself. “Do you miss it?” she asks hesitantly. “Life before we got to know each other?” A life spent in the company of his friends, meeting different women every other week and being as free as possible.
“No,” he says easily. “I miss life before we had to share each other with other people.” He meets her eyes and smirks. “Who knew monogamy could be so exciting?”
Nesta’s stomach curls at his honesty, and she doesn’t know what to say. In the silence, Cassian reaches for a washcloth and lathers it with a bar of pine scented soap. But before he can reach for Nesta, she snatches the washcloth from him and pulls herself forward into the cradle of his limbs. What she can’t say, she’ll just have to show.
She starts soaping up his arms, granting extra attention to his tattooed biceps.
“You’re hurt—” he tries to protest.
“Shut up.” She runs the washcloth over his shoulders, across his collarbones.
When Nesta reaches his chest, she starts, “Earlier in the woods...I lost control.”
Cassian looks wary, but she goes on, “I don’t know why I did that. I thought I didn’t do that anymore.”
“I know why,” he says simply. “You were having a bad day. It was overwhelming.” He shrugs.
“But I’m better than that,” she insists. “You might think it's cute or funny when I—lose it, but I spent years training myself not to fall apart at the slightest inconvenience.” She takes in a breath, her movements slowing. “I learned how to escape reality, remember? I climbed into books and TV and songs, and at one point my entire life passed me by because I refused to participate in it. If I didn't participate, I couldn't be hurt.” She wrings out the washcloth, and Cassian carefully pries it out of her grip.
Nesta places her empty hands on her thighs, avoiding his touch, his eyes. “I think you were one of the only people who ever made me want to come back to real life,” she offers awkwardly. “That's why you made me uncomfortable at first. There were times I would look at you and think, He's better than anyone from the books. If I start living on the same plane as him, I can have him. Does that make sense?”
Cassian swallows visibly, but nods.
“It seemed like an impossible thing to do at the time—participate in the real world, make real friends. But have you noticed? I don’t read as many romance novels anymore.” Not because she doesn’t love them, but because she no longer needs them to remind herself she's alive.
She looks up at him, searching for his thoughts and opinions. Cassian looks like he's doing the same with her face, but then he says, “If you need to scream, even if it’s at me, tell me. I’ll take you somewhere far away, or I’ll let you have it out right in front of everyone. Whatever the hell you want, as long as you tell me. Please.”
Nesta starts to shake her head, adamant, but he stops her with the most pitiful look he's ever given her. “There’s nothing I hate seeing more than you trying to swallow down your rough edges. Even in the woods, you were about to tame yourself before I provoked you.” Cassian holds out a pinky, completely serious. “Consider it my birthday gift. Don’t do that shit anymore.”
Nesta stares at him, his plea warring with years of conditioned self-restraint. “I already got you a birthday gift,” she finally grumbles, but hooks his pinky with hers.
He seems satisfied, but doesn't let go of her pinky. With surprising strength, he uses their hooked fingers to pull Nesta into him, and she just barely catches herself on his chest before he brings her head down and kisses her deep.
Nesta already has her legs adjusted around his waist and his cock pressed against her stomach before she can pull away far enough to choke, “What’s this for?”
He leans up and catches her lips with his again, dipping his tongue just far enough inside to flick the roof of her mouth before retreating. “For existing. And for those aches.” He presses down lightly on a bruise at her back and runs a soothing thumb over it right after. Between her thighs, she feels him growing hard.
Nesta huffs a distracted laugh, the steam from the water sending a red flush up her chest and neck. It's suddenly very hot, and she unconsciously squirms in his lap. “I just realized I’ve never had sex in the bath before,” she says out of nowhere, rubbing her chest and quickly dropping her arms. She’s babbling, she knows. Contrary to popular media, being a seductress is harder than it looks. Half the time she has no idea what to say, and she considers herself lucky that Cassian is driven wild by it anyway.
Cassian entertains her, nodding along while his fingers slip past her ass, brushing her folds. “That sounds like something that should be amended, don’t you think?”
“Well, in terms of comfort I’m not sure if it’ll be better than the shower—” She’s cut off by a finger teasing at her entrance, making her jerk. “Yes,” she says quickly. “Yes, it should be amended.”
He hums thoughtfully, leaning in to nibble and suck at her neck. Her hardened nipples brush against his chest, and Nesta pushes closer into Cassian’s embrace. She’s half-rocking against him when she rasps, “How do you give head in the bath? Do I, like, have to hold my breath underwater?”
“You don’t need to know how,” he mutters, grasping her by the hips and tugging her up so that he’s eye level with her chest. He starts leaving a trail of openmouthed kisses across her breasts. “You’re not doing anything I don’t tell you to do today.”
“What do you mean?” Nesta’s grip on Cassian’s shoulders tightens when he brings a pink nipple into his mouth, sucking hard and pulling off with a flick of his tongue. She can’t move her hips for fear of climaxing at the slightest touch. “It’s your birthday,” she manages to get out. “And I like seeing what I can do to you.”
“Then save it for your birthday.” He pulls her back down firmly into his lap, making her thighs clench with restraint. “Because I like seeing what I do to you more.”
To prove his point, he parts her legs and slips one finger inside her. The smug pride on his face at what he finds makes Nesta move to grip the rim of the tub. Having a pretty boyfriend might have been a mistake, she thinks. That kind of face will get away with anything. Right now, for example.
“Tell me what you want, then,” she pleads.
Cassian leans back, pretending to think. “Sit on my cock,” he finally says.
An easy enough order, one Nesta is all too excited to carry out in only a few movements. It takes a minute to adjust to the fullness and the stretch, and the water doesn’t help in dousing the fire in her veins at all. With heat pounding deep in her core, Nesta releases a terse breath. Her tongue darts out to wet her lower lip, and Cassian watches.
“Now don’t move,” he orders.
“What?” Nesta’s knees involuntarily clench around his hips, her body already craving the feel of moving against him, on top of him.
He levels her with a look. “No clenching, no rocking, no touching.” He hisses in a thoughtful breath, combing a wet hand through his hair. “Actually, that isn’t very fair, is it?”
Nesta is about to nod furiously when he says, “You still need to wash yourself.” He hands her the washcloth she used on him earlier and leans his elbow on the rim of the tub. “Be quick about it. No games.”
Nesta’s eyes widen, looking at the washcloth, then back up at Cassian. Excitement tingles in her fingers and toes, and she doesn’t want to argue with him.
Gulping tightly, she soaps up the washcloth, then smooths the lather over her arms. It’s hard to focus on what she’s doing when there’s a pounding pressure between her legs, and the only thing that keeps her going is that she’ll be rewarded when she’s done. Cassian doesn’t bother watching her, instead tipping his head back against the tub and closing his eyes. From this angle, the tendons in his neck stand out clearly, and the hard line of his jaw looks tense. Nothing on his calm face reveals that Nesta is the reason for his tension, though.
Bringing the soapy cloth over her breasts, Nesta looks up to see if Cassian is secretly peeking at her through his lashes. His eyes remain shut, the perfect portrait of a man at rest.
Suddenly, his hips shift beneath hers, and Nesta nearly drops the washcloth. Straightening up, she has to use herculean strength to force her inner walls to relax around him. “You moved,” she accuses him.
“I was getting comfortable,” he says, still not opening his eyes.
“Why can you move but I can’t?”
That gets him to look at her. His eyes are hooded and lazy when he says, “You’re still talking?”
“Maybe if you had clearly explained the rules—” Nesta starts to grumble, but shuts up when he quirks a brow at her. She won’t lose this game, not for anything—even if she’s split at the seams with Cassian inside her and is one thread away from completely snapping.
Now fully alert, Cassian watches Nesta finish washing up. He hasn’t touched her once since he pulled her onto his cock, and now Nesta tries to make up for the aching lack by pretending her roaming hands are his.
It’s not until the washcloth reaches her tummy that Nesta pauses, her hand frozen over her lower abdomen. Because there, even past the cloth, she can feel him. The skin just slightly bulges, and she looks down at herself with her lips slightly fallen apart. She didn’t realize he was nestled so deep in her, but now she swallows past a lump in her throat. “Cassian…” she starts weakly. Every last muscle is trembling with the effort to stay still. Can he really be unaffected by all of this? Is she really the only one dying right now?
Without intending to, her hand drops the cloth, slipping toward her clit. She can only brush the sensitive nub before Cassian says quietly, “Don’t.”
So this is against the rules, too. She can’t even bring herself to look at him, she’s strung so tight. Taking a shallow breath, she grabs the pitcher from the shelf by the tub and fills it with water, using it to rinse off the suds. When she’s done, with water droplets running down every inch of her, she dares to look at Cassian again. Her anxiousness to get this over with must be written all over her face, and yet.
“Good,” Cassian says, voice just a little grated.
Nesta’s heart rate picks up a beat. She’s finally getting her reward.
“Now sit still and pretty while I rest,” he says, sinking even lower into the tub—and causing his cock to dig even deeper into Nesta. “This is a bath, not a splash pad.”
Nesta chokes. “What—I thought—”
“Hm?”
She presses her lips together tightly, refusing to protest. He can’t make her warm his cock like this forever, can he? Soon enough he’ll crack.
Four minutes in, and he doesn’t crack. While Nesta gets closer to crying by the second, she has yet to find evidence that he’s even aware of her presence. Her only proof is the fact that he’s still rock hard, occasionally twitching against the depths of her walls.
At five minutes in, Nesta can’t help it. She breaks, and her inner muscles clamp around Cassian with a viselike grip. She half-sobs in pain and relief, and her hips jerk of their own accord.
Cassian’s eyes fly open at that, the pupils blown wide, and Nesta has to catch herself on his chest to keep from crumbling. If she had half a working brain left, she would have noticed the trembling restraint that lines Cassian’s limbs, or the way his eyes burn with welling desire and even sympathy. Instead, she turns her face into his chest and begs weakly, “Pleasepleaseplease.” Her thighs keep shifting, rubbing back and forth to create friction, but she can’t give herself permission to move the way she truly needs until Cassian gives her permission.
Nesta feels Cassian’s broad hand come up to carefully brush her back. She nearly weeps with relief at the touch, but he doesn’t go any further. “What do you want, baby?” he says roughly.
“You,” she forces out. She doesn’t care if this is losing.
“Me, what?” He sounds like he’s about to lose, too.
“I want you to fuck me.” She’s nearly whimpering, trying not to squirm on his lap.
Cassian, the horrible bastard, has the nerve to snicker in her ear, though he sounds more than a little wrecked when he says, “Well, why didn’t you just say so?”
In a flash, he has Nesta pinned against the porcelain tub. And before she can decide whether to laugh or moan or cry at the turn of events, Cassian covers her mouth with his and thrusts into her, giving her everything she wants.
***
Hours later, after they’ve sated themselves on sex and food and Cassian is napping sprawled out across Nesta’s back, she receives a text from Azriel telling her he won’t be there to celebrate the rest of Cassian’s birthday.
Az: You two deserve the alone time. Also I didn’t get him a present.
Another text pops up before Nesta can reply.
Az: I did order a cake to be sent up to your room, though. Don’t worry, there’s not a picture of your boobs on it.
Nesta’s eyes widen at that, not knowing why—or how—that would be an option. But she completely forgot about getting cake in all the unexpected hassle of their vacation, and not for the first time is she grateful that Azriel came along with them on their trip.
Typing back a quick thank you, Nesta clicks her phone off and curls further into Cassian’s warmth. He shifts on top of her, hugging her closer, and a moment later she feels his nose poking at the crook of her neck. “Good morning,” he murmurs thickly, sleep coating his voice.
“It’s six p.m,” she snickers. The sun slipped behind the mountains just a few minutes ago, leaving the room a blue dark.
Cassian responds by slipping his hands under her oversized tee, rubbing the muscles along her back. “Where’s everyone else?” They haven’t seen Gwyn, Emerie, or Az in hours.
Nesta turns around in Cassian’s arms to face him. “Consider them gone. We’re by ourselves for the rest of the night.”
He perks up at that. “Really?”
A knock sounds from the penthouse door, and Nesta remembers Azriel’s text. She squirms out from under Cassian’s weight with some difficulty and stands off the bed. She points a stern finger at him. “Don’t move from here,” she orders. “I’ll be back.”
Cassian leans back, looking questioning and amused, but Nesta has already jammed her feet into slippers and left the room by then.
She accepts the covered platter from room service at the door and leaves a tip, before carrying the cake over to the coffee table in the living area and setting it down. Within ten minutes, she has an entire setup arranged: the fireplace is up and roaring, the fur throw she stole from Cassian’s couch to bring on vacation is spread out before it, and the cake candles are lit. The Italian dinner that she ordered earlier also arrives by then, and once everything is laid out, she calls for Cassian to come downstairs.
He’s fully dressed in a sweater and jeans when he appears at the top of the short set of stairs, and he looks so excited to see her that he doesn’t notice the cake or the dinner until he’s only a few steps away from her. Very slowly, his smile freezes. “What’s all this?”
“It’s your birthday,” Nesta says. “Duh.”
“But I thought we already celebrated,” he stumbles, looking around. “With the skiing, and the bathtub—”
Nesta makes a face. “You thought that was celebrating?” She shakes her head and beckons Cassian over to the fur throw, right before the table decked out with food.
He sits down beside Nesta, looking over her in nothing but her thin white shirt. “Are you cold? Do you want my sweater?”
She rolls her eyes as far back as they can go. “No, I want you to focus and make a wish before 6:27.”
“How do you know my birth time?”
“Will you do it or not?” she threatens. The candle wax is melting onto the cake.
Cassian stares at her for a moment longer before finally facing the cake. Closing his eyes, he mouths something unintelligible and blows the candles out.
Nesta claps softly. “Happy two years away from thirty. What did you wish for?” She leans closer.
He leans away. “It doesn’t come true if you go around announcing it.”
Nesta’s shoulders drop. “Wishes aren’t real, Cassian.”
“That’s what you say.” He swipes a dollop of chocolate frosting off the cake with his finger and holds it out to Nesta.
Smiling, she wraps her lips around his finger, scraping the chocolate off with her teeth and licking it clean. He sucks on the same finger when she’s done, chasing after her taste and the lingering frosting. “What do you want first?” he asks. “Dinner or dessert?”
“This.” Nesta pulls out a small box from under the table, placing it in front of Cassian. She didn’t have time to find wrapping paper or a bag, but she’s a bit proud of herself anyway.
Cassian once again looks taken by surprise. “You didn’t have to…” He trails off as he reaches for the box. It’s already obvious what it is, but he still opens it carefully, hesitantly.
He stares at the silver watch for a little while and then looks back up at Nesta. “I…” He clears his throat.
“What do you think?” In all honesty, Nesta already knows. But she needs to hear it from him.
He meets her eyes. “It’s so…normal. Do you know what I mean?”
It’s the type of gift that Nesta’s mother would have given to her father, the type of gift that wives would give to their husbands. Not necessarily original or thoughtful, but domestic.
“Since you like to spend your time thinking about taxes and minivans and stuff,” Nesta says, remembering their last conversation about the future, “I thought you’d like something normal.”
Cassian laughs at that. He takes the watch out of the box and turns it over in the firelight, still a little dumbstruck. “I love it,” he says roughly.
Nesta kicks him in the knee. “It’s a watch, not an engagement ring.”
But he doesn’t hear a word, already clasping it onto his wrist.
***
Their last day at the resort starts early with Gwyn, Emerie, and Az banging on the suite door at five in the morning. Though Cassian is already up by then, Nesta snarls and snaps like a bitch at being dragged out of bed to watch the sunrise.
With everyone’s bags packed and waiting at the door, they all gather on the balcony connected to the suite in content silence. Azriel nurses a thermos of coffee that he refuses to share with Cassian, and Nesta is wrapped up in that fur throw she loves, half-asleep against Emerie.
When the sky starts lightening, Cassian pulls Nesta away from Emerie and into his body. “You’re gonna miss it,” he murmurs onto the top of her head.
She blinks awake, looking out at the sky slowly being streaked with a dozen colors. From here, the view over the mountains and the quiet town some miles beneath the resort is breathtaking. Easily better than any sunrise Cassian could have shared with Nesta back home.
It’s beautiful, and in that moment he decides he wants to see even more beautiful places than this with Nesta. Someday.
“Pretty,” she yawns, tilting her head back against his chest. Cassian feels guilty for keeping her up so late the night before, but he’s not ashamed of how she rests in his arms right now.
After the sun climbs past the lowest peak, the group of them slowly but surely come more alive. Emerie asks Az to go inside with her and do a final check before they leave, and Nesta shakes both the blanket and Cassian’s arms off herself.
“Some coffee will wake you up,” he promises her, leaving her outside in the dewy morning air with a kiss on the temple.
When Cassian returns to the balcony with two freshly brewed cups, he finds Gwyn and Nesta in deep conversation. “I never apologized for crashing your weekend,” Gwyn is saying.
“You don’t need to,” Nesta responds, watching the world wake up below her.
“Still,” Gwyn says, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “I acted out of character, didn’t I?”
Nesta turns to her then, the sun haloing her face, and the look of understanding she wears makes Cassian take a step back inside.
“He does that to me,” Gwyn goes on, looking lost as ever. “I don’t know why he does that to me.”
“First love will do that to anyone,” Nesta says.
This isn’t a conversation Cassian should be overhearing, he realizes. Turning around with his coffees, he goes to find Emerie and Azriel instead.
In the living area, Emerie realizes at the last minute that she’s missing her phone charger. By the time she finds it, Nesta and Gwyn have rejoined the group.
Cassian hands Nesta her still-warm coffee with a warmer smile. “You ready to get out of here?”
“Hell yes, baby.” She slings an arm around his waist.
They barely make it to the resort lobby before Azriel and Gwyn start arguing over which route to take home.
“Why would you add an extra hour to your trip for no reason?” Azriel is saying.
“It’s none of your business!” Gwyn retorts.
“She’s scared of highways,” Emerie inserts.
While they bicker on the way to check out, Cassian finds Nesta’s hand and runs a finger down her palm. “Hey, Nes?”
“Hm?” She looks up at him.
He curls his fingers around hers. “Thank you for doing this.”
***
a/n: i cant keep posting chapters right before i sit down to cry in front of kdramas
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rhysismydaddy · 3 years
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Casual Ruin Pt. 5 (Elriel)
Elain's part of the Damnation series.
Last part! I know I said this would be 6/7 parts, but I realized I have no idea what the fuck I had planned to write in those parts, so it's 5 instead hahah. didn't edit the ending whoops
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
__________________________________________
~Elain~
It's three in the morning when I hear it.
We're laying in bed, and even though I should asleep like the man next to me, I can't stop thinking about how little time we have left.
How has the past month gone by so fast?
It feels like yesterday I was standing on my stoop, watching Azriel open up and tell me things he's since admitted he's never told another person.
It feels like yesterday since I decided that I care for him more than I care about what he does.
But it wasn't yesterday; it was a month ago.
A month that's been filled with dinner dates, soft smiles, laughter, and enough tender moments my heart feels full. He's a
The plane ticket hidden in the bottom of my purse is a constant reminder that this is just a summer fling, that it isn't supposed to mean anything. Two weeks from now, I'm supposed to get on that flight and never look back.
Except it feels impossible.
It broke my heart when I walked away from him a month ago, and that was before he told me the details of his life.
Now I know him.
I know about the way he smiles in the morning and how he shakes his head when he laughs, like he can't believe he's doing so. I've learned how ticklish his ribs are, how he likes his coffee, his favorite type of cigarettes.
I know about his family, how his mother died giving birth to him and his father resented him from the day it happened. I know about the first man he killed, how it made him sick. I know what his tattoos really mean.
And what I never could've expected is that everything I've learned, the good and the bad, have tied me to him in a way that feels permanent.
How am I supposed to just walk away from that?
The thought of never seeing his smile, never feeling his rough hands cup my face with a gentleness he doesn't show the world... it feels like missing a part of me.
And it worries me enough I haven't been able to sleep for the past two nights. Like I'm incapable of wasting a minute, I spend the nights watching him sleep.
Which is why I'm perfectly awake when he pulls me close in his sleep and whispers two words that ruin me.
Ti amo.
Tears well in my eyes as I stay perfectly still, replaying the moment over and over.
He loves me.
It's something I knew--something we both probably knew--ever since that day in the rain, but I think we both never said it because we knew our time is limited.
It's been in every touch, every kiss, every moment where we get caught up just staring at each other.
But I want to tell him, I have to tell him, because however good it makes me feel to hear that from him... I know he needs it more.
He's never been loved--never been anyone's first choice, but he's mine, and I want him to know. And I don't want to be just one more person that leaves him and makes him wondering if he'll ever be enough.
So I start to plan.
~A week later, Azriel~
Well, the worst has happened.
I love the fucking woman.
Now my biggest weakness now walks outside my body, with soft brown eyes and dirty blonde hair and bright smiles that light up the world.
And she's leaving in a week.
It scares the shit out of me.
She scares the shit out of me.
Honestly, I hadn't even realized I was in so deep until she said the words "We're done."
All I remember about that day is feeling I'd been stabbed in the chest and looking down to find the blade but not seeing anything but my own hands.
One moment I was convinced I was dying, the next I was in front of her on her stoop, telling her shit I've never told a living soul.
It wasn't then that I realized I love her, but that was when I realized something maybe even more important. I trust her.
Rule 3's been thrown out the window, and I don't even remember when it happened. Was it when she told me I'm not a monster? Or the first time I noticed the way her lips turn up every time I tell her she's beautiful?
Or maybe it was the first time I laid eyes on her as she stumbled into that opera booth, looking like everything I never knew I wanted.
Either way, I'm about a mile up shit's creek with no fucking paddle.
I trust her, love her, and I've only known her ten weeks. Which reminds me, she's leaving.
Which is irritating, because while the mere thought of watching her leave makes me want to level a building, she's currently acting like nothing's wrong.
She's in the bathroom, putting on red lipstick in a slow, taunting way that makes me want to mess it up. I'm sitting in the chair next to my bed, trying to stay calm.
She's watching me watch her in the mirror, and her eyes meet mine for a split second before she looks away, making me suspicious.
That look... I've seen that look before, more times than I can count.
But never from her.
It's a secret.
She looks like she's hiding something.
"Something you need to tell me?" I ask, putting a hand behind my head to prop it up.
Nodding, she comes to stand at the foot of the bed. "Yep."
I raise a brow. "What is it?"
"I'll tell you tonight if you meet me for dinner."
Suspicion and curiosity make me ask, "Where?"
"La Rosa," she responds casually, making me narrow my eyes. It's outside of the city a bit, a small place on the coast I've never had an interest in owning or visiting.
"I've never been there."
"New experiences are good for the soul," she quips, sliding on her sandals. "Just say you'll meet me."
There's a hint of nerves in her voice, so I say, "Of course, dolce mia."
She smiles, victorious. Then she's bounding over, taking my face between her palms, and pressing her mouth to mine.
Before I can ask what she's up to, she's out the door, calling over her shoulder, "Seven o'clock! I'll meet you there."
I get up and slide my jacket on, slipping my hand in the pocket and toying with the piece of metal I've been carrying around for a month.
Sighing, I take it out and throw it on the counter, knowing that if this life has taught me one thing, it's that it won't make a difference.
~
When seven o'clock rolls around, I'm seated at a table, frowning at my surroundings.
I've definitely never been here.
No man has, I'm willing to bet. At least not on his own volition.
There are flowers everywhere. Spilling out of vases, growing on the vines surrounding the open windows, lining the doors that are open to the patio out back.
Besides that, I guess the place isn't too bad, actually. The lights are soft, the weather's nice, and by the smells coming from tables around me, the food will be good.
Elain's running a few minutes late, but she called and told me to go ahead and order.
Apparently, she's come here before, because she told me what to order her. Odd.
A few minutes after I relay the information to the waitress, I spot her coming in the front door and wave her over.
She's a little flushed, her eyes are bright, and the smile on her face gives no doubt she's excited.
I stand up when she reaches me, kiss her, then ask, "What's going on?"
"Nothing," she says too quickly. "Did you order?"
"Yeah. Have you been here before or something?"
She nods, diverting her eyes down and to the right in the classic tell of a lie.
I sigh, frustration getting the better of me. "Elain, what are you hiding from me?"
Before she can answer, the food comes. Two plates of pasta are set in front of us, and I know instantly I was right about the food being good.
But no matter how good it looks, there's only one thing on my mind.
"Elain."
She waves a hand. "Just eat, Azriel. I promise I'll tell you in like five minutes."
"Why not just tell me now?"
"It's more dramatic this way," she explains, making me sigh again.
Women.
She's going to give me a fucking heart attack with her drama.
A little aggressively, I stab the fork in the pasta, taking a huge bite.
I feel her eyes on me, watching me eat, but I act like I don't notice, mentally counting down the seconds until five minutes is up.
I'm at 263 when she asks, "Do you like it?"
"What?"
Rolling her eyes, she gestures to the plate in front of me. "Do you like it?"
"It's good," I reply honestly, a little surprised. I've lived here long enough to know the best places to eat, and I've never heard more than a decent review about this place.
"I'm glad," she says, full lips tilting up. "Since I made it."
I don't get it. Did she bring it with her? Is that why she was late?
Also, why did we come to a restaurant if she was going to cook?
"What? Why?"
She tilts her head, smile growing.
Right as my still-counting subconscious gets to five minutes, she explains, "Because I work here."
~Elain~
He stares at me, bite of pasta halfway between his mouth and the plate.
I've been almost bursting at the seems the past four days trying to keep the secret.
I mean, given what the man does for a living, I didn't think I'd make it more than an hour. And while he's definitely been suspicious, I made it.
"What?" he finally asks, dark brows furrowing as he leans in.
"I have a lot to say," I tell him. "So don't interrupt me."
His eyes narrow like they always do when I tell him what to do, but I ignore it and start listing off the different secrets I've been keeping.
I start with the most important.
"First, I love you."
The fork clangs against the plate as he drops it.
I smile, biting my lip and trying not to cry at the look on his face.
"I think I have since that first night when we danced in the bar. Or maybe when you took me to the beach. I don't know." Taking a deep breath, I say, "I tried to stop, when I found out... everything. But it was useless, because I was as in love with you then as I am now."
He shakes his head, almost like he's panicked, but I keep going.
"I love you, Azriel. I want to be with you more than I've ever wanted anything. And I can't bear the thought of leaving you. I don't want to."
Gesturing around us, I say, "I got a job here, and my landlord said she can draw up a lease. And before you say anything, I'm not giving anything up. The past months have felt like paradise, and I love it here. I liked my job in New York, but it wasn't anything I'll miss."
His eyes are so wide, it'd be a little funny if I wasn't so serious.
I take a sip of wine and try to puta brave face on. A lump forms in my throat, but I manage to say, "But we never talked about anything long term, so if this isn't what you want... I'll go. I promise. I just wanted you to know that you're... it for me. You're everything to me. I choose you."
He shudders, closing his eyes, and I take in how tight his jaw is, how close he seems to coming unraveled.
Is he freaking out? I definitely am.
After a few moments, I realize he's still waiting on me, so I laugh and say, "You can talk now."
He doesn't.
He just opens his eyes and stares at me, the shock in his gaze clear to read.
Nerves blossom. I was so sure he'd be happy, but maybe he isn't ready. Voice turning shaky, I ask, "Is this what you want?"
Slowly, he shakes his head, but before I can panic, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a key, holding it out between us. "I want you to live with me, not at the townhouse."
All the nerves fly out the door, and I laugh, not quite able to believe it.
How long has he been carrying this around?
The tears finally spilling over as I take the key from him. "Okay."
He brushes my cheeks off with his thumb, looking at me like he's never seen anything more beautiful.
Azriel's quiet for a moment, and I give him time, knowing that whatever he wants to say is hard for him.
"Ti amo. Mi spaventa così tanto."
I love you. So much is scares me.
"You? Scared? I don't believe it."
I'm trying to joke and lighten the mood, but he's completely serious as he shakes his head, cupping my jaw with his hand. "You scare the shit out of me, Elain."
My heart clenches, and I fight a fresh wave of tears as I lean into his touch. "You scare me, too."
"But you're not leaving."
It's said like a hopeful promise, like something he needs to hear again and again to accept it's true.
I shake my head. "I'm not leaving," I whisper.
He finally smiles, that big smile I'm positive he only gives me, and leans over the table to kiss me softly. "Say it again."
"I love you."
He kisses me again, and I slide my hands in his hair and kiss him back, feeling like everything before now has led up to this. He's the grand finale, the one I didn't know I was waiting for.
I pull back a little, just far enough to see his reaction as I whisper, "Meet me in the bathroom."
His eyes flare and his mouth drops open, and I laugh as I get up from my seat and try to walk nonchalantly towards the back.
This hadn't been part of the plan, but I've told him I love him, and now... I want to prove it.
Plus, I don't know what it is about him, but he feeds the adventurous side of me like nothing else.
I can feel him watching me from the table as I make my way across the restaurant.
Thankfully, the place is busy tonight, so I don't think anyone notices when, as soon as I shut the bathroom door, he rises to follow me.
A moment later, he slips in with me, taking in the dim lights, closed stall, low music. He flips the lock, and it's like it snaps the thread between us, descending us into chaos.
He's on me in a second, arms wrapping around me and lifting me. My legs bracket his hips as he pushes me up against the wall and traps my hands above my head.
"Say it again," he demands breathlessly, eyes bright and full of heat.
I nip his lower lip, then kiss it softly. "I love you, Azriel."
His mouth crashes into mine, unrestrained and demanding and deep enough I lose myself in him.
My hands are in his hair, his are pushing up the hem of my dress.
There's a brief moment of adjusting, and then he's easing into me. His eyes are on me, his lips are parted, and as I tighten around him, he makes a deep rumbling sound. It's the hottest thing I've ever seen.
"You're mine," I tell him, tilting my hips to take him deeper. "And I'm yours."
He shudders, eyes going black. "You're mine."
His hips claim mine, then, pulling out and thrusting back in, moving me up the wall. I tighten my fingers in his hair as he hits a spot deep inside me, and he groans.
Moving his hands to my hips, he brings me down as he thrusts up, and I moan, then slap a hand over my mouth.
I work here, for God's sake.
"This is not very professional," I mutter, smiling when his lips twitch.
"No," he agrees, thrusting into me harder. "And it's definitely inappropriate."
I clamp my lips together, pressing my hand to my mouth again to stifle the involuntary whimper I let out.
Azriel grins, tugging on my earlobe with his teeth and whispering, "You might need to go to confessional again."
Rolling my eyes, I move my hands to his shoulders, then lean in to lick up the column of his neck. "Between the two of us, I'd say you're more likely to end up on your knees tonight."
He laughs, tugging my head back to kiss me again. His tongue meets mine in a wet, deep slide that makes me shiver. His hips brush mine. His hands hold me just right, keeping me against him.
Pulling back, he brushes his lips over mine and whispers, "I love you."
The easy, conversational pace is abandoned, and we're moving harder against each other, the only sounds our labored breathing and muffled moans.
He brings a hand to cover my mouth, and I cover his with mine, and we're in tandem, both of us lost in the other.
He comes when I do, driving deeply into me and stilling, his head buried in my neck.
We spend a while like that, and when I eventually slide down the wall, we take our time adjusting our clothes. He keeps stopping me to kiss my shoulder or brow, and I waste too much time just looking at him.
When we're both ready, he extends a hand and grins. "Let's go home."
I smile, unable to help it. "Let's go home."
_____________________________________________
Thank you for reading! This is the last part, although I might do an epilogue one day (don't hold your breath lol).
Send me asks if you have em :)
@elorcan-trash @sweetdaisybell @anyblinding @acreativelydifferentlove @loosingdreams @poisonous00 @januarystears @emikadreams @swankii-art-teacher @thedarkdemigod @full-tilt-diva @biggestwingspan-az @bookstantrash @mari-highladyof-feels @pilesofriles @bamchickawowow @teddytdr @perseusannabeth @shinya-hiiragi @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @live-the-fangirl-life @ireallyshouldsleeprn @highqueenofelfhame @autophobiax @rowaelinismyotp @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @inardour @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace
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vanilla-vivillon · 3 years
Text
Hey so I have some ✨Kanej✨ kid headcannons that I’m gonna bother you with
Kaz and Inej never really thought they could have kids
Even without there problems with being intimate
Barrel bosses weren’t suited for spouses and children
And with Inej being gone 75% of the year hunting slavers it was never something they thought they could have
Until one day when Kaz meets a small seven year old suli girl
Kaz was 30 and with him being the king of Ketterdam he kept close track of everyone entering and leaving Ketterdam.
No one could get in or out of there without him knowing.
So imagine his suprise when he walked into his office to find some kid sorting through his papers
At first he simply couldn’t believe it
Then he thought she could be one of his dregs children
With business booming Kaz had more members then ever.
In fact being dregs was more seen as being an employee then a gang member
Especially with how many casinos Brekker owned
So he was positive one of his members lost track of her
He tapped his cane to the floor “You shouldn’t be in here”
The girl looked up from where she was playing with the things on his desk
Straight Black hair that reached her shoulders and watchful hazel eyes peered up at him. She was wearing a black shirt and a small hood. She looked sorta like a spider.
Could she be a spy? Kaz thought
No
She was far to young
Unless was heavily tailored...
Okay he was definitely grasping at straws
“Where are your parents?”
The girl didn’t answer instead looking at him
As if she was sizing him up
This girl was Kerch born and bred alright
“Gone”
Kaz sighed.
An orphan would be annoying to deal with
And how the hell did she even get inside the slat?
“Alright get out then” Kaz snapped
Suddenly Kaz felt the familiar tingling in his neck.
“Kaz what’s going on?” Inej said peering I to the office where the suli girl was
“Who’s this?” Inej asked
“Yes wonderful question Captain who are you?” Kaz snarled turning towards the pest of a human.
Her back stood a bit straighter
“Azriel”
“Is that your real name?” Kaz asked
“No”
“Alright”
“Inej I found this girl here in my office” Kaz said finally turning to Inej
“Your an orphan?” Inej asked
Azriel slowly nodded
“Then I can bring you to the orphanage” Inej said
Azriel hopped off Kazs desk “alright”
Inej picked Azriel up “alright I’ll take her to St. Anastasia’s and then we can finally chat”
Inej had just gotten back from a four month long expedition in the southern colonies and Kaz wasn’t to happy to have to wait Even more
“Then i guess I am doomed to wait for you here” he said sarcastically
Inej laughed the laugh and went with the girl
Kaz and Inej thought that would be the end of that but it seemed the universe wasn’t done toying with them
Kaz was tired
He always was but this time was different
Lately more and more priests and politicians have come to clean up the barrel
This would’ve been a simple annoyance but the problem was they were working. Certain parts of the barrel were better
Really they weren’t even fixing the problem
Just erecting some statues of Kerch Saints
But they were driving away business and Kaz couldn’t keep ignoring them
He could kill them,
Then They’d become martyrs
No he needed a better solution
On top of that Azriel kept getting into the slat
The second time she came back was a lot more destructive
Somehow the little demon got her grubby hands on some pink dye
And the next day a quarter of his members had to go bargain with The Razor Gulls wearing bright pink clothing
It was pretty easy to figure out who did it when kaz found some documents about the laundry gone from his desk. The very desk where Azriel sat on days ago
Azriel was a pain
The priests were a pain
The only balm was that Inej was here and would be for a couple months more
And Kaz loved his ever patient Inej but it seemed this girl was getting on her nerves to.
But Kazs brilliant brain thought he had a solution.
Azriel walked up to him. Now that he saw her again she looked mostly the same. Same cape and hood and black clothing she wore when they met
The timid teacher at the orphanage shook a little
It’s not every day Kaz Brekkker shows up asking about an orphan
“You can leave” Kaz Brekker said
The teacher rushes away hurriedly
“You dyed dregs laundry pink
With a small smirk Azriel said “Yes I did”
She was probably quite pleased with herself
She also has evidently no regard for her life
“I would like to offer you a job”
“I’ll start tomorrow”
“You don’t know what the job is”
“You want me to get rid of the priests”
“That’s right”
A small part of Kazs brain thought that she was to young
But then he was only a bit older when he started working
“Head to the slat and go to my office I’ll get someone to get you a room
Azriel had been working for Kaz for a month now and already three priests have been driven out
It seemed Azriel was quite effective at her job
He had taken a likening towards her although he would never admit it
She was smart
And had quite the sense of humor
“You like her” Jesper said after Azriel walks out of his office after giving a report
“She’s a good employee”
Ignoring Kaz Jesper continued “if she’s your employee why does she live in your apartment?”
“Easier to keep an eye on her. The other dregs haven’t forgotten that there clothes are still pastel pink.”
“Plus” Kaz added “Inej likes her”
It was true Inej had taken a liking to the troublemaker. The girl spoke her Kerch well and spoke not a kick of Suli
Even tho Azriel seemed to enjoy Inejs company she kept locked lips on where exactly she came from.
One day she just appeared in Ketterdam and that was that.
“Is she like your kid?” Jesper pressed
Jesper and wylan themselves had adopted a few and fostered many. Wylan in fact helped start St. Anastasias Orphanage
“Of course not Jesper don’t be a podge”
Of course Jesper was right when five months later Kaz and Inej signed semi legal papers adopting her
Hey y’all this is my first head canon thingie. I take asks about anything in the Grishaverse. Give this a reblog it you made it to the end. Sorry for any grammar errors I made.
Part two https://dablackdahlia.tumblr.com/post/650718731093327872/the-black-dahlia
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darklove9314-blog · 3 years
Text
Nessian Mating Cermony
Happy Nessian month!!! Since I already wrote my version of Nessian’s mating ceremony in my fanfiction Symphonia,I thought I’d share it again on here because I love it so much. Also this Fic does contain spoilers for ACOSF so read at you own risk!!! @illyrianet
Not having second thoughts, are you?” Elain asked placing the last of the flowers in Nesta’s braid as Nesta stared out the window surveying the preparations for the mating bond ceremony down below.
“Not at all.” Nesta smiled turning away from the window as a soft cry filled the room.
“Sorry. He’s been fussy lately.” Feyre explained, exhaustion filling her eyes accentuating the dark circles underneath them as Nesta strode over to them holding out her arms.
“May I?” Nesta asked. She hadn’t put on her dress yet and they still had a few more hours to spare.
“Only if you’re sure.” Feyre answered handing Nyx over to Nesta. Her nephew fitting comfortably in her arms. Still fussing but staring at her with those big blue eyes staring at her with wonder.
“Hello, little one.” She cooed running a hand over his black hair trying to soothe him. Feyre taking a seat in the nearest chair, exhaustion finally taking over.
The baby reached up touching Nesta’s cheek as she rocked him back and forth, her sisters looking at both.
“What?” She asked Nyx squirming in her arms probably wondering why she stopped. She continued to rock him.
“Nothing.” Feyre smiled as Nesta patted Nyx’s back, a small burp falling from his mouth. Some spit up getting on Nesta’s shirt.
Nesta shrugged grabbing the tissue Elain offered and cleaning it off.
“I think we found out the reason why he was fussy.” Nesta laughed, her nephew smiling handing him back to Feyre.
“Are you ready to get dressed?” Elain asked excited as she went to where the dress hung.
“Yes.” Nesta answered excitement filling her as she slipped off her clothes before Feyre and Elain helped her in the dress.
She went to the full-length mirror and inspected herself, her breath catching slightly.
The mating dress she had chosen was a long sleeve high neck dress with full skirts and a lace bodice. She had opted for flowers in her hair and no crown like Cassian had joked about. There was no need for one. Tonight, she would officially be mated to the love of her life and she for one couldn’t wait to see what their future would hold.
A knock sounded from the door and Emerie emerged smiling.
“You look beautiful.” She said, Gwyn coming in behind her.
“You came.” She smiled pulling both into a hug.
“We wouldn’t miss this for the world.” Gwyn answered the light catching her red hair.
“You’re almost ready.”
“Almost?” Nesta asked as they all pulled something out, Nesta lifting a brow. “What is this?”
“You’ll have to give it back after the ceremony, but I thought you might want to burrow it for the day.” Gwyn said taking her friendship bracelet and clasping it beside Nesta’s on her wrist.
“I have these blue garters in the shop.” Emerie smiled as Nesta slipped it on.
“When I went to the rainbow the other day and I saw this thought of you.” Feyre smiled. The silver comb in her hand as she placed it in Nesta’s hair and then she turned to Elain.
“I know we don’t have much, but I figured you would want this today.” Elain smiled as Elain gave her a dagger, the handle made of wood.
“It has flames on it.” She smiled as she turned to Feyre.
“We may have refurnished that old dresser.” Feyre smiled. “Elain and I have similar ones.”
Nesta smiled at her sisters. Tears coming to her eyes. “You did all this for me?”
“We may be fae, but it doesn’t mean we have to let go of everything.” Feyre smiled as Gwyn, Emerie, Feyre, and Elain pulled her into a hug, and she stood there letting the love of her sister’s flow through her.
Gwyn squeezed her hand as her and Emerie went to go stand with their small group of friends and family as her, Feyre and Elain remained. The fae didn’t have the same traditions as mortal weddings. Bridesmaids were not a thing in the fae world, so Nesta would stand up there alone with Cassian and the priestess who would officiate their mating ceremony.
“I’ll be up front.” Elain stated squeezing Nesta’s hand before heading out the door out with Nyx to the sitting area.
“Are you ready for this?” Feyre asked taking Nesta’s hand in her own.
“Will you walk me down to him?” Nesta asked as Feyre smiled.
“Of course, I will.” Feyre answered as the doors sliding her arm into Nesta’s as she opened the doors and Nesta took everything in.
Music played from the Symphonia signaling her arrival. Candles lite the isle, garland hung from the ceiling, the windows looking out to the Sidra as lace and silk lined the chairs to the alter and all went quiet. She sensed Gwyn, Elain, Emerie, Feyre, Rhysand, Azriel, Mor, and Nyx in the room, but all fell away as her eyes landed on Cassian. Her lover, her friend, and her mate. His eyes fixed on hers and it was as if they were the only two in the universe.
Tears filled his eyes matching her own as Feyre walked her down to him as Feyre placed Nesta’s hand into Cassian’s and Cassian looked at Feyre a smile on his beautiful face.
“I got her. Don’t worry.” Cassian promised squeezing Nesta’s hand and pulling her to him, her heart beating in time with his. There was nothing else. No one else besides them. His eyes saying all the words that his mouth could not. Keeping her fingers interlaced with his.
“I love you.” He mouthed to her, calming her nerves.
“I love you too.” She mouthed back, her smile brightening the room.
The priestess started off with the opening prayer for their ceremony before they recited their vows to each other promising to love and protect each other for as long as they lived. After they were finished the priestess spoke a prayer to the mother to bless this union with love, peace, and fertility instructing them to open the bond to each other.
Their hearts beat as one as Nesta and Cassian opened their bond to each other, the gold light of their souls flowing into each other illuminating the room with its essence.
When the priestess was finished with her prayer, she looked to both Nesta and Cassian asking if they had brought their mating food.
Elain smiled bringing up the lemon blueberry muffin handing it to Nesta as Azriel gave Cassian the chocolate cake making Nesta smile. Elain had helped Nesta, and Cassian make both. Careful not to interrupt them making it and giving them helpful instructions.
“No turning back now.” Cassian smiled illuminating the room as her smirk matched his.
“Thank the Gods.” She answered offering him the muffin as he offered her a bite of the cake.
The bond sang, his golden thread floating into her as her golden thread flowed into him. Just like it had done during solstice night. Their souls twining as one. And she was not afraid. Of him. Of this. Her lover. Her friend. Her husband. Her mate. She had expected the binding of their wrist next, but Mor smiled coming up to Cassian and placing two wedding bands in his free hand. Her eyebrow lifted in question.
“I heard it’s tradition for husband and wife to exchange rings. “
“Cassian.” She whispered at a loss for words. Tears blurring her vision.
“You are mine, just like I am yours. And I know how important those words are to you as well. You are my mate, but I would also love to call you my wife. And I’d be honored if you called me your husband.”
He set the rings in Nesta’s hand and clasped her other hand on top of it placing his own on them. And without having to say the words, Nesta knew what he wanted her to do letting her power flow through her as she made a wish to be by his side forever the glow from her hands illuminating their bands before she opened her hand, Cassian taking her ring and sliding it on her left hand. The ring feeling like it always belonged there as she took his ring and slid it on his hand. Their worlds colliding, their hearts entwining as one. He leaned forward and kissed her, it holding all the power of the universe.
When the kiss ended, Cassian touched his forehead to hers as the priestess turned to Rhys and Feyre, they stepped up to the alter taking the black ribbon and intertwining their wrist together enchanting it to not fall away until their mating was consummated. Her love and need growing strong for the man before her. The priestess closed the ceremony declaring them mates. And no feeling in the world compared as they brought their mouth together, the room imploding with love, life, and laughter as they smiled at their friends, their family before heading off to finish their mating. Their life together begging at last.
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rarephloxes · 3 years
Text
elucienweek, flower prompt. 
sorry girls!!! I’m late!! Hope it still counts though :)))))))
for @elucienweek <3
rating: G
wc: ≈3.3k
warnings: none!! they just go on a date!!! and bring each other flowers!!
psa: my first language is Portuguese! And this is also the first thing I’ve even written and posted! Ever! So, I’m nervous!! Lol! Enjoy!! Also: outfits link at the bottom!!
~*~
  Elain flitted through her bedroom excitedly, her nerves jittery and drowned in thoughts of the day she was about to have.  
 “But what do you think I should wear?” Elain asked her sister, Feyre, who was just a laughing face in the screen of her phone.  
 “Put me on FaceTime,” Elain’s phone speaker told her “I’ll help you pick.”  
 “Can you add Nesta to the call, please?” Elain asked, eyeing the clothes hanging in her wardrobe confusedly, brows wrinkled.  
  With a sigh, she sat down at her vanity, the gleaming glass of her perfumes and pretty makeup containers beckoning her.  
 Feyre’s laughing face, a picture taken by Rhys, her sister’s husband, winked out to be quickly replace by Feyre's and Nesta’s profile pictures.  
 (Elain knew she ought to be used to the fact that her sister was wed, for she had gone to her wedding wearing a beautiful pink dress matching the few other bridesmaids. She had even danced with Rhysand’s broody brother, Azriel, and overall had a great deal of time, but it was still weird thinking of her baby sister as a wedded woman. Who also was, uselessly, trying to pretend not to be pregnant).  
“Good morning,” Nesta greeted them, a little bleary eyed “What’s this about?”  
 “Did you just wake up?” Asked Feyre with a knowing smile on her lips. Elain knew that if said smile was directed to herself, she’d blush. “It’s nearly 3PM,”  
 “Oh, well,” responded Nesta with a carefully crafted absent-minded smile “You know how Cassian can be... energetic,”  
 “Nesta!” Elain, despite her best wishes and her sister’s rather tame answer, blushed while applying her mascara “Can we please focus on the matter at hand? I really need some help,”  
 “And what, exactly, is this matter?” Nesta inquired.  
 “It’s Elain’s third date with Mr. Mystery Man,” Feyre slightly static voice answered. Elain’s phone had never been quite the same after she accidentally potted and watered it with one of her apartment plants.  
 “Oh! I didn’t know you and MMM had gotten to the third date phase!” Nesta replied with a note of enthusiasm, the buzz of a coffeemaker as her background noise “A rather early time of day for a third date, though, isn’t it?”  
 Elain bristled slightly, but Feyre answered first “It’s a picnic date, Nesta. It wouldn’t be the same if was later. And besides, it’ll be just the right time for they to see the sunset,” Feyre frowned “Did you really just wake up?”  
 “I was taking a nap,” Nesta supplied with her mouth hidden by a mug covered in book details, a library’s name scripted around it “What can I say? Cass really wore me out,”  
 “Girls, please, please, can we stay on topic?” Elain pleaded a little, “I really do need help.”  
 “Oh, those are lovely lashes, Elain” Feyre praised from where Elain’s phone was propped in her vanity. Elain, now applying her blush until she looked somewhat sunburned, questioned “Do you like it? I glue them underneath my lash line, see? It looks nice, doesn’t it?”   
 Perhaps sensing the bit of anxiety on her middle sister’s face, Nesta said “It looks beautiful, Elain. MMM will not even know what hit him”. 
 Smiling at her sister’s compliment, Elain stood up and angled her phone to the side, widening the camera range to the view of her bed and bathroom door.  
 “So,” Elain started, slightly out of frame as she scoured her clothes for something fitting, “I thought maybe a dress? No pants or shorts because I bought a charcuterie board and really am planning to eat the cake Lu... I mean, Mr. Mystery Man-” Elain stopped herself with a laugh, what a silly nickname, dear Gods. Of course, Feyre would come up with something like that “- is going to bring, so nothing constricting in the belly area,”  
 “Ooh! I know! What about the white dress? With the blue flower print?” Feyre suggested.  
 “White? Feyre, a white dress for a picnic? I’m aware you live in a palace and has the wealthiest man in the land of the free to pay for your every wish, but please remember some of us have to do laundry” Nesta said, a laugh woven in her teasing.  
 Before Feyre could answer, Elain interrupted the seemingly lighthearted argument lest she lost her sisters to an everlasting word brawl “It’s cute, Feyre, you’re right. But, Nesta has a point. I don’t want any grass stains on it.”  
 “Besides, I thought I could wear my strawberry dress,” Elain said, placing a pink dress in front of her robe clad form.  
 “Oh, that’s cute,” said Nesta.  
 “Yeah, really pretty,” agreed Feyre.  
 “Then why do you both sound so unsure?”  
 “It’s just that it is a little plain,” Feyre explained carefully.  
 “It’s a 500-dollar dress,” Elain defended “And it has strawberries in it!”  
 “Yes, of course,” Nesta complied, “But maybe something with sleeves less... puffy? Or without a childish print?”   
 Feeling a little defeated, Elain nodded.  
 Afterward, the pile of clothes on her bed rapidly grew and with it Elain’s anxiety.  
 “Gods, nothing looks good,” Elain said, hating the whiny tone of her voice.  
 “Wait, wait!” Nesta startled “What of that sage green dress?”  
 The little dying light in Elain’s chest glittered.  
 “The one from Reformation?” Elain asked hangers chiming while she reached for the dress.  
 “Isn’t it a bit too fancy?” Feyre replied, uncertain.  
 “He is really well dressed,” mused Elain, looking at herself in the mirror, sage dress draped over her front “So you think this matches well with my white Fendi boots?”  
 “Won’t the boots be uncomfortable for a sitting on the ground date?” Nesta countered, voice muffled by the running water she was using to rinse her mug, coffee long gone by then.  
 “Well, I guess,” Elain acceded just as another dress caught her eye, “YES! I think I found the one!”  
 “Let us see it then!” Feyre asked around a mouthful of something.  
 “Wait, let me put it one first” said Elain before skittering out of view.  
 “What are you eating?” asked the corner of Nesta’s face.  
 “Rhys is doing business with these Belgium people. Very fancy. Particularly important Belgium people,” Feyre’s eyes and forehead answered, “They brought a lot of chocolate,”  
 “Quite the stereotype,” A pause “Save me some?”   
 “Sorry, I’m finished with them already.”  
 “Ok! Grand reveal time!”  
  Nesta’s side eye and frown disappeared once Elain popped into frame, a soft off-white midi dress with a high neckline and short sleeves now around her body, accentuating the dip of her waist.  
 “Ooh, I love the slit!”  
 “Yes! And it’s such a nice print too! The red details go really well with your nails! Where did you go to get that set?”  
  Elain squealed, jumping a bit with the balls of her feet, her skirts flaring “I get my nails done with my neighbor’s girlfriend. She’s quite good, isn’t she?” Elain approached her phone, showing her nails to the screen. “Oh, and look at the back,” Elain twirlied, skirts swishing around her calves.  
 More excited cheers ringed around Elain.  
 “Your tits look amazing! What about the shoes?”  
 Elain barely had the time to blush.        
 ” Oh, it’d look lovely with the converse I painted for you!” Feyre pointed out.  
 Elain had to turn away to hide her frown “I’d thought to wear slip on heels?”  
 “Way better!” recognized Nesta almost too quickly “Or maybe the pretty red ones with the ties at the ankles? Low heeled?”  
 “The red ones are pretty! Yes! But the slip-ons are easier,” Elain said, showing the options to her camera “Nude or green?”  
 “Definitely green,” said Feyre as Nesta said “Go with the nude one.”  
 “Do you think I could pull off wearing one color on each foot?” Elain giggled, putting her lip gloss and money purse in her bag, leaving the colorful shoes on top of her vanity chair.  
 “Nah, Nesta’s right, go with the nude one,” Feyre said, mouth foaming with toothpaste.  
 “What was that?” Nesta mocked in a singsong voice “Can you repeat it, please, I couldn’t hear around your toothbrush. Or the sound of your betrayal. I always save you a bonbon or two.”  
 “No, you don’t,”  
 “Well, I always mean to!”  
 Feyre spit off frame and flipped Nesta the bird.  
 All three of them laughed, Elain hurrying around her room to seem like she was ready to leave.  
 “Thank you so much for tuning in for this episode of Sisterly Love,” Elain joked with a big, unnerving smile, a weird laugh she hoped the poor functioning camera of her phone would hide “I’ll see you girls on next week’s episode- “  
 “Wait! No!” Interrupted Nesta with a serious face, “I see you worrying about, pretending you’re late,”  
 Feyre, who was smiling at someone else off camera, joined in as if she’d just caught on “Yeah! Stop... doing that,”  
  “Tell us about MMM!” Nesta demanded, “You can’t expect us to let you go on a date with a creep!”  
  “How do you know I’m pretending?” Elain huffed, her eyes diminished into slits, hands at her waist.  
  “As if you’d be in the risk getting to your date late. You like him too much,”  
  Nodding to her sister’s point, Elain dropped her facade.  
  “But he’s not a creep,” Elain said as she plopped down on her cushioned vanity chair, using the mirror to double check her makeup.  
  “Then what is Mister Mystery Man like?”  
   Elain had no control over the grin that illuminated her face “He’s... charming. Kind. Tall. And a swimmer too- “  
  “A swimmer! Nice broad shoulders then, huh?”  
  “Well, yes, I guess” Elain stammered a bit “He works in Communications. His brother’s dogs just had a litter, so now he’s taking care of two puppies. The cutest little things I’ve ever seen to be honest-”
 “Ok, ok, but how well does he kiss?”  
 “You’ve kissed him, right?”  
 With a quickened heartbeat, Elain confessed “Yes,”  
 “Then come out with it already! Tell us how it was!”  
 “It was a sweet kiss. He dropped me off at home and... well, you know how these things go.”  
 Neither Nesta nor Feyre said anything, urging Elain to keep talking.  
  And if Elain got a little breathless, none of her sisters mentioned “We were heading home after dinner. He took me to the new Italian restaurant near the Sidra, so it was a short walk until my apartment.”  
 “He looked so handsome, I thought I’d melt when he held my hand and I’ll admit I was rather tipsy by then, and he was so warm and... Gods, when he leaned down to kiss me, I turned into a puddle- “  
 “That sounds straight out of that novel you lent me, Nesta,”  
 “He is quite the charmer, isn’t he?”  
 “Yes. Yes, he is” said Elain dreamily.  
 “Elain! Don’t forget to do that thing you do with your lipstick? Makes your lips look so good,” Feyre reminded enthusiastically, dragging Elain out of her stupor.  
 “Yeah, maybe then your next kissing story won’t be so wholesome,” Nesta added with a leer.  
 With a happy giggle, Elain carefully traced a discreet line with her lipliner over her cupid’s bow and covered it with lip gloss.  
 “Yeah! Just like that!”  
 “Oh, I see the difference now. You look stunning,”  
 Opening a drawer, Elain asked “Big hoops or small ones?”  
 “They won’t look good with this dress, though” mused Nesta “Unless you’re wearing the small chunky ones, more oval than circle,”  
  “You mean these?” Elain showed the jewelry, to the camera.  
 “Yes, that’s the one. I knew I should’ve gone with you to get the extra earring holes! You look ten times hotter with all these earrings.”  
 “Yeah, you definitely should’ve” agreed Feyre with a smile “You look stunning, Elain. MMM is a lucky man,”  
 Not bothering to hide her smile, Elain thanked her sisters, the video call ending quickly after their well wishes and goodbyes.  
  With a reinvigorated sigh, Elain gathered her basket, carefully picking up the flowers she had wrapped to gift her date and left her apartment in a flurry of petals and jangling keys. 
                                          ***
  Elain waited by the Velaris Park entrance that viewed the Sidra, inhaling the salty breeze that ruffled her hair and skirts, cooling the hotness of the sun on her skin. 
 Twirling around as if she’d heard her name in the wind, Lucien stepped into her line of vision and Elain was suddenly, viscerally reminded of the Three Musketeers Disney film she knew all the song lyrics by heart, with the outdated montage of Minnie, the pure hearted French princess, meeting Mickey, the earnest musketeer with a desperate need to prove himself, saturated in an array of old sparkly effects and pretty roses that sprouted at will, surrounding the animated mice in a haven of pastel pink fluffy clouds and romantic orchestra, and the terribly cheesy, awfully idealistic and childishly romantic speech about love at first sight.  
 He walked up to where she was standing, a carefully wrapped beautiful arrangement of multi-colored tulips, lilacs, and white carnations in his hand, and a basket very much like hers tucked in his elbow. He was wearing a cream button down with the top buttons undone, the wisps of red hair and freckles on his collarbone adorned by a discreet necklace glowing in the sun.  
 Elain’s tote bag slipped off her shoulder in a moment of lightheaded carelessness and Lucien gracefully helped her reassert the bag in her shoulder, his hand lingering if only for a moment.  
 “Are these for me?” he asked as a greeting, the light of his smile mirrored in his eyes.  
 “Yes,” she smiled too, something soft slipping into her ribcage and filling her with sunlight at the sight of him “You said these were your favorites in-”  
 “My mother’s garden,” he said with her, still smiling at her like he could not stop even if he tried “I’ll admit it now that I didn’t share that bit of information necessarily aiming for a gift” he walked the few steps so he could stand at her side “Not that I’m complaining.”  
 "I'm glad you liked them," Elain said, her sunglasses slipping on the bridge of her nose "I believe I was promised a fine spot for picnics and watching the sunset?" Lucien’s presence melted away Elain’s unsteady nerves, the tension of her body uncoiling with the tender warmth flowing off him.  
 "The best spot there is," he promised with a wink "Also, these are for you" Lucien mentioned to the graceful bouquet of peonies, buttercups and sunflowers in his hands, the few residual beads of water in the petals scintillating in the sunlight. “I thought it might be presumptuous of me to gift you my favorite flowers, so hence the absence of tulips.”  
  Elain chuckled, walking by Lucien’s side as he led them to his favorite part of the park “I wouldn’t have minded at all. Tulips are one of my favorites as well,” 
 “A woman of great taste,” he replied with a little head bow.  
 Elain, her mouth a little dry, a few strands of her front hair pieces sticking to her brow, wondered why she had ever felt nervous to meet Lucien, with his soft curls smelling of autumn, apples and cinnamon, steady hands, and bright, bright smile. There was nothing unpleasant about his presence, the effortless way he stood and spoke, the grace in his step or the lovely caramel of his eyes. 
 He guided her to a little alcove of grass, lined by tall stone walls covered in vines. In all her walks through the park, she never noticed it. A beautiful corner hidden from curious eyes, but not blocking the river’s breeze or the sight of its running waters. 
 “I’ve got a friend in the team of architects that planned this park,” Lucien explained at Elain’s surprised face “Not exactly something one would find in the City Guide,” 
 “It’s lovely, Lucien. I’ll admit that this could possibly be the best the best sunset viewing spot,” 
 “Possibly be?” he asked with mock outrage, setting the waterproofed fabric over the grass, soon followed by a dark blue checkered flannel blanket “It is the best one. It’s the reason it’s a secret” he said in a conspirators whisper, comically eyeing their surroundings as if in search of busybodies. 
 “Well, I can only decide after the day’s event,” Elain sat at the other side of the blanket, carefully arranging her basket’s content over the fabric, swiping their bouquets so they rested near their respective owners. 
 “Is this a ruse so that I work extra hard to impress you?” 
 “I don’t know,” she smirked while plating the delicate chocolate strawberries she’d made herself the night before, “Is it working?” 
 “I’m proud to say I’ve being incessantly trying to remain at my A game since the moment I looked at you the first time. 
 “That’s good,” if the blush staining her cheeks gave away her smugness, Lucien didn’t acknowledge it.
*** 
 
It was easier than falling asleep, talking to Lucien. Like being carried away by a gentle river current. Like the subtle swing of a hammock by the beach. 
 He liked bossa nova, and she did too! Her father introduced it to her when she was a little girl, swaying her in his arms. It was Lucien’s mother favorite music genre, he accidentally scratched one of her vinyl records as a kid in his haste to listen to the soft melody, the boyish delight he had at the gleam in his mother’s eyes, rare even then, making his fingers clumsy. 
 He grew up in New Hampshire, in a big estate house with woods nearby, camping with his siblings every other week, learning how to fish with his hands because he never liked to use hooks, even as a little boy. Elain had never been one for the outdoors, except for the window box, the closest thing to a garden she had ever managed to keep over the years in her family’s one bedroom apartment. But she’d like to see it someday. He would love to show it to her, he promised with his hand hidden under his thighs as if to retract from touching the flush on cheeks. 
 Elain lived most of her life in apartments, except for the few summers she used to spend at her grandparents’ country house. Her grandmother had the most beautifully cared for garden Elain had ever seen. It even had a maze, towering walls of green she could get lost into while exploring with her sisters. Once her grandparents passed away, her father had to sell the property. She never got the chance visit it again. 
  The deep orange skylight alerted them of the incoming sunset, the Sidra’s waters a wonderful watercolor of blues, pinks, reds, and oranges, gleaming in between the dark green frames of the vine-covered high fence surrounding them.  
  By then, the initial space between them had dwindled, the food containers already inside their baskets, only wine glasses a sip away from being finished near their lazied forms. Elain and Lucien were laying side by side, the gentle slope of the ground allowing them to look at the departing sun without strain. 
 They hadn’t properly touched yet. The easiness of darkness and alcohol in their last date was substituted by the brightness of day and sobriety, their interaction more measured physically. Elain felt the absence of touch as the whispers of a phantom limb. 
 Consumed by the incandescent light of the sun, an unexpected source of courage, Elain laid her head on Lucien’s shoulder. She hadn’t realized they had been quiet for a while, the sunset filling the space where their words had been. 
 Before she could speak, Lucien snaked his arm under her neck, twisting his body to hold hers as they watched the dark blue dotted with stars overthrow the magnificent golden orange. 
 “Is this, ok?” 
  A nod. 
  A hug. 
  A breath on the neck. 
  A shy kiss on the cheek. 
  The white-hot warmth of his lips on hers. 
  The devastating light of her lips on his. 
  Finally, being home. 
Thank you so much for reading it!!!! Please, I'd reeeeealy appreciate your opinions/feedbacks on it :))))
Elain’s dress, shoes
Lucien’s shirt
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hacawijo · 3 years
Text
Alright, If We’re Gonna Play with Az’s Bonus Chapter, Let’s PLAY with Az’s Bonus Chapter (Pt. 2)
Yeah baby, part 2 of a PAINSTAKING close read lol.
Azriel winnowed into shadows before she could say anything he uses the shadows to ESCAPE, they are a coping mechanism, appearing at the door to Rhys’s study a heartbeat later. His shadows whispered in his ear that Elain had gone upstairs. It’s interesting that the shadows specifically report on Elain’s whereabouts here and not earlier, as well as later not reporting on Gwyn.
Rhys sat at his desk, fury a moonless night across his face. He asked softly, “Are you out of your mind?”
Azriel donned the frozen mask he’d perfected while in his father’s dungeon. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Rhys’s power rippled through the room like a dark cloud. “I’m talking about you, about to kiss Elain, in the middle of a hall where anyone could see you,” he snarled. “Including her mate.” It is not out of line for Rhys to acknowledge that this was stupid. If for no other reason than that it would hurt Lucien if he saw/felt them.
Azriel stiffened. Let his cold rage rise to the surface, the rage he only ever let Rhysand see, because he knew his brother could match it. Which is the mirror to something that Rhys notes in ACOFAS, that they are similar in their darkness. Because Rhys is really the only person Azriel can be himself with, completely, I think it’s important to acknowledge that this is unprecedented ground for them and specifically for Azriel. This is the first time Azriel can actually voice ANY of these thoughts out loud, and only because Rhys saw them, he did not bring this concern to Rhys himself. “What if the Cauldron was wrong?”
Rhysand blinked. “What of Mor, Az?” Also very not out of line thing to ask. Feyre is the only person Mor has really told about her sexuality, and so to Rhys and co. AND Azriel, nothing about this situation has changed in the past 500 years. The fact that Azriel is able to get over Mor, without that confirmation of her sexuality, because of Elain, is significant I think.
Azriel ignored the question. Hmm yeah, but he can’t keep ignoring this question forever, and that’s another reason he and Elain did NOT kiss in this chapter. He and his family and Mor all need closure regarding their relationship. “The Cauldron chose three sisters. Oh boy, I have a lot to say about the number three later on! Tell me how it’s possible that my two brothers are with two of those sisters, yet the third was given to another.” He had never before dared speak the words out loud. NEVER BEFORE DARED TO SPEAK THE WORDS OUT LOUD. This is the first time he’s even verbalizing these thoughts - of COURSE he doesn’t know how to navigate this conversation. This is raw emotion being spewed out right now, enhanced by the unresolved tension from his interaction with Elain.
Rhys’s face drained of color. “You believe you deserve to be her mate?” So, he says that his two brothers ARE WITH two of those sisters, which is a way to acknowledge the fact that both people in each pair accepted the bond and that it was a mutually built connection. Then he says “the third was given to another” which is actually really different. He’s saying that Elain was given to Lucien by the Cauldron, suddenly one member of that bond is not an active participant - and this is mostly true! Elain has ignored Lucien diligently, and she hinted about her lack of feelings for him when she asked Feyre why he should be entitled to her affections just because of the cauldron and whatever amends he has made. I don’t like Azriel saying that Elain is something to be given as opposed to a person to be connected to, but I’m not sure exactly what it means that he did that. ANYWAY, Rhys really does supply the word deserve, and we have evidence from earlier in this chapter that essentially proves that Azriel does not believe he deserves Elain, anyway. He is having an argument with Rhys, yes, but it almost feels like he’s arguing with himself.
Azriel scowled. “I think Lucien will never be good enough for her, and she has no interest in him anyway.” (THE ONLY TIME ELAIN’S ACTUAL FEELINGS, ACTIONS ARE CONSIDERED IN THIS DISCUSSION BTW) Also, not that he doesn’t answer Rhys’s question. For Azriel, this isn’t necessarily about what HE deserves in this moment, it’s about what Elain wants. Almost certainly, Azriel DOESN’T believe that he deserves Elain, but he sees the injustice of her being forced to accept a bond with someone for political or spiritual/societal reasons. So while to Rhys it may seem like Azriel is is putting Lucien’s claim down in order to boost his own, I actually think Azriel is trying to distinguish a different issue - Elain’s agency. This same thing happened with Mor and Eris. ABSOLUTELY THIS IS NOT ALL LIKE THAT SITUATION BECAUSE LUCIEN IS NOT ERIS!!! I am not trying to compare their behavior. BUT, Azriel would have dueled Eris for Mor’s agency regardless of whether or not she chose to be with him.
“So you’ll what?” Rhys’s voice was pure ice. “Seduce her away from him?” Rhys, I think, misinterpreting Azriel and it’s mostly not Rhys’s fault. Azriel doesn’t communicate well and is not currently communicating well. That being said, I wish he would give Azriel more benefit of the doubt.
Azriel said nothing. He hadn’t got that far with his planning, certainly not beyond the fantasies he pleasured himself to. HE HADN’T PLANNED ANYTHING, this whole conversation is just like a raw nerve.
Rhys growled, “Allow me to make one thing very clear. You are to stay away from her.” Well come on, now, Rhys, what if she doesn’t want to stay away from him? BE A FEMINIST RHYS, just add, “unless she wants to see you”!
ALSO, DID RHYS TELL FEYRE ABOUT THIS? MY MONEY IS ON NO, AND IF RHYS DIDN’T TELL HER ITS BECAUSE HE KNOWS HE’S NOT WHOLLY DOING THE RIGHT THING BY ELAIN.
“You can’t order me to do that.”
“Oh, I can, and I will. If Lucien finds out you’re pursuing her, he has every right to defend their bond as he sees fit. Including invoking the Blood Duel.” Another really big sign that this is going to play out Elriel style is the mentioning of the Blood Duel. Chekhov’s gun eh?
“That’s an Autumn Court tradition.” The battle to the death was so brutal that it was only enacted in rare cases. Despite being an outsider, Azriel had wanted to to invoke it when he’d found Mor all those years ago. Had been ready to challenge both Beron and Eris to Blood Duels and kill them both. Yes see? He would have done this regardless of Mor’s feelings toward him. Only Mor’s right to claim their heads in vengeance had kept him from doing so.
“Lucien, as Beron’s son, has the right to demand it of you.” But hey fun fact Rhys knows that Lucien is almost CERTAINLY not Beron’s son. Interesting to consider in context.
“I’ll defeat him with little effort.” Pure arrogance laced every word, but it was true. Again, Azriel is dodging Rhys’s points and is honestly being pretty immature right now, but he hasn’t actually said ANYTHING about an intention to pursue Elain with any of this. Rhys has filled in the blanks, and Azriel has responded to smaller aspects of Rhys’s macro-points with which he finds fault. I think this is also because he knows Rhys is right about a lot of the realities of the situation, but he is in the mood to be contrary right now, so he’s fighting back where he can stomach it.
“I know.” Rhys’s eyes flickered. “And your doing so will rip apart any fragile peace and alliances we have, not only with the Autumn Court, but Also with the Spring Court and Jurian and Vassa.” Rhys bared his teeth. Rhys’s motivations are based entirely on things that have nothing to do with Elain’s feelings, which is sad. But, they’re not insignificant considerations. Though come on dude you did pretty much enable Hybern’s arrival to Prythian by alienating The Spring Court with Feyre’s escape.“So you will leave Elain alone. YES, ALONE, because Elain probably is PRETTY FREAKIN LONELY If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her.” Low. Blow.
Azriel snarled softly.
“Snarl all you want.” Rhys leaned back in his chair. “But if I see you panting after her again, I’ll make you regret it.” I do think this is a really ungenerous description of what was happening downstairs with Elain. Their interaction was careful and consensual, we have painstaking detail to prove that, and it was far from panting/animalistic in action.
Rhys had rarely threatened punishment or pulled rank. It stunned Azriel enough that it knocked him from his rage. This is another person taking ANOTHER choice away from Elain. I think she may find out about Rhys doing this and I personally think she’s gonna be rightfully pissed.
Rhys jerked his chin toward the door. “Get out.”
Azriel tucked in his wings and left without another word, stalking through the house and onto the front lawn to sit in the frigid starlight. To let the frost in his veins match the air around him.
Until he felt nothing. Was again nothing at all. With Elain, he is SOMETHING. Because he feels things.
Then he flew to the House of Wind, knowing that if he slept in the riverside manor, he’d do something he regretted. He’d been so vigilant about keeping away from Elain as much as possible, Further evidence that Azriel never intended to fight Lucien or make a stink over Elain and had stayed up here to avoid her, and tonight... tonight had proved he’d been right to do so.
He aimed for the training pit, giving in to the need to work off the temptation, the rage and frustration and writhing need.
He found it occupied. His shadows had not warned him. I am not sure what it means that his shadows didn’t warn him. It could mean that Gwyn is protected from his shadows/immune to them. It could mean that his shadows wanted him to go see Gwyn - either out of a desire for Azriel to find some peace with her or out of curiosity as to who/what she is?
It was too late to bank without appearing like he was running. Azriel landed in the ring a few feet from where Gwyn practiced in the chill night, her sword glimmering like ice in the moonlight.
She stopped mid-slice, whirling to face him. “I’m sorry. I knew you all were going to the river house, so I didn’t think anyone would mind if I came up here and—“
“It’s fine. I came here to retrieve something I forgot.” The lie was smooth and cool, as he knew his face was. His shadows peered over his wings at her. They are… wary of her? They’re shy around her?
The young priestess smiled — and Azriel thought it might have been directed at his curious shadows. But she just hooked her coppery-brown hair behind an arched ear. “I was trying to cut the ribbon.” She pointed with her sword at the white ribbon, which seemed to glow silver. Some interesting language here and above (glimmering, glow etc.) to do with light, and again a juxtaposition between light and dark. But not a golden light, a colder/silver light.
“Aren’t you cold?” His breath clouded in front of him.
Gwyn shrugged. “Once you get moving, you stop noticing it.”
He nodded, silence falling. For a heartbeat, their gazes met. Gaze is definitely a romantically charged word, this is one of the tiny details that makes me unsure about the future nature of their relationship. He blocked out the bloody memory that flashed, so at odds with the Gwyn he saw before him now. I definitely do not think they are mates. I’m not closing the door on them being romantically involved, I don’t have enough evidence to do that, but I really think that if they were mates, Azriel would have known when he saw her at Sangravah.
Her head ducked, as if remembering it too. That he’d been the one who’d found her that day at Sangravah. Shades of Cassian’s reactions to Emerie’s wings having been clipped, in ACOFAS. “Happy Solstice,” she said, as much a dismissal as it was a holiday blessing.
He snorted. “Are you kicking me out?”
Gwyn’s teal eyes I have a lot to say about these teal eyes :) flashed with alarm. “No! I mean, I don’t mind sharing the ring. I just... I know you like to be alone.” Her mouth quirked to the side, crinkling the freckles on her nose. “Is that why you came up here?” I’ll talk more about this later, but there are a few small moments in the book where it seems like Gwyn might have a crush on Azriel, or some kind of special awareness/interest where he is concerned. I have seen almost no evidence that Az returns those potential feelings, except PERHAPS for the moment where he hears her screech and pays attention. But I think anyone would pay attention if someone screeched? Also he watches reverently as she cuts the ribbon, but that also feels like it would happen regardless of any romantic feelings he might have. But I don’t know for sure!
Sort of. “I forgot something.”
“At two in the morning?”
Pure amusement glittered in her stare. Better than the pain and grief he’d spied a moment before. So he offered her a crooked smile. He cares that she not be feeling pain and grief, as he does with anyone he deems good, and that is part of why he offers her the smile, as he clearly says right here. “I can’t sleep without my favorite dagger.”
“A comfort to every growing child.”
Azriel’s lips twitched. I think her irreverence matches his sense of humor quite well. He refrained from mentioning that he did indeed sleep with a dagger. Many daggers. Including one under his pillow.
“How was the party?” Her breath curled in front of her mouth, and one of his shadows darted out to dance with it before twirling back to him. Like it heard some silent music. This shadow is acting totally independent of him. She’s asking a simple question of Azriel at the moment, and he CAN’T hear the music he believes that shadow might be dancing to. Lightsinger evidence, I’d say.
“Fine,” he said, and realized a heartbeat later that it wasn’t a socially acceptable answer. “It was nice.” LOL I will say here that Azriel has to make a lot of conscious effort in this interaction. He makes himself respond in a specific way, which is not language that was used to describe his interactions with Elain earlier in the chapter. This could totally just be because he doesn’t know Gwyn that well, and certainly that’s a big part of it, but I think there’s something to be said for the fact that he is still filtering himself here with Gwyn in the quiet.
Not much better. So he asked, “Did you can the priestesses have a celebration?”
“Yes, though the service was the main highlight.”
“I see.” LOL
She angled her head, hair shining like molten metal. More glowing-type stuff “Do you sing?” I love Gwyn.
He blinked. It wasn’t everyday that people took him by surprise, but... which is great! Elain surprises him with the headache medicine in ACOFAS, Feyre surprises him with her intuition and tenderness throughout. I think this indicates that they will have a significant relationship regardless of its exact nature. “Why do you ask?”
“They call you shadowsinger. Is it because you sing?”
“I am a shadowsinger— it’s not a title that someone just made up.” It’s super-duper interesting that they actually discuss the fact that he’s a shadowsinger. When Feyre meets Azriel, she is curious, but specifically doesn’t ask follow-up questions or for expansion on the ability. Why specifically remind us here that Azriel is a shadowsinger and that Gwyn sings? If not to foreshadow something related to the ability and Gwyn?
She shrugged again, irreverently. Az narrowed his eyes, studying her. “Do you though?” She pressed. “Sing?”
Azriel couldn’t help his soft chuckle. “Yes.” I love Gwyn. She is the reason I now realize a lot of what I’ve been doing in my life is irreverence :P
She opened her mouth to ask more, but he didn’t feel like explaining. Or demonstrating, since that was surely what she’d ask next. So Az jerked his chin to the sword dangling from her hand. “Try cutting the ribbon again.” I love this so much. Maybe it is romantic, but I think that’s debatable. What’s not debatable is that it’s completely charming.
“What— with you watching?” It’s actually pretty funny that in order to avoid giving a demonstration of something that makes him vulnerable and puts Gwyn in the role of expert he flips it and makes her demonstrate vulnerability while he is the expert. Gwyn might be quite a bit braver than Azriel in some ways.
He nodded.
She considered, and he wondered if she’d say no, but Gwyn blew out a breath, steadied her feet and balance, and sliced. A beautiful, precise blow, but it didn’t sever the ribbon. SEE? Brave. I love Gwyn.
“Again,” he ordered, rubbing his hands against the cold, grateful for its bracing bite and the distraction of this impromptu lesson. Distraction is a notable word here. Azriel’s thoughts don’t really ever stray from Elain and his turmoil throughout this interaction, that’s what the word distraction tells us.
Gwyn sliced again, but the ribbon remained unyielding.
“You’re turning the blade a fraction as it comes parallel to the ground,” Azriel explained, drawing his Illyrian blade from down his back. “Watch.” He slowly demonstrated, rotating his wrist where she did. “You see how you open up right here?” He corrected his position. “Keep your wrist like that. The blade is an extension of your arm.”
Gwyn tried the movement as slowly as he had, and he watched her self-correct, fighting against the urge to open up her wrist and rotate the blade. She did it three times before she stopped falling into the bad habit. “I blame Cassian for this. He’s too busy making eyes at Nesta to notice such mistakes these days.”
Azriel laughed. “I’ll give you that.” I sense a lot of compatibility, just, again, not sure it’s romantic.
Gwyn smiled broadly. “Thank you.”
Azriel dipped his head in a sketch of a bow, something restless settling in him. Even his shadows had calmed. As if content to lounge on his shoulders and watch. This is another line that I think offers the most evidence for something significant between Gwyn and Azriel. It’s lovely that she has helped to settle something restless in him with the distraction - and I think it’s important to note that it might not have done the same thing had he encountered Emerie or another trainee on the roof. At the same time, maybe it would have. Also love that his shadows like to watch Gwyn. Lightsinger/Shadowsinger evidence! This all being said, I can’t really think of an SJM romance that is built around a comfort zone. I can think of many friendships that operate that way, but not so much with the romances. There’s usually nervousness and flutters and passion and… restlessness, somewhere in there.
But— sleep. He needed to at least attempt to get some.
“Happy Solstice,” Azriel said before aiming for the archway into the House. “Don’t stay out too much longer. You’ll freeze.”
Gwyn nodded her farewell, again facing the ribbon. A warrior sizing up an opponent, all traces of that charming irreverence gone. I love Gwyn.
Azriel entered the warmth of the stairwell, and as he descended, he could have sworn a faint, beautiful singing followed him. Could have sworn his shadows sang in answer. This feels VERY much like Lightsinger/Shadowsinger evidence. His shadows, as this chapter has demonstrated time and again, operate independently of him, and they react to Gwyn’s song. I also think it’s possible that Gwyn is sort of always singing, even when she’s not. Like she glows with song on some level, and that’s what his shadows are reacting to - because I don’t think she’d necessarily actually sing while attempting to cut the ribbon.
He slept as well as could be expected which means pretty much not at all y’all — he makes it clear he never expects to sleep well, but when Azriel returned to the River House to gather his presents before dawn, he found Elain’s necklace amid the pile. He pocketed it. Spent the rest of his day, even the blasted snowball fight, with every intention of returning it to the shop in the Palace of Thread and Jewels. How did the necklace get there??? Did Elain really put it there??? Seems like even more evidence that he assumes too much about her understanding of his feelings. Also, though, it seems really rude/OOC for Elain to do that. She gave up very quickly after he gave her a really thoughtful gift. SOMETHING’S FISHY.
But when he returned from the cabin in the mountains, he didn’t go to the market square.
Instead, he found himself at the library beneath the House of Wind, standing before Clotho as the clock chimed seven in the evening. Important to remember that this is one of the longest nights of the year, which means dusk is coming on later than it was when Nesta attended the evening service weeks/months prior- a service that started almost exactly when seven bells rang the time. It is very well possible that Azriel finds himself at the library as the evening service is happening. The one in which Gwyn sings. If she does have some kind of Lightsinger power in her, it may be that he was lured by that power instead of returning the necklace. Even if they always start at 7, he still arrives exactly at 7. The only point against this surmising that I’ve done is that Clotho led the service which Nesta attended, and yet she is here to greet Azriel. Either I’m wrong and the service is not happening at or around this time, OR the service can take place without Clotho occasionally, and this served the interest of the plot so that Az could speak with someone.
He slid the small box across her desk. “If you see Gwyn, would you give this to her?”
Clotho angled her hooded head, and her enchanted pen wrote on a piece of paper. A Solstice gift from you?
Azriel shrugged. “Don’t tell her it came from me.” Yes, it really doesn’t seem super romantic to re-gift a necklace to Gwyn. It just feels sour, if this is the start of a romance between them.
Why?
“Does she need to know? Just tell her it was a gift from Rhys.”
That would be a lie.
He avoided the urge to cross his arms, not wanting to look intimidating. He blocked out the memory that flashed— of his mother cringing before his father, the male standing with crossed arms in such a way that made his displeasure known before he opened his hateful mouth. This feels very important. We know VERY LITTLE about Azriel’s story, his past, and his family, and so I want to point out ANY and EVERY nugget we get!
“Look I...” Az searched for the words, his voice becoming quiet. “If there’s another priestess here who might appreciate it, give it to them. But I’m not taking that necklace with me when I leave.” I’m not exactly sure what it means that Azriel says this. It could be that he doesn’t want to make a thing of his potential feelings for Gwyn and so tries to deflect with this statement, both to convince Clotho and himself that it’s not about Gwyn. It could also mean that Azriel needed to be rid of the necklace, and wasn’t in the mood to fight with Clotho over an ultimately secondary (to getting rid of the necklace) impulse to give it to someone who provided him comfort and companionship at a time when he needed it.
He waited for Clotho’s pen to finish writing. Your eyes are sad, Shadowsinger.
He offered her a grim smile. “I lost the snowball fight today.” HE LOST THE FIRST SNOWBALL FIGHT IN 200 YEARS! And I’m pretty sure it wasn’t because Gwyn made him feel better the previous night. I think he lost because he is in anguish over the situation with Elain. Again, I understand that anguish shouldn’t necessarily be a romantic thing, but in SJM’s writing it often is. This is a romance series, angst is a thing, stakes are a thing. It’s not necessarily the most healthy, but it’s also not all-the-way unhealthy. He just feels strongly about Elain and there are a lot of obstacles between him and finding a way to resolve those feelings for good or bad.
I am a counselor for folks who have and are dealt/dealing with sexual, gender-based, and interpersonal violence, and if you want me to do an analysis of all of the relationships in SJM’s writing that aren’t wholly healthy, there won’t be any left over. Except for maybe Sartaq and Nesryn. they really do have their shit together. I suspend a fair amount of my disbelief and professional knowledge in reading these books because I love them and they are fictional :) Also, relationships are complicated. It’s pretty rare for me to work with a client that has a cut-and-dry, black-and-white story.
Now, in my PERSONAL NOT PROFESSIONAL experience, shit is messy, and messiness, even in real life, doesn’t always mean something isn’t worth the strife. Though absolutely abuse and assault are a whole other thing. I think it’s really good to think critically about relationship dynamics in fiction, because it’s a safe place to do great learning and reflection. I also think it’s important to consider that the rules of our reality are not necessarily the rules of the reality being written by an author. Maybe you personally find Azriel’s feelings toward Elain (as they have been expressed so far) are beyond redemption, and are unhealthy to a point where the relationship cannot be salvaged. But that is not realistically a reason that the relationship in question won’t happen. Pretty much any negative/toxic assertions that can be leveled against Elriel based on the VERY SMALL amount of first-person perspective we have in the relationship could be leveled against at least a few of SJM’s other endgame couples. Totally happy to get into this more and provide those examples :)
Clotho was smart enough to see through his deflection. She wrote, I’ll give it to Gwyneth. Tell her a friend left it for her.
He wouldn’t go so far as to call Gwyn a friend, but... “Fine. Thank you.” Not sure what this means. Maybe just that it takes Az a while to open up to people and call them friends.
Clotho’s pen moved once more. She deserves something as beautiful as this. I thank you for the joy it shall bring her.
Something sparked in Azriel’s chest, but he only nodded his thanks and left. He could picture it, though, as he ascended the stairs back to the House proper. How Gwyn’s teal eyes might light upon seeing the necklace. For whatever reason... he could see it. And here we have the most romantic evidence for Az and Gwyn as a couple. Maybe he is falling for her and that’s why he can picture her smile. I really don’t know. I think it could also be that he is happy to be able to make her happy, in recognition of the comfort she gave him the previous evening. Maybe he can picture her because of her potential lightsinger status. Thoughts?
But Azriel tucked away the thought, consciously erasing the slight smile it brought to his face. Buried the image down deep, where it glowed quietly. The image glowing, again, lightsinger-supporting language.
A thing of secret, lovely beauty. So now he is referring to Gwyn’s smile here. This is interesting, because Gwyn’s smile wouldn’t necessarily be a secret, but perhaps it is if you think of her as being hidden in the library, or that he’ll know about her smile and her receiving the necklace even though she won’t know that he’s the one who gave it to her. Or maybe he’s drop dead in love with her! Another thing that I don’t think is true given his stony attitude post-Solstice (when Gwyn is very much around) and the fact that he doesn’t seem to react viscerally to Gwyn’s kidnapping until Cassian points out that bad things could be happening to both her AND Emerie, as well as Nesta. He knows Gwyn just as well, if not better at this point, as he knew Elain when he reacted to HER kidnapping in ACOWAR. He was very riled, he was the one who noticed she was gone, he vowed almost immediately to go get her, knowing it might mean certain death (to be fair, he seems to have a bit of a death wish, BUT he’s still a pragmatist and doesn’t try to WASTE his life on things - either they’re essential to the court and/or Prythian’s wellbeing or essential to someone for whom he cares deeply.)
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