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redheadspark · 3 months

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Getaway

Summary - Azriel decides to take you on a getaway

Warnings - SMUT in this oneshot, NO MINORS ALLOWED! You have been warned!

A/N - This is part of my Ocean Eyes Series, but no Alec in this one. Just some cute and spice between Azriel and the Reader

Your POV

"Cousin, may I have a word?"

"You can always have a word with me, Rhys,"

Your Cousin, High Lord Rhysand, chuckled as he walked over to where you were perched in your chair, outside in the garden at the Townhouse. The sun was shining down, not blazing hot but still brought some warmth with the first signs of spring around the corner in Velaris. You wanted to have some time out of the cottage, it felt like you were cooped up there for days on end with the constant rain and cold winds from the mountains. But with the first signs of warmth and the sun peeking through the dark clouds, you flew to the Townhouse to get some fresh air and help tend to the garden since Elain was too busy planning her wedding and finding a second residential home in Autumn Court.

Alec was with his father for the day, Azriel knowing you needed some solo time and he wished to have some father-son time. You were glad to see the pair of them off, Azriel taking him to the beach and along the bay, Mor tagging along as an excuse to buy Alec presents and spend time with him.

"Are you well?" He asked you, almost nonchalantly as you eyed him from your chair. He sat opposite of you, across from the small patio table while you folded your hands in your lap.

"As well as I should be," You answered, then eyeing him with a hint of suspicion as he merely smiled, "Something you wish to ask me, Rhys?"

"Only if you're well," he replied in a shrug, then pausing for a moment as you saw some softness in his eyes and in how he shifted in his chair, "You've been through plenty these past months: tending to Alec, dealing with Eris in Autumn Court—"

"Rhysand," You gently said his name, wanting to reach over and take his hand in yours own to give him a sense of comfort, "Everything is okay, alright? I promise you, I am well."

You adored Rhysand tending to you to make sure you were well and safe, long before Alec came around. Rhysand took you under his wing when you two were young, learning well from his mother and sister, and was the first real "family" member you ever had. No matter if you ran Night Court without him for those 50 years he was held Under the Mountain, he still wished to protect you. And now that you had your own family, you had your own little life that was growing by the day, Rhysand never once forgot his promise to his mother, your aunt, to keep you safe.

"You may be well, but I still worry for you because I love you," he reminded you, making you grin as he shrugged, "You're my blood, and because of that I want you to be more than well. As a father and as someone who knows how exhausting it is with a little one, I have a proposition for you,"

You raised an eyebrow at him as he rubbed his fingers together on the table, "For me?"

Rhysand rolled his eyes, "For you and your lovely Spymaster of a mate. You two are incredible parents, and your son is an exceptional boy because of you two…but when was the last time you and Azriel had time together,"

"Time together?" You questioned him again, hearing him clear his throat a bit uncomfortably.

"…Alone time?" He asked, then ducking suddenly as you threw your gardening gloves right at him. He laughed and saw you were blushing like mad.

"Rhysand, if you even think about talking to me about my personal and intimate life with Azriel, I swear to The Cauldron—" You were about to scold him when he threw up his hands in surrender.

"Believe me, I know for a fact you two are healthy in that department," He replied cooly, you then threw a towel which landed right on his head. He tossed the towel down as he spoke again, "I am simply saying, and suggesting that you two go away for the weekend."

Though you were still blushing, you were then eyeing him in suspicion again as he simply smiled and folded his hands in his lap again, his ink hair almost highlighted in the sunlight as you cocked your head at him.

"Are You suggesting Azriel and I go away for a weekend?" You asked, almost in disbelief yourself since this would be the last thing Rhysand would ever ask of the pair of you. Not that he kept you from having your own family time when you needed it, but that was when Alec was involved. Azriel would still be on call if Rhysand needed him, so to hear this from your cousin, you were a bit surprised and almost challenged.

"I only say this from experience: when Nyx was born, Feyre and I hardly had any time to ourselves. As much I loved, and still do, having my son with us…I missed that time with Feyre."

"With all due respect for you and my High Lady, I would rather not hear the details," You teased, seeing a flash of blush on your cousin's cheeks. You had to giggle, seeing the High Lord of Night Court and one of the most powerful beings blush like mad at the thought of his mate made your own heart tug a little bit.

"You should have that time again with Azriel," Rhysand urged you, his voice sounded calm and sincere as you thought about it. You knew he made a good point: your personal time with Azriel has been severely limited. Although you both loved being parents and tending to Alec, you did miss having that solo time with your mate. No matter if you two have been together for centuries since you were teenagers, having time with only Azriel was something you craved. He was your better half, not because you two were mates, but because of how long you two have known and grown to love one another.

So maybe…maybe it wasn't a bad idea.

"As it happens, I know the perfect place for you two to have your weekend together," Rhsyand hummed, sounding like his causal self once again as he flicked off some of the petals that were falling from the cherry blossom tree looming over the pair of you.

The front door opened into the cabin, and the swift scent of pine and open mountain air filled your lungs as you both walked into the foyer and drank in the silence. You could faintly hear the water on the lakeshore, along with the swaying of the trees that were towering high above and the winds echoing along the mountain walls. It was a contrast to the bustling city, but you didn't mind it one bit.

This modern cabin you have used in the past with Azriel and Alec, perhaps a handful of times when the three of you wanted to get away from Velaris for a night or two. You knew the layout of this cabin well by now: the foyer that was made of magnificent wood and pine with stairs on the right hadn't side leading to the second floor that held the master's suite and bathroom. In front of you past the foyer was the living room, one massive plush couch with two armchairs in front of a massive fireplace made of stone and marble, and a gorgeous view of the lake and mountain range beyond.

To the left of the foyer was a guest room attached to a powder room, and a sunroom tucked next to the kitchen and dining room that was towards the back of the cabin. Although it was cozy and rustic in aesthetic, it had all the modern finishes that made it desirable all the more. Some of Feyre's paintings were hung on the wall, along with wall decor and pictures of the Inner Circle. Feyre’s eye for interior design made the cabin look enchanting for any of its inhabitants or guests.

After handing Alec off to Feyre and Rhysand earlier that afternoon at the River House, you watched with wide eyes and a hint of worry as Feyre took your son inside to find Nyx waiting for him. Feyre and Rhysand has watched Alec over a dozen times, mostly to have Nyx and Alec play together and to spend time with their nephew. Deep down you knew your son was safe with them, he would be safe with anyone in the Inner Circle for that matter. But it was still hard not to have Alec on your hip or strapped to you, to not hear his babbling constantly throughout the day or see his smile. But Azriel simply took your hand, you both taking to the sky together with the bag Azriel packed for the pair of you, and you finally made it to the cabin.

"I already have a dinner planned for tonight," Azriel said to you as he held your bag in his hand, you looked over at him as he smiled warmly at you. His smile, no matter how many years and moments you've seen it, always gave you butterflies like the first time you saw his smile. It brightened his face, his mood, and even his soul too, making you smile in return as he leaned over to kiss your cheek to let the kiss linger, "Why don't you get settled, my love,"

You felt the kiss like liquid fire along your cheek as you smiled at your mate, feeling him nuzzle his nose against yours before swirly moving away and over to the kitchen area, leaving you out of breath from the small gesture. Azriel had that kind of power over you, from a simple smile to a kiss on your cheek. You would still find yourself out of breath with him, and it was something you never wanted to lose.

Making it to the Master Bedroom, you saw the massive windows that were showing the breathtaking views of the mountains. The tint of orange and purple from the setting sun made it seem like a painting that Feyre would make instead of the real thing, you touching the top of the lush covers of the bed. You loved your little cottage that was a bit too cramped, it was your home and the first home you built with Azriel.

But you were beyond excited to sleep in this lush and comfortable bed.

Something moved in your vision, outside the cabin and over by the little pier of the lake. You walked over to the big window that was above the bed, looking out to see your mate walking along the dirt path and onto the pier. His wings were relaxed against his back, and his hair that has grown a bit was flowing in the wind as he approached the end of the pier. As he walked, you saw him strip his shirt, tossing it on the pier, and then toeing off his boots. His tan skin glistened in the sunlight, his muscles were evident along his backside and arms as he stood at the end of the pier, looking out at the water in his jeans.

What you didn't expect to see was your mate, stripping down naked, and dipping into the lake.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, your breath lost on your lips from seeing Azriel duck his head under the water and then back out again. The water rolled down his muscular backside and off his wings, his hair stuck against his neck and glistening in the sun with shine. He seemed so free out in the lake, away from prying eyes and judgment that you knew he had to endure for years on end. Always under the microscope, always needing to look over his shoulder or for others. Yet there, out in the lake bare for all to see, he seemed free.

Or perhaps, only for you to see, which made your heart quicken all the more.

Still to this day he made your heart race and gave you butterflies from his unique and rare beauty. You saw him as beautiful, from his tan skin and his ink hair to his bright hazel eyes and sensational smile. But beyond the persona that he had to show in front of others, Azriel was so calm and kind. You saw the softer side of him, a side he never showed to others and wouldn't dare to expose to anyone but you. His heart was always tender, even beyond the scars and callouses that were there from past tragedies and heartbreaks. With you, Azriel was willing to give you his heart, his tender and fragile heart that he's protected all of his life and with all his energy.

You took it, knowing it was the most precious thing he could ever give you.

Your feet took you out of the cabin, across the small garden that was already growing thanks to Elain, and onto the little pier that was leading you to your mate. The warm air hit your skin as you stripped off your sweater, letting it hit the floor and then towing off your shoes. Azriel heard your feet, turning around and looking at you slowly stripping off your clothes. His eyes were on yours, a smile on his face while you were taking off each piece of clothing. Not in an alluring way, though it felt like it because of how he was gazing at you. He stared at you as if you were the only being that would catch his eye, that would distract him, and that would bring him joy.

You were all of those things to your mate, and he was those things to you.

Finally, being bare in front of him and almost shivering from the wind, you watched in anticipation as his smile never faltered. He drank in the sight of you, the curves along your hips and thighs, the freckles etched along your arms and cheeks from being in the sun. In any other circumstance, you would wish to shield yourself and hide away. But not with Azriel, the love of your life.

He held out a hand to you, the scars along his skin and knuckles shined in the sun as he finally spoke with one single word on his lips:

"Divine"

You took his hand willingly, Azriel's voice was a siren call for you as walked to the edge of the pier. His fingers laced with yours, his eyes never leaving your own while he helped you into the water with ease. The water was cool to the touch, far too inviting thanks to the sun beating down on the water as Azriel wrapped you in his arms and kissed your soundly. You hummed, your fingers sinking into his ink-black hair while his fingers were pressing into your waist and hips. Being bare in the water, pressed up against Azriel, and feeling him hold you against him in such an intimate manner, you could have sworn you had tears in your eyes.

Your emotions got the best of you, all from being in this space with him and the rest of the world melting away. At the core of it all, you've missed this: having Azriel to yourself and pouring your love into him. With every kiss he gave you, his fingers brushing against your skin and one hand curving up to cup one of your breasts in his calloused palm to make you moan against his mouth, you were tumbling for him.

It was not a rushed process, it flowed naturally and organically as Azriel's lips moved to trace your jawline and then to your neck, hitting your pulse point since he knew it was a sensitive spot for you. Recently you two would have to improvise, so to speak, when it came to being intimate together and having time together alone. You both were busy with his Spymaster duties and your duties to Rhysand, along with having an infant to look after, it barely left any time to be intimate in the way you wanted. With quick kisses and lingering touches, Azriel quickly fucking you in the shower after Alec was put down for a nap for the night, even the heavy petting in bed together seemed to work at the time.

But this, this was the slow build-up you both craved and ached for.

His hands were roaming all over you, making your inside feel so warm and your mind going blank. You loved it when his hands were on your skin, almost like he was mapping your body to memory. Azriel knew your body so well: every dip and curve, every freckle and mole, he knew where to touch and kiss, where to trace his tongue and fingers. You were putty to him when you two were like this, even in that lake and Azriel lightly pressing you against the pier and you molding into him as he kissed and touched.

"Mother I missed this," He said with a groan, his fingers under the water were now touching your folds and making you whimper as he ran his fingers along your folds slowly and with precision. You felt him tremble while you clung onto him with your back against the wood of the pier, "I missed being able to do this with you."

"Me too," You said as you kissed him hard while he slipped a finger inside of you, you moaning against his mouth as he slowly started pumping his finger in and out of you in a steady rhythm, "It's been too..too long—fuck Az!"

He curled his finger, hitting that spot deep inside of you that made you see stars as he mouth against your neck and his other hand reached behind you to brace the pair, gripping it tightly and in a death grip as a second finger slipped inside of you and made your head fall back against the wood. He took that as a sign for him to leave love bites on your neck, your pulse quickening and your pleasure was getting higher by the second.

"You look gorgeous like this," He hummed against your skin, his fingers still going in and out of you but going a pinch faster as he watched you come undone. You had no care that you both were out in the open for anyone to see, but that would be nearly impossible since both and cabin and the lake were enchanted to be undetected by anyone or any being. Knowing it was just the two of you, your guards were down and that sensation alone was memorable as Azriel gulped and spoke again in a growl, "Nothing else will satisfy me more than doing this to you,"

"Az…don't stop please," You moaned as his finger that were still moving inside your aching pussy were going faster now under the water, your pleasure is getting higher and more recent by the second. You were thinking of nothing else but him making you reach your peak, his hard body in front of you, and how you could feel his cock harden and be pressed against your thigh, his breath along your neck and his teeth nipping at you to bring you closer to the edge. But it was when you hooked your arms around his neck just as his hand on the wood by your head moved to run his finger along one of your wings to bring you white-binding pleasure.

Your moan was so loud it echoed off the top of the lake.

"Let go for me, sweetheart," he begged, his fingers tracing your wing again to make you shutter and let out another gut-wrenching moan from the tingling sensation of your wing being caressed, one of the most sensitive parts of your body. Azriel was clearly using it against you and for himself, you've done it to him in the past as well since it was such a pleasure point for Illryians. Now you were literally melting in his hold, about to fall over the edge into pure bliss.

"I wanna see you cum on my fingers," he whispered against your cheek as his fingers were now pumping rapidly, his other hand moving from your wing to sink into your hair and kept you in one spot, "Watching you cum is one of the most…fuck…most beautiful things I have ever seen in my life. Please, baby. Please cum for me—"

You screamed, your orgasm washing over you like a massive title wave.

The rest of your senses were white hot, nothing else was running through your brain but pleasure that was going on for what seemed like long minutes, not seconds. All you could do was feel, from the top of your head to your toes and even along the membrane in your wings. It even felt like you were flying, soaring over the clouds and amongst the stars.

You wanted and chased that feeling, and now feeling again thanks to Azriel.

Azriel watched you unravel, his eyes wide in amazement and filled with pure genuine love as he watched you ride out the pleasure that was now seeping into your bones. To him, you were the true rare form of beauty that brightened his darkest days and warmed the coldest of nights he would have. He would give you any treasure or trinket that would bring you joy, move mountains for you if you asked him to, and kill any being that would threaten your life. You were everything to him, from the moment you two met in your youth with no hope for a bright future.

You were in fact a shooting star that soared into his vision.

After you finally calmed down, you slowly blinked at Azriel as he reached to cup your face cradling you close in his hold. Although you were barely shaking, you hummed as your forehead touched and Azriel softly smiled while you were nestled against him.

"Hi," You breathed, a grin on your blissed-out face as Azriel chuckled and nuzzled your nose against his.

"Hi," He repeated, then pressing a soothing kiss against your lips.

"We should do this more,"

"What? Have a proper getaway just the two of us?"

"Why not?"

You giggled, the fingers that were in Azriel's hair still making a soothing rhythm against his scalp as his head was on your bare belly, his fingers tracing along your hips and the soft skin near your bellybutton while the rest of his body was nestled between your parted legs. The soft sounds of the nightlife in the mountains came through the open window of the master bedroom, both you and Azriel were simply drinking in the silence while tangled in each other arms.

Morning was not too far away, the twilight stars were especially bright in the mountains as some birds were starting to sing. You looked out at the dark blue sky, the smallest hints of the morning coming over the mountaintops as your fingers were still raking Azriel's locks with ease.

The last several hours were filled with pleasurable bliss, starting of course in the lake against the pier and then ending up tangled in the master suite on the king-sized bed. Every moment you shared was spell-bounding, Azriel taking you on the couch as he ate you out to make you see stars, then carrying you bridal style into the master tub amongst the warm water doused in oils and scented bubbles as you rode him and made him come apart. In the end, he held you in his arms as he pounded into you repeatedly to cum at least two more times.

Although you both had a healthy sex life, it felt ten times better. Almost like you two were truthfully reuniting as lovers again after being away in such an intimate way for so long. You loved your life, you lived in the small little cottage you had and the two-year-old son that you both were parenting together.

This life you had was a pure blessing, but you did miss this. Having your mate all yourself at this level and this deeply. It wasn't just about sex with Azriel, it was sharing your body and your life with him and having no walls up because of that. You both worked hard on each other to break down those walls you had around one another, through plenty of fights and arguments along with long talks and confessions. In the end, this beautiful relationship you two had nurtured and helped flourish over centuries was better than ever.

"I've missed this," Azriel hummed, his head along your belly as his fingers were running up and down your thighs as you watched him with a smile, "Just having this time with you and not worrying about anything else. This just feels..."

"Happy?" You suggested, your fingers massaging his scalp as he grinned.

"Feels like home." He mumbled, you paused with your fingers as he wrapped his arms around your hips and snuck a kiss along your belly, "You were always home to me: no matter how far I went, I always would come back to you."

"You're my home too," you replied softly, Azriel blinking slowly as he held you a pinch tighter and you grinned, "You and Alec are my home, and even before we had him you were my home and center."

"But still….I have missed this," Azriel confessed, then looked up at you with his hazel eyes making your heart skip a beat. His ruffled hair from your fingers, the flushness in his cheeks that made his eyes bright, even the way he parted his lips and his skin was glowing from the soft light that was lit in the bedroom.

He looked beyond heavenly, he always did.

"Me too," You admitted, Azriel cracking a smile as he then moved up the bed to be face to face with you, almost nose to nose as his arms and fingers were around your bare back. His body heat made you barely shiver as he searched your eyes.

"Maybe we can try this again every once in a while," Azriel suggested while he pushed some of your hair out of your eyes, "Have it be something we can look forward to: A mini honeymoon,"

"You can't call it a honeymoon if we're already married, baby," You reminded him as he chuckled.

"I think we can, and if I could I would marry you as many times as I could," He admitted to you, having you look at him with a hint of shock. Perhaps it was the post-coital bliss and high you were feeling, or how Azriel was looking at you with so much love in his eyes, but you were speechless.

"You would?" You asked sheepishly, seeing his smile widened slightly as he nodded his head.

"I would marry you every day," He vowed, you taking in a short breath as he reached up to cup your jaw lovingly with one hand, "I know I have told you this thousands of times, but I do mean it: You have changed me in the best way and I don't ever wish to not have you in my life. I consider you my better half, and I will do anything, be anything, to keep what we have for the rest of my life,"

"Az," You cooed, leaning in to nuzzle his nose and feel some tears escaping your eyes. You loved and craved it when Azriel was soft and soothing in both his tone and in his gestures, no need to be harsh and hard when he was the Spymaster. This side of him, the side he only wants to show to you behind closed doors, was the side you would take for the rest of your life.

He loved you, cherished you, and made you his priority before anything and anyone else.

"Let me marry you again," He said almost in a plea, tracing the tears away with his thumb, "One time Is not enough for us, I think. At least not for me,"

"Just to keep me to yourself?" You teased wetly as you cried some more, grinning like mad as Azriel's smile never wavered, "What a selfish fool you must be,"

"I've been called worse," he replied smoothly and with no hesitation, "But I'm willing to be a fool for you. As long as I can marry you again and call you mine,"

"I am yours, Azriel," You reassured him, "And you are mine. And if you want to marry me again, then let's do it,"

Azriel peppered you with kisses as you giggled and squealed, yet when you tried to push him away he held you close with an arm around you and his hand still tracing your jaw. It was still fresh and new with him as if you two fell into bed for the first time so long ago. Back then, it felt like the future was bright and thriving in front of both of you as your paths were now molding into one amazing path. That path never broke apart, it moved and swerved as time went on, maybe a crack or two here and there along with hills and valleys to conquer.

But the path was still there and still moving forward, a pinch bigger thanks to the birth of Alec.

The End

Tagged - @valeridarkness @impossibelle @acourtofbatboydreams @prettylittlewrites @fxckmiup

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duskandcobalt · 8 months

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Echoes in the Hallway

Elain didn’t know why it bothered her so much. Yes, she’d been prepared for a cozy night in with her nephew - just the two of them - but an additional presence in the house wasn’t usually something that would set her off like this.

Typically, she’d welcome having someone else around. She knew she wouldn’t be feeling like this if it was Cassian or Mor that had stayed back with her.

But Azriel…

….

18+ pls

Azriel finds himself playing chaperone again, this time for the girl he’s been avoiding for months…. What could possibly go wrong?

This is like 7.7k words of shameless angst and smut????? enjoy!!

…

Read on AO3

“Azriel.” Rhys’ voice broke through Azriel’s concentration. Their eyes met as the Shadowsinger looked up from the reports he’d been diligently reading for god knows how long, reclined on a couch in Rhys’ office after their morning debrief with Cassian.

Azriel raised his eyebrows at his brother, already wary of the conversation they were about to have based solely on the seriousness in which Rhys had addressed him.

Rhysand leaned against the corner of his desk. “We’re all going to the Court of Nightmares tomorrow…”

Azriel nodded, shuffling his papers together and setting them to the side so he could sit up straight.

“I know you were supposed to come but something’s come up and I’ll need you to stay here.” Rhys continued.

“Why?” Suspicion laced Azriel’s voice.

“The twins aren’t available and Elain…” Rhys paused, carefully watching his brother’s reaction.

Azriel tensed at the name, frustration immediately building under his skin. He hadn’t let himself even think about that name for almost nine months now.

Solstice felt like a fever dream - a night that had gone so wrong, so quickly that he deigned it easier to just try to forget any of it had even happened. Even if he’d quickly realised that was easier said than done.

“Elain is staying back to watch Nyx.” Rhys finished. He was still studying Azriel, waiting for a reaction that wasn’t coming. Anger flowed through Azriel but he pushed it down, wouldn’t let that icy exterior that he’d spent so long perfecting crack.

It had been Rhys after all that had put an end to everything before anything had even had a chance to begin.

“And you want me to stand guard?” Azriel inquired, quiet and steady, no sign of that underlying anger as he spoke.

“No.” Rhys sighed. “But we need Nesta to come with us and Cassian refuses to let her out of his sight after everything happened with the Blood Rite. Feyre’s already stressed about leaving Nyx for the night, with everything that’s happening. Elain and Nyx, leaving them for the first time… she insisted you be the one to stay back.”

“Why me? You told me…”

“I know what I said, Az.” Rhys cut him off. “And please don’t get any ideas. I stand by what I said.”

“So then why me? Why not someone else?”

“Because Feyre trusts you, Az.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “We both trust you.” ‘

“Do you?” Azriel scoffed. It was the first obvious display of emotion he’d let Rhysand see during this conversation.

They’d both be lying if they said things hadn’t been a little tense between them since that night where Rhysand had exercised his power, his ranking, in a way he hardly ever did. And for him to use that ranking to call Azriel off for a matter of the heart… Azriel had struggled to move past the decision even if he had done his best to obey.

“You are my spymaster, Azriel.” Rhys leaned back into his chair but his eyes stayed fixed on Azriel. “ You are my spymaster and my brother, of course I trust you.”

Azriel said nothing, only dipped his chin in acknowledgement of the clear sincerity in Rhysand’s tone.

“Don’t do anything to undermine my trust, Az. Just be here tomorrow night and keep an eye on things. There is to be nothing more. Is that understood?”

“I’ve stayed away, haven’t I?” Azriel stood, gathering his things before rolling his shoulders back and allowing his wings to flare behind him. A slight show of power to let his brother, his High Lord, know exactly how he felt about the situation.

“Is that understood, Azriel?” Rhys ignored the display, repeating his words with that same sense of command that he'd used on Solstice.

“Yes.” Azriel replied, words sharp as he swiftly exited the office and made his way out of the house.

…

“I just don’t understand why I need a chaperone when I am the chaperone.” Elain grumbled, avoiding even looking in Azriel’s direction.

They were in the kitchen, Nyx balanced on her hip as she bustled around getting a bottle ready for his first feed of the night. Azriel was standing across the kitchen from her, one scarred hand braced on the counter as he flipped through a thick stack of paper with the other. Also avoiding looking at her.

More reports. His distraction for the night.

The rest of the household had just left for the Hewn City mere minutes ago. Rhys and Feyre had chosen to only inform Elain that Azriel would be accompanying her and Nyx right before they winnowed away.

“It’s a safety precaution, with everything going on…” Azriel replied, his voice barely above a whisper. His hazel eyes stayed focused on his papers.

“Ridiculous. This house is protected within an inch of its life.” Elain threw back, her words cutting.. She saw him tense out of the corner of her eye, clearly unused to hearing this tone of voice from her.

Good.

Typically, she’d welcome having someone else around. She knew she wouldn’t be feeling like this if it was Cassian or Mor that had stayed back with her.

But Azriel…

She couldn’t even justify being upset at Rhys and Feyre for not telling her sooner. Why would they have thought to warn her? How could they possibly know that spending even a moment alone with the Shadowsinger wasn’t exactly high on her list of enjoyable activities these days?

Having him in her space after all these months apart had completely thrown her off, had her fumbling as she tried to put together a simple bottle. She cursed under her breath as she attempted to screw the top on for the third time. Nyx was entirely unhelpful as his little hands tugged at her hair, pulling curls loose from her braid and further distracting her from the task at hand.

“Need some help?” His low voice was closer than anticipated. She hadn’t noticed him come up behind her.

Alway so damn quiet - something that she’d found endearing once upon a time.

“I’m fine.” She bit back, silently willing her hands to stop shaking as she tried yet again to get the lid on the bottle.

“Elain.” Azriel sighed. Gods, she’d forgotten what her name sounded like on his lips. The effect it had on her body. “I know you don’t want me here. At least let me make myself useful.”

She set the lid down on the counter and turned to face him, making eye contact with him for the first time that night. For the first time since Solstice, really.

It’s hard to make eye contact with someone that seemed to do everything in their power to avoid her.

She could see the exhaustion in his hazel eyes but his face was as beautiful as always. The summer months had leant him a healthy glow, his already tan skin a couple shades deeper, a few freckles dotting the bridge of his nose. His dark hair was just a little longer than she remembered and a slight curl had developed along with the length.

How she had once ached to run her hands through his hair.

Anger flooded her veins again, a fresh wave, this time at herself for even allowing herself to think of him like she used to do.

He was infuriatingly expressionless as he watched her, patiently waiting for her to say something.

“I’ll take him to the great room. Bring the bottle and a cloth.” She relented, shifting Nyx in her arms as she quickly stepped around Azriel. His wings retracted to let her through.

…

Azriel took his time putting the lid on the bottle and grabbing a cloth in order to give Elain a little space.

He felt terrible about this - about having to be in this house, a looming presence that she very clearly didn’t have any desire to be around.

He didn’t know what else he had expected from tonight. He certainly didn’t think things would be like they used to be, back when she’d welcome him into the house with a shy smile, when they’d spend hours quietly talking to each other in the garden. He hadn’t even expected for them to exchange more than a few words.

He just hadn’t been prepared for the anger that radiated off of her.

It was so unlike her, so different from the girl he’d come to know. Of course, he knew that Elain wasn’t as quiet or demure as everyone seemed to think. She was kind, yes. Soft spoken compared to her sisters, yes. But she was also intelligent and sharp and funny in a way that often caught him off guard.

He’d seen her upset in the past, seen her frustrated, but he couldn’t remember ever seeing her like this. So angry that the same raging fire which had once been a constant presence in Nesta’s eyes now infiltrated Elain’s.

He took a deep breath in, picking up the bottle and taking a cloth from the cupboard, steeling himself to face Elain again.

Multiple centuries of life - all those terrifying people and places he’d dealt with in his line of work - and somehow he still felt wholly unprepared and nervous to interact with Elain Archeron.

Azriel found her in the great room, as promised, sitting in a large navy velvet armchair. Her feet were tucked under her, her skirts a never ending cloud of soft pink fabric around her. Nyx was cradled in Elain’s arms, the fire in her eyes nowhere to be seen, her features soft as she babbled back to the babe happily babbling to her. The last bit of light from the setting sun streamed in from the glass doors that led out to the river, illuminating them from behind and Azriel’s breath caught - she looked ethereal.

Elain saw him then and watched as Azriel approached her, flames immediately igniting again as she met his gaze. He held out the bottle and she reached for it, careful to avoid touching his hands in the process. She looked away finally, adjusting Nyx against her chest and watching as he latched on to the bottle.

Azriel found himself fighting back the emotions that came to the surface at the sight before him. Of Elain with a winged babe in her arms, humming softly as she fed him. It was a glimpse into what might’ve been. In another life. Another universe. What he might’ve had if the cauldron had only deemed him worthy.

He tried to push the thoughts down, attempted to let them frost over in the depths of his soul as he shook out the cloth in his hands, doubling it over once before tentatively stepping forward and leaning down to drape it neatly over her shoulder - matching what he’d seen Rhys do for Feyre time and time again. He didn’t miss the way Elain stiffened, the way her breath hitched until he was standing upright again. He hadn’t let his hands so much as graze her skin, as much as he might’ve wanted to.

“I’ll be in the kitchen.” He mumbled, one hand coming up to run through his hair, turning on his heel and heading out of the room before she even had a chance to reply.

He couldn’t take it.

There was a reason he’d stayed away all these months and he was quickly remembering just why he’d taken to hiding himself away at the House of Wind with Nesta and Cassian. It was too much - being near her, being surrounded by her scent. Not being able to talk to her, not being able to touch her. Seeing her with Nyx. This unspoken tension between them. It was all too much.

He thought that the months apart would’ve helped, that the pull he felt towards her would’ve lessened with time. He hadn’t realised how wrong he’d been - hadn’t realised just how much he still yearned for her.

Azriel took a seat at the dining table, hands dragging over his face once as he attempted to focus on his reports. It was utterly useless, all he could think about was the female down the hall from him.

He had no idea how he’d make it through the night when the pain of this longing was eating him alive.

…

Nyx’s wailing had been echoing through the house for a couple hours now, so loud that Elain was concerned that the windows would shatter regardless of the countless wards Rhys had placed on them.

The poor babe had refused to settle, only sleeping for a few hours before he awoke just after midnight - tears streaming down his sweet face even after Elain had rushed down the hall to him, picking him up and cradling him to her chest.

She had tried everything - changing him, feeding him, singing to him as she sat in a rocking chair. She was at her wits end, bouncing him anxiously in her arms as she paced the nursery, only the moonlight streaming in from the balcony window providing her with just enough light to watch Nyx as he all but screamed in her arms.

She’d done her best to ignore the shadows at the foot of his crib. They’d been there all night, silently laying on the floor where they typically monitored Nyx whenever Azriel was in the house. She glanced at them now and saw that they were gathered together, a cloud of darkness that seemed to keenly watch her, just waiting to be acknowledged. Elain had a feeling they’d been instructed to mind their business and let her handle things tonight but she could tell that they had a different opinion on the subject.

“Go get him, then.” She rolled her eyes, frustrated enough to give in to what she knew they were itching to do. If she wasn’t so overwhelmed she might’ve laughed at the speed at which they vanished, off to find their master.

Azriel appeared seconds later, stepping through his shadows, fully alert with Truthteller clutched in one hand. His hair was a mess, dark circles beginning to form under his eyes. He was still dressed in his leathers so he clearly hadn’t made it to bed yet.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, eyes scanning the nursery - the empty crib, the corners of the room, the balcony, before settling on her.

She saw him relax slightly once he realised that Nyx was indeed safe but then his eyes were taking her in - ever so slowly grazing over her - head to toe. She couldn’t help the heat that spread through her at his gaze. His eyes burned into her skin as he took in her unbound hair, the thin silk of the nightgown she wore, her feet bare on the plush rug. She was too exasperated to care that he was seeing her in this state of undress.

“I… I don’t know.” Elain rasped, her throat scratchy from being abruptly pulled out of her slumber. “He just won’t stop crying. I’ve tried everything, I don’t know what to do.”

“May I?” Azriel stepped towards her, holding out his arms.

Elain paused for a second, looking up at him before gently maneuvering Nyx into his uncle’s outstretched arms.

Azriel took him, those beautiful scarred hands cradling the still screaming babe and bringing him up to rest against his leather clad chest.

She had watched Nyx fill out over these past few months and had often felt that he was growing too quickly for her liking. But now, seeing Azriel with him… Elain couldn’t believe just how small Nyx looked in the arms of the Illyrian warrior. How tiny his body was in those large hands, how fragile he seemed against that broad chest.

Azriel’s hand rubbed smooth circles over Nyx’s back - in between the tiny wings that were beginning to strengthen.

Just five or ten minutes later, Nyx’s wails finally began to die down, his cries fading into small whimpers as he nuzzled further into Azriel’s chest - one tiny fist clutching at his leathers.

“Go to bed, Elain. I’ll stay with him until he sleeps.” Azriel glanced up from where he’d been walking back and forth in front of the window. Elain peered up at him from the rocking chair that she’d fallen into once Azriel had taken over - fighting the exhaustion that threatened to send her to sleep in favour of watching in quiet awe as Azriel managed to calm Nyx down.

“How did you…?” She started.

“I think it’s the wings.” He shrugged. “They can be quite uncomfortable when they’re growing. Mine were so itchy when they were healing after Hybern. I’d imagine it’s even worse for a babe.”

“I didn’t know.” Elain remarked. “I had no idea how to help him.”

“How could you know? It isn’t your fault.” Azriel said softly, fingers still gently rubbing over Nyx’s back. “The leathers probably help too, feels familiar to Rhys.”

“If I’d been here alone…” Tears were gathering in her eyes, the exhaustion of the past few hours hitting her.

“You’d have figured it out.” Azriel cut her off, crossing the room towards her. “Please sleep, Elain. You’ve been with him all evening. I’ve got this.”

He adjusted his grip on Nyx, holding him firm to his chest with one large hand so he could extend his other hand out towards her.

She sighed, her eyes focused on his outstretched hand before she gave in and took it - doing her best to ignore the spark that coursed through her at the feeling of his hand wrapping around hers and pulling her up until she was standing in front of him. He didn’t let go even as Elain went up on her toes to peer at Nyx. Her other hand pressed into Azriel’s chest for balance as she leaned in to place a kiss on her nephew’s cheek.

“Sleep well now, sweet boy.” She said softly before backing up and finally letting her hand drop from Azriel’s chest.

“Goodnight.” He gave her a small smile and let go of her hand, motioning towards the nursery door with his chin - beckoning her to rest.

…

Elain couldn’t sleep even though she was utterly exhausted. She’d been laying in bed, staring up at her ceiling for hours now, her mind racing with seemingly no end in sight. She couldn’t stop thinking.

The way Azriel had looked at her was burned into her memory - the scan of his eyes over her hair, her nightgown clad body, the way his gaze softened as his alert eyes met her exhausted ones.

She pictured him with Nyx, that icy exterior of his melting as the soft side he kept carefully hidden came to the surface once his nephew was safe in his arms.

She thought of the feeling of his hand around hers - his scars grazing against her skin as his fingers wrapped around her delicate wrist. She remembered the feeling of his leather clad chest under her fingers, how the heat from him melted into her even through the thick material… how that heat made her want more - made her want to press her fingers to his bare skin, to feel the muscled chest beneath those leathers.

She pictured his full lips, how’d they once been barely an inch from hers - one hand on her throat with his fingers grazing her jaw to tilt her face up towards his, his other hand buried in her hair. She pictured what it would be like to have those hands of his on her neck again, on other parts of her too.

That all-too-familiar ache swept over her, settling deep in her bones just as it had for months now - night after sleepless night. The anger that coursed through her body during the day always seemed to shift into an unquenchable longing once the sun gave way to the moon and she was alone in her bed.

She knew it was wrong. Knew she had no right to think of him like this, to want him, need him like this. Not when he’d told her it’d been a mistake - even if the way he’d looked at her tonight had said otherwise.

She closed her eyes, breathing deeply to will away the ache in her chest, the ache between her thighs. She tried her best to try to find sleep until her keen hearing picked up on the sound of a door opening and closing.

Elain barely even realised what she was doing but suddenly she was out of bed and rushing to open the door to her room. She scanned the dark hallways until she found him standing at the top of the stairs. Azriel paused at the sound of her door opening but his shadows continued down the stairs without him.

“He’s asleep.” He turned to face her, those eyes once again quickly scanning her up, down, then back up again. “Why aren’t you?”

She took a second to look at him. Studied the way those leathers clung to him, perfectly contoured to every lean line of his toned body. He was so tall, so statuesque as if one of the gods had carved him out of stone with their very hands. His shoulders were so broad that they blocked out what little fae light carried up the stairs from the lower level of the house.

Elain ignored his question, months of that ache and anger suddenly coming together faster than she could even comprehend, combining into an emotion she couldn’t label. The words spilled out of her before she could even think it through.

“You haven’t spoken to me in months.” She seethed. “You told me I was a mistake and then you left me standing at the bottom of those stairs.” Elain gestured behind him. “You all but disappeared until Nyx was born. Even then, you stopped coming to family dinners, you only ever show up at the house for meetings with Rhys and Cassian and then leave the second they’re done. You go out of your way to avoid me, you refuse to even look in my direction. What did I do wrong?”

Azriel still hadn’t moved from where he had paused at the top of the stairs, his eyes fixed on hers in shock as he took in what she was saying.

“You…” He shook his head. “You did nothing wrong, Elain.”

“Then why?” Her voice broke as she took one small step down the hallway. “Why have you avoided me like this? You almost kissed me, and then you said I was a mistake…”

“I never said you were a mistake.” He took a step towards her. “You were not the mistake, Elain. I was the one who made a mistake by thinking I had any right to touch you.”

“Because you were with her? With Gwyn?” Elain’s hated how timid she sounded voicing the fear that she’d kept to herself all these months.

Azriel’s face fell.

“She was wearing my… I saw her wearing the necklace.” She corrected herself, leaving the rest unspoken. The crippling fear that Azriel had feelings for Nesta’s beautiful friend.

Elain had seen the necklace around Gwyn’s neck a few months ago when Nesta had invited her to the House of Wind to have lunch with some of the priestesses that she was training. She had done everything in her power to smile at the kind priestess, to try to make polite conversation and not break down in tears when she’d caught a glimpse of the stained glass rose sitting just under Gwyn’s collarbones.

She had willed herself not to think of how that necklace had ended up in Gwyn’s possession but had utterly failed. Had sat in silence, her mind racing as Nesta laughed with Gwyn. The priestesses' musical laughter like a soundtrack to the thoughts infiltrating her mind in that moment - had he looked at Gwyn like he’d looked at Elain that night? Had he put the necklace on her? Had his hands lingered on her throat? Had he kissed her like he’d almost kissed Elain? Did he visit her in the darkest hours of the night? Did she share his bed?

Jealousy swelled within her, the roaring in her ears so loud that she could barely even hear him when he spoke.

“Gwyn is a friend, Elain.” Azriel took another step forward, one hand coming up to land over his heart in earnest. “I help train her and we’re friends. There’s nothing more, I swear.”

“Then why?” She still didn’t understand, couldn’t work out how things had changed in a single second that night.

“I don’t know - I wasn’t thinking clearly after Solstice and I ran into her that same night and we spoke. Then I found the necklace with my gifts…I didn’t know what to do but I couldn’t keep it. So I went to the library and asked Clotho to give it to her, to any of the priestesses. I shouldn’t have done it, I know that now.” This was the fastest she’d ever heard him speak, his hands balling into fists at his sides as if he didn’t quite know what to do with them. “I don’t even think she knows it was from me.”

“No. I meant…” Elain shook her head. “If you weren’t seeing Gwyn then why was it a mistake? Why was it a mistake to almost kiss me?”

“You have a mate, Elain.” Azriel’s expression faltered. Even in this dark hallway, she could see the pain in his eyes.

Elain laughed. Just one single exhale of air at the reminder of her mate. Red hot rage once again seeped through her.

“That means nothing to me.” She shook her head. “I am so sick of everyone telling me that that means anything.”

“But it does.” Azriel replied. “The mating bond is… it’s rare and it’s a gift to be treasured. There’s nothing like it. To not acknowledge it, to not try at the very least, would be… it would be a mistake.”

“I don’t want to acknowledge it.” Elain’s throat felt like sandpaper, her frustration building with each second that passed.

“He’s a good male, Elain.” Azriel’s shoulders dropped in defeat as he broke eye contact with her, gazing at the floor before dragging his eyes up to meet her searing gaze once again. He looked defeated. “He’ll be good to you if you give him a chance.”

Elain took three steps forward, the distance between them becoming smaller although the was still so painfully far away.

“He may be a good male.” She paused, a shaky breath escaping her. She was unable to stop the tears that were falling from her eyes, didn’t have the strength to hold them back anymore. “He may be good, but he is not you.”

‘Elain…” Azriel tried to speak but she held up a hand, silencing him.

“He is not you, Azriel.” She sobbed.

…

Azriel’s knees threatened to buckle under the weight of her words. His ears buzzing as he desperately tried to focus on Elain, beautiful as ever in the moonlight despite the tears cascading down her cheeks. The tears that were there because of him.

Azriel.

She’d never said his name before. Not that he’d ever heard, anyway. Maybe she’d used it in conversations with the others but she had never once, in the last few years, ever used his name when speaking to him.

He is not you. He is not you, Azriel.

Those words, the way she said his name, ricocheted in his mind.

He took two long strides towards her, the distance between them minimal now - if he simply reached forwards, he’d be able to touch her.

“Azriel.” She repeated his name, her eyes searching his own. He still hadn’t said anything. “Did you hear me?”

He nodded, opening his mouth to say something but there were no words. He couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Could only stare into the depths of those brown doe eyes, glazed with tears, and listened as she continued to speak.

“Lucien… he tries with me because he feels like he has to. He tries because of the bond. He’d have no interest in me if there wasn’t this thing between us.” She was fighting to speak, her words interrupted by deep, heaving sobs.

Azriel fought every instinct that was roaring through him to reach out to her, to hold her against his chest and wipe away her tears.

“No one has stopped to think about what I want. They think that just because there is this bond, I must give myself over to him. That he is who I must be with. It’s not right. It doesn’t feel right. The bond is there. I can feel it and it is like a knife in my side. There is a pull to him, yes… but I’ve always felt a pull towards you, too.”

Azriel couldn’t believe what he was hearing, could barely keep up with everything she was saying as she bared her soul to him. Not even his shadows were there to guard him, to allow him to shroud himself in the safety of darkness. He was left to face her all on his own as she confirmed what he’d long suspected. That she felt that same pull, felt that energy that seemed to radiate between them since they’d first met.

“I felt drawn to you long before I was forced into that cauldron. You were there for me from the very beginning. You were the only one - the only one - to listen to me, to sit with me, to see me. They all thought I was losing my mind. I thought I was losing my mind. You were the only one to know. The only one to understand me.”

Azriel could tell she had thought this through - over and over again. Every word, though pained, was spoken with clear intent. He could tell that this wasn’t just hysterics in the heat of the moment. Elain meant every word she said and it rendered him absolutely speechless.

“My life was taken from me.” She went on, her voice quieter now as she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “I lost my fiancé, I lost my humanity, I lost my father. So many choices were stolen from me the second I was changed. Do I not deserve to have a say in what I do now? Do I not deserve to have a say in who I love? Do I not deserve to have a say in my own happiness?”

“It’s complicated, Elain.” Azriel finally spoke, his voice barely a whisper. “You deserve a choice but that choice comes with endless costs…there is already so much tension between the courts.”

“I don’t care!” She took another step closer until there was no space between them at all. Her hands reached for his and though he should’ve taken a step back, should’ve pulled away, he let her take them, let her intertwine her perfect fingers in his.

“You came for me once.” Elain’s voice was soft as she looked up at him, her eyebrows knitting together as she stared into the depth of this soul - forced him to recall when he’d risked his life to rescue her. “You fought for me then, will you not fight for me again?”

Tears were still streaming down her face but her sobs had subsided, her voice stronger as she challenged him.

“You know I would, but it’s just… it’s complicated.” He reiterated.

“Do you not want this?” Her face fell, her hands dropping from his as she went to take a step back. The confidence that she had exhibited just a second ago, faltering.

Azriel moved without thinking, one hand landing on her hip to keep her with him.

She gasped as his fingers pressed against her, calluses snagging on the smooth silk of her white gown, the feel of his skin through the thin material warmed her from the inside out.

His other hand landed on her neck, just as it had months ago - his thumb tracing a gentle path along the soft line of her jaw.

“Of course, of course, I want this.” He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe she’d even had to ask. His voice was so low he wasn’t sure she’d be able to hear him despite her face being mere inches from his. “I will always want this.”

Her eyes searched his, her shoulders dropping as all the tension she’d been holding in her body flooded out of her, causing her to slump against him. Azriel fingers flexed, his grip on her hip tightening, keeping her steady.

“I want you.” Elain whispered, tilting her face to look at him properly. “It will always be you.”

She was on her tiptoes then, her hands sliding up his torso until they were on his chest for the second time that night - her nails pressed into his leathers until her lips were just barely against his.

“Please, Azriel.” She all but whimpered.

Her plea cracked something in his chest and he could no longer hold back. All the work he’d done to stay away all these months, all these years, all of it was undone in a single second at the sound of his name on her lips. At the feel of her body against his.

Every wall he’d worked so diligently to build, came crumbling down faster than he could even comprehend.

Azriel closed the distance between them, his hand still on her throat as his lips brushed hers for the first time.

…

There was no going back from this.

The second his lips pressed against hers, tentative and sweet, Elain knew in her heart, in her very soul that nothing, no one, would ever compare to this. To him.

Every thought, every worry, every doubt she’d ever had slipped from her mind as Azriel finally kissed her. His lips were soft as they moved against hers, gentle and careful. He was committing this moment to memory just as she was - both of them desperate to remember every second of this, every possible detail. His tongue slid against her lips and she opened for him without a second thought, allowing him to deepen the kiss as she met him stroke for stroke.

Elain couldn’t get close enough to him, her hands frantically coming up from his chest to tangle in his hair, fingers tugging him down in a silent request for more, more, more.

His groan as she pressed her body tight against his reverberated through her and she couldn’t help the desperate moan that escaped her in response. Every ounce of blood, every nerve in her body seemed to be screaming for him - for his attention.

“Touch me.” Elain begged. His face was buried against her neck now, his lips and teeth and tongue grazing the sensitive skin causing her to arch further into him even though there was barely any space between them to begin with. “Please, Azriel.”

He relented, his hand slipped from her throat, one finger slowly skimmed along the delicate neckline of her nightgown before traveling lower. After what felt like a million years, his fingers grazed her peaked nipple, circling once, twice, before his large palm covered her breast and squeezed gently. His other hand released her hip to slip behind her, gripping the generous curve of her ass and pressing her firmly against him - allowing her to feel exactly how hard he was for her.

Her head tipped back, exposing more of her neck to him as her mouth fell open, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation of him in between her thighs. Elain rolled her hips against his as if it was second nature, seeking out that delicious pressure against her core again and again all while cursing the few despicable layers of fabric that separated her from truly feeling every inch of him.

His lips were on hers once more, all his previous gentleness nowhere to be found, replaced instead with pure heated passion as he claimed her with bruising kisses. She was dizzy - all she could feel was him, all she could taste was him, all she could smell was him - the combined scent of both of their arousal was heavy in the air, permeating every square inch of the hallway.

Azriel’s hands slipped under her ass as he continued to kiss her, bunching up the silk of her gown until he could get his hands on the back of her bare thighs. He let his thumbs drift over her soft skin once before lifting her up easily. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms draped around his broad shoulders. He carried her with him, walking backwards until he could set her on a small console table in the middle of the hallway.

That familiar energy between them sizzled, only amplifying with each pass of his lips over her lips, her neck, her collarbones. She could’ve sworn there was a glowing aura around them as he lowered his face to her breasts, tongue laving at her nipples over her slip. The sensation of the damp fabric sliding against her skin was enough to have her seeing stars.

“Azriel.” She pleaded again, unsure what she was even asking for.

“Tell me what you want, Elain.” His mouth was still on her chest, hands raking her nightgown even further up her thighs as he raised his eyes to watch her. “Look at me and tell me what you want.”

Cool air hit the heat of her core at the exact same time she met his eyes.

The sound that she let out at that moment was almost embarrassing, her face and chest flushing. She felt him smile against the curve of her breast as he watched her. His eyes were darker than night, darker than she’d ever seen them. His tousled hair fell over his brows, casting shadows that only added to the darkness. Despite their darkness, there was a certain softness, a reverence in his gaze that she knew was reserved just for her.

She still hadn’t answered him. How could she possibly form words when his lips were on her breast? When his fingers were pressing into the flesh of her thighs? She couldn’t think straight, not when the soft ridges of his scars were sliding over her sensitive skin, going higher and higher with each pass as her legs widened for him on their own accord.

His eyes bore into hers as he straightened, raising up until his face was inches from her face. Azriel watched her carefully as he dragged a knuckle up her bare center - an absolute tease of a touch, so light that she almost wondered if she’d imagined it.

“Is this what you want, Elain?” His breath fanned over her as he spoke, their lips almost touching.

He pressed his forehead to hers. “Tell me.”

“Yes.” The word left her mouth in a gasp at the sheer command in his voice, at the brush of that same knuckle over the nerves at the apex of her thighs. She clutched at his neck, nails surely marking his skin as she kissed him.

Azriel kissed her as if he’d never get the chance to kiss her again, a searing kiss that caused a whole new wave of arousal to crest through her. But even his hot mouth pressing over hers couldn’t distract her from the feeling of two of his fingers slowly sliding through her, parting her, before his middle finger dipped into her just once.

“Look how wet you are for me.” He murmured in awe, pulling away just enough so he could bring his hand up between them. Azriel studied his fingers, the way the moonlight caught the wetness gathered there and made it glisten.

Her eyes went wide as she watched him take that finger into his mouth, his lips wrapping around it. She blushed when his eyes fluttered, savouring the taste of her.

“Do you have any idea how good you taste, Elain?” He returned his finger to her core, adding another, and then sank them into her once more in one slow thrust.

She couldn’t say anything, didn’t have the opportunity to when his fingers curled inside her, searching her upper walls until he found what he was seeking.

Those nimble fingers stroked a place that she hadn’t even known existed within her and Elain’s moan echoed in the hallway, her chest arching up into him - the friction of his leathers against her nipples only adding to the feeling of ecstasy that coursed through her.

Her hands roamed, grasping frantically at his chest, at his back. Azriel continued to steadily move his fingers within her. She needed to feel more of him. Needed the warmth of his skin.

“How do I…?” She whined, frustrated that she couldn’t find a single button or zip on his leathers. He’d have to do it. “Take this off.”

“No time. They’ll be back soon.” Azriel took her lower lip in between his teeth, tugging once before letting it go. “Just let me do this for you.”

She started to argue but Azriel kissed her again, increasing the pressure of his fingers as he stroked her over and over again.

“Another time.” He whispered, moving his lips to her neck and biting down lightly at the same time his thumb circled her clit.

“Fuck.” Elain cursed, immediately blushing as Azriel laughed against her throat - both of them surprised by her choice of words. She swallowed her embarrassment, choosing to focus on the desire burning low in her stomach instead. “Do that again.”

Azriel obeyed her order, running his thumb in smooth circles over her as he pumped his fingers into her, maintaining that same rhythm and ensuring that the tips of his fingers bumped against that spot inside of her with each pass.

Just a minute later, before she even knew what was happening, Elain’s vision blurred, her eyes squeezing shut as every nerve in her body came alive. She clutched at his hair, grabbing fistfuls of the silky strands as she clenched hard around his fingers. Her mouth fell open in a silent scream as she came for him.

Seconds, minutes, hours passed before she regained her sense of self. Azriel’s fingers had slipped out of her but he’d pressed himself against her instead, alleviating the emptiness that she felt without his fingers filling her. Azriel’s arms were wrapped around her, holding her tight to his chest, one hand in her hair as she attempted to catch her breath.

“That’s it, Elain.” He whispered into her hair, hands drawing soothing circles low on her back. “You did so good for me.”

“That was… I’ve never…” Elain breathed against his neck.

“You’ve… never?” Azriel stilled, his hand paused its circles but he continued to hold her against him.

“I mean, I’ve had…” Elain said quickly, trailing off. Her words were muffled as she spoke into his skin, “But no one’s ever done that for me. I’ve never…”

“Finished?” Azriel completed her sentence.

She nodded, face still tucked in the space between his neck and shoulder. Despite what they’d just done, she felt shy admitting this to him.

She pulled back slowly when he didn’t say anything further. The sweat from her body caused her slip to stick to her.

Elain swallowed her nerves, looking into his eyes - searching them for any sign of regret.

She found none. Only saw simmering lust and adoration.

“You deserve to feel like that every time, Elain.” A small satisfied smile tugged at his lips. Some primal part of him secretly fulfilled at the knowledge that he was the first person to make her come. He tucked a strand behind her pointed ear. “You should really go back to bed now.”

Elain’s eyebrows furrowed together. She wasn’t ready for this to end, wanted to stay here, safe in his arms, in this blissful bubble, forever. But besides that, she could still feel him - impossibly hard - where he was pressed firmly against her.

She kept her eyes on his as she reached down in between them, fingers itching to feel him but Azriel’s hand wrapped around her wrist, stopping her before she had the chance to touch him.

“They’ll be home soon.” He shook his head, bringing her hand up to his lips and pressing a kiss to each of her finger tips. “We have to save something for later.”

His words warmed something deep within her.

Later.

The promise of more.

“You won’t disappear again?” She allowed herself to voice her insecurity. The worry that things would go back to how they were before.

“No.” He didn’t hesitate. “I’ll seek you out. We’ll find a way. There’s more I want to do for you. With you.”

“Okay.” She nodded, leaning forward to kiss him again.

“This has to be just between us for now.” Azriel’s face was as serious as his voice. His large hands moved to cradle her face, fingers tracing softly along her cheekbones. “I’ll figure out how to make this work but for now… just between us.”

“Just between us.” She promised, repeating his words back to him.

She’d take whatever she could get. For now, this would have to be enough.

To have him in secret was better than not having him at all.

Azriel kissed her one last time before he backed out from between her legs, fixing her night gown to cover her before helping her down from where he’d perched her on the narrow table. His hands stayed on her waist, brushing over her curves until he was sure she was steady on her feet. “Goodnight, Elain.”

“Goodnight, Azriel.” She gave him a soft smile before walking away from him and back to her room.

The Shadowsinger watched until Elain’s door shut behind her and then he sighed, smoothing a hand over his unruly hair as he tried to figure out how the hell he was going to get the scent of them out of this hallway within the next hour.

#elriel #acotar #azriel x elain #acosf #mine #azriel #elain #elain x azriel #elriel fanfiction #elriel smut #azriel smut #smut #angst #fic rec #writing #my writing #elain archeron #post solstice

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prythianpages · 8 months

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ACOSM | The Night her Powers Came

azriel x rhy's sis (oc)

*disclaimer bc this takes place before Windhaven, therefore Azriel is not in this.

warnings: fluff/mild angst

A/N: this is an imagine among my collection of imagines that follow Rhysand's sister, Valeria. while I'm still working on it, you can find the masterlist for it here. Also, I don't remember when Cerridwen and Nuala first came into Rhys's life so for the sake of this imagine, let's pretend they've been with him for a long time. I think they were a gift to his mom by his dad? or maybe that was just something I read in another imagine.

“Rhys?”

Rhysand turned his head in alarm. He had left his door open but he hadn’t heard the footsteps approaching. He relaxed as he found his little sister peeking her head through the doorway, her favorite doll clutched in her free arm. Her eyes were tired and lips curved into a slight pout. She was never a fan of storms, always seeking comfort in her older brother during times like these so it was no surprise when she asked if she could stay with him.

“Come here.” Rhysand beckoned with a tired smile. He pushed his luggage aside and laid on his bed, patting the empty spot next to him. He had been packing for his move to Windhaven. He was now eight and it was time to begin his training to become an Illyrian warrior. Although he was the heir to the Night Court, his father had also agreed on this move. Both of his parents deemed that it was important to train so that he wouldn’t become reliant on his developing powers alone.

Valeria wasted no time in diving under the warmth of his covers, eliciting a chuckle from him. She made sure to tuck her doll in too, claiming that her doll–or Darla as she often corrected him– was also scared of storms and in need of cuddles. She turned her body to face her older brother.

“I don’t want you to go.” She said quietly with a frown.

Rhysand’s heart dropped at her words. “I don’t want to leave you either.”

As there was no need for Valeria to train, the move to Windhaven had not included her. Of course, this didn’t mean her mother was going to abandon her. Her mother had reassured her that she would be constantly going back and forth between their house in Windhaven and the Moonstone palace as well as her father would remain to watch over her. However, the latter did not bring her any comfort. She knew this meant she’d spend most of her time with Cerridwen and Nuala and there was also their cousin, Mor. So it wasn’t like she would be completely alone but it would not compare to the same comfort as her mother or Rhysand.

“Who else is going to keep me and Darla company during–” She flinched, cowering away under the blankets as the crashing thunder roared furiously. When the sound ended, she lifted her head and peered over his shoulder to look out the window with glossy eyes. “It’s so dark.”

Rhysand shifted in his bed so that he could be facing Valeria. He resisted the urge to tease the irony in his sister being afraid of the dark when she herself was a daughter of the Night. But he knew what Valeria meant. Tonight’s sky was full of clouds so dense that not even the luminous glow of the moon or stars could cut through the darkness.

“The stars and moon are still here watching over us.” Rhysand assured her.

Valeria raised an eyebrow.

Rhysand smiled, extending his hand out as an idea popped into his head.

“See, they’re right here,” he said as his hand began to glow, glittering stars rising from the palm of his hand and illuminating the room further. “They just needed a little break for the night. They’re sorry that their snoring scares you.”

“That sound is the stars snoring?” Valeria asked, her wide eyes tracking each and every star that rose from Rhysand’s palm as they found their place in the room.

Another crack of thunder sounded. This time, Valeria did not flinch. Her heart still couldn’t help but race at the sound but she found herself giggling this time. “They snore weird.”

“They do.” Rhysand agreed,joining her in her laughter and glad that his plan had worked. He gestured for her to also extend out her hand. “Here, you try it.”

Rhysand had meant to transfer the floating stars above his hand over to hers but she did not reach for his hands. Instead, she lifted her own palm up, her eyebrows knitting together. He meant to correct his unclear instructions, opening his mouth to avoid the disappointment he feared coming.

As soon as he began sounding out his first syllable, his mouth shut.

There, in the palm of her hand was the tiniest flicker of light. It took only a couple of seconds for the flicker of light to turn into a beam of star light coming straight from her palm and as she concentrated further on the light, Rhysand couldn’t help but snort to himself at the sight of her tongue sticking out.

“Look, Rhys!” Valeria cried out in excitement as the beam of light morphed into a sphere, swirls of silver rotating around it. “It’s the moon!”

The moon glowed brightly at the palm of her hand. Floating further and further up, both Valeria and Rhysand watched in awe as her moon joined his stars.

“You have a gift,” Rhysand said with a smile.

“A gift?” Valeria gasped, turning to her brother. The moon she had conjured was quick to disappear as her attention diverted from it. “Where?”

Rhysand couldn’t help but laugh again.

Valeria hadn’t realized how dependent she was on her brother for company and entertainment or her mother for comfort and constant reassurance. It was no secret that Valeria was not her father’s favorite and it came as no surprise to her that his current work schedule allotted little time for her. It had been a week since Rhysand and her mother moved to Windhaven. They promised to visit once they were fully settled into their new home there, which would be a couple of days more and just in time for their monthly court meeting.

Rhysand had just gotten fitted for his Illyrian leathers, per his notes of excitement. Before they had left, they gifted her an enchanted scroll and the three–or should she say four as she often sought out Mor’s help since she couldn’t read or write herself yet–exchanged notes every day. On days Mor wasn’t there to help, Valeria would opt to scribble hearts and doodles of them. Her doodles consisted of her family as stick figures and she always drew Rhysand’s stick figure with the biggest head to which Rhysand would respond with his own stick figure version of their family with Valeria’s stick figure having a wild bird nest as hair. Their father was never included in their family’s stick figure drawings. However, sometimes Mor would make a casual appearance in them.

A hard smack sounded throughout the room as the sound of wood against wood met, causing Valeria to flinch. “A lady does not get distracted in her own thoughts while being spoken to!”

“Well a lady can’t help it if the topic is such a bore.” Mor huffed beside Valeria in her defense. She laid her down on the table and blew her blonde bangs from her face.

“Morrigan!” Their instructor, Silvia, reprimanded as she struck her wooden stick against the table next to where Mor’s head rested. Mor did not flinch as Valeria did and instead glowered.

“Miss Silvia,” Valeria gasped with wide eyes, a devious glint flashing amongst her violet orbs. “A lady does not raise her voice.”

Valeria and Mor exchanged a look before bursting into giggles. She did not know how she would survive this etiquette class if it were not for her cousin. Mor was two years older than her so unfortunately, this was the only class they shared. But it had given Valeria something to look forward to every week day.

Silvia slumped into a seat, across the table from the young girls with a sigh. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “You two ladies have yet to learn. Count your blessings on your high statuses as it ensures you will marry. As far as keeping your future husbands happy, who knows...”

“Can we go now?” Mor asked.

“Yes, you may go.” Silvia dismissed with a wave of her hand, muttering how the two girls would give her premature gray hairs with all the stress from their lack of progress in her etiquette class.

Mor and Val squealed in excitement at their dismissal, grabbing each other’s hands as they ran out of the room and headed for the gardens of the Moonstone Palace. They loved spending time in the gardens as the flowers were always in bloom and the soft splashing of the grand water fountain always brought comfort. Not to mention the light bugs that would appear as the sun began to set, twinkling around them as if they were tiny stars themselves. Mor and Val enjoyed chasing after them until the moon took the sun’s place and they were forced to part ways.

That’s how most of her weeknights ended. On days where they’d be bored of running around the gardens or the weather was not ideal for them to be out in, they’d find comfort in the palace’s library. Mor would pick a book, usually one related to Valkyries, and read outloud to her best ability.

That’s where the two girls found themselves after their last lessons of the week.

“One valkyrie tek-neek was mind-stilling. They used it to calm their minds and emo-tions.” Mor read, struggling to enunciate some of the words. “It is the act of sitting and quiet-ing their mind. It is used to stay calm in the face of fears..Hmm, interesting should we give it a try?”

Val nodded her head eagerly.

Mor shifted so that she sat across Val, placing the book in between them so she can walk them through the steps. Val mirrored Mor, resting her hands over her knees. “Now, we take three deep breaths. In through our nose for a count of six and out through the mouth for a count of six. Don’t overthink it, just close your eyes and breath.”

“Now let your breathing steady and focus on the sounds around you. Acknowledge them, then let them fade away.”

Val continued to take deep breaths as she continued to follow Mor’s instructions. She focused on the sound of their breathing, the light crackling of the fireplace nearby and willed them to fade away. She surveyed her body next, starting from her head and slowly working down from her wings to her toes when she felt it. A strange weightless, almost numbing feeling. The air around her grew cold and still. And before she knew it, she felt as if she were floating. It felt different from flying. When she would fly, she’d feel the weight of her wings and while her wings were out–as she was unable to glamor them as Rhysand often did–, she could no longer feel their comforting weight.

Let go, child. A chilling voice whispered. Come to us.

“Val!”

At Mor’s sharp cry, Val’s breathing faltered. She found herself all of a sudden feeling heavy and she was falling. The familiar weight of her wings came back to her and she willed them to spread wide and keep her from the horrifying feeling of falling.

She felt warm hands grasp hers, shaking them and it was only then that Val willed her eyes to open to find herself back in the palace’s library, a worried Mor right in front of her. Val blinked, feeling light headed and dizzy as the books that lined the shelves seemed to spin around them. That voice…

“Are you okay??”

“Yeah.” Val replied, eyebrows knitting in concern over the panic in Mor’s voice. “Did you hear that voice too?”

“Voice?” Mor repeated in a confused manner. She let go of Val’s hands, placing them against her forehead. Val grimaced at her warm touch. “Val, you’re freezing! Are you sure you’re okay? You were glowing!”

“Glowing?”

“So bright like the moon! I could feel it behind my closed eyes. I thought you were messing around but when I opened my eyes, you were hunched over and your breathing was all weird–”

Val drowned out the rest of Mor’s retelling as she tried to recollect herself. She hadn’t felt her breathing slow while meditating. She only felt as if she were floating and free, no longer confined to her body. And then the voice called out to her. It lured her and if it hadn’t been for Mor waking her, she feared she would’ve followed it to who knows where.

The two promised not to speak of this to anyone and Val begrudgingly agreed not to try mind-stilling. At least not when alone. After assuring Mor that she was alright for the hundredth time, Mor said her goodbyes.

The next morning was a joyous one for Valeria. She could not contain her excitement at breakfast as she filled her mouth with eggs and ham, swinging her legs. The High Lord, her father, sat at the head of the table. Valeria sat at the seat to his right, choosing to take her mother’s seat as she found her seat to be too far from her father. Not that it mattered as he barely shared any words with her. However, she was just content for what little time he chose to spend with her.

“I learned what tek-nik means, father!”

“Technique.” The High Lord was quick to correct, shooting her a glare when one of her excited leg swings hit one of his own.

“Sorry!” Val apologized with a sheepish smile, the huge mouthful of food she had hastily shoved into her mouth daring to seep out.

The High Lord sighed deeply, as he always did when annoyed by his youngest. He set his fork down and rose from his seat. He didn’t bother to spare her another glance as he left the dining room.

“Be good tonight and don’t cause trouble.”

Valeria’s eyes lit up at the invitation. She was not allowed to join the previous Night Court’s monthly meetings. It was always attributed to her age–she was only six afterall. However, she remembered hearing from the maids that Rhysand first attended when he was two. Of course, their attendance wasn’t of much importance as they were kids and they were not allowed to join in on the actual meeting between the High Lord and his overseers.These meetings were in private and meant to update each other of their respective locations as well as any growing threats nearby. After these meetings was where the fun began. There was music by the Night Court’s finest orchestra that often led to dancing and not to mention the vast amount and variety of food prepared by the best cooks in the city. That is what Valeria looked forward to the most. As she finished up her breakfast, she couldn’t help but wonder if lemon cakes were among the dessert menu for tonight.

“Where is my little star?”

“Mama!” Valeria cried with joy as she ran to her mother. Her wings stretched wide open as she jumped and then soared into her mother’s awaiting arms.

“Oh my, how strong you’ve gotten!” Lady Yvaine laughed as she regained her balance from the impact. She held her daughter close and tight, rejoicing in her familiar scent as Val buried her head into her neck. She hated having to be apart from one of her children and the image of Valeria’s teary eyes and pout from when they had to part ways was all Yvaine thought about the past couple of days. While it brought her joy to see Rhysand taking part of their Illyrian culture, she worried over Valeria’s wellbeing too.

As Valeria pulled away to smile up at her mother, Yvaine promised to herself she would do her best to appeal to her husband to allow her to take Valeria back to Windhaven with her. “Mor taught me how to write some words, mama!”

“Yeah? Well, tell her she’s a terrible teacher.” Another voice joined them.

Val’s head whipped around to find her brother entering her room with a sly grin. He held up a piece of parchment paper in his hands and Val had to squint to identify the contents of it. She giggled as she recognized her own handwriting. Val had learned about letters this week in her lessons and how they were used for many reasons. She had begged Mor to help her send one to Rhysand, claiming that the act of sending a letter was much more exciting than using the enchanted scroll.

“You got my letter!” Val exclaimed happily as her mother set her down, allowing her to run and hug her brother.

“To Rhys, the best big bruder.” Rhysand continued to laugh as he returned his little sister’s hug. Aside from his sister’s barely legible handwriting, the letter was filled with many different paint colors and pressed flowers she glued on to the page with the infamous stick figure drawing of Rhysand.

“I’m so glad you loved it.” Val said as she pulled away, her violet eyes twinkling in delight.

“I didn’t say I lov–” Rhysand’s mother shot him a sharp look. “What I mean to say is that I missed you too, Val.”

“Come on, you two. It’s time to get ready for tonight.”

“So handsome, my sweet boy.” Yvaine praised her oldest as she straightened his coat’s collar, admiring the intricate silver beading that ran along the front upper collar that she had done herself.

“And of course, my beautiful sweet girl.” She continued to praise as she then turned to her youngest, who was wearing a black dress with silver beading that matched Rhysand’s. The dress was long and tailored well so that Val would not trip over the hem. The sleeves were long and made of mesh with an overlay of silver stars running down the arms. There was a small slit among the arm sleeves to allow for a wispy ethereal look. To top off all of their looks, they all wore silver crowns adorned with stars and moonstone.

The Lady of the Night Court wanted to make sure that her children were dressed to part and shining as the stars they are for tonight’s event so she took it to herself to design and create their attire herself. She was dressed in a design of her own as well–a silver and black long gown that suited her curvy silhouette perfectly. Even her husband was dressed in all black and wearing a coat similar to Rhysand’s. The High Lord and his son had never looked more alike.

It was an important night as it would be the first meeting that the High Lord of the Night Court brought along his whole family. The last time they had made a family appearance was before Valeria’s birth.

It had been planned to make an appearance shortly after Valeria’s birth to present her as the Daughter of the Night. But Valeria had fallen ill and was on the brink of death one month after birth while Lady Yvaine continued to struggle to heal from the strenuous birth. Rumors had immediately surfaced that the Night Court was on the verge of falling apart. If the High Lord couldn’t keep his newborn daughter alive and struggled to help his wife heal, then how could he keep the Night Court afloat? Even Rhysand had fallen victim to rumors as they began to question his legitimacy as heir as well as the powers the High Lord claimed he was developing.

But tonight was the night that all rumors would be disproved.

Valeria was a healthy six year old girl, despite her tendencies to fall to a mysterious sickness every month. The disease that had plagued her as a one month old never truly went away, choosing to linger and resurface in a milder form every new moon. The High Lord kept her isolated during those times to keep further rumors from surfacing, not wanting Valeria’s reputation to continue to taint his legacy as High Lord of the Night Court.

The Lady of the Night Court had returned to her duties shortly after her full recovery from giving birth. She radiated beauty and warmth, bringing back solace to the court. The people often wondered when there’d be another arrival of a child of the Night. It almost felt like a race of who would announce the coming of another child amongst the Spring, Autumn and Night court as they each had two children. But only the Lady and High Lord and their most trusted healer, Madja, were aware that there would be no more children of the Night. Madja feared that if Lady Yvaine became pregnant with child again, she would not survive it and the High Lord did not take this lightly. Meanwhile, the third son of the Spring Court was born a year after Valeria and the Autumn court now had four sons. This only fueled his frustration and distaste with his youngest further. She had already caused so much trouble within her six years of living. He suspected if his daughter was meant to be a curse–bestowed upon him by the Cauldron or Mother herself.

While the appearance of Valeria at the meeting would be the first, she was not the highlight of the night’s event. Rhysand was.

Tonight would be the night the High Lord of the Night Court would officially name Rhysand as his heir. Everyone could feel the strong power within the young boy. His powers had developed at a much faster and alarming rate than anticipated. With the announcement of Rhysand learning to train and fight as an Illyrian warrior, the High Lord hoped that this would quell all negative gossip of the Night Court being weak. Some even suspected that Rhysand would grow to become the most powerful High Lord of Prythian. The Night Court was strong and filled with great prospects and prosperity– a force to be reckoned with.

Lady Yvaine walked forward with her head high, a cool mask over her features as she walked behind her husband. Her High Lord. One hand held Rhysand’s hand and the other held Valeria’s as they walked into the Court of Nightmares. Together. As a family. For the first time in years.

Valeria found herself extremely overwhelmed. There were so many eyes on her and the majority did not appear friendly. She had wondered why they called her home the Court of Nightmares but now it all made sense. She found comfort in the lively and alluring music of the orchestra–Prythian’s finest, she had heard some call them.

She watched in awe as the orchestra played perfectly in tune, following along with the conductor.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Val’s gaze shifted to the person who had come to stand beside her. She was surprised to find an older blonde woman with rich brown eyes–Mor’s mother–but the surprise morphed into disappointment when she noticed that Mor was not in attendance.

“Your grandmother used to play the violin, you know. She learned at a young age and when she was an adult, she traveled all over Prythian. They said she was among the best. She met your grandfather when performing here and well, the rest is history.”

“Did she continue to play?” Valeria asked, her curiosity piqued at the mention of her grandparents. Apart from the knowledge that they were dead, Val knew nothing else of them. She was never brave enough to ask her father either.

“For the Court of Nightmares only.” Mor’s mother replied as she nursed a glass of wine as dark as blood in her hands. “Allegedly, her music was the only thing that could bring your father–the High Lord–comfort when he was young.”

Val’s features contorted into a grimace at the thought. She could not imagine her father finding delight in anything. In fact, she couldn’t even recall a time where her father wasn’t scowling or frowning and she allowed her gaze to travel to the throne to confirm. But she couldn’t help but wonder when was the last time her father smiled–if he had even done so at all. Was it when he met her mother? Married her? Or Perhaps, the last time was when his mother last played the violin for him. She made a quick mental note to bring up the violin to her mother before bed.

The High Lord’s gaze shifted to find violet eyes that matched his own staring back at him. With a raise of his hand, he beckoned Val and Mor’s mother forward. They approached the High Lord, who still sat upon his throne. Lord Keir–Mor’s father–, Lady Yvaine, and two other Lords, ones Val had yet to meet, stood in front of the throne in conversation.

Val shifted toward her mother, her nerves unsettling as the men stared at her. Her fingers latched onto her mother’s gown and her violet eyes were wary of the uncomfortable and unwanted attention.

“This is my daughter. Valeria.” The High Lord announced.

“I was not aware you had such a lovely daughter, my Lord.” One of the older lords commented. “I have a son around her age. I would love to introduce him to you one day. Perhaps, they’d make good friends.”

Friends, Val’s eyes widened at the thought. She didn’t have many friends. Her only friends were her family, Rhys and Mor.

Lord Keir scoffed. “And what greater benefit could an alliance between your son and Daughter of the Night provide than one with my son? I could offer my Darkbringers at his High Lord’s disposal.”

Mor’s Mother turned to Val with a smile, always quick to back up her husband. “Wouldn’t you like to get to know my oldest better? Perhaps, if you and Mathis get along well, you could marry and live tog–”

“My daughter is much too young to understand, much less be involved in marriage politics. Especially to a cousin."

"Distant cousin." Mor's mother was quick to add.

Lady Yvaine placed a protective hand over Val’s shoulders. She forced a polite smile onto her face, her dark eyes tense. The whitening of Val’s knuckles as she clutched onto her mother’s dress did not go unnoticed by her.

Val was young but old enough to understand the implications of marriage. She had asked her mother about it one night, when she was braiding her hair. Her mother told her that marriage was something special, something beautiful as it was a union between two people who sometimes loved each other. But she also knew that marriage meant separating from your family to join another and it was usually the woman who had to leave her family.

And she refused to leave her family to be tied to Mor’s older brother, Mathis. She’d already met her cruel older brother multiple times before. His presence always brought her unease. He made a habit of pulling Mor’s long blonde hair and making her cry. Val wanted nothing to do with him.

“My wife is correct.” The High Lord finally chimed in. “The girl is only six. We’ll discuss potential alliances through marriage when the time is apropriate.”

The High Lord looked toward his daughter, who still clutched onto her mother. He motioned for her to leave with a nod of his head and with an encouraging push from her mother, Val hurried away from them in search of her brother with an uneasy feeling in her stomach.

As the High Lord watched his daughter walk away, he realized that perhaps, Valeria was not entirely useless. She was the first daughter to be born to a High Lord in years–centuries even, perhaps. Pyrthian was full of sons at the moment and there were two unwed High Lords in Pyrthian. The prospects were many…

Valeria found Rhysand at the dessert table–the latter stuffing his face with chocolate cake. Much to her disappointment, there was no sight of lemon cakes anywhere. Her bottom lip quivered.

“What’s wrong with you?” Rhysand asked in between mouthfuls as he noticed Valeria was on the verge of tears. He swallowed and then frowned. “Are you feeling unwell? The next new moon is in two weeks–”

“I don’t want to marry Mathis.” She whispered, bile rising in her throat. Her hands were fists at her side and trembling.

“Why would you have to marry that brute? He's our cousin.”

“I don’t know.” Val replied with a shrug of her shoulders. “But I don’t like him. He smells.”

A couple of tears escaped Valeria as her shoulders began to tremble. Her fists uncurled and Rhysand’s gaze fell down to her hands as he noticed a flicker of light. It was faint and small–like the lighting of a candle at first– and he watched at a loss for words as the light began to grow bigger and bigger. It trailed up her hands and then, to her arms, casting a silver glow to her skin. It was the same light he had witnessed a week earlier, the manifestation of Valeria’s developing powers and just as he had been when his powers first developed, Valeria was losing control.

Rhysand was quick to drop his chocolate cake onto the table and grab a hold of Valeria’s hands. He was still learning to control his own powers so he hoped he knew enough to help his sister. He called upon the darkness that lingered within him, urging it to engulf Valeria’s light and dampen her glow to avoid any unwanted attention.

“Listen to me, Val. You are not going to marry Mathis.”

“You promise?”

There was such desperation in Valeria’s eyes that it made Rhysand’s own violet eyes water. Her light began to flicker and dwindled.

“I promise.” Rhysand said as he squeezed both of her hands, relief flooded through him as her light diminished, dampened by his darkness as water dampens fire. “I promise that you will marry someone that makes you happy. Someone who makes you laugh. Someone who loves you just as much as you love them.”

“Someone who smells good?” Val questioned, her eyebrows knitted in concern.

“Someone who smells good.” Rhysand added.

Valeria felt herself calm down, soothed by her brother’s words, as she stared down at their joined hands. She watched as a crescent moon in the form of black ink appeared on the fourth finger of her left hand. A dark fine line joined on either side of the moon as it wrapped completely around her finger. Two dotted lines appear, one on top and one on bottom to the fine line along with little stars. Her gaze drifted up Rhysand’s arm as she noticed a similar crescent moon form one his left hand with similar lines and stars wrapping around his wrist.

They both looked at each other filled with astonishment as their bodies were now marked with a permanent reminder of the promise Rhysand had just made.

Rhysand hoped that no one had seen or noticed them.

But someone did notice.

Their mother.

Lady Yvaine’s eyes widened, her heart racing with unease and anxiety as she clutched the side of her gown. The same area Valeria had been holding onto. The same area that now had a hole, revealing the black silk that had originally been covered by black glittery mesh–the mesh that now had rough edges and appeared as if it had been burned off.

Valeria was gifted. Just like Rhysand. And she feared what would happen to her daughter if anyone else found out. Unfortunately for Valeria, she was a girl and this world did not take kindly to females with power. The lords of the Night Court already had their hungry, vulture eyes on her. If they discovered she was gifted as well–

Lady Yvaine shuddered at the thought.

She had to keep Valeria close. She had to keep her away from the hungry eyes and vultures among the Court of Nightmares. There was no way she was returning to Windhaven without Valeria.

#rhysand #rhysand's sister #rhysand imagine #acotar imagine #rhysand's sister x azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x oc

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rabbitlover1027 · 7 days

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Today I just thought, you know what? Nesta would be the first one sick of this Lucien we don't trust you at all but hang out with us all the time BS.

“You and your brothers, you all had the same tutors, yes?” Nesta stared down her nose at Lucien.

“We did. Mostly,” he replied.

She looked over her shoulder at the party. A gemstone on her charcoal gray gown caught the light. Another Solstice celebration kickoff in the Hewn City, but this time, two Vanserras had been invited.

She raised an eyebrow, “Are you going to ask me to dance?”

“You want to dance?” He choked on his wine.

“I hate this place. Cassian and Azriel are busy trying to look menacing. Feyre and Rhys are busy lording over everyone, your brother appears to be trying his best to hit it off with the brunette over there, and Elain is hiding from all of us. You said you had the same tutors, so, yes, I want you to ask me to dance.”

Lucien set his drink down slowly and stood. His eyes took her in, head to toe, and she smirked, satisfied.

“May I have this dance?”

“Certainly,” she curtsied and he led her to the floor.

Lucien couldn't dance as well as Eris, but Nesta was certain no one but her could tell that. They covered the dance floor, only breaking to catch their breath and sip more wine until the party began to die down as the moon started to set.

“They're staring,” he whispered in her ear at the end of the last dance.

“Fuck them,” she replied, “You and I both deserve a friend at these things. We could be good friends.”

“I believe you're right about that.”

“Then I look forward to seeing you at the River House tomorrow, friend.”

#look i love lucien but eris is still the better dancer #no nesta was not hitting on lucien in front of cassian #just cassians too busy broing it up with his besties and nestas like this is lame #nesta would be like you wont dance with your mate fine i will #nesta #lucien #acotar #fan fic #too short to be a story too long to be a drabble

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kindredcandy · 2 years

Text

Tolerate | Lucien x reader

Summary: the Night Court treats Lucien like garbage and you can't figure out why he puts up with it. Aka, I took some self deprecating things he said canonically and ran with it.

Words: 1785

TW// bullying, scars, mechanical eye, kissing, the inner circle is a bunch of assholes, insecurity, mocking trauma.

A/N

Just a note that the inner circle is super out of character in this! This is a really short oneshot. If you want a part 2 where they go back and face the IC I can totally do that! I just liked ending this part where I did.

=======================

"You should've just gotten an eye patch. It would've looked better." Cassian recommended, a strange note of malice in his voice as he placed another layer onto his sandwich.

"He can't see through an eye patch. Besides, wasn't that what the mask was for?" Rhys said like it's obvious.

"At least the mask covered the scar." Nesta muttered in a low voice.

They were mocking him. All of them had been taking digs at Lucien for the past hour at least, and ignoring your attempts to shut it down. Whenever he visited the Night Court they took it as an opportunity to tear him down as casually as they could, gaining some sort of satisfaction from hurting someone who had relation to the Spring Court. You didn't know why Lucien even bothered to visit anymore. You would've stopped coming a long time ago if they treated you the way they treated him.

At first you thought he must've done something to solicit it, surely the Night Court wouldn't take it upon themselves to insult an innocent fae? But as you got to know the unmated male, you realized there was no merit to their hurled remarks. You seemed to be the only person in the circle who would even give him a chance, and with that chance he had stolen your heart.

You couldn't admit it to him, knowing how he must view you. Your friends relentlessly insulted him at every opportunity, he would have no reason to feel anything pleasant for you. Even if your shared conversations were the highlight of your day.

"I can't decide what's worse, the scar or the freaky eye." Cassian pretended to study Lucien, as if it was very important to rank his flaws from best to worst.

"Guys, that's enough." You said.

The redheaded male had been casually ignoring their taunts up to that point, focused solely on eating and exchanging a line or two when they managed to say something that wasn't an insult.

"It's fine, Y/N. I'm used to it." Lucien said plainly.

His eye whirred as he looked up from his food to meet your gaze. It made your chest ache to know he was used to it, and he just ignored it. If you had been in his shoes it would've torn your self esteem into shreds, the way they constantly pick out every perceivable flaw they can.

"No, they're being rude." You said, pointedly looking at Cassian and Rhys. They didn't seem particularly phased by your scolding, though they had the sense to not meet your burning stare.

"We were just trying to help." Cassian says in a lame excuse.

"No, you were being rude." You repeated, harder this time.

"Y/N," Lucien interrupted and it sounded more like a warning than him calling your name.

You turn back to him, surprised he was so against you defending him. Nobody had stood up for him in a long, long time, and it was time for someone to do it.

"He hasn't done anything to deserve this treatment." You saw the lame excuse rising up in Cassian and cut it off before he could start. "It's not just suggestions. You wouldn't talk to Rhys like that."

"Y/N." Lucien said, hard enough to make you jump. "I. Don't. Mind." He pronounces every word, handsome face drawn into something sharp.

"You don't deserve it." You said, aghast.

"Right, because he wasn't involved with the Spring Court at all." Rhys snarked, eyebrow raised.

"We've been through that already." You groan, frustrated. One of your hands slaps down on the table, the other gestures. "Feyre was involved in the Spring Court too. That doesn't make her a criminal, and it certainly wouldn't solicit this."

There's a beginning of a snarl in Rhys at the mention of Feyre, but he holds it back, settling for a brutal glare that would have you cowering under normal circumstances.

"Y/N. Alone, please." Lucien stands up, tossing his napkin on the table and walking into another room.

You sigh, following him into an empty sitting room. Under normal circumstances your heart would've been beating faster at the thought of being alone with him, but today it was pounding with anger at the injustice done toward him. He rounds the loveseat and stands in front of the unlit fireplace, the dimness of the unoccupied room adding to the feeling of privacy. Lucien stands still, a contrast to your frustrated pacing.

"Why are you doing this?" He asked and you paused, staring up into two incredible, yet different eyes.

"Why am I doing this? Why are you putting up with it?" You retaliate, confused.

"I told you, it's fine."

Something in your heart cracks a little, because you know this isn't Lucien. Where was the clever fox, too snarky for his own good? Where was the emissary who tolerated nothing from anybody? You had seen Lucien when his guard dropped, seen him when he was actually himself. You knew he could dish it out as hot as they served it, he could put every one of the inner circle members into their place and yet he stays silent. Says it's fine.

"It's not fine. Lucien, why are you doing this?" Your voice is soft, teetering on heartbroken. His head drops back, staring at the ceiling for a long minute.

"It's best for the courts to maintain good relations like these." It's a fake answer. You can tell his years of training helped him formulate a lie like that. "Besides, they're not entirely untrue, either. The things they say about me."

Your jaw drops. "Lucien, they say horrible things about you. None of those are true." Your eyes dart around his face, scanning, searching him. You're caught somewhere between being too nervous by his beauty to make eye contact, and being too enraptured to look away.

"They are. What they say about the scarring? I know what I look like, Y/N. You don't have to lie to me."

Your throat tightens and the forewarning of tears press behind your eyes. He's telling the truth. He truly believes that he looks as horrible as they tell him he does.

"They're lying." Your voice shakes terribly, betraying every emotion you were feeling. "How could you believe that about yourself?" You ask in disbelief.

Lucien looks confused at the honesty and emotion displayed on every facet of you. The way you were so upset had him moving closer, auburn brows drawn together. "Y/N–"

"Tell me the truth." You interrupt. "I know it isn't just because you believe they're right. Even if they were right, the Lucien I know would still stand up for himself. Tell me what's going on."

There's not room to argue or lie with the tone you took on, even if your voice was heavy with emotion. Lucien steps towards you, closing up the space so he's less than a foot away from touching you.

"The truth?" He said it like it was a warning. "The truth is that I put up with it so they'll let me visit the Night Court. I don't fight back because they would ban me if I made a fuss."

It's horrible and yet you know in the back of your mind that he's probably right. They only let him come around because he's complacent and doesn't question them.

"Why do you want to visit here so badly then? How is it worth it to tolerate this?"

His russet eye darts between your own, his mechanical one whirs trying to keep up with it. He's weighing something, feeling the air before he says whatever it is next.

"Because of you."

Your heart stopped. There weren't many meanings one could attach to that, aside from the obvious, but you still tried to rationalize some other way that he couldn't love you like you did to him.

"Because I need to be near you to continue living." He explained, taking the smallest step closer when you didn't harshly reject him immediately. "I know I don't look like them. I know this is miserable to look at, and you're so beautiful, you deserve an undamaged male."

"Lucien, shut up." Your breath fanned across his face in a whisper. "You're the most beautiful male I've ever set my eyes upon. I'm the one who is undeserving of you. Both in appearance, and in everything else."

Lucien steps closer, his gaze lost between your eyes and now glancing to your lips, wetting his own with his tongue.

"You're a terrible liar." He whispered so close that the air kissed your lips, even if he hadn't yet.

"It's a good thing I'm not lying." There's a hint of a smile pulling up the corners of your mouth.

A tanned hand comes up to brush your cheek, sliding to cup your jaw. He pulls you in just as he leans in to meet you himself. Plush lips capture yours in a careful, gentle embrace, sending spiders attacking every nerve ending in your body. His lips ghosted above yours, brushing and igniting every vein inside of you with molten fire. Lucien hovered just enough to tickle, then leaned in and pressed him to yours, making your eyes roll back in your head when his teeth sunk into your lower lip. He was playing with every sensation humanly possible, and you wouldn't be surprised to find out that the heat burning inside you was truly Autumn Court magic transferred through his touch. He was too much, and not enough. You clutched the front of his jacket, tugging him as close as you could.

You'd wanted this for so long, and so long had you thought it was nothing more than a dream. The feel of his heat, his body against yours was the fantasy that lulled you to sleep each night. Everything you dreamed he would be, everything you wished you could have was in the palm of your hands and the tip of your tongue.

He pulled back first, decades of self control outweighing your recklessness. His forehead leaned against yours, a curtain of red hair falling along side your face, his breath panting across your sensitive lips

"How long–"

"A long time." You panted, answering.

His hand shifted from your jaw to sweep your hair behind your ear, the tenderness and affection in his eye nearly made you weak.

"Lucien," You start, the question had been weighing on you, honestly since you met him. You never anticipated that you'd be close enough to him to ask. "Is it terrible that I think the scar makes you hotter?"

He breathes out a genuine laugh, pulling back to look at you. "Cauldron, boil me."

#acotar #a court of mist and fury #a court of frost and starlight #a court of thorns and roses fanfic #fanfiction #acotar one shot #acotar x reader #acotar fanfic #a court of wings and ruin #lucien x reader #lucien vanserra #lucien vanserra fanfic #acotar oneshot #lucien vanserra deserves better #he's also super hot

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readiajin · 3 years

Text

To Love Herself - Chapter 3: Hello

Synopsis: Following ACOSF until Nesta’s confrontation with Amren. Rather than going to hike and soul search with Cassian in the wild, Nesta uses her powers to disappear.

Masterlist

Chapter 3: Hello

Nesta - After Disappear

“Who the hell are you?”

Nesta jumped to her feet and whirled around.

A woman stood a couple yards away. No, not a woman, a High Fae. The female had dark skin and her tightly braided hair was pulled back, revealing her pointed ears. Despite her ears marking her as High Fae, Nesta couldn’t help comparing her to the Illyarians. She wore fighting leathers somewhat similar to theirs, and they were form fitting around the muscles of her torso and arms. A bow and quiver were slung over her back, with a sword sheathed at her side.

Nesta froze as she silently cursed herself for not having any weapons of her own. She had no idea how she had used her magic before and had very little faith in it if the female decided to attack. She however, had her arms crossed and one eyebrow raised at Nesta as she slowly looked her over.

“Do you speak? I asked who you are and what you are doing here.”

The arrogance in the female’s voice made Nesta grind her teeth but also stand straight and lift her chin.

“You didn’t actually.”

“Excuse me?”

“You didn’t ask what I was doing here before. You only asked who I was.”

The female tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at Nesta. “You know I don’t think you are in a position to have so much attitude.”

Despite Nesta’s rapidly beating heart, she forced her face to be impassive as she gave a dry smile. “Funny, I was about to tell you the same thing.”

Nesta wasn’t sure how she expected the female to react, but to burst out laughing wasn’t it. Her laugh was high pitched and infectiously jovial. At least it would have been if it wasn’t at Nesta’s expense. Nesta felt heat rush to her face but retained her still exterior as the female leaned over her knees while attempting to catch her breath.

When she finally calmed down enough to wipe tears from her eyes she took in Nesta again, her face softer than before.

“I don’t know what I was expecting, but you’ve surprised me.”

Nesta had no idea what that meant, but she bit back, “You haven’t surprised me.”

The female snorted. “Nevertheless, if you want to live you should probably come with me.”

Taken aback, it took Nesta a moment to respond, “I don’t need your help nor will I go anywhere with you. Turn around and go back to wherever you came from.”

The female rolled her eyes. “Mother, you are a piece of work, aren’t you? We both know that you didn’t intend to come here or even know where here is. If you want food and shelter and help you will come with me, Nesta.”

Nesta stepped back at her name, trying to call to magic for help but it was silent. “How do you know my name?”

The female’s lips curved it into a tight smile, but she simply shrugged and turned away. “Welcome to the Forest of the Lost,” she said over her shoulder before heading to disappear between the trees.

Part of Nesta told her to let the female go, but another part screamed at her to get answers.

“Wait!” The female stopped. “Tell me your name if you want me to follow.”

The female turned back slowly, a mischievous look in her eyes.

“I’m Thalia. Now keep up.”

•••••

Cassian - After Appear

The Obsidian Isles were named so for the smooth rocks that made up the beaches instead of sand. Flying towards them from above, they looked like dark slashes dividing the rough sea and dense evergreen forests of the Isles.

Cassian glanced at Feyre flying to his right, trying to be calm as he flew towards his heaven and his hell. It had been decided that only Cassian, Feyre, Rhys, and Azriel would go to meet Nesta. Elain had made her feelings clear, and no one explicitly had said it, but it was understood that it is probably better to keep Mor and Amren far away from Nesta.

They had sent Azriel to scout ahead as usual, but the Northern Island and the rest of the Isles were all free of Fae. Azriel could find no evidence that anyone had even visited recently, or where exactly they were expected to meet Nesta.

So now they flew towards the dark beaches, all four of them on high alert.

They landed in the center and examined the tree line. “Anything?” Rhys asked Azriel.

Az shook his head. “Place seems as abandoned and cursed as usual.”

Besides from their location in the cold and gray north, the soil of the Isles were fertile, and the surrounding waters prime fishing. Despite that, no Fae settlement had ever lasted. Stories of tragedies befalling any settlement were plentiful, from lighting burning down a half built cabin to an entire colony disappearing. This fact had been pointed out repeatedly by Mor as she argued with him and Feyre to not be stupid by coming here.

Cassian wasn’t worried, as there had never been any tragedy for someone visiting the islands. Even if there was a curse, Cassian would settle down to stay here if Nesta asked him too.

Stupid. Cassian’s logical voice chided him. He couldn’t let his emotions influence him right now. He was still angry with his family for their mistrust of Nesta, but he also needed to think as the General he was. Nesta had managed to get into Velaris without anyone knowing, at least twice. How many times had she gone there besides the two times they knew about? Cassian didn’t want to consider she had been so close without him knowing while he worried about her, but he knew now not to make assumptions.

“Should we go into the trees and look for her?” Feyre asked as the beach remained empty.

“No,” Rhys replied. “We shouldn’t risk an ambush hidden among the trees.”

Feyre shot her Mate a dark look. “Nesta is not going to ambush us.”

Rhys and Feyre fell silent, speaking mind to mind. Knowing better than to get involved, Cassian turned to the trees again.

Cold winds swept off the sea, making Cassian shiver. As he looked at the trees, his gaze snagged on a boulder about 60 yards away, just slightly beyond the tree line. There was nothing special about it, besides it’s massive size probably being a foot higher than Cassian’s height, and just as wide. But as he stared at it, Cassian suddenly felt a tug in his gut.

“There.” He said, before moving toward it without waiting for a response.

Cassian walked around it, examining the smooth surface for any signs. He met Azriel at the back, as he had gone around the other side.

“Do you see something in this bolder we don’t, Cass?” Feyre asked as she and Rhy joined them.

“I…” Cassian frowned. “No, I thought something was telling me this was it.”

“This was what?” Rhys asked.

“A giant boulder of obsidian, of course.”

The voice that spoke those words did not belong to any of them.

In an instant Rhys had thrown Feyre behind him, his dark power surrounding them. Cassian and Azriel both drew their swords and siphoned up shields around them, jumping back.

However, they all froze upon seeing the figure now perched atop the rock.

Emerie sat there cross legged, an amused look on her face as she looked down on them.

“It really is just a rock,” Emerie said as she hopped down to stand in front of them.

Emerie turned to Rhys and Feyre to bow. “Good to see you again my Lord and Lady.” She straightened to look at Cassian and Azriel, smiling. “You two as well.”

Cassian thought back to the last time he had seen Emerie. After Nesta had disappeared, Cassian had stopped training the priestesses and Emerie. Had stopped doing a lot of things. His last conversation with Emerie had been a couple days after Nesta had gone, when it had become clear to him that neither Emerie or Gwyn had any idea how or where Nesta went.

Azriel had tried to continue to train them all for a while, but between looking for Nesta, Feyre’s pregnancy, the threat of the human queens, Koschei, and the talks with Vallahan, Cassian later learned training had been put on hold. That was another thing for Cassian to feel guilty about after they were also gone.

“Emerie,” Rhys said, looking her up and down. She wore leathers like the ones Feyre had described Nesta wearing, her wavy hair braided with feathers down her back. And the missing sword was hanging from her belt. “What are you doing here?”

She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could Cassian felt the world shift. Every molecule of his being was suddenly pulled to the right as time seemed to slow down and he turned.

“She is helping me show you all what I told Feyre was the truth.”

Nesta said this from 10 feet away, standing between two trees where she had certainly not been a moment before. She looked as Feyre had described. Wearing well worn fighting leathers, molded to show off the sleek muscles of her arms, stomach, and thighs. Her golden streaked hair shone in the sunlight, with a silver feather braided into it. Her smooth skin now had a warm tan, making her glow. Cassian had never been able to take his eyes off her, but now there was no denying how devastatingly beautiful she was.

She stood straight, her arms crossed with the Great Sword at her belt. Her stormy grey eyes were bright like a thunderstorm as dusk as she surveyed them all. Except for Cassian. She seemed to be dutifully ignoring his stare.

“The reason I asked you all here is because this is the meeting point of those within the Night Court who are working with the Rising to steal the Night Court's power.”

“Hello Nesta,” Rhys said, his voice cold. “It’s been a while.”

Nesta took in Rhys with an equal level of disdain as he gave her. After a moment she simply said “Yes,” before turning to Azriel and continuing.

“The fact that your shadows have not picked up this group's activities tells me that they are probably already well established in Prythian.”

“Nesta,” Feyre said, stepping forward. “If you want us to believe you, why not start with how you left eight years ago and what you have been doing since them.”

Nesta sighed. “I ended up on the continent and met some people who�� helped me. They also were interested in helping the priestess. Something I understand you lost interest in once I was gone.” Nesta still didn’t look at Cassian but he felt as if she punched him in the gut. “The group consists primarily of lesser Fae who want to upset the hierarchy of power between them and High Fae. Actually they really just want to flip it, and subject the High Fae to the same treatment they revived. They call themselves The Rising,” Nesta rolled her eyes. “So to answer your inevitable question as to how we know this, the former priestesses have been tracking this group's movement on the continent. We intercepted one of their correspondences to a contact here.”

“How do you know they have a source within the Illyrians?” Azreil asked, the only one of them not completely taken aback by Nesta’s explanation.

Nesta nodded to Emerie, who removed a parchment from her pocket. “This is the last message we intercepted,” She explained as she handed it over to Azreil.

Az brow furrowed slightly as he read the paper before handing it to Rhys.

“What is it?” Cassian asked as Rhys got the same look.

“The top part is Illyrian but the bottom part is in a language I don’t recognize,” Rhys explained as Cassian took a look for himself.

The part in Illyrian read: PEAK SUNRISE DROUGHT CEILING

“What is that supposed to mean?” Feyre asked after they translated the Illyrian for her.

“We aren’t sure either,” Nesta said. “We think it refers to another meeting place. And we were hoping one of you knew what the other language was.”

“Amren might know,” Azreil said.

Nesta stiffened at the female's name. “That would be helpful,” She said.

Cassian blinked in surprise. Nesta wasn’t one to appreciate someone else helping, especially Amren.

“And how exactly does the Rising think they can steal Prythian’s High Lords’ powers?” Rhys asked.

“Like I told Feyre before, by finding the physical manifestation of it in Prythian.” Nesta leveled Rhys a glare. “If you know, you might want to check it, and the Illyarians. And look out for Riding members infiltrating the courts.”

Rhys examined Neata with the High Lord stare that regularly brought Fae to their knees. “And what will you be doing, Nesta?”

Nesta held her chin high, weathering the power rolling of Rhys. “My friends and I will be handling them on the Continent.”

Cassian couldn’t take it anymore. “Oh, that’s all?” He growled.

Nesta finally looked to Cassian, her face impassive. That look made his blood boil, in conjunction with how it felt like she was ripping out his heart.

“We have been trying to stop this group from spreading on the Continent for years now. I have no interest in seeing Prythian become subject to their misguided revolution.”

“You sure you and your friends can handle it?” Cassian spit out. “Sounds like you have been failing for years.”

Out of the corner of his eye Cassian sensed Emerie step back. Silver flames danced in Nesta’s eyes.

“We’ve done a lot in the past eight years.” She said in a deadly quiet. “I’ve done a lot of things. I’m doing this to save the lives of innocents. I’m not interested in another war or anything else.”

Cassian fell silent.

In all the times he had imagined seeing her again, it wasn’t like this. He knew she was the queen of pushing people away, but even at her worst he knew what to expect from her. He could take her yelling and cursing at him. He hadn’t really believed Feyre before about Nesta looking good. Hadn’t truly believed she could be happy without him when not a day had gone by where he hadn’t missed her. But Cassian didn’t know how to handle her standing tall, strong, confident, and beautiful, telling him what to do. All without him.

Probably sensing Cassian’s coming breakdown, Feyre stepped forward.

“I’m sorry Nesta, I’m still very confused. How did you get into Velaris, and who are your friends besides the priestesses?”

“You are the one who wanted me to master my powers Feyre. I did.”

Feyre blinked. “Okay but who—“

Feyre was cut off by an ash arrow flying out of the trees to lodge in the middle of her chest.

•••••

Tag list

Thanks for being here :)

@bluassassin @my-fan-side @nehemikkele @vidalinav @dread3r @vasudharaghavan @laylaameer01 @little-shipper55 @aelinchocolatelover @mis-lil-red @missing-merlin @frosted-crackers @swankii-art-teacher @nessiantrashh @camnesta @purpleglitterypinecone @sayosdreams @notjustaverb @madie-max @haepaw @nyelareyelle @audreycressworth @ghostlyrose2

(Bold doesn’t work)

#nesta archeron #acosf #acotar #cassian #nesta x cassian #emerie #readiajin

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thewayshedreamed · 4 years

Text

Secrets Don’t Make Friends— Feysand AU

Prompt submission by Nonnie— Reverse fake dating au where everyone thinks you’re dating and you’re keeping it a secret, but you’re not.

Thank you to whoever sent this one in! I had an idea for Nessian, so I may post that one as well if y’all are interested!

——————————————————————————

It was another beautiful day in Velaris, and Feyre couldn't seem to focus on her newest project assignment for anything. She found herself gazing out of the floor-to-ceiling window, watching the Sidra's soothing flow and mentally mixing her various paints to capture the unique color.

Unfortunately, her firm's newest client didn't care much for river paintings since they were paying for a full digital marketing overhaul. Truth be told, she didn’t hate her job as a creative director for the largest marketing firm in Velaris. It allowed her a steady income, let her flex her creativity to some capacity, and definitely kept her on her toes. She had started as a design team member with the firm several years ago upon graduating from Prythian U, and after several largely successful projects, she started to gain more responsibilities within the team. Once her team’s creative director, Amarantha, had moved on to another firm, Feyre had been promoted to her position.

She turned back to her computer screen, willing the motivation to hit her. Any moment now.

This was a typical pattern for her. Initiating a new project was always the hardest part, but once she got started, she tumbled down the proverbial rabbit hole. She just had to... start.

“Ughh,” Feyre lamented. “I wish I was halfway through this proposal already. I’m way better at that point in the project.”

”You are pretty worthless right now,” Lucien joked. Feyre offered a vulgar gesture in return, earning a hearty laugh from her friend.

Lucien left the marketing side of the firm about a year ago, itching for a different opportunity that would allow him to express himself more freely. He felt stifled by the business side of things; the numbers, the politics, the marketing director he worked under. Tamlin hadn’t been the absolute worst to him, but his leadership style didn’t align well with Lucien for the long-term. He had ended up as a member of Feyre’s team and seemed to fill a void they weren’t aware they had.

“I can’t be that mad at you, to be honest. You’re not wrong,” she replied. “Maybe I need caffeine to get out of the post-lunch slump.”

”Someone say caffeine?”

Rhysand Vila approached, perching on the corner of Feyre’s desk. He was wearing dark khaki slacks with a black button down, rolled up to the elbows. At some point, he had ditched his tie in favor of an open neckline, likely free of meetings for the rest of the day. His casual appearance didn’t readily identify him as one of the firm’s most successful marketing directors, but his authenticity was one of the things that extended his influence the most.

Rhysand’s marketing team often collaborated with Feyre’s creative one, and they managed to create some of the most well-balanced projects within the firm. They worked so flawlessly together that they were starting to become almost exclusively paired, much to the chagrin of some of the other teams. Not only were their proposals solid, their presentations were engaging and convincing. Their perspectives on the projects, combined with their mutual respect of the other’s contributions, presented a solid, united front that built trust with their clients.

Through long work hours and multiple business trips across Prythian, Rhysand had become one of Feyre’s dear friends. When they’d originally started working together, his cockiness had grated her nerves to the nth degree, but she realized over time that it was mostly in jest. In truth, Rhysand was kind-hearted, cared deeply for the people in his life, and an incredibly supportive partner on client projects.

They’d fallen into a comfortable kind of friendship, and they’d only gotten closer with time. He’d confided in her about the toxic relationship he and Amarantha had foolishly found themselves in, and he’d listened to her never-ending rants about her brief coupling with Tamlin, nothing but understanding all over his face.

“I think a coffee run is a necessity,” Feyre said, playfulness dancing across her features.

“I left my wallet in my desk. I’ll go grab it. Meet you at the elevator?” Rhysand asked as he walked backward toward his office.

“Sounds good!” she replied. She turned to Lucien. “You coming?”

He had an odd look on his face, smirk included. She gave him a questioning look, and he let out a low chuckle. “Nah. But if I give you my card, will you grab something for me?”

”Why wouldn’t you just come? I’m not your coffee bitch, Vanserra.” That earned a full laugh.

”And I would never assume you to be. If I’m going to take a break, I don’t feel like being third wheel, is all.” The confused look returned to her face, and he continued. “Feyre, stop. It’s not my company either of you want on this little coffee date. You and Rhysand can go about your charade with anyone else, but you’re not getting that shit by me. It’s fine— you two are great together. I just can’t figure out why you insist on the secret.”

Feyre’s expression morphed into a stunned one, and it took her a few seconds to decide on a response. She and Rhysand had never crossed any lines beyond platonic, so all of this was news to her.

”Luce, I’m not sure who your source was for that little nugget of info, but don’t trust them with anything incredibly important in the future. They’re way off,” she assured him. “Text me your coffee order.”

She made her way to the elevator, finding Rhysand propped against the wall on his shoulder. He was scrolling through his phone, stray black hair falling across his brow, looking as if he couldn’t be bothered by the work day. Once the elevator made it to their floor, they stepped inside and found themselves sharing with Morrigan Reina. She was head of Human Resources, absolutely stunning, and Rhysand’s cousin. She had to admit, their genetic pool was quite impressive, all things considered. She was his opposite in every way with her brown eyes and blonde hair, but they shared immaculate bone structure and a certain elegance. Objectively speaking.

“Well, hi! This elevator ride just got way more fun. How’s is going, Rhysie? Fey?” Her dark eyes sparkled, dancing over Rhysand’s face. She raised her eyebrows at him slightly, silently communicating with him in that way only family can.

”Oh, come off it, Mor. We’re on a coffee run. Care to join?” Something in his tone seemed oddly like a challenge. She realized she hadn’t yet answered Morrigan but felt like a response of “Doing well” would seem out of context, since Rhys had already transitioned away from greetings. She deciding on standing there awkwardly, pretending not to feel incredibly intimidated by this woman in the elevator.

“So sweet of you, but I’ll have to take a rain check. This is my floor actually. Unfortunately, I have a termination meeting to attend. Have some for me!” She brushed her cheek against his in a mock kiss. “Good seeing you, Feyre!” She disappeared so quickly that Feyre started to doubt if she was ever there in the first place.

“Awfully prickly with your dear cousin this afternoon, Rhysie,” she teased.

”Well, dearest Mor can be quite the busy body and likes to think she knows all of my secrets.” He gave a small eye roll, but the smirk on his face gave his affection away.

“You have my attention. I think it’s only fair that I’m let in on this little secret.”

She swore the tops of his bronze ears turned slightly pink. “I assure you I’m not that interesting, Feyre Darling.”

As if on cue, the elevator chimed, and they were walking into their building’s lobby. The coffee shop was right next door, so they made their way there quickly. Within 10 minutes, they had their coffees in hand and were sharing an elevator with a small crowd on their way back to work. Feyre regretted that she wasn’t able to press Rhys for his secrets anymore but supposed it was for the best.

He took the long way to his office in order to drop her off at her desk. She set Lucien’s coffee down on his desk with just enough force to startle him out of his work, earning a laugh from Rhys. Lucien simply glared at her before mumbling his thanks and taking a long pull of coffee.

“Well, Feyre Darling, this is where I leave you.”

Lucien eyed her over his coffee lid, lowering it slowly as he paid full attention to their exchange.

Feyre chuckled, ignoring Lucien altogether. “Thanks for returning me safely. I fully intend on pulling at least one secret from you on the next trip, though. You’ve been warned.”

His violet eyes bore into hers, amusement all over his face. “Do your worst,” he replied, winking at her as he sipped his coffee and walked away.

——————————————————————————

Coffee seemed to be just the inspiration Feyre needed to hit her creative stride for the afternoon. She finally managed to land on a prospective theme for the new account, and she was busy making some rough sketches on her drawing tablet. A booming voice called out to her from down the hall, and she recognized it immediately as Tamlin. Of course he would recruit her attention once she was finally feeling productive.

“Feyre, could you come down as soon as you’re free? I’d like you to do a consult with Ianthe.”

She forced herself to refrain from rolling her eyes, trying her best to be diplomatic.

“Sure, Tamlin. Be there in a bit.”

He hesitated at his office door, poorly masking his impatience when she didn’t immediately jump out of her chair. Typical.

She was already annoyed at his loud declaration across the office that he was asking her to give feedback on another creative director’s work. She didn’t feel particularly protective over Ianthe. It was just poor form, and it set the tone for resentment with no true reason.

Finally, she stood and made her way to his office. He was in his office chair, Ianthe pointing to various items of interest on a flat screen mounted to the wall. She greeted Feyre politely, but it didn’t seem like she was all to keen on getting her feedback.

“What can I help with?” Feyre offered.

“I wanted to see what you thought about the account we’re working on. Considering that you’ve been monopolized by Vila for months, I thought I could at least get a brief consult,” he explained.

Feyre decided to mentally count how many underhanded comments she’d endure over the course of this meeting.

One.

”Sure. What’s up?”

Ianthe launched into the cliff notes of her project, Tamlin contributing nothing the entire time.

“I’m sure you’re probably swamped with whatever you’re working on Feyre, so I appreciate you taking time to look at what I’ve put together.” Ianthe seemed genuine enough. She wasn’t sure if she trusted her, but she felt bad for her all the same.

Before she could respond, Tamlin inserted himself. “Oh, she’s definitely seems busy. Just not sure how much of it is work-related.” Her head snapped toward him, eyes blazing. She steadied herself and turned her attention back to Ianthe to try and keep this meeting on track.

Two.

”Honestly, Ianthe, I think you have a great proposal overall. My only suggestion is that you consider a different color focus. Your primary color for the logo is red, and that happens to be the main color of their largest competitor’s logo as well,” she stated, ignoring Tamlin entirely.

He started to say something about her input, but she quickly interrupted him.

“How unfortunate that the person responsible for doing the relevant market research into any competitors didn’t think that to be relevant intel to bring to the project,” she finished, eyes gravitating back to Tamlin’s face.

”Good catch,” Ianthe said simply.

“It’s happened to me before, too. Don’t create too much additional work for yourself. Maybe see about pulling one of your coordinating colors forward instead, and see how that plays out. No need to reinvent the wheel.”

”I’m not sure how you’ve managed to convince Vila to do all that extra legwork on your behalf, but it sounds like you’re awfully convincing,” Tamlin seethed. He couldn’t help himself, it seemed.

Three.

It was quiet for several uncomfortable seconds. As if on cue, her savior himself appeared in Tamlin’s doorway, a friendly smile on his face just for her. He knocked with his knuckle as he glanced around the room.

“Sorry for interrupting. Feyre, could you stop by my office before you head out today? Nothing big. Our last account sent an email asking for some minor changes, and I wanted to get your input before I tell them anything,” he said.

“Of course, Rhys. I’ll be there in a second,” she replied. He gave her one of his dazzling smiles, that rogue strand of hair kissing his brow yet again. When he walked away, she immediately felt compelled to follow him, as if he took the light straight out of the room when he left.

“You may go, Ianthe,” Tamlin stated dryly. She quickly excused herself, repeating her thanks to Feyre on the way out.

“You realize you two are partners— she doesn’t work for you.”

“Our dynamic is hardly your business, Feyre.” He wasn’t exactly wrong, but she hated the way he spoke to people who worked with him. It had always bothered her.

“Says the guy who all but insinuated that I’m putting out to get Rhys to be a good partner on projects. You’re unbelievable.”

“All of the speculation that circulates around this office regarding you and Rhysand, and you’re caught on what I’ve said? Feyre, sweetie. I thought we were past this.”

”It seems as though the lot of you aren’t busy enough if you have all this time to discuss whether Rhys and I have some secret affair happening under your noses. Maybe if you put half that effort into your job duties, you’d be an almost decent partner to Ianthe,” she snapped.

“You shouldn’t concern yourself with me and Ianthe. We’ll work together in whatever way works for us. Plus, you basically belong to Rhys now, so you won’t have to worry over having to work with the likes of me.” The way he mockingly said Rhys’ name made her want to punch him in the throat.

She turned on her heel to leave, so angry that she didn’t trust herself to respond professionally. Once she got to the doorway, she found the words rolling off her tongue without a conscious thought.

“I ‘belong’ to no one. Your problem is that you see people as assets rather than building relationships. You should consider incorporating a little humanity into your leadership. You may find yourself a little less miserable to work for or be around. From now on, Ianthe can address me directly if she needs me. You, sir, can fuck off.”

——————————————————————————

Feyre made her way directly to Rhysand’s office, still fuming. She probably needed a quick break on the roof to clear her head, but it was already 4:30. She didn’t want to make Rhys stay late so that she could pout properly. Although, he’d probably do that for her if she asked.

She approached his door, knocking lightly when she saw he was on the phone. He waved her in as he finished his call. He let out a polite chuckle at whomever was on the line, and she wondered how even his contrived laughter sounded almost musical.

“Absolutely. I’ll see you for lunch tomorrow. Bye.” He placed the receiver of his office phone into the cradle and faced her fully.

“Hey there, Feyre Darling. Thanks for saving some time for me today. I hope I didn’t overstep, but I wasn’t sure when if I’d be able to catch you later.” He leaned back in his chair, propped his elbow on the arm rest, and cupped his large hand to run it over his face. So he was tired, too.

Feyre let out a low chuckle. “You’re my hero, basically. Your timing was absolutely perfect. Never hesitate to interrupt if Tamlin is the person I’m talking to.”

His bright, violet eyes seemed to linger on her face. “I wouldn’t mind hearing you laugh again,” he mused. “It’s become one of my favorite sounds, I think.”

She couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face, and she found one mirrored on his own. She cleared her throat, unsure how to tame the butterflies she was experiencing at his words.

“Shall we?” She motioned to his computer, and he nodded. She pulled her chair to his desk so that she could see, but he forced her to switch with him, insisting she take control of moving through the project.

She wasn’t sure if she was reading way too much into the weird comments she had heard today about her and Rhys, but she was acutely aware of his thigh so close to hers. It was far enough that they weren’t flush, but she could feel the heat radiating off of him in the most distracting way.

He already had the project pulled up on the screen and asked her to move through the document to the place of the proposed changes. He reached across her slightly to point at something, and she was instantly immersed in his scent. She found it oddly comforting, if she was honest with herself.

“So what do you think? Is it a simple fix? Or would this be something beyond the originally contracted rate? If it’s going to take you some time, I think it’s appropriate that we negotiate an additional fee, especially considering we’ve just initiated another large account.”

”Mmm. It’s been a while. Mind if I play with it for a minute?” she asked.

”Yeah, for sure. Take your time,” he said, leaning back in his chair as she worked.

Several minutes passed in excruciating silence, causing Feyre to break out in nervous laughter.

“You can talk to me, you know. It’s eerily quiet in here,” she joked.

He huffed a laugh. ”Hmm, okay. Anything particularly interesting around the office today?”

She thought immediately of her conversations with Lucien and Tamlin, and she couldn’t help but include their interaction with Mor in the elevator on the list. It really was such a weird day.

She worked for a couple of seconds before she replied. “It was quite the day, to say the least. I learned a lot about myself via the grapevine.”

”You mean to tell me there’s gossip in this office?”

”This very one,” she replied through a laugh.

“This is the part where you tell me what’s been said about you, Darling.”

She big her bottom lip, nervous of how he would react. “Well, it’s not exclusive to me. It has to do with you, too.” Her eyes never left the computer screen as she spoke.

“I like how that looks,” he said in regard to her edits, jumping straight back into their original conversation. “Now you have to tell me, especially if I’m involved.”

He offered a small poke to her ribs, laughing at her jerking away from him and the glare it earned. “Spill, Archeron.”

Before she could chicken out, she described her interaction with Lucien prior to their coffee run. He went entirely still as she spoke, eyes trained on the screen. When she finished, he said, “I see. I bet Lucien thinks he’s quite clever, then... Oh wait, I like that better.” He pointed to a small change she made.

He seemed so indifferent, and despite her attempts to the contrary, it bothered her that he was acting so cavalier. She had to check herself, remembering how ridiculous she had found the comments only a handful of hours ago. It was certainly unfair to have expectations of him being that she had barely finished processing this afternoon’s events.

“Yeah, I guess he’s pretty proud of himself. I don’t know how much he believed me when I told him he was off-base, but time will tell, I guess.” She immediately launched into her interaction with Tamlin, outlining the full interaction for him.

His jaw was tense throughout the story, and she could see his shoulders tighten when she would share a particularly tasteless thing Tamlin said. They tended to stay out of each others’ ways, so sometimes it was easy to forget how much animosity existed between the two of them. She finished the entire story, and decided to wrap up everything in a brief summary.

”So yeah, according to Lucien and Tamlin, you and I are hiding a super secret little office affair. But apparently we’re really bad at it, because everyone knows.” She let out a long breath she wasn’t aware she had been holding. His response was swift.

“Well, that’s fucking ridiculous.” He stated, so matter of fact. “Go back to that one really quick— if you don’t mind.” His eyes never left the screen. All business, all of a sudden.

Okay. Now, his indifference stung. She thought she knew Rhysand well enough that he would cushion the blow better than this if he were totally shooting her down. She didn’t like how detached he was, and come to think of it, it’s not like she had offered herself to him anyway. For all he knew, she could find the idea of them dating totally repulsive.

“You could do a lot worse for yourself, you know,” she said, anger bubbling to the service. She saw his head snap toward her, but she refused to look at him.

”What?”

”I know you could walk out of this office and take your pick, but you could do worse for yourself than me. It can’t be that ‘fucking ridiculous’.” She clenched her jaw to force herself to stop talking and breathe.

He sat there looking at her, his attention to the project entirely derailed.

“Feyre...” he started.

”It’s late. I’ll finish looking at this tomorrow. Could you save the changes and upload to the cloud? I think I can make quick work of it.”

”Would you look at me, please?”

She let go of the computer mouse and covered her face with both hands. She rubbed her face roughly as she spoke.

“I’m just tired, Rhysand. I didn’t mean to snap at you. Just forget I said anything. Really, I’m okay.” She didn’t want to see the pity in his face or listen to any explanations. She just needed to get out of there.

She felt one of his hands grip softly around the wrist closest to him as he turned the chair to get her to face him. She kept her face covered, leaning forward, and he had the nerve to laugh softly at her.

“You are such a stubborn, difficult woman sometimes, Feyre Darling.” He gripped her other wrist with his free hand and pulled her hands away from her face. She was too tired to fight him on it, so she let him. She fixed her gaze on his thighs, not entirely prepared for what his expression would show.

“Please look at me,” he whispered. She melted at the tone of his voice, imploring her to make eye contact, and raised her eyes to meet his.

He rubbed slow circles on the sensitive underside of her wrists as he spoke. “In no way, is the idea of me being with you ridiculous. What is so ridiculous to me, Darling, is the idea that I could ever be with you and delude myself into thinking I could keep it a secret,” he murmured, the sincerity in his expression overwhelming her. She saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, readying himself to finish. “Cauldron, Feyre. If you ever let me love you... I wouldn’t have it in me to contain it.”

She was frozen in her chair, in total disbelief. Once she finally regained control of herself, she reached her hand up to smooth his hair back into place. His eyes fluttered shut at the contact.

“That piece of hair has been driving me insane all day long,” she whispered. She was closer now, so much closer to him than she had ever been. She dropped her hand back to her lap to find his again.

His eyes popped open, traveling across her face and landing on her full lips. She watched his tongue dart out of his mouth slightly to wet his own before she regained eye contact. She leaned forward a little more, his hand coming up to brush her hair behind her ear. He cupped her face, running his thumb across her cheek.

“Feyre?” It was barely a whisper, but it was everything.

She subtly nodded her head, and his lips were on hers. He was slow, near reverent as he kissed her, and she leaned in to him, craving more contact. He slid his hand a little farther back so that his fingers could find their home in her hair, just behind her ear. She braced her hand on his forearm, and he pulled her face into his, only slightly, to deepen the kiss.

She let out a quiet whimper as Rhys angled himself to better capture her mouth, and just like that, she was gone. She no longer registered that they were in Rhys’ office or that his door was still open from when she arrived. As far as she was concerned, the world began and ended with them.

They both missed the quick footsteps as Lucien passed by on his way back to his desk from a meeting. They were entirely unaware of his halt as he realized what he’d witnessed and his prompt back peddling. It was when they heard his quiet rasp that they startled, breaking apart only millimeters.

”I fucking knew it!” he whisper-screamed, obviously pleased with himself.

True to Rhysand’s nature, he seemed totally unfazed by Lucien’s discovering them. He brushed his nose over Feyre’s, a grin spreading across his beautiful face.

”Fuck off, Lucien,” he crooned playfully.

His mouth was on hers yet again, neither of them noticing the soft click of the door as Lucien backed out of the office.

——————————————————————————

Just a bit of Feysand fluff for y’all! Feel free to keep the prompts coming, and let me know if you have a particular pairing or mood in mind ☺️

If you’d like to be added to my tag list, you can comment, shoot me an ask, or reblog! I’ll be happy to add you!

Tags (Masterlist):

@polireader // @justgiu12 // @hizqueen4life // @sis-it-dont-add-up // @b00kworm // @bookstantrash // @gisellefigue08 // @maastrash

#feysand #feysand au #feysand fluff #acotar #acowar #acomaf #sjm #feysand fanfic

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acowat · 4 years

Text

Shadow Love

Disclaimer: All characters are owned by Sarah J. Maas.

Kinda NSFW.

The club was busy, packed with Fae looking to blow off steam after work, if Elain had to wager a guess, which she was fairly good at. She had to be touching at least five other bodies, their sweat mingling as everyone danced together.

Normally, Elain didn’t enjoy this kind of dancing, more gyrating than actual movement across the floor, but it was Mor’s birthday, and she’d insisted everyone dance with her for at least an hour each.

She had Cassian and Nesta dancing on her right, Feyre and Rhys pressed together on her left, Mor and a female she’d met on the dance floor in front, and behind her…

Elain was glad she’d worn a gown more fitting of the Night Court than mortal court, with its light, almost sheer fabric and exposed shoulders. It was already quite hot, and with Azriel pressed against her back, she was certain the night would only get hotter.

The glint of the gemstone caught her eye once more, for only the thousandth time that day. She found herself constantly distracted by the ring Azriel had put on her finger only two weeks prior, the gleam on the gem matching the gleam in his eye every time he caught her staring.

Married. She and Azriel were going to be married.

Her soon-to-be husband pulled her tighter against him, as though he could hear her thoughts and was equally excited. She writhed in his muscular arms, for the first time eager to be dancing this way. After another song, though, her thirst became too much, and she extracted herself from his arms, heading back toward their reserved booth.

The pitcher of something Cassian had ordered an hour ago still sat, sweating in the heat. It was watered down now but was ice cold and felt amazing on her desert throat. She sat for a minute on the edge of the booth and stared at her court, her family. Like Nesta, she initially hadn’t been sure about her place in this group, already so well acquainted with each other. But now, looking at them all dancing, she’d never felt more at home.

Azriel locked eyes with her across the dance floor and abandoned the group, picking his way through the crowd toward her. Her vision swam a bit, the alcohol starting to affect her, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him, her fiancé.

“You look hot.” Elain couldn’t have stopped the words even if she knew they were coming.

Azriel just quirked an eyebrow, his lips glancing upward at her.

“I don’t--I didn’t mean--I just meant you must be thirsty. Since you’re sweating.”

Perfect, Elain. Just wonderful. You must be thirsty. A powerful seer speaking to the most powerful shadowsinger in the world says, You must be thirsty.

Azriel tilted his head back and laughed openly, a rare sight but much more common in the two weeks since she said yes. She couldn’t help her responding laugh, as he squeezed into the booth next to her. As he reached for the pitcher and poured himself a glass, he placed his hand on her thigh, his skin burning into hers through the very thin fabric of her dress.

“You look hot,” Azriel murmured into her ear, sending chills down her partially exposed spine. “And I’m not talking about the temperature.”

He ran his hand up and down her thigh, and Elain felt the heat between them rising. Normally, she’d be embarrassed to be this aroused in public, but the alcohol was doing something to her. She leaned her body into his, settling her head in the crook of his neck. Her legs and his eyes widened simultaneously, as Azriel seemed to grasp that Elain wasn’t just teasing him, not this time.

They’d had sex previously, after several months of courting, but never like this. Elain shied away from sex--having it, teasing it, talking about it--anywhere but their apartment, and Azriel had always respected her boundaries. Cassian didn’t, trying to coax Elain into discussing their sex life loudly everywhere they went, but Azriel never pushed her into more than she was comfortable with.

But even he couldn’t contain his eagerness as his hand drifted upward, sliding onto her bare skin through the high slit in her skirt. She felt his hand graze her inner thigh, gliding higher and higher until--

“Hands up, Az. I’m not getting in the middle of that.”

Rhys slid into the booth on Azriel’s left just as the shadowsinger’s hand snaked down her leg, coming to rest on her knee. Feyre and Mor stumbled in on Elain’s right, Nesta perching on the end of the booth beside them.

“No one tell Cassian. He’ll never let it go,” Feyre slurred, Mor laughing loudly beside her.

“No one tell Cassian what?” The general’s ears must have been burning, since he appeared right as his name was mentioned. Elain looked around the table desperately, hoping someone would save them from having to admit anything to him. Feyre was right. He’d never let it go, even if they hadn’t really been doing anything.

“No one tell Cassian that Azriel isn’t that drunk.”

Elain looked at her brother-in-law, relief plain on her face. He winked at her and turned his attention to his brothers, who were now arguing over exactly how many shots Azriel needed. The three males slid out of the booth and ambled toward the bar, Azriel pinned between his brothers.

“So things are heating up between you two then?” Feyre punctuated the question with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Elain said, feeling her face flush.

“But we do.” Mor and Feyre leaned in, and Elain knew she was in for some trouble. If she thought she was going to get any aid from her older sister, those hopes were quickly dashed. Even Nesta perked up a little, her eyes leaving Cassian’s back to lock onto Elain’s nervous stare.

“Is the rumor about wingspan true?”

Elain didn’t think it was possible for her blush to deepen, but Mor certainly found a way. When she hesitated, the blonde continued.

“I mean, we already know Az has the biggest wings, but I can’t help but wonder if his c--”

Elain’s attention shifted away from her wildly inappropriate friend as she felt a cool wind caress her cheek for a brief moment.

I can’t wait to rip that dress off you.

She tried, and failed, to suppress a shudder as the shadow whispered in her ear, the voice entirely Azriel’s. She glanced to the bar and found her Illyrian staring intently at her. He winked, and she blew him a small kiss in return. His face lit up with a genuine grin, the kind that made Elain’s heart melt.

Azriel sent another shadow her way, this one slithering across the room much faster than its companion had.

Should we get out of here?

She gave him a small nod, and he slipped away from Cassian and Rhys, already halfway across the dance floor before either of them noticed he was gone. Elain slid out of the booth, ignoring the protests and jeers from Mor and her sisters. She met Azriel at the door and slipped her hand into his as they walked into the warm, evening air.

They walked along the Sidra in a comfortable silence, hand in hand. A shadow crept past Elain’s exposed shoulder, and she shivered again, her anticipation heightening.

“Are you cold?” Things rarely slipped past Azriel’s observation, and this was no exception.

“No, I’m wonderful,” Elain tried her best to avoid slurring, but the sentence came out jumbled nonetheless. Azriel laughed, and Elain couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across her face. As the laughter died and they settled back into silence, she could feel the tension grow and goosebumps arose across her exposed skin. Her head spinning, Elain couldn’t stop herself when the thought occurred.

“Your shadows are hot.”

Azriel paused on the cobblestone, pulling Elain to a stop in front of him. His hazel eyes met hers, one eyebrow raised and a small smile on his lips.

“I’m told they’re actually quite cool.”

“No--I just meant, they’re always so soft and almost...sensual with me. Are they like that with everyone?”

“Decidedly no,” Azriel laughed. “I don’t think Rhys or Cass would ever let me live it down if they were.”

“So it’s just me, then?”

The light in his eyes dimmed into something hungrier as he stared into her own brown eyes. He let go of her hand, cupping her soft cheek with his rough palm.

“It’s just you.”

He leaned in, and Elain’s drunk brain couldn’t process it before his lips were already on hers. Luckily, she didn’t require much thinking, pulling him into her and pressing her lips harder against his mouth on pure instinct. He pulled back, keeping his forehead against hers, and she heard a faint hiss, but he was kissing her again before she even had time to think about it.

We have 2 minutes before I take you right here.

Elain let her eyes fall shut, knowing she was wasting precious time but caring only about the feel of his glorious body against hers. She took one finger and dragged it lightly down the inside of his wing. She heard his groan erupt from deep within.

“Alright, 30 seconds,” he whispered in her ear, deeper than before.

Elain pushed him away lightly and ran across the bridge, her heels clanking loudly against the stone. She felt more than saw Azriel behind her, following at the rapid pace she set. As she reached the door of their townhouse, her fiancé trapped her in the doorway, his arms on either side of her waist and the brick rough against her exposed back.

She fell against him, breathless, and tugged him closer. Just as he leaned in to kiss her, she put a finger to his mouth and put her lips right against his warm ear.

“Let’s put those shadows to use.”

#elriel #elriel fanfiction #azriel x elain #azriel #elain #elain archeron #acotar #acowar #acomaf #acofas #a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #a court of frost and starlight #sarah j maas #sjm #sjmaas #sjm books

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alexaconite · 3 years

Text

His Scarf [Part One]

Solstice gifts are multi-functional.

[Cassian/Azriel]

Rated: M

Part: 1/3 [Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three]

Warnings for mature content and scenes of a sexual nature.

I wrote this a long time ago.

“Thanks, Az,” he said, letting the soft blue scarf slip between his fingers.

They were stood near the fireplace swapping Solstice gifts and sipping their high lord's most expensive wine. Cassian hoped that Azriel liked his gift too. As he folded the scarf back into the tissue paper it had been wrapped in, a small card fluttered to his feet.

“What’s that?” asked Mor, her ever keen eyes not missing a beat.

“Gift receipt,” Azriel answered for him before he even got the chance to flip the card over and look. “I wasn’t sure which colour would suit you best.”

“Blue is best,” he assured. “It’ll be perfect for the mountains.”

“You’re welcome,” crooned the Illyrian.

Cassian flipped the card over, surprised to find that it was not a gift receipt but in fact a short handwritten note in Azriel’s crooked penmanship:

Bring the scarf upstairs before bed. I want to show you what it really does.

He frowned at the words, opening his mouth to question Azriel, but the shadowsinger had slinked across the room to help Feyre into the long-eared wooly hat he’d gifted to her.

He was sober enough to maneuver the stairs while balancing his Solstice gifts, despite the copious amounts of wine Amren had forced down his throat. The night had ended well, with people slowly dwindling towards the stairs to retire to bed; well fed and pleasantly merry. He had left Rhys and Feyre on the couch curling closer together with every passing minute. The final straw had been when someone moaned - he still wasn’t sure who - and decided it was his dignity would have been damaged if he stayed any longer.

“Don’t go downstairs for a while,” he announced into the semi-dark room, nudging the bedroom door closed with his hip. Fae lights lingered in each corner of the room, making the too small place feel cozy. “Actually, maybe stay away from the couch until we can get it cleaned.”

He dumped the pile of gifts onto the dressing table he shared with Azriel while they were staying over for Solstice. The shadowsinger was perched on the edge of his own small, single bed, holding a thick strip of black leather in his hand. Cassian grinned - it was his Solstice gift to Azriel. He’d noticed the shadowsinger was in need of a new belt when his usual one had started to look scuffed and scratched.

“You like it?” he asked, sitting on the edge of his own too small bed and beginning to unthread the laces on his heavy boots. Kicking them off with a grunt, he shoved them under the bed and wriggled his toes. “It’s got close bottomed sheaths so your daggers don’t rip those annoying little holes in your pants anymore.”

Azriel made a sound of approval. “I can definitely put this to good use,” he said, fingering the heavy leather. He put it to one side and the heavy silver buckle clinked.

Cassian reached into his pocket and held out the note that had been hidden in the tissue paper. “So, what does it really do?” he asked with a crooked smile.

Azriel’s eyes slid to the pile of gifts and indicated with his chin. “Bring it over and I’ll show you,” he said softly.

Cassian retrieved the scarf, letting his fingers roam over the soft material. There was nothing peculiar about to scarf to suggest it had any hidden features. He stood before Azriel, displaying the scarf with raised eyebrows.

“Amaze me,” he declared.

The shadowsinger eyed the scarf with a neutral look before reaching his marked hands out to touch the material, momentarily brushing his fingers against Cassian’s.

“I couldn’t decide at first,” said Azriel, running a thumb along the scarf. “What to get you for Solstice that is. You have enough knives to start your own business and I didn’t think Rhys would appreciate me buying you a pet. Then I saw this in the craft shop and thought it’d be nice on you.”

Cassian snorted and brought the scarf over his head to loop it around his neck, letting it hang freely down to his waist. “Picture perfect, right?” he smirked. Azriel held the ends of the scarf in his hands, looking at them for long enough to make Cassian frown. “Az?” he asked gently.

His friend looked up from the bed, hazel eyes flickering with some sort of emotion. “I like how it looks around your neck,” admitted Azriel and he let the material fall from his fingers. “I wonder how it’d looked wrapped around here though,” he said quietly, bring his scarred palms around Cassian’s wrists.

Cassian’s throat bobbed, a foreign yet familiar feeling bubbling in his stomach as he felt the marred skin brush his wrists. He hadn’t anticipated a move like this. Surprised, he blurted out, “Around where?” and Azriel let go of his wrist to tug the scarf from his neck. The material pooled into the shadowsingers lap.

Careful hands moved to his hips, pulling him forward until he stood directly between muscled thighs. Tanned hands reached up to wrap the scarf around both his wrists and tighten it. “Oh,” he said blushing slightly.

“And around there,” said Azriel, pointing to the wooden headboard on the tiny bed. It was enough to make Cassian’s cheeks blaze when he realised what exactly was being propositioned. His mouth felt dry, jaw too stiff to open, so he swallowed thickly instead. It had been a long time since they had done anything like this and he wasn’t sure why Azriel suddenly wanted to begin again.

The scarf felt light around his wrists, the soft material tickling the delicate skin around his calloused palms. He stomach clenched when Azriel’s hands traced a line from his hips to the back of his thighs. A gentle squeeze made his fists clench and he registered the twitch on his friend's lips.

“You like games, Cassian. You’re competitive,” he purred, peering up from the bed.

Cassian was too aware of the heavy sensation that shot to his groin, the tingling around his wrists where the scarf tickled him softly, and Azriel’s face just inches from his twitching cock. His cheeks flared when the shadowsinger noticed the shift in his pants and he looked everywhere but those smoldering eyes.

The bed creaked when Azriel stood and Cassian took an instinctive step back to allow him room. His hands remained wrapped in the scarf, joined near his belt buckle and scraping against his own treacherous cock that had stirred to life. His mouth opened to say something but shut again, not wanting to spoil the moment. Azriel’s lips twitched again and he took a step closer into Cassian’s space. The shadowsingers groin pressed against Cassian’s bound hands and nudged his erection. Cassian sighed softly at the sensation.

“I’ve forgotten,” he said lamely - truthfully - because it had been a long time since he had lain with a man.

“Let me show you,” purred Azriel, drawing Cassian’s head forward with a guiding hand behind his neck.

His insides squirmed when their mouths met. Warm lips plush against his own and when Azriel’s teasing tongue slid against his bottom lip, he opened with a soft moan; opened the gates for that flood of memories that warmed him from the inside. His fingers twitched from their confined position, giving him that much-needed pressure but preventing his erection from rubbing against where he really desired - Azriel. Though his eyes closed, he could feel the shadows that drifted around his ears, tickling sweat spots and tracing forgotten places.

Before he could think too much of the gentle lips that caressed his own, Azriel pulled back and the flicker of emotion in his eyes had been replaced with a burning desire. Cassian fidgeted on the spot.

“What do you say, Cass. Will you play with me?”

...to be contined...

#cassian #azriel #cazriel #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #sjmfics #smut #lemons #azrielskink #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #Feyre #rhysand #amren #Solstice

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septemberrie · 4 years

Text

Violent Young Desperate Gallant - Part 3

Summary: ACOTAR The Outsiders AU that no one asked for. The Illyrians are under attack from a new, vague threat. A chance meeting causes sparks.

Pairings: Feysand + Nessian

Warnings: Language

Taglist: @julemmaes @sleeping-and-books @burritowithfeels @queenestarcheron (msg me to be added!)

☆★☾★☆ {Masterlist} ☾ {Part One} ☾ {Part Two}

{Cassian}

Cassian watched the powder-blue Mercedes pull away from the curb and then turned to eye Rhys. Rhys dug back into his hamburger, focused on the wrapper he balled up and stuffed into the paper bag. Avoiding Cass’ eye.

“Well?” Cass asked, to which Rhys merely grunted and continued chewing. “You’re not gonna tell me why you wanna protect the feelings of some stuck up Soc bitch?”

“Nope,” Rhys said simply. Cassian rocked his head back and rolled his eyes in exasperation. If Rhys wanted to fuck a Soc, that was his business, but Cass wanted no part of it.

His ears pricked at the sound of tires squealing against asphalt. He turned to see a black Corsair barreling towards them, and broke out into a grin. “Az picked a nice one.”

Rhys laughed. “How sweet, he knows he’s late picking me up.”

The Corsair screeched to a halt in front of Cass and Rhys, split between two parking spaces. Azriel stuck his head out of the front window. “Let’s go.”

Azriel was normally brusque, but there was a tangible urgency to his tone that wasn’t usually there. Cassian frowned and glanced at Rhys, whose eyes were also narrowed in concern. Mor’s head appeared in the passenger side window. “He said get in, assholes!”

Cassian and Rhys loped for the car, and Cass knew it was serious when Rhys didn’t even put up a fight about being relegated to the back seat. As soon as they slid inside and slammed their doors, Rhys leaned forward. “What happened?”

Az glanced at Mor, who twisted her body towards the back seat to deliver the news. “Jurian ended up in the ER last night.”

Cassian grunted and sat back. Big fucking deal; he’d often thought of doing the same thing himself.

Mor shot him a pointed look and continued. “He had a note taped to his leg that said ‘Dear Rhysand.’”

Cassian’s eyebrows lifted and he fixed his gaze on Rhys, who was utterly still while Az peeled out of the parking lot. “Who did it?”

Az shrugged and glanced at Mor. Cass didn’t miss the tightening of his grip on the steering wheel when Mor said “I asked Helion, but he said Jurian’s pretty out of it. Not gonna talk at all for a while.”

Rhys’ eyes slid to the window, watching the decrepit buildings of downtown flick past. Az tilted his head up to study Rhys in the rearview mirror. “What do you think?”

“Probably Hybern’s gang. Amarantha was at city hall today, doing her usual.”

“Not Socs?” Cassian said, raising his eyebrows. “You know what Jurian’s like. Always trying to play both sides.”

Mor nodded. “That’s what I’m thinking.”

Az shook his head, eyes back on the road. Cassian could just see the white outline of the wing against the shoulder of his leather jacket. “Why, though? I haven’t heard anything in my circles about the Socs in weeks, longer than Rhys has been out. Why would they put Jurian in the hospital as a message for Rhys?”

Cassian scowled. “Don’t ask me how that creep’s mind works. But this is a long time coming. You can’t say he doesn’t deserve this.”

“This is pretty pointed, Cass,” Rhys finally spoke. “Not some poker player pissed that he lost a hand. This was planned. Calculated.”

“Yeah, but it’s Jurian,” Cass argued back. “This happens every time he hits rock bottom. Whores himself out to the highest bidder. Remember Calanmai?” His voice crescendoed in frustration. “He fucking sold you out, Az, don’t you remember?”

A ringing silence followed Cass’s outburst, all breath bated, all eyes on Az. Cassian swallowed, suddenly sheepish, his vision guiltily drawn to Az’s mottled hands on the steering wheel. Forever scarred. After a long moment, Az’s gaze flicked up towards Cassian in the rearview mirror. “Yes, I fucking remember.”

Cass ran a tongue over his teeth and set his jaw, then stared out the window, unable to meet Az’s eyes. “I’m just saying,” he deflected. “I think we’re focused too much on Jurian and not on the message. Can we get our hands on this note? Maybe figure out who wrote it or what kind of paper it’s on?”

Mor exhaled a dry laugh. “I tried. Helion said it’s in Evidence, and wasn’t going to give it up.”

Cassian rolled his eyes. “Fucking pig.”

“Phrasing,” Mor said lightly, and laughed. Cassian realized the implication of his last phrase and broke into a grin as well; even Azriel chuckled from the front seat. Cassian didn’t know how Helion managed to stay on the police force when he so readily gave up information to Mor in exchange for a fuck. Maybe it was just a thing for redheads.

☆★☾★☆

Cass took a swig from his flask and almost choked when he saw a shadow slide into the back room. He relaxed when he saw it was just Azriel.

“Nolan wants you out front,” he said as he walked to the sink and began scrubbing motor oil from his hands.

Cassian scowled and pocketed the flask. He’d been hoping his shift would end without another customer. “Alright, gimme a minute.” He zipped his mechanic’s jumpsuit back up to his collar and raised his arms over his head to stretch. “You rolled back the odometer on that Corsair, right?”

Azriel shot Cassian a look of annoyance. “I’m not an idiot.”

“I’m just checking,” Cassian justified. Joyriding clients’ cars was one of the only perks to this job, and he didn’t want to risk Nolan finding out. “Any news on Jurian?”

Az snorted and wiped his hands dry with a dirty rag. “We tried this morning. The nurse said they’re only allowing family in right now.”

Furrowing his brow, Cassian said “Jurian doesn’t have any family.”

“Yeah, and that’s what Rhys said too, right to her face. He’s such an idiot. We couldn’t well pretend to be his kin after that.”

“Helion, then?” Cass asked, after a moment’s hesitation, knowing it was still a sore spot.

Azriel shook his head. “No go. But the nurses at the hospital are running forty-eight hour shifts, so we’ll try again Friday.”

“‘Course you’d figure that out,” Cassian said proudly. “All right.” He cracked his knuckles and sauntered out the back room to the front of the shop.

Nolan looked up from his paperwork at reception and pointed outside to the front lot. “It’s a Mercedes, I need you to handle it.”

“You got it, boss,” Cassian said, fighting to keep the sarcasm from his voice. He suspected that Nolan knew that his knowledge of Mercedes-Benz cars came from hotwiring rather than work from another shop, and did at least try to keep on Nolan’s good side. He grabbed a clipboard and estimate sheet from the cabinet and walked outside.

He recognized the car immediately. Baby blue, soft-top convertible with the roof pulled down, pristine chrome accents that Cassian could tell were buffed regularly. Whoever owned this car loved it. Even as his hands itched to jump inside and take it for a spin, he knew he wouldn’t be able to fool the owner of this car with the odometer trick.

His eyes travelled to the driver, a blonde woman leaning against the hood, her foot tapping impatiently. For a wild moment he thought it was her, the one Rhys had been talking to, Fey-whatever, but then the woman lowered her sunglasses to glare at Cassian, and he almost stopped dead.

They had to be sisters. There was no other way; they both had those steely blue-gray eyes, although Fey-blah’s eyes were more fearful, and this woman’s were full of scorn. She wore a lime-green dress, a shawl over her shoulders despite the heat, and a driving scarf wrapped loosely over her hair.

She must have been the one to pick Feyre up from city hall. He recognized her, but from the vaguely displeased look she was giving him, he assumed she didn’t recognize him.

“What seems to be the problem, miss?” He resisted the urge to add “Priss” at the end.

“It’s the carburetor needs replacing. Or at least looked at. It has a hard time starting in the heat.”

“That right?” Cassian said dubiously. He was used to women like this; they acted confident until they forgot the lines their husbands fed them and fell apart, simply gesturing to their car and begging it to be fixed. “Sounds like a spark plug problem to me.”

She shook her head. “No, it stopped idling smoothly, and trips up when accelerating sometimes. Definitely carburetor. You can replace the spark plugs if you want, but put on that sheet there that I’m not paying for it.”

Cassian blinked. This was a woman that knew cars.

“So I’d appreciate it if you stopped staring and started fixing, sir.” The disdain dripping from her voice indicated that she thought him anything but.

“Sorry, miss,” Cassian pulled the clipboard up to his chest and circled the carburetor option. “Don’t usually run into ladies that know cars.” Soc ladies was what he meant.

She knew it, too. Her sharply-defined eyebrows lifted and her lips pursed. “Maybe you should keep those assumptions to yourself.” Greaser, the word unsaid. “Less talking, more doing.”

“My mistake.” He walked to the front of her car and flipped open the hood, then leaned forward to circle some more documentation on the estimate sheet. “Unfortunately the Mercedes specialist leaves at five, so you’ll have to pick it up in the morning.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Where is this specialist? I shouldn’t think replacing the carburetor would take more than an hour.”

“Right here,” Cassian said with a smirk, and allowed the hood to slam shut.

She jumped at the noise, her blue-grey eyes shooting icy rage into his own. “I’m sorry, have I offended you with actually knowing what’s wrong with my car? And for not wasting your time looking for non-issues?” she mocked.

“On the contrary,” Cassian said, coming back around the car to write down the license plate. “I’m surprised at how chatty you are, is all. I thought you Soc ladies have some rule about not talking to greasers.”

“Talking? No, that’s fine. No fucking, though, so you can quit leering.”

A static noise filled Cassian’s head, where thoughts would normally be, utterly shocked at her candor.

“Perfectly happy to have you service my car, but there aren’t enough launderers in the world to clean the grease off my bed, thanks. And once you pick that chin up off the ground, the air filter needs changing, too.”

Cassian felt like his wits were playing catch-up with a runaway train. He finally managed out, “Not too concerned that I’ll get my greasy hands into the filter?”

She raised her eyebrows, then nodded. “Actually, you’re right. Just get me a new one and I’ll replace it myself.”

He felt like he’d been slapped. His vision went hazy as he bent down over the clipboard to give his hands and eyes something to do. He ripped off the estimate sheet with more force than necessary and handed it to her without a word. She smirked, signed it, and walked towards the front office, presumably to use the phone to call for a ride.

Cassian turned on his heel and stalked back into the shop to retrieve his toolbox, overcome with suppressed fury, indignation, amazement, and, the one he hated most of all, attraction.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses #acowar #acomaf #acofas #sjm #sjmaas #sarah j maas #feyre #rhysand #cassian #nesta #nessian #feysand #vydgfic #vydg

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starseternalnighttriumphant · 5 years

Note

“Apparently all our friends have a bet going that we are going to end up together” for elriel 💖💖💖

ILYSB by Lany

“Elain?”

Elain looked up from her book, a gorgeous smile on her face as she took in who came through the front door of her apartment. His inky black hair was freshly cut, his tanned skin unblemished, looking mighty fine in jeans and a white t-shirt.

“Hey love,” she greeted, giggling when he sat down next to her and pulled her across his lap.

He kissed her briefly, sweetly, and she hummed in content as she ran her fingers through his hair.

“How was work?” she asked, trailing her fingers along his face.

“Long and boring. Rhys is finally back from his honeymoon with Feyre so he took control back and I gotta say, it’s weird not having to run around and put out fires at the office,” Azriel laughed, curling a strand of her honey brown hair around his finger.

She smiled. “Feyre was just by a few hours ago. And she told me something interesting.”

“Yeah?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Does it have anything to do with the fact that our friends and family have a bet going on that we’re going to end up together?”

She laughed, a joyous sound that had Azriel’s heart pounding. She was so beautiful in everything she did, but when she laughed is when he was truly struck by how beautiful she was. Her eyes shut and crinkled, her pink lips parted in a smile as her laughter sounded like music he could listen to on repeat for the rest of his life.

“Our friends have a bet that we’re going to end up together,” she said, her tone mixed with amusing disbelief. “They have no idea, do they?”

Elain and Azriel’s relationship was newly formed; they had just started dating a little over a month ago. Since Feyre had started dating Rhys five years ago, the Archeron sisters had been close with Rhysand and his best friends Cassian and Azriel. While no one was quite sure if Cassian and Nesta would ever get over themselves and date each other, the genera consensus regarding Elain and Azriel always had been that they’d end up together one day.

In the beginning, Elain had wanted nothing but friendship from Azriel. She had been dating her ex-boyfriend Lucien at the time, and Az had been hung up on Rhys’s cousin Mor. It had only been last year that Elain and Lucien had broken up and Azriel had finally gotten over Mor. Elain and Azriel had started hanging out 24/7, Az helping Elain through the hell she called her breakup. He’d been the one that was there when she called him at two in the morning, needing to talk through the tears running down her face. He’d been the one that would show up unexpectedly at her apartment with food and bad movies. He would send flowers either to her apartment or to where she worked once a month. A tradition he hadn’t stopped even when they’d realized that they felt for each other more than regular friends did.

Azriel smirked at her, kissing her over and over again. “They have no idea.”

“How long do you think we can keep them guessing?” she giggled.

“Long enough that they all lose money betting on different dates when in fact we’ve been together for a month already,” he smiled against her mouth.

It took their friends and family a year to finally figure it out.

#elain archeron #azriel #elriel #elriel prompt

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hogwartselementumrp · 7 years

Photo

Hyacinth, congratulations, you have been accepted for your OC Rhys Llewellyn. In finding a lone wolf Logan Lerman FC with a “tragic backstory” in one’s inbox, an admin must brace themselves--if you’ll forgive the frankness and not find the joke rude--but we honestly found your writing style so engaging and your passion for the character so ready to shine through with a bio that felt not at all rushed despite knowing you were racing the clock, and shone through with promise of what you would be like to RP with. Admin Beth may have offered to physically fight Admin Lily (we’re tired, stressed people and these things happen), though in the end there was no need for such measures and we agree together to accept you. We can’t wait to see you develop him into a character that shines as an individual and grows a three dimensional life of his own that continues the potential set in the application. Get him on the dash because I am eager to interact with him.

Side Note: We already have a character named Rhys that has been a part of the RP for over three years. Now, people share names in real life and even in this RP Lily once wrote two vastly different Lawrences, Lawrence Yeaun and Lawrence Frisk. Both are played and played marvelously and seldom is there confusion, but if sharing a name makes you uncomfortable or you are worried about the confusion of players, we want to give you the chance to change the name or to have him go by Llewellyn. You are in no way obligated, but it might help everyone out.

Now, I have written a longer acceptance note than Lily. Welcome to the RP!

NAME/ALIAS: Hyacinth

PREFERRED PRONOUN: She/her

AGE: 19

TIMEZONE: GMT-4

ACTIVITY LEVEL: Around an 8-9 out of 10.

HOW DID YOU FIND THE RP (NEW MEMBERS): through a google search

ORIGINAL CHARACTER INFORMATION:

Desired Character: Rhys River Llewellyn

Face Claim: Logan Lerman

Now, please check our dorm page! To see which house is needing a character and in which year!

School Functions (check Quidditch availability’s): Healer Program

Why do you believe this will be a good character in this specific roleplay?

Just a few months prior to the roleplay, Rhys experienced a very drastic, devastating tragedy in his life. It will be really interesting exploring his headspace after that occurrence, and the relationships he will create because of what happened to him. Rhys is at a very delicate, confusing point in his life. His previous religious faith, which was fairly constant, is now gone. He is now estranged from his father, attending a new school, and discovering his own sexuality. I believe he will be able to discover who he truly is, or at least begin to, and in turn, help others do so as well.

RHYS LLEWELLYN is 18 years old, in his FIRST year HOGWARTS UNIVERSITY and was in the house of RAVENCLAW.

❝The weight of the world / is love / Under the burden / of solitude, / under the burden / of dissatisfaction / the weight, / the weight we carry / is love

↳ MAGIC

Rhys was gifted with a very sharp mind and wisdom far beyond his years. This didn’t translate very perfectly into magic, as even the mere thought of it had never entered his mind, but he studied extremely hard in his years at Hogwarts. Naturally, he wasn’t particularly gifted, but his hard work and determination put him at the top of his class. His instinctive curiosity and eagerness to learn things also gave him an extra edge over his classmates. As for his elemental magic, he far preferred spells and charms. They were easier to master through studying and practice, easier to control. Even so, Rhys saw his elemental magic as a challenge he had yet conquer, and devoted his time to improving it. Rhys was almost predestined to be a healer. His selflessness and instinctive compassion for others led him to apply for the Healer Program, which he was confident he would excel in.

↳ BACKSTORY

Rhys Llewellyn and his twin sister, Eve, were born on the first day of June in a small town of Wales, with the sun shining brightly overhead and not a single cloud in the blue sky. They’d been born a full month early, after hours and hours of painful labor. And when their mother, Adelaide, held her two pink, squalling babies in her arms, she placed a kiss on the tops of their heads and whispered an apology. For she could not stay, and two days after the two babies had entered this world, Adelaide hurried away into the night, leaving her children with nothing but a broken father and a long-forgotten memory of a gentle kiss that would be the only one they would ever receive from their first home.

It is surprising that Rhys and Eve grew up fairly undamaged. Their father, Jonathan, was a fierce, Evangelical pastor, forever trying to find an explanation for his loss in a higher power. Jonathan had only two loves in his life: His wife, who’d left him, and God. And after she left him, it seemed like he needed to fill up that empty hole with all the love he could ever contain into God, leaving nothing for his two children.

Rhys and Eve grew up relying on only each other for the necessities of life that went further than food and shelter. It is no wonder the two siblings grew very close. But despite the fact that they spent nearly all of their time together, they could not be more different. Eve was loud and outgoing, intent in her beliefs and unafraid to voice them to the world. There was an overly-flamboyant, almost frantic way about her, as if she started up an act of someone she was not long ago and now had to over exaggerate herself or risk being found out. Yet around Rhys, she could be the loud, confident self she was in public but also the more sensitive side that she typically kept hidden for fear of getting herself hurt. The two twins were like day and night. Rhys was mellower, far preferring anonymity and his own company over others. He was very intelligent and introspective and preferred to mull things over before doing anything, unlike Eve, who rarely planned for anything and preferred to live life spontaneously. But when they were with each other, they were better versions of themselves.

With Eve, Rhys felt like he could do anything and not be afraid.

When Rhys was accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he was anything but delighted. How was he to face a school, a magic school, without his twin sister? But Eve was adamant he should go; she knew Rhys was something special. There were times when certain things happened around Rhys, odd things, and in her opinion the idea that he was a wizard was not something particularly far-fetched. She, like many others, had the overwhelming sense sometimes that Rhys was different. Otherworldly. Perhaps it was his intelligence, or his compassion for others, or the way his eyes lit up when he spoke about the poetry he loved so much. So, to be perfectly honest, Eve was not very surprised at all. She would have been more shocked if it turned out Rhys was just ordinary.

His father, of course, was furious at the mere thought of his son going to learn witchcraft. It was a terrible sin, something one would be condemned to hell for, a type of satanic worship.

But Rhys, who rarely objected anything his father said, went anyway, and when he came back from his first year at Hogwarts, he was met with a stony silence from his father and a tight-lipped smile from Eve, her voice the one she used with other people, not him. And, year after year, Rhys found that he heard her real voice less and less, until it disappeared entirely.

Over his seven years at Hogwarts, Rhys didn’t exactly feel the automatic acceptance he’d assumed he would. In turns out, even at a magical school, he was odd and out of place. Preferring to study and read and write poetry than attend quidditch matches and explore Hogsmeade, he never really made any lasting friendships. But it was no real issue for him, as he often preferred his own company over others.

The summer before he was to attend his first year at Hogwarts University, Rhys’ life fell completely apart. Ten days after their shared birthday, Rhys found his sister dead in her closet. She’d hung herself, leaving no other explanation except for an ‘I’m sorry’ scrawled on a torn piece of notebook paper.

In the aftermath, Rhys could not stay. Guilt and fear and anger and blame and all-consuming grief was everywhere in the house, everywhere in his father, everywhere in his own heart. It was heavy with a blackness he was unused to. He could not stay. So, like his mother, like his sister, he left.

And in leaving the house, he left his father, and in leaving his father, he left everything he had ever known, and in doing so, he freed himself.

↳ PERSONALITY TRAITS

» {+ positives} creative, selfless, insightful

» {- negatives} shy, anxious/worrisome, distracted

↳ BASICS

» BLOOD STATUS: half-blood

» ELEMENTAL POWER: air

» AFFINITY LEVEL: average affinity | very studious

» DATE OF BIRTH: July 1st

» WAND: willow, dragon heartstring, 10 inches, supple flexibility

» FACECLAIM: Logan Lerman

RHYS LLEWLLYN IS PLAYED BY HYACINTH

It wasn’t like his father preached all the time about how Rhys was an abomination that would be sent straight to hell. But it happened often enough that he decided it would be safest if he just kept silent about the whole being-attracted-to-boys debacle. Keeping it from his father was second nature - it wasn’t like Rhys actually told him anything. But with Eve, it was practically impossible. In fact, he wasn’t really sure why he wasn’t telling her about this part of him. Maybe it was because he barely understood it himself.

Or maybe it was because he wished it weren’t true. Rhys wished he could say that he wasn’t at all ashamed with who he was. It it were Eve, she would be attending pride parades everyday and kissing whomever she wanted in front of their father, one eyebrow raised as if daring him to say anything. If it were Eve, she wouldn’t be ashamed at all because she knew there was nothing to be ashamed about.

Rhys knew, too. But he wasn’t as brave as she was. He was scared. Of his father, of a God he barely believed in, of himself and the truth.

Because there was this boy at Hogwarts, a boy with a sunshine grin and endless jokes, a boy that Rhys kissed, but would have liked it much better if his mind wasn’t screaming sin sin sin sin sin.

He wanted to kiss him again, but shame swallowed him like an ocean for weeks after he did it the first time, and Rhys didn’t particularly enjoy drowning.

He kissed a girl, too, once. Before he’d kissed the boy, back when he was still unsure. In the Hogwarts Library, his back against the hard wood of the bookcase marking the Legal Section. Their lips smashed together, too urgent and unsynchronized. Rhys hated the way their faces fit together, the lack of strong jaw and vague stubble to ground him. There was too much hair to wade through, too much peony filling his nostrils. His mind wasn’t telling him he was sinning, but instead pounded a crescendoing chorus of this is wrong this is wrong this is wrong this is wrong.

Rhys had home come from his Sixth Year at Hogwarts, having kissed two people that were both sins in his mind. The boy because the Bible said so and the girl because it’d felt inherently wrong when it happened. And his father had looked down at him, his head tilted and eyes narrowed as if he’d sensed something on Rhys that was even dirtier than witchcraft. But nothing had been said, and he breathed a desperate sigh of relief.

He was hiding, and that was bad, and that did not make him happy. He knew all these things. But he was also scared. And he also loved his father, despite everything. In the end, the only thing that counted was love, was it not?

#accepted

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