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impossiblescissorspeachpaper · 1 year

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from the moment you leave i can’t help but miss you

elriel month prompt one: shy glances & restricted touches

Light angst, slightly NSFW.

Meet me in the second-floor library.

That was all he had said.

Months. It had been months since Azriel had stepped foot in this house whilst Elain was present and the first thing she heard from him were those seven words.

She shouldn’t have been so surprised he had shown up for this, of course he’d be here today. It was Nyx’s first birthday after all; he would have never not come.

He had become so proficient at providing excuses for missing family dinners that she had expected more of the same. He was off on a mission, he was needed in the Hewn City, he was overseeing training in the Illyrian Steppes. It was always something.

But today he had shown up, wearing a fine fitting black shirt and perfectly tailored pants that had Elain’s stomach twisting in knots with the way it showed off his truly magnificent physique. His cobalt siphons still sat atop his lovely hands, his tanned forearms catching Elain’s attention when she noticed he’d rolled up his sleeves, but otherwise he was the picture of effortless ease, strolling into the garden party where the rest of their family and closest friends assembled to celebrate the young heir.

All afternoon she had tried to avoid his attention, feeling a heat creep up her cheeks each time she thought of him. But every time she glanced in his direction, she found him already staring, quickly averting his eyes before having them flit back to her. As if he couldn’t help his gaze from drifting toward her.

His attention felt like a hot brand on her back, Elain remaining distractedly aware that his piercing hazel eyes were following her about the garden as she swapped out empty platters of food and chatted merrily to Feyre and Rhys’ guests.

She’d worn a strappy, lavender silk dress for the occasion, the colour an homage to the blooming spring around them as well as a compliment to her nephews sparkling eyes. But had she known he would be attending she’d have chosen something less… revealing. Not that her dress was revealing per se, but the way the Shadowsingers’ gaze followed her as she flitted about the garden had Elain’s skin feeling flushed, and she desperately hoped the blush creeping up her cheeks wasn’t mirrored elsewhere on her exposed skin.

Forcing those illicit thoughts from her mind, Elain feigned a pleasant smile, plastering that tepid expression on her face until she grew distracted enough to forget her anxieties and it became sincere.

She had been engrossed in conversation with Helion, his amber eyes gleaming in the late afternoon sun, when she’d felt the soft touch of a familiar shadow.

Meet me in the second-floor library.

Gone before it was noticed, the message had been whispered in her ear, the silken threads of its darkness caressing her smooth skin like a lover. The lone shadow had twined about her neck, lingering at the shell of her pointed ear before flitting back to its master unseen.

The second-floor library was seldom used, and Azriel knew that. It housed a few stacks of ancient books, a mahogany desk and a few plush armchairs scattered throughout, but Inner Circle meetings were usually held in Rhys' study on the first floor. He mustn’t have been summoning her for official business then. Elain gulped, attempting to tamper the heat that was rising within her.

All it had taken were those seven words, and here she remained, contemplating the decision between ignoring the whispered message, or succumbing to his forbidden request.

Deeming it improper to drop her hostess duties at his every whim, she ignored his message and continued her conversation with Helion, overzealously requesting additional details about the formal gardens surrounding the grand libraries his court boasted. No matter how much she wanted to run back into the house and meet him. Distraction was key, but that heat never abated.

After a while, she couldn’t help but be enthralled by Helion’s charismatic demeanour and easy-going nature, so at odds with the intimidating High Lord he portrayed to those outside of his closest circle. Elain found herself thoroughly enjoying his company.

But it wasn’t long before a second shadow had come slinking along, winding itself around the silky strands of the hair, laving at her the skin behind her ear.

Please, Elain.

The shadow-carried message was more desperate and pleading this time, accompanied with a lingering caress from that tendril of darkness on the delicate skin of her throat.

She hadn’t noticed Azriel make his way over to them through the small crowd, nonchalantly edging his way closer to no doubt listen in on why she was so enraptured in conversation with a dashing High Lord. Was that a hint of jealousy glinting in his hazel eyes?

Azriel’s gaze locked on hers for the briefest of moments before he brushed passed her, a solitary scarred finger stretched toward hers as he did. Their fingertips found each others in the folds of her dress, the swaths of smooth silk ensuring no one caught sight of the small, intimate interaction.

Her breath caught in her throat at the brief touch, his warm skin igniting hers in a way no other male had ever managed to do. His touch sparked a rush beneath her skin and Elain prayed that none of the astute fae ears around them heard her thundering heart.

Her concentration had finally slipped from the attention of the High Lord of Day; surely Azriel’s intention with the subtle caress. But try as she might, she could no longer ignore the Shadowsingers’ request. He had accomplished his mission.

Cad.

Awaiting an appropriate break in the conversation, Elain politely excused herself and made her way toward the River manor, picking up a few empty platters on her way inside.

On silent feet, she casually meandered her way through the manor, consciously shifting her expression to simply appear absent-minded to any unwanted eyes that may be following her movements throughout the halls.

Climbing the grand staircase, she strolled up to the second-floor library where she was instructed to go, and as soon as she had clicked the heavy mahogany door closed behind her, the Spymaster materialised from a swarm of shadows milling about between two stacks of old books.

Elain’s breath caught in her chest. It was always prone to doing so when he was nearby. He was devastating.

He stood before her, broad-shouldered and solemn faced, pausing as his eyes once again raked over her, taking in every inch of her from head to toe. She burned under his heavy gaze.

With sure, fluid movements, it took him all but three long strides before he was standing before her, his imposing frame crowding her senses, leaving just a hairsbreadth of space between their yearning bodies.

“I wasn’t sure you’d be here today.”

Azriel didn’t answer straight away, he merely shifted closer still, his hand coming to rest on her waist, its warm weight heating her skin.

Craning his neck down toward her, Azriel gingerly rest his forehead against hers, breathing in her honey and jasmine scent, and his eyes fluttered closed. Finally content.

He stood motionless for several moments, the only movement was his chest rising and falling as he slowly took lungfuls of her in, as if he needed her very essence to carry away the time they had spent apart before he could continue any further.

Opening his eyes but making no movements to pull away, he responded.

“I would never have missed it. Besides Rhys and Feyre would never forgive me if I did.”

“I just thought, with the way it’s been lately—”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” he murmured softly.

She didn’t blame him, the growing tension between the Shadowsinger and High Lord had been palpable lately.

To prove his point, he brought his other hand up to twine into her hair, his fingers grazing the delicate skin of her neck on its way. It sent a shiver up her spine that didn’t go unnoticed by Azriel, his eyes smouldering at her reaction.

Elain sighed into his chest, turning pliant in his arms as Azriel brought his lips to her throat, skimming her smooth alabaster skin with his nose as the fingers at her waist gripped her tighter.

A searing heat scorched its way up Elain’s insides, her veins thrumming with hedonistic desire, the sudden need to feel more of him engulfing her senses.

Elain had thought she had known the intoxicating feeling of passion when she was human, but in her fae body, the concept took on an entirely different meaning. Those fae instincts were sometimes all consuming, screaming at her to take, and feel, and want.

She dragged her hands up into his dark hair, scraping her nails across his scalp as his lips continued to lightly graze the skin of her neck, feeling his body shudder against hers at the sensation.

He was barely touching her, barely allowing those lips to flutter across her flesh, and yet Elain burned. She burned with a desire so ferocious she feared one day it would consume her wholly.

She whimpered, and in answer Azriel finally allowed let his mouth to lave at her pulse, tasting the skin there, letting the steady thrum of her heartbeat set the pace of his actions.

His tongue darted out from between his full lips, suckling at her flesh and he moaned, moaned at the taste of her. He was so proficient at leaving her needy and pliant, that all she could do in that moment was angle her jaw, giving him more, silently urging him to take it all.

Wrapping her arms tight around his neck she pulled his chest against hers, fusing her softness with his hard lines, revelling in the feeling of every inch of her flushed skin being pressed against his.

The only barrier between them now was the clothing that hung off their forms, serving as a feeble obstacle to the kindled flames that roared within them, begging to twine and dance together.

His mouth didn’t leave the curve of her neck, continuing its march up her throat to lick at the delicate skin behind her ear, sucking her lobe into his mouth before releasing it from between his teeth. She bit her lip at his ministrations, stifling another whimper.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that they had to be apart. The periods he was away proved to be utter agony for the both of them. The endless longing only growing unbearable in his absence. It never dissipated, never wavered. And every time he’d return, they were only granted these fleeting, secret moments when it was assured they wouldn’t be found. This had been their most daring meeting yet with a garden full of fae just one level below. But in this moment they found it near impossible to care, both clearly desperate for each other after weeks apart.

They were not granted the privilege of being able to share their feelings in public, did not have the honour of being openly intimate whenever they pleased. They had been forced into shadowed corners and midnight affairs, the gentle grazes of skin as they passed each other by and weighted glances they traded across the room serving as small appetisers before they could be sated once again. Until they found themselves in each other’s embrace once more.

Clutching her firmly into his hard chest, Azriel’s broad hand paused on the small of her back, his nimble fingers inching their way down the smooth silk of her dress toward her behind.

Elain arched into him, silently urging his hands to move, touch, take. She fisted a handful of his hair in her fingers causing him to reluctantly tear his lips from her neck.

He pinned her with his heavy gaze, hazel eyes swirling with a hungry passion she had only ever witnessed when thrust upon her. A warm hum tingled low in her belly.

Nuzzling her nose to his, his cedar and mist scent turned headier, the air surrounding them becoming intoxicated with the fragrance of their mingled arousal.

“Azriel.” His name passed through her lips on a desperate, wanton breath.

She needn’t say anything else. From that single, uttered word, Azriel was able to discern her every desire. He knew. He tasted her need in the air between them, he sensed her arousal wafting around them like a bewitching mist. He understood her every gasp and twitch and whimper, as he too felt it deep within his soul.

His hot breath fanned across her face, his eyes flitting between hers before he gripped her plump behind in both of his palms and squeezed.

His rough hands groped her delicious curves, fingertips pressing into the plush flesh of her ass before they slid up her body, up her back and across her waist, marvelling in the feeling of the soft contours of her figure.

Finally capturing her lips with his, Azriel held nothing back as he kissed her. His mouth was hot and bruising, his tongue tracing the curve of her lips before it stroked its way further along her jaw and back again. He groaned into her mouth, relishing in her sweet taste and softness, his hands remaining busy as they roamed across her body; grasping at her hips, her thighs.

Dragging his broad hands up around the sides of her waist, Azriel traced a thumb along the side of her breast through the thin material of her dress, and she couldn’t help but throw her head back at the inferno it ignited, breaking their kiss with a heavy pant.

She gasped, her eyes fluttering open and finding Azriel’s beautiful face, his eyes shimmering with want and lips swollen from their ministrations.

She wanted to kiss him for an eternity. Even longer. She’d give Azriel everything, and she knew he’d give her everything and more in return.

She wanted to give him all of her and have every little piece of him for herself. And she knew once she did, once they traded those final pieces of themselves, she would never be the same again. She would be irrevocably changed, Azriel branding himself forever on her very soul, a scar she would never want to see fade.

But as she continued staring up into his magnificent face, the haze of their passion began to retreat, their minds clearing for just a moment, long enough for both of them to realise now was not the time…

They had already been gone for long enough and surely, they would have been missed. The spymaster was well aware of this, his shadows always watching, listening.

One day, they would be able to share more than a heated kiss in a quiet garden or an abandoned room. But for now, a small prince was waiting. And although it pained her to do so, they both needed to go.

Clutching the lapels of his shirt, she dragged Azriel’s face down to hers once more, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. Elain allowed their tongues to tangle languidly, allowing one more taste of each other before they returned to their nephews’ party.

The regret in Azriel’s eyes never ceased to pain her. Every time they were forced apart, still needy and wanting, that look in his eyes was like a dagger to her heart. But he understood, he always understood.

His palm came up to cradle her cheek, his forehead once again resting against hers.

“I’ll find a way, Elain. I promise you.” It was barely a whisper, his voice rough with unanswered need.

His eyes shone with the hurt they both felt, and she knew it was reflected in her own. That after years of friendship, and months of these feelings of… something more, it pained her that they were only granted these fleeting, stolen moments.

“I know.” She reached up on her tiptoes and gave him one last, sweet kiss.

She didn’t doubt him for a second.

One day, they would be able to love each other openly as her sisters did their mates. One day, they wouldn’t be forced to pretend they were nothing more than friends. One day, their sleepless nights and agonised yearning would be nothing but a distant memory.

But for now, they’d remain in the shadows, those small touches and shy glances sustaining them until they could meet again.

*******

EM tag list:

If you’d like to be added/removed from my elriel month tag list, or I’ve somehow missed you, please let me know. T xo

@waternymphia

@shedoessoshedoes

@nightcourtseer

@tealeaves-and-rosepetals

@jasmineandshadows

@zdenkah

@dottielovegood

@casuallivi

@azrielslight

@ultadverb

@tswaney17

@batboyazriel

@duskwhisperer

@thoughtsaboutshows

@mardereads19

@a-frog-with-a-laptop

@123moiaussi

@reverie-tales

@britishwings

@glasscupsss

@gracie-rosee

@massiveattackangel

@thesistersarcheron

@dreamsandwings

@shadowflorecita

@elainsweetcobalt

@demarogue

@lesolehabitantdelalune

@elrielbaby

@happy-go-lucky-fangirl

@nivem565

@broodybatboy

@edanmaia

@booksnightowl

@saz-griffin

@elriel-month

#elriel month #t writes #elain archeron #azriel #elriel #elriel fic #acotar #azriel x elain #elriel month 2023 #prompt one: shy glances and restricted touches #acotar fanfiction #scheduled post so I’ll be replying after my vacay

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kakashisthickthighs · 8 months

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i am thinking about if getou and gojo really did continue talking afterwards and like the tiny intricate details and logistics of their lives.

they part in 2007. they had flip phones.

getou dies in 2016. they had iphones, instagram, snapchat, and dog filters.

when getou first goes rogue, shoko and gojo probably still have his number and are blowing his shit up. he probably has his phone off for the first days of it and turns it back on after. there’s no need to trash it out of a want to stay hidden—he won’t die unless they send an army or gojo himself.

when he turns his cell back on, he’s half-tempted to delete all his photos of jujutsu tech, with shoko, with gojo, and he gets as far as deleting maybe 15 of them in a heavy-breathed rage before convincing himself that maybe he doesn’t need to delete these. these are mementos of the said pinnacle of jujutsu, and they’ll come in handy when there are no non-sorcerers left.

he’s about to put the cellphone away before it rings. it’s satoru. he sighs. he calls once every day. it’s relentless, six or seven calls at minute intervals. getou almost laughs at it—the world’s strongest, desperate.

a month after his disappearance, he calls every night at ten. sometimes the pixels on his cell read 10:04, 10:21, the latest was 10:42. it becomes a ritual, agonizing every night wanting to finally beat gojo at something, to make him lose. but suguru finds himself holding his breath as 10pm wanders by every day, breathing easy only when his phone stops buzzing.

maybe one night he’s yet again alone in his shoebox apartment, assorted belongings littered about, convincing himself this was the best path for him. not jujutsu tech, the horrible missions, the loneliness, the taste. it feels better here, where no one else is happy.

he’s lost in a daze when his phone rings. it’s been three months and satoru won’t let up. every night. he scoffs and flips his cell open just to sneer and make a point, to feel powerful in his own mind, but once the line connects, he’s silent, mouth agape and eyes wide that he actually picked up.

he hears static from the other side, a shift of fabric, a shaky inhale. “suguru, you fucking idiot,” gojo sneers, loud on the other end, “what’d ya pick up by accident?”

getou can’t help but laugh from the bottom of his heart. his abs are burning and tears are falling by the time he contains himself, and memories flood back. selfies, dumb finds, food pics, phone bills crazy all from hours on the phone together. there’s satoru’s voice, and then there’s lofi samsung static-lined satoru’s voice. both sound like home.

“suguru—“

“satoru,” he breathes, and this is what it feels like to talk again. he’s lived in this apartment in silence for the past three months, voices only coming from his saved videos.

“come home, suguru.” they both know it’s impossible.

getou chuckles again into the speaker. he can almost see it, satoru’s spindly form, one leg propped up on a chair, elbow resting on it as he holds the phone in distaste. or maybe he’s completely prone, jolted awake by a voice he hadn’t expected to hear.

“satoru, you’ll be fine,” he chimes, hanging up. he squeezes his eyes shut and swallows a sigh, and just like that, he’s left home again.

three years later the calls have stopped. the iphone 4 comes out, and the world is awash in touch screens, app stores, and missing charging cables. it’s time for an upgrade, and getou powers off his flip phone—his youth—one last time and tucks it gingerly into a shoebox. he starts completely anew with no data to transfer.

gojo meticulously transfers every contact and double checks only one number. it’s the first call he makes on his new phone.

the number you have dialed is not in service—

he hangs up and slows his breathing. he doesn’t delete the number. suguru, the contact reads.

you’ll be fine.

#jujutsu kaisen #i am filled with hatred #jjk #jjk headcanons #idk why this wouldn’t be canon #they might as well animate this #jjk gojo #jjk geto #satosugu #gojo satoru #geto suguru #and then by 2016 everyone’s on ig and snap gojo prob has ten thou on ig and so does getou and they look each other up once and never again #till a few months later getou has memorized how many ppl gojo is following and looks at all their profiles and checks all his tagged posts #sees his new students and then glances at mimi and nana #could that have been me? our students? but decides his life is good and his life is enough and this is what he wanted and he’s happy #it’s easier to convince himself now since it’s been so long #after all they’re grown now and three bright years of youth would’ve passed anyhow and anyway and now it’s over foreal

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