#or get her tangled with Emerie

[matthewloverr]

rock me

matt x blake sanders (fem reader)

summary: when out with some friends at a bar a band is playing, the guitarist catches you eye. feeling bold you decide to approach him, one thing turns into another.

warning: low key age play, fingering, kissing, swearing, underage drinking

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

me and my friends alanna, brynleigh and emerie heard there was a live band playing at some shitty bar near where we live, he decided if we wanted to risk being kidnapped or killed being there so late at night but we had nothing better to do.

we began getting ready, i chose to wear something more casual because we’ve never been to this place. i wore a black camisole that showed off my red lacy bra under it and low rise jeans and kept my hair straight. before leaving i slid on some bracelets and a necklace and out we went.

the walk was sketchy but thank god our dorms were only two minutes away, as soon as we approached it we knew exactly what we were getting into. they didn’t even card us at the door which wasn’t the worst thing because even though the legal drinking age was 21 me and the girls were still 19, close enough ?

we grabbed some beers from the bartender and were talking for a bit just about school and other boring stuff, i was so caught up in the conversation i barely noticed the band playing. i looked over to see and my stomach did backflips, there was a tall brunette with broad shoulders dressed in a black muscle tank and black pants, i watched his rings as his fingers moved up and down the electric guitar.

i was so fascinated i didn’t even notice him staring back, we made eye contact and she just shot me a quick wink, i just stared down at the half empty bottle in my hand trying to hide my smile. they finished up their song and the drummer announced they would be back. i couldn’t wait.

i was laughing with brynleigh while alanna and emerie were talking to two men who maybe looked around 30 trying to get free drinks, that’s when i felt a presence behind me. i turned to see who it was expecting some weird old guy and i was met with the same boy i saw on stage, he completely towered over me and when i went to turn to brynleigh she had made her way over to alanna and emerie leaving just me and this man.

“hey im matt” he spoke and shot me a quick nod.

“blake” i replied giving him a warm smile.

“i like that name, how old are you?” he questioned me.

i looked around pursing my lips trying to hide my smile, i knew i should lie and say im 21 but he didn’t look much older than me. “im 19, you?”

his eyes widened a bit “you know you’re too young to be here”

i just took a sip of the beer in my hand ignoring his comment “you never answered my question”

“22” he said leaning his elbow against the edge of the bar, his eyes were so beautiful i could stare at them all night.

“not that far off” i replied shrugging my shoulders.

he just smirked at me before he leaned in to my ear so he could whisper but i would still hear him over the trashy radio music they played.

“come to the bathroom” he whispered, and with that he turned to walk and i quickly finished my beer and followed behind him.

this man could literally tell me to rip my clothes off right here and i would and i didn’t even know him.

as soon as we entered the one stall bathroom he locked it and immediately crashed his lips onto mine, the kiss was messy and rough but i didn’t care i mean he was literally the most sexiest man ive ever seen.

he scooped me up putting his hands under my thighs and i wrapped my legs around his waist, my hands tangled in his hair. he slowly started walking towards the sink and placed me on it. my legs immediately spread so he could come between them, he ghosted his fingers over my clothed heat.

i gasped into the kiss and i could feel him smirk against my lips. i lifted myself up so he could slide the jeans off my hips and down to my knees, he just stared at the black lacy underwear and i internally thanked myself for not going with the granny panties.

he moved his kiss down to my jaw and then my neck, he sucked and slightly bit down on the spot under my ear that made me melt under his touch. he kept doing that making sure my neck was marked up and he slowly moved his fingers under my panties.

he moved his fingers through my slick folds pulling back out from my neck. “already so wet and ive barely touched you?” he said with a smirk on his face, a pink blush flew across my cheeks and nose feeling slightly embarrassed.

“you’re so beautiful you know that” he spoke again this time going back into my neck and rubbing his fingers in circles against my clit. i bucked my hips towards him laying my hands gripping against the sink dying for his touch.

he must’ve got the message because a second later he slipped a finger in and a low moan fell from my lips, i felt his finger curl inside me before he added another one. he just kept his motion and pressed his forehead against mine.

he quickened his pace and i could already feel the knot in my stomach forming. my hands gripped on the sink so hard my knuckles turned white. my brows furrowed and my mouth agape.

“i can feel you clenching, let go baby”, his words sent me over the edge and i threw my head back and spread my legs impossibly further apart, a loud string of moans and curses slipping from my mouth. he kept pumping his fingers in and out and let my high ride out before removing his fingers and licking them clean.

i just stared in awe at the man, his chest was heaving up and down and he just stood and admired me. i jumped off the counter and started pulling up my jeans before someone started banging on the door.

“yo matt, you’ve got five minutes to get out here” a voice yelled from the other side of the door, it sounded like matt but not quite it.

i looked at matt and he just rolled his eyes with a smile on his face, i placed one last peck on his lips.

“here’s my number, call me when you get home tonight” he said as he handed me a peice of paper with 10 digits on it. i took it and stuffed it in my back pocket as i grabbed my phone that had fallen down to the floor.

he opened the door and out with both went, i saw all my friends faces as they saw me and him walk out side by side and him pull me into a side hug and place a kiss on the top of my head before heading back stage.

“okay what the fuck just happened” alanna asked me with excitement in her tone.

“honestly i don’t even know, and ive only had one beer” i said chuckling and throwing my hand to my head.

“well you’re in luck” brynleigh spoke before she turned around with a black platter full of tequila shots. “the bartender thinks that’s you’re boyfriend so free shots on the house !!”

my eyes widened and a big smile grew on my face. we each grabbed one cheering and downing them, all of our faces contorted with disgust and we all laughed.

we drank whatever was left in the tiny cups and danced to music while i was busy eyeing matt. i now realize where he got the skills for what had just happened in the bathroom.

the bar was closing and me and the girls were shit faced so we decided to walk back to our dorms, i shared with brynleigh so alanna and emerie said their goodbyes and went to their dorm. i sunk into my bed and remembered the piece of paper in my pocket.

i quickly pulled it out and carefully entered the digits into my phone and named the contact “guitar matt”, i sent a quick message saying i was home and immediately passed out not bothering to look at the message he had sent.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

the next morning i woke up and my head was pounding, i realized i still had my shirt and bra on but i must’ve kicked my jeans off in the middle of the night. i grabbed my phone and saw he had texted me. last nights memories flooding my head. i clicked on the message as my eyes scanned what he had said.

“im in town for a week, can’t wait to see you again ;)”

a/n: sorry yall this song plus guitar matt is actually stuck in my head, also this is the only part ! (unless yall want another part cause im low key in love with this ;)) ok bye love you !!

comment to be added to tag list !!

#matt sturniolo fanfic #matthew bernard sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt x reader #matt fanfic #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #christopher owen sturniolo #chris sturniolo x y/n #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris x reader #chris smut #chris sturniolo #nick x reader #nick sturniolo #nicolas antonio sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #spotify #colby smut #colby x reader #colby brock #sam and colby

[azznyra]

here’s part2. hope you guys like it as much as you liked part1. (also tysm to everyone for being so kind<3

no tw for this one. just pure fluffy fluff (a bit of angst)

Drunken night routine pt2

You were on your way to hell. No, actually, you were in hell already. You had already woken up feeling like an entire legion of soldiers had trampled over you, and now you had to get ready for training. Yes, it was two hours later than the usual time you all usually started training, but still. They would never let you live it down if you didn’t show up at all. However, you needed some medicine for the headache or you’d die. You surely felt like you were dying already.

You really hoped Nesta was in a worse state. After all, she had been the one to insist on opening a second bottle, and okay maybe the third was actually you, you thought, and what about the fourth ? And well, you lost count.

You rose to a sitting position in your bed, your legs still tangled in the sheets. You ran your fingers through your hair, already expecting to find it dirty because you were supposed to wash it yesterday. The day was barely starting and it was ruined. However, when your fingers wove through the strands, you found nothing dirty. Instead, the nice and familiar smell of your shampoo and favorite hair perfume arose. That didn’t make sense. You’d have never been able to do this, you remembered spending a good fifteen minutes trying to winnow inside the house yesterday, Nesta blowing you ear off about it like some rutted mammal while you told her she better ask Cassian to come fetch her if she kept yelling in your ear.

A few seconds after, everything became very clear to you, as you saw the cup of tea nicely waiting for you on your bedside table. Azriel had helped you and he was still helping you now. You took in the smell of the beverage, more like a disgusting shot, than tea, actually, and your eyes fell upon the paper lying next to it. Neatly tucked behind the cup was a small piece of paper. You picked it up and read the words there, left by the Shadowsinger. You felt like you were devouring them, reading the little note at least ten times before your mind could focus on them. Such a small thing he had done, getting you tea and writing off that you were already late to training as he wrote, and if you were reading this even later, then you were in serious trouble. Such a small note but it had already taken up an enormous space in your heart, right next to where everything he had ever done and said to you was resting.

You decided to be brave and pick up the cup and drink it in one go, then get ready for training. You told yourself you would at least show up, so it looked like you cared a bit about missing the whole thing. You honestly couldn’t care less. Your entire body was raging against you, your thighs and calves were sore, your head was still pounding while your heart was still going crazy over Azriel’s note.

Ten minutes later you were dressed in your own fighting leathers and headed up to training. Everyone was still there, you saw Cassian cleaning his knives before putting them back where they belonged. Nesta was busy stretching, well, more like chatting with Gwyn and Emerie. You could see everyone except Azriel. Where was he? He didn’t have any mission that required him to leave the Court, you were sure of it. You were so attentive to his schedule that you would’ve known. Had something urgent come up and he had to go away suddenly? If so, why didn’t he say in his letter? You were really starting to overthink his absence when you felt something cool curl around the nape of your neck. You leaned into the unfamiliar feeling before turning around and locking eyes with the Spymaster.

‘There you are. How’s your head?’ He was standing in front of you now, looking at you with such soft, soft eyes. His hair was slightly wet, Cass had more than likely poured his water on him. His shirt was also wet, clinging to his chest and abs, leaving little to the imagination. Not that you need much to imagine everything you’d like to do with Azriel.

‘Better now, thanks to you. You really didn’t have to bring me tea, you know. I could’ve gotten downstairs to fetch some. Or ask the House if I felt like I couldn’t get up’. Your face was burning up. You felt so vulnerable in front of him.

‘It’s fine, y/n. I wanted to check if you were alright.". So much concern was laced in his voice. You must’ve hit your head last night. There was no way this was all real. Why was he so caring? He added, ‘I’m glad you showed up before the end actually. We might still manage to get something out of you today’. And there it was, the cunning gleam in his beautiful hazel eyes, back to teasing you, just like he had done yesterday night before leaving you to sleep. He wouldn’t go easy on you, he had said. Like hell he wouldn’t. You’d make sure to puke all over his shoes if he pushed you too far. You were done being at his mercy at training. You vividly remembered Nesta’s pep talk yesterday about standing your ground at training and talking back to Azriel ‘I bet he’d like that’ she’d said.

‘Don’t push me Az.’ You said, trying to sound as threatening as he could, failing miserably. He smiled, and his eyes crinkled. It was a sight you could get accustomed to, very, very quickly. You tried not to dwell too much on it, tried not to stare at him like some crazed animal either. Instead, you turned your head towards Nesta, wondering how she managed to pull off coming here and completing the training Cassian had made specifically for his mate. Azriel followed your line of sight ‘He didn’t make her do much, don’t worry. She barely lifted a finger today. The only thing she did was ogle him. She’s got nothing on you, not with what I’m gonna have you do right now’.

You turned back to him so fast that you crashed into his chest, his hands immediately settling on your arms to steady you. You hadn’t felt him inch closer to you, but you couldn’t say you didn’t enjoy the way his fingers felt on your skin. The ghost of his touch was still lingering on your scalp after yesterday. You looked up at him, tilting your head to the side ‘What will you have me do today? Everyone is done and leaving the area’ you said, trying to will your voice not to waver simply from feeling his thumb running circles around your left upper arm. If the alcohol had not killed you, this definitely would, and fast.

‘You need to learn how to defend yourself from an opponent.’ You opened your mouth, ready to tell him off for insinuating you couldn’t defend yourself. You very well could and he knew it. You had decimated entire legions during the War with Hybern without lifting a single finger, only using your magic — ‘No, without magic, y/n. What happens if you somehow can’t use it and end up knocked down in a second because you can’t land a punch, mmh?’. He didn’t have Rhys’ mind reading abilities but it sure felt like he did sometimes, especially right now.

‘Okay then. How will you do that? The girls are all gone now.’

‘You’ll be against me’. He said, as if this was obviously a fair fight. ‘Come on, get warmed up. I’ve already waited two hours for you’.

You did just that, practically leapt away from the male. You were burning up inside just thinking about fighting him. Well, not fighting him per se, but having his hands on you, being around you, so close, even if he was trying to knock you down.

While you did this, Azriel was beating himself up for being so selfish. You had had a rough night, he knew this. He’d been the one to help you unwind yesterday night, getting you ready for sleep while all he wanted was for you to sober up and let him take you to bed. He’d be too good to you, he’d make sure to ask what you liked, getting you off before he even though of pleasuring himself, making you feel beautiful, making you feel wanted, even loved. He was so deep into his feelings, he was actually considering this. Just offering himself to you, letting you have him any you wanted, and discard him afterwards, if that was your choice. He wouldn’t even argue. Anything to make you happy. Anything for you

He was so deep in his thoughts that he didn’t notice you approaching him once again. His shadows had, though, already making their way to you. They didn’t listen to him as he tried to rein them in, no, the little traitors were already getting cozy around your shoulders, one curling around the tip of your ears, another lacing around your wrist. They looked like they belonged there, making you look even prettier than before. If that were possible. You weren’t afraid of them, he noted. Just like you hadn’t balked or stepped back in disgust when his hands steadied you earlier. He even believed he saw your pupils dilate as his thumb rubbed circles on your skin, the action so natural he hadn’t noticed he was doing it until his shadows informed him that you seemed contented by the touch.

He had to concentrate on actually training you to fight instead of panting after you. ‘We’re going to start easy. Just try to disarm me first and then we’ll work on better techniques’. He positioned himself in a fighting stance, motioning for you to do the same.

You were breathing heavily, sweat gathering on the nape of your neck and your forehead while Azriel looked untouched. You had been going at it for an hour already, you trying to disarm him, Az easily dodging you, smirking as he went. He always made sure to whisper sweet words of encouragement, though. Telling you that you were doing well, that you were learning quickly, like he knew you would.

‘You’ve done really well today.’, he said, handing you a towel. When you reached your hand out to take it from him, he shook his head, beckoning you over with his hand. You obliged and let him wipe your sweat. He did it carefully, as if you were a precious sculpture, a piece of art. When he was done, he put the towel away but his hands went back to your face, his hands gently cupping your face, so, so gently. He was handling you with such care, such finesse you wondered how people could ever think he was a vicious, cruel male. But, then again, he was only ever like this with you, you just had yet to realize.

‘Are you okay?’, his voice was so low you barely heard him. You would have been sure to have imagined it if you hadn’t been staring at his lips and seen them moving.

‘Mmh’. You knew it was a shitty answer but your brain couldn’t muster up anything else right now. Your mind entirely consumed by him. Your face was burning up, your eyes were still stuck on his mouth, which was curving at your stupid answer.

‘What is it, love? Can’t talk anymore?’. He was smirking. The bastard knew what effect he had on you and he relished in it. You were in deep shit. You were going to make a huge fool of yourself but you felt like you’d die if you didn’t kiss him right now. Still you were too scared.

‘What are you doing, Az?’, you had to make sure he knew, you had to make sure he wasn’t going to make his way inside of your heart and then leave it festering like a gaping, open wound. You wouldn’t be able to handle the fallout. As pathetic as it sounded, you didn’t feel like you could live in the same place as him if he didn’t reciprocate your feelings. It’d be too much for you, too humiliating.

‘I can’t do this anymore, y/n. I can’t keep acting like we’re friends when I want to be more than that for you. I want to be there for you whenever you need anything. I want to be your best friend. I want to listen to you rant about weird products or the newest song you like or whatever it is you have to say because I love listening to your voice when you get excited about a story. I want the good and the bad. I want to be there for you when you miss your parents too much, or when you’re so anxious you can’t stay still. I want to be there to help you organize your thoughts when you’re overthinking so much you can’t even talk. But honestly, I want anything you’d be able to give me. Anything, y/n. Anything for you.’ His eyes were staring into yours, gauging your reaction. He had gone stiff, waiting for your answer. You could see his shadows fretting over him, getting ready to shield their master if you ever intended to hurt him.

You couldn’t believe your ears. Azriel was holding your face, basically spilling his heart out to you, so clearly, it was so clear that you knew he must’ve talked about this with Cassian. Azriel was a very smart male but he’d never been one to articulate his feelings, certainly not this well. You were stunned into silence. Your brain had short-circuited for a moment before you felt a cool shadow brush your face and poke your cheek. You realized you had yet to answer him and the beautiful face in front of you looked more anxious by the second.

‘I want to be the one for you too, Azriel. If you’d let me’. You were so shy, having to take a few deep breaths before you were able to get the words out. He nodded, as if to ask for confirmation, which you gladly gave him.

Azriel grinned so hard you were momentarily blinded by his smile. He leaned down, his face inching dangerously close towards yours. Well, not dangerously anymore. His haze eyes were still looking into yours, as if asking for permission, stopping only a few millimeters from your lips. You nodded, head moving barely an inch south, allowing him to kiss you. He gave you another breathtaking smile, his eyes so full of adoration, before closing the gap between your mouths, his soft lips landing on yours. You fit perfectly on each other. It was barely a press at first, simply brushing his lips against yours. You were getting impatient, wanting more of him. You tentatively put your right hand on his shoulders and rose on your toes, just enough for your lips to fully press. Azriel hummed into the kiss, finally moving his mouth against yours, slowly, languidly. He was taking his time, learning the feeling of your lips, their shape, their taste. His other hand went around your waist, tugging you into him. What started as a sweet kiss quickly turned into something hungrier. You ran your tongue over his lower lip, once, earning you a sweet moan from Azriel. Fueled by his reaction, you did again, this time feeling warm all over. He was so reactive to you. You kissed for what felt like an eternity before you were forced to take a breath.

‘Go easy on me, yeah? You’re killing me right now’, Az said, resting his forehead on yours, a smile like you’d never seen before still stretching on his face. Your hand was sitting at the nape of his neck, running your fingers through his hair resting there, feeling so content.

‘You’re the one who was supposed to go easy on me’, you replied, reminding him of last night’s conversation.

‘I promised no such thing’, said the Shadowsinger. He was still cupping your face, and peppered your face with small kisses everywhere his lips could reach. Your lips, again, the tip of your nose, your cheeks, your nose again, your forehead. You giggled and he looked back into your eyes. ‘Are you hungry?’. You nodded, finally able to fill your empty stomach now that your heart was filled too.

Azriel offered you his elbow, again. Instead of taking his hands like you had last night, you indulged him today, resting your hand on his forearm. But not without leaving a small kiss to the back of his hand. Just to let him know that it was all the same to you, scars and all.

#azriel fluff #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #acosf #acofas #acowar #acotar #acomaf #nesta x cassian

[pansy-picnics]

How would the tangled kids react to Varian and Cassandra’s villain arc? Also I love your art 😊

AJDJDJDGG OKAY SO. this is SO fucking good but ive been putting it off for so long bc i wanted to draw something to go with it but i’ve just. never figured out what so inevitably i’m just gonna answer it on its own

this subject in particular is SO FUNNY for me to think about bc i think the kids’ reactions depend a lot on how their parents talk abt it and both of them handle it in COMPLETELY different ways. like uknighted dream is pretty open abt it (obviously they give the incredibly watered down kid-safe version) and they kinda use it as a learning experience? like in very vague terms.

its kinda just like

alina: oh why are you and mama cass fighting in your drawing :(

rapunzel: <:) well yknow how if you shake a bottle of soda, when you open it it explodes everywhere?? well sometimes when we bottle up our feelings and don’t do anything with them or talk to someone we trust, they end up getting all shaken up in there, and eventually theyll explode! mama cass and i used to have a lot of trouble talking about our feelings, and because of all those emotions that got bottled up and shaken around in there, we found it hard to properly communicate with each other at all. but then we realized how much we really cared about each other and how we really wanted to make things work, so we learned to be more honest about how we felt and how to communicate with one another without everything just ‘exploding’, so to speak. and thats why we always teach you how to manage your big emotions, does that make sense? :)

on the other hand VARIAN? literally could not care less. at least not with the ud kids. he still has one of his wanted posters that hugo grabbed as a “souvenir” on their trip, and the automaton he used to fight rapunzel? its still in the corner of his lab and he pulls it apart regularly for scrap metal.

ryder will be wandering around his lab when hes like 7 and hes like “uncle vari whats that”

varian: that’s an automaton buddy

ryder: did you make it?

varian: yeah

ryder: what’s it for

varian: well nothing now it’s just spare parts. but i actually made it a long time ago to fight your mom

ryder: which one

varian: both actually. and technically your dad. but mostly rapunzel

ryder: oh

ryder: did you win?

varian: no it wasnt really that kind of fight. nobody won

ryder: oh that’s boring

ryder: can i try it

varian: absolutely not

when emery comes along though varian is like “okay we are Never addressing this again” bc em thinks varian is SO cool and varian actually cares So much about his newfound image. (very stupid of him for that to be his main priority obviously bc emery is like 4 and if she knew what he did she would probably just be like “okay. can i have apple juice”)

anyways yeah ilmari and the twins don’t really tell her anything either because they don’t really see it as anything worth telling her about, especially in comparison to way more important things like the fact that lance will sometimes sneak you dessert before dinner if you can convince eugene he has a gray hair without him catching on. so obviously emery grows up fairly unaware of anything varian has done but the defining factor is that shes constantly hearing about it out of context and is just left to struggle with that enigma.

like you know the experience of being like 14 years old at the family thanksgiving and you get to sit at the grown ups table for the first time and hear about all their weird beef and inside jokes and also hear your aunt mention out of context that hey your dad went to prison once bc that’s LITERALLY what the tangled kids experience in relation to their parents’ pasts. like the twins forgot about most of what varian told them by the time they grew up, they knew the watered down version of what happened with cass but they never knew the little details right. so they’ll just be hanging out playing checkers together while the adults are sitting across the room chatting over drinks and varian jokes “oh man its just like that one time cass kidnapped me” and all the kids immediately whip their heads around like “WHAT?”

this is ESPECIALLY true with emery who’s parents are notorious for having more insults for each other than pet names. em could just be reading by the fireplace late one night and var and hugo come out for a midnight snack and just start talking like

hugo: sometimes i think maybe objectively we should be evil again. like just for fun

varian: honestly. i took over the kingdom once i could do it again no problem

hugo: you’re probably actually strong enough to do it yourself now 🥺

varian: you want to kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid

emery: ….right so are we just gonna brush over the “again” part or did you guys forget i was here

varian also eventually realizes that by doing this he is replicating EXACTLY how quirin used to be secretive of his own past and how like one day varian just suddenly had to grapple with the knowledge that his dad who baked pies and fed the apple peels to his raccoon probably had a kill count. and obviously varian is absolutely distraught over this revelation

“HUGO HELP ME. I think im becoming my dad” “oh. well hey it happens to all of us it could be worse. besides your dad is hot so like i see it as a win win” “What” “what?”

i should probably also mention that ilmari knew about cass’s villain arc long before they even MET and ilmari actively tries to use this against her when they’re like 13. like “yeah well you cant tell ME what to do i’m gonna tell alina and ryder you tried to stab mom when you were in your 20s” (it doesn’t work btw)

#ask #pansy rambling again #tangled kids #alina #emery #ryder #ilmari #tangled the series #rapunzels tangled adventure #vat7k #varian and the 7 kingdoms #varian and the seven kingdoms #uknighted dream #varigo #tts headcanons #varian #vat7k hugo #hugo the human #eugene fitzherbert #tangled cassandra #princess rapunzel #lance strongbow #tangled asks

[vikingmagic33]

A little meet-cute in the garden leads Elain to visit Gwyn in the library. Here is the first installment for a Gwynlain fic for the ACOTAR Writing Circle 3. @azrielshadowssing which happens to coincide beautifully with @gwynweekofficial and pride.

Read on AO3 here!

~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~

Gwyn raced up the darkened stairwell, before spilling out of the doorway and into the rooftop’s blistering sun. She squinted up at Rhysand. He chucked down affectionately at her disheveled appearance. “You’re late,” Rhys stated with mock annoyance.

The sun was making its descent and baked the clay roof in a crackling glow. Gwyn caught sight of steam and her vision of the horizon beyond blurred through pockets of sweltering air. She gulped it down and savored freedom on her tongue.  

“Let me guess.” Rhys continued. “Merrill has concocted some new form of torture?” 

“Nothing new about it.” Gwyn smoothed the folds of her robes and gave him an impertinent stare. 

“But still torture.” He looked immediately concerned. “I can speak to...”

“I’m fine, Rhys.” Gwyn blurted. “I’ve told you that a million times already. I’m fine. I can deal with Merrill. Shall we?” 

She reached for his arm without waiting for his response. Rhys reached down to gather her to his side, as wings appeared, and he pushed up once in a massive boost just beyond the wards. The force of the push caused her sandals to slip. She heard them drop against the roof mere seconds before he’d winnowed them away. 

The first thing Gwyn noticed was the feel of a slightly damp lawn under her feet. The River House was close enough to the water that even on a hot day, spray from the river kept the gardens dewy and fresh. She drew up her hem only slightly to peer down as her toes wiggled. Emerie had painted them a perfect robin’s egg blue at a book club sleepover the night before and Gwyn relished the look against the green and soaked the silkiness through the soles of her feet.  

Rhys had asked that she give regular reports on life within the library. Clotho was technically the correct chain of command, but Rhys had expressed an interest in speaking informally on morale and their general quality of life. Gwyn had been happy to oblige. She had a list tucked into a pocket of her robes and she respected his concern. They had been meeting regularly for months, but that was the first meeting since Rhys had suggested they move them to the River House and expand their discussion to include the new Valkyrie training program. 

“You’re getting positively tan, Gwynnie.” Cassian’s bark boomed from the back steps and Gwyn’s gaze lifted from her feet to her friend’s face. “I think you’ve got twice as many freckles as you did when I first met you.” He chuckled before reaching up to tweak the end of her nose. Nesta swatted his hand and Gwyn rubbed her palm over the spot dramatically, but still managed to stick out her tongue when nobody was looking. 

She hadn’t seen the pair on the roof, so they must have arrived sometime earlier. From the state of Nesta’s hair, they could have been flying. Then again, there was no telling what else could have tangled it so much. Gwyn eyed her friend’s appearance and lifted a brow. Nesta just shrugged. Not flying then. Gwyn grinned. She was happy for Nesta. 

“I could give you a hat.” Gwyn spun at the sound of a feminine voice behind her in the flowers and found Elain kneeling in the garden. Elain set aside a pair of shears and slowly rose to her feet, careful not to touch her dress with her filthy gloves. “Not to say that freckles aren’t very pretty. Just… if you wanted a hat, I do have plenty. I could spare a few for you. If you’d like.” 

Gwyn’s gaze traveled up to Elain’s wide-brimmed, straw hat. It had an elaborate ribbon tied just beneath her chin. The absurdity of the offer was simply adorable. Gwyn couldn’t train in a floppy garden hat, but sincerity and perhaps nerves were clear in Elain’s voice, so Gwyn did not scoff.  

“Thank you, Elain,” Gwyn replied gently. “But I can’t see that I would have any use for such a thing in the library or in the training ring.” She noticed Rhys and Cassian disappearing through the kitchen door, but Nesta waited for Gwyn. 

“But surely elsewhere...” Elain studied Gwyn’s face as though she was being asked to state the obvious. 

Gwyn’s heart lurched and her face must have fallen. She saw confusion bloom in Elain’s eyes and again her heart softened. Elain wasn’t criticizing her. To hear Nesta tell it, Elain didn’t travel very far herself, but at least she could venture into Velaris unaccompanied. Nesta stepped forward and started to speak, but Gwyn stepped between the two. 

“We don’t get much light in the library.” Gwyn chided herself for her choice of words. She felt heat creep up her neck. She sounded like a moron or some sort of neglected houseplant. 

Elain was positively glowing, standing there, in her immaculate garden and she wasn’t actually wrong. Gwyn should be going more places. Gwyn should have need of a hat. 

“None at all?” Elain stepped forward and wiped at her brow with the back of one delicate wrist. All she managed to accomplish was to trap one dark blond curl into the dampness at her temple and Gwyn hid a smile. “How can anything hope to thrive in utter darkness?” Elain sounded ready to picket. 

“They do have candles, Elain.” Nesta sounded cross and Gwyn waved her off. She didn’t want to be the source of strife between the sisters. There had been plenty of that in the past and things were just starting to settle. 

“Not everything needs to be baked in the sun, Elain. We are the Night Court, are we not? Night can be beautiful too.” Gwyn practically purred. She was shocked by the tone in her own voice. Where had that come from? 

“I guess so.” Elain huffed a breath distractedly at that pesky curl, but it did not budge. 

“Here. Let me help you out.” Gwyn reached over and tugged the curl free. “Better?” 

“Thank you, Gwyneth.” Elain breathed her laughter. “I’m a mess.” 

“Nothing wrong with a bit of sweat,” Gwyn added, froze, and tried to pivot. “You’ve been hard at work.” Gwyn pointed awkwardly to an impressive pile of rose branches discarded near Elain’s very organized workstation. It was a folded towel for her knees and a bucket of what appeared to be bonemeal. Gwyn had been impressed to hear she recycled them from kitchen scraps. “We should let you get back to it.” 

Elain nodded. “Always nice to see you, Gwyneth.”

“You too, Elain.” Gwyn took Nesta’s arm and aimed for the house. Nesta narrowed her eyes.

“What was that?” Nesta hissed. 

“I have no idea.” Gwyn lied. She did have an idea. In fact, she had several. 

“You were flirting with my sister.” Nesta accused with a hungry smile. 

“I was doing no such thing!” Gwyn denied with a pout. “I was just being nice. Can’t I be nice?” 

“Liar,” Nesta growled under her breath. “You’re never that nice to me.”

“Well. You’ve never offered me a hat.” Gwyn hid her blush by rushing forward into the house. 

~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~

Elain made her way quietly down the dimly lit hall. She wasn’t sure why she’d felt the need to sneak, assuming that was even a fair description of her behavior. But it always felt like she was sneaking around the River House or the grounds or even into Valeris. The last, she liked to consider more exploration, even if she would bet all of her allowance that her sisters would scoff at that characterization. 

Rhys could be counted upon to be visiting Feyre’s art studio in the Rainbow on most afternoons and she’d timed her trek upstairs accordingly. Elain had no interest in dealing with the High Lord. Honestly, she had no interest in interacting with anyone, save perhaps the twins. 

It wasn’t that she disliked her sisters. She didn’t even dislike the families that both had chosen for themselves, not objectively at least. But the twins didn’t avert their gazes too quickly, nor did they let them linger with confusion, when Elain’s comments or behaviors were inevitably deemed uncouth or to be based on some outdated human mindset that Elain had yet to identify and sufficiently weed out. Worse were the moments when time skipped and snagged when a vision nudged or whispered and Elain simply fell behind in conversations or trailed off in the middle of speaking. 

Elain was not some shy or shrinking violet, nor was she a masochist. Solitude was just simpler and she found she liked people more when they said less and when she didn’t have to see them. 

She didn’t usually find herself in his library. Libraries in general were foreign and unknown. Visits were not something that her late mother encouraged and familiarity hadn’t been possible in their new lives after her death. 

Elain needed information though, so she tapped lightly on the door. She sighed happily at the lack of response and turned the ornate knob. Elain pressed her shoulder against his heavy door as it swung gently into the darkness of the room beyond. Need was perhaps a strong word. Elain wanted information. The idea of a gift had bloomed in her mind and she couldn’t seem to shake it. She didn’t want to shake it. 

Ultimately, the library trip had been an utter waste of her time. It had actually taken three trips into Velaris, a visit with a local botanist, and the aid of a rather talented glass blower. Finally, she found herself standing with an awkwardly large box in her arms, asking Rhys for transport to the House of Wind and his permission to visit the library below. 

“Sure.” He dusted toast crumbs from the corner of his mouth. “I’m going up there anyway. I will take the box for you.” Rhys responded absently. Had he even noticed that it wasn’t what she’d requested from him at all? 

“I’d rather deliver them myself. Thank you though.” Elain responded as Feyre peeked over the edge of the box at the greenery within. “There are care instructions and all.” Elain shrugged and adjusted the box in her arms with the help of one knee. “If you could just let this Clotho person know that I will be visiting within the library today, you can just drop me at the entrance. I believe there is one somewhere on the roof?” 

Feyre’s head shot up before she offered with a glint of curiosity in her eye, “I can take you.”

No way. Not a chance. Elain shook her head.  

“Rhys just said he was going anyway. Did he not?” 

There was some comfort in knowing that Rhysand didn’t understand her and had no interest in figuring her out. It was neglect masquerading as privacy and she offered back resentment passing for respect. 

“It is done.” Rhys tapped his temple with one finger as he took one last bite of toast and rose from the table. He bent to plant a kiss on his son’s head and one on his mate’s cheek before heading for the door. 

Clotho had been polite and accommodating and Gwyn turned out to be fairly easy to find. 

“This one is called Bird's Nest.” Elain pointed to the first plant. “They call this one a snake plant, but I’m not sure why. The spider plant makes a little more sense when you see the little baby plants that sort of shoot off as it grows.”

“That sounds like quite the kerfuffle.” Gwyn beamed and her laughter washed over Elain. She was happy. The gift had been a good idea after all. “I’d better keep my eye on these and make sure they all stay in line.”

“Yes. Well.” Elain blushed. “And this one, it’s a bromeliad. No silly name. It even blooms without any sun. None need sun. Although they will thank you for these little bauble lights I got in town. The shop owner assured me that they mimic low sunlight.”

“Are these for light too?” Gwyn peered from across the box and reached a hand underneath for support. Their fingers brushed slightly and Elain’s pulse raced. 

“Oh, no. Those are for water.” Elain tried again to adjust her hold on the box and the whole thing nearly toppled despite being trapped between their chests. Elain managed to grab hold of a colorful orb on a long glass stem. “You fill these with water and then stick them into the dirt. They will help with watering.” 

“Thank you.” Gwyn smiled and Elain was nervous at the sheen in Gwyn’s eyes. 

“This one is poisonous to cats.” Elain blurted. “You don’t have a cat do you?”

“Sometimes I think we might, but if he’s going to prowl around here nibbling on my plants, then he deserves a bit of mischief. Don’t you think?”  

“He? If you’re not sure that there is a cat, how do you know it is male?” Elain asked, genuinely amused. 

“A girl cat would know better than to eat strange plants and probably would’ve made some friends by now. At least, with the kitchen staff.” They were talking nonsense and Elain was blissfully happy. 

“So.” Elain had no idea what to say next. “I’ll just give these to you.” Elain aimed for subtle, but managed to shove the box at Gwyn. 

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Gwyn stepped away, hands raised. “You can carry them down and help me place them around my reading nook.” She turned toward the stairs. “And I hope you mean to visit them.”

“Pardon?” Elain squeaked. 

“You can’t just give a girl a basket of living things and some vague instructions and expect them to survive.” Gwyn chided and Elain was fairly sure she was teasing her. 

“Box,” Elain mumbled. 

“Pardon?” There was definite teasing in Gwyn’s voice as she mimicked Elain’s earlier nerves. Elain blushed, though not unpleasantly, she noticed. 

“It’s a box, not a basket.” Elain clarified and Gwyn chuckled. Warmth bloomed in Elain’s chest. 

“If any of the other priestesses should want...”

“They can keep their mitts off my ferns.” Gwyn yanked the box possessively to her chest then.  

“Bromeliad.” Elain corrected. 

“See,” Gwyn called over her shoulder as she continued down the stairs. “I’m in over my head already. You simply must save me, Elain.” Perhaps they were both in over their heads, but for the first time that she could remember, Elain didn’t mind at all. 

#ACOTAR writing circle 3 #gwyneth berdara #elain archeron #gwynlain #dual pov #pro gwyn #pro elain #my kind of why pick #crush #lesbian pride #best friend’s sister #sister’s best friend #idiots to lovers #two versions of rhys #acosf #ACOTAR #acotarwritingcircle #acotar writing circle

[eudaimonia83]

Working on another project for a week or two, but there’s still some STUFF in the works 👀

just the tiniest little nsfw amuse-bouche of coming attractions… 🏳️‍🌈

@camreadsum I am really excited about this subplot lol and you gave me the idea for it 😁😁😁 so thank yoooouuuu

———————————————

“I didn’t want them to hurt you.” Mor’s voice wavered. “I knew they could, if no one was watching. Or they could try to…to sell you. Marry you to some lordling who’d never appreciate what you’d done, who’d never let you do the things you’re capable of…”

“Are you talking about me, or yourself?” Emerie knew it was cruel to say such a thing, that that fear was not misplaced, or inaccurate. But she said it anyway, and squared her shoulders.

“Either. Both.” Mor’s hand pressed against her abdomen, wincing as if in terrible pain. Her face was stark white. “I know what that is, and I can’t…I can’t let them do that to you.”

“Then help me,” Emerie insisted. “We could get them out. All of them.”

“You don’t think the Illyrians will notice that their women are disappearing right under their nose?”

“Not at first,” Emerie said. “Do you know how I know? Because they haven’t yet.” The bluntness of being able to speak it aloud was pure, refreshing, even if it was a shock to the system — like falling into a pool of ice water. Truth could be like that.

Mor could be like that.

Mor let out a sobbing laugh. “And did you never ask why?”

A sucking vortex of dread circled in Emerie’s gut.

Mor was crying in earnest now. “I paid them. I told them to name their price and I’d…compensate. They received my father’s gold, and they promised not to pursue vengeance. But it won’t hold them away forever. If they find out, they’ll…they’ll send the warriors after you, just as they did with the Blood Rite, and I won’t be able to help you just like Cass and Az couldn’t help Nesta and Gwyn.” She fiercely drew her hand across her eyes. “I won’t watch them kill you. I won’t. I can’t.”

Emerie felt as if she were falling into a chasm. It sped her heart, made her reckless. She wanted to hear it. She wanted her to say it. “Why? Why would it matter to you in any way what my own people do to me?”

Mor reached out, stretching her hand over Emerie’s, and her finger lighted gently onto the back of Emerie’s hand. “Because my mind is twisted around you all the time. Everything comes back to you. You are…you are everything. Brave and bold and reckless, infuriating, angry and elegant and insouciant, and so fucking beautiful my heart just…dies whenever I see you. Because I can’t stop admiring you, and envying you, and wanting you. You make me want things to be different.”

Emerie was losing focus. There was a roaring in her ears, tiny stars at the border of her vision. Did that mean…?

She swallowed hard, the knot tight in her throat. “You want me?”

She couldn’t mean it. She couldn’t mean in the same way that she haunted Emerie’s dreams, where they tangled and drowned together in a bliss so complete it was terrifying…

Mor swallowed, and nodded. Then looked up into Emerie’s face, tears soaking her own.

Emerie never quite remembered what happened next.

It was only a cloud of movement and breaths and her thundering, pulsing heart, and then…softness. The softness of Mor’s arms around her, straining her to her heart, cupping her face. The supple softness of her hips and thighs and waist, pivoting to press against Emerie’s; the tang of tears against her lips, and then…

… a softness all over her body, breaking against her like a wave, as Mor’s lips pressed against her own, heat blooming between them like a candle set too close to a curtain.

#the gayness will not be denied #emerie #morrigan #emorie #acotar #fanfic #prythian #wlw #wlw ns/fw

[crownofgildedlilies]

beautiful things sneak peek (pt 1?)

so, I'm just too obsessed with my Leo x oc fic that I'm currently writing but I'm not ready to post it yet? even tho I have 45 parts written? (literally... im not ashamed to admit im a wattpad story girlie)

so! I've decided to post the first part of chapter one, because that might convince me to actually start posting it, fr.

it is an original character, not a reader insert, so be warned if it's not ur thing!

lmk what you think!

"MURPH!"

Even if Emery Murphy hadn't recognized the voice, she would have known who interrupted her solitary reading by the nickname alone. There was one person in all of Camp Half-Blood that called her Murph.

Well, only one person, since Charles had—

"You're so annoying, Jackson," Emery hummed without looking up from her book. There was a crease between her brows; a common sight as her dyslexic mind put most of her focus into sorting through the tangled mess of letters on the page. Percy liked to joke that she was a glutton for punishment, somehow finding enjoyment in reading and making complicated plans.

"What else are brothers good for?" Percy Jackson teased, dropping onto the sandy beach beside Emery's chair. 

"I told you not to make me regret saying that," Emery huffed, not yet giving up on reading, though her eyes stopped scanning across the page at their uneven pace. Percy was the son of Poseidon, Emery was the daughter of Athena. They weren't really siblings—which probably was a good thing, considering he was dating her half-sister—but only a few months back she had told him that he was her brother and she had his back, no matter what. 

Then she had thrown herself headfirst into a horde of monsters to protect him while he saved the world from the Titan king Kronos. 

"I'm pretty sure you knew what you were getting yourself into. You've known me since we were twelve." He propped his elbows on his knees, fingers expertly finding a perfect shell buried in the sand before him. Emery watched him carefully from the corner of her sunglass covered eyes, her reading momentarily paused. 

"Did you need something?" It wasn't that she didn't enjoy spending time with Percy, but it was rare that he was ever so far from Annabeth's side. Especially after he turned down godhood to be a demigod with her. "I'm pretty sure Annabeth had chores in the infirmary today."

"Nah," Percy hummed, sifting sand between his fingers. "I mean, yeah, she did. But I came to check up on you."

Emery sighed as she placed her bookmark between the pages. She should have been expecting this conversation, daughter of battle strategy, and all. But she had foolishly hoped he would have let her suffer in silence for just a little bit longer. 

"Perce, we talked about this." 

"Would you hate me if I said I didn't believe you?" He shot her a charming smile and she fired back her own flat look in return. "In all seriousness, Murph, I'm worried about you. You've been... distant. Since before Manhattan, even. And I know—"

"Listen," Emery interrupted the savior of the world. A frown tugged her lips downward, not quite a pout, the crease still between her brows. She knew Percy's concerns were valid—she had developed a habit of self-isolating herself from others, hadn't been eating as much or staying long at camp bonfires. But that didn't mean she was ready to hear what Percy had to say. "I've been at camp since, well, forever. Demigods tend to die early, and in nasty ways. That wasn't my first time watching people I care about get hurt." 

"That doesn't mean you have to cope with it alone." Concern laced his words and he sat up a little taller. Even though Emery was in a chair, it was low to the sand, so he was almost eye level with her. 

Not that she could get herself to meet his eye. 

"You seem perfectly okay. Why can't I be, too?" Emery reasoned, propping an elbow on the arm of her chair and twisting so she faced her not-quite brother. 

"I didn't know Beckendorf as well as you. No one did, except maybe Silena—"

And Silena died, too, leaving Emery alone to grieve the both of them. 

"Charles died a hero. Isn't that what we all want to do?" Her voice was hard, turned to stone in the way it always did whenever someone brought up the boy. Another one of her not-quite brothers, except Charles Beckendorf had been her best friend, too, at camp. And even so many months after his death she still couldn't deny the ache in her chest whenever she thought of him. 

"You know I'm just looking out for you, Murph." Percy's voice was quiet, working a like a wave washing over all her jagged edges and brick-wall defenses. 

Murph. Charles had given her the nickname only a few days after he had arrived. A natural consequence of living at camp everyday for as long as she could remember, Emery had made it her business to know every half-blood that ever showed up on their doorstep. And Charles Beckendorf had taken her under his wing, the eager child she was, and shown her the forges and workshops built by the sons and daughters of Hephaestus. 

And then Charles had died, in a move orchestrated by Luke Castellan, the golden boy of demigods, who was doing Kronos' bidding. 

She was still working through the tangled knot of emotions. She couldn't figure it out, and she was supposed to be able to figure everything out. The more her frustration built, the easier it became to justify lashing out at Percy for just trying to help. 

She sighed, guilt coiling low in her stomach. 

"I know," Emery sighed, slumping lower in her chair. Suddenly, the sun beating on her skin was growing a little unbearable. Usually, Emery couldn't get warm enough. "You know, I know." 

"I know you and your sister know everything," Percy taunted, and Emery huffed a pathetic, half-laugh. Maybe he had a point; what else were brothers good for, if not to annoy their sisters? "Mom still says you can come stay with us for the school year. Get out of camp for a little bit."

It wasn't enough for Percy to be savior of the world. He had to be one of the most genuine, caring guys out there. Emery hated him for it. 

"Tell your mom I said thank you, again, but," She paused, forcing herself to focus on a spot in the distance, grateful that her sunglasses kept Percy from seeing the tears pooled in her eyes. "But I'm not ready to leave this place, yet."

Even if she had been there for so long, she wasn't sure she'd be able to handle normal school. 

"Offer still stands, if you change your mind." Percy stood to his feet, her nose scrunching in distaste as he wiped the sand off his shorts and onto her. "C'mon, sis. Lunch is starting soon, and Tyson almost flooded the cabin crying last night because you've been skipping out on hanging with us."

She knew Percy meant his words as a teasing joke, a total hyperbole, but Emery couldn't help the jolt of shame at hurting her friend—however indirectly. How rare was it that Tyson came to stay at camp, lately? She shouldn't have been hiding away, moping. 

"Well," She sighed dramatically, taking Percy's outstretched hand and allowing him to pull her to her feet. "I can't disappoint my favorite son of Poseidon." 

"Hey!"

a/n: no Leo in this part, but it's only part of ch 1! plenty of Leo to be had in the rest trust trust

#what do I tag this #beautiful things wp #<- yeah that sounds right #Leo Valdez x oc #teaser teaser!

[separatist-apologist]

I want to join in the ranking fun so, if you feel like it: acotar characters on a hike?

17. Amren- DID NOT GO

16. Nesta- ALSO DID NOT GO

15- Mor- HIKE???? No thanks.

14.- Feyre- brings a giant pack of her art supplies, sets up in the first nice valley and begins to paint. Yes, paint. Just wants to capture the moment, to soak in the beauty of nature.

13. Rhys- brought a golf cart, wearing open-toed shoes. "What do you mean we're not golfing?" Ends up banned by park service for taking a golf cart up a protected trail, waits in parking lot doing wheelies

12. Tarquin- SO HUMID. Prefers a dry heat, will not stop talking about it. Wants to know if they're ever going to swim, bails early when he realizes the journey is just the walk. NO THANK YOU

11. Gwyn- Two miles max, did not wear adequate shoes. Brought a book tucked beneath her arm to identify plants and birds but forgot water. Identifies zero birds, gets 100 mosquito bites.

10. Jurian- Does not understand point of a hike. Declares the view is not even that good. VISIBLY sunburned a third of the way up, refuses to put on sunscreen. Constantly asking if they're there yet.

9. Helion- Definitely thought there would be more drinking involved. Goes in 70's style shorts so everyone knows how muscular his thighs are. Isn't there for the right reasons. Lots of passerby's distracted when he takes off his shirt. Everyone annoyed by his in person thirst trapping.

8. Azriel- athletic but this is not his preferred form of absorbing vitamin D. Teased the whole time about how much black he wore. Doesn't want to scuff brand new shoes, has one of those backpacks you can slurp water from with a straw, refuses to share.

7. Vassa- Came with the hopes everyone was camping. Hiking with an ARSENAL of gear on her back. Exhausted half way through and FURIOUS when she realizes everyone is done at mile five

6. Emerie- Hiking goddess. Came to snap pictures and she looks good doing it. Long leggings and socks despite heat, does not seem to notice. Carrying on conversation despite ninety degree incline.

5. Eris- brought ALL his dogs. Tangled leashes EVERYWHERE. People constantly asking to pet, of course he says NO. DONT TOUCH THEM. Dogs desperately want to be pet. Carrying around way too many bags of dog poop, is grumpy about it. So worried about keeping dogs from escaping, forgets sunscreen.

4. Elain- Points out all the plants along the way, taking pictures carefully to catalogue. WAY at the back of the group, constantly having to jog to catch up. Came to soak up nature, not to get so sweaty. Wore a too floppy hat she loses in the wind at the very top, forced to go back down without it.

3. Tamlin- Wants to hike in SILENCE. Brought headphones, defeating the purpose of a group hike. So loud EVERYONE can hear. "Is that Call Me Maybe?" Tamlin pretends he didn't hear.

2. Cassian- BRUTAL PACE. PRACTICALLY RUNNING. OH MY GOD WHAT IS YOUR RUSH??? The rush is to beat the crowd and to punish ourselves for our many crimes against God. Cassian avoids being murdered that day...but just barely.

1. Lucien- Off grid hiking, tracking through woods like a bloodhound. Group? What group? They find him halfway back lounging against a tree looking unbothered. Made it to the top hours ago, just waiting now. There is a shortcut, he claims, pointing to vertical incline nicknamed "SUICIDE CLIMB" Looks like it needs equipment to get up, he claims he used his hands. Perfect ponytail.

#once again #this is objectively correct #as always i have the only right opinion on these characters and how they would behave on a hike #you know im right

[vulpes-fennec]

Pumpkin Fields Forever (Part 5) 🎃

Summary: Where are all the pumpkins? On the lake, of course! Elain and Lucien’s eventful day ends with floating pumpkin lanterns. Also, Happy Halloween! 

**I got inspired by the Elucien Tangled-inspired fanart by hachandraws (commissioned by @cascadingmoon) [Tumblr] [IG] and wanted to make a fall eco-friendly alternative for our nature-loving couple.**

Read: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | AO3

“I want to visit the pumpkin field before leaving,” Elain announced, breaking the silent spell. Farmers milled around the faelight-lit pumpkin field, snipping gourds off the vine for those who were purchasing. 

Elain didn’t realize just how many pumpkin varieties existed: dusty gray, orange, white, knobbly green, yellow…she took note of the spacing, the type of dirt, the drainage system, and the pruning. Perhaps growing vegetables would be her new project after she mastered the herb garden! It was only when Lucien tapped her shoulder that Elain realized she was crouching on the ground in her inspection, getting her orange dress dirty. 

He pointed to the lake at the edge of the festival grounds. Small lights floated on the inky black surface. Elain squinted, pushing her Fae senses to their limit. She gasped. “Are those…floating lanterns?!?” Elain took off for the lake excitedly, oblivious to Lucien’s affectionate smile at her bright expression. 

“Ohh, look! They’re made of pumpkins!” she cried. A booth by the water was selling mini pumpkins that had been hollowed out and fitted with small beeswax candles. Lucien elbowed Elain good-naturedly as she eagerly fished for her coin purse, but he did not object to her paying for two pumpkin lanterns. 

Elain protectively cradled her pumpkin in the palm of her hand. A small crowd had gathered on the boat dock to light and launch pumpkins into the lake. Amren, Varian, Mor, and Emerie were all standing there with their pumpkins. Elain frowned in disappointment. “Shall we launch the pumpkins over there?” Lucien asked, gesturing to the secluded end of the lake. 

“Alright.” Elain couldn’t believe she readily agreed. Single ladies and gentlemen were not to be alone together, unless they were courting, and dark corners were certainly forbidden. But the Fae have different rules, and it’s not TOO dark with the moon out, she tried to convince herself.

Elain and Lucien picked over shrubs and rocks with their pumpkins in hand. When Lucien finally undid the bun holding his hair, Elain was entranced by the red, wavy locks falling over the sides of his chiseled face. The moon’s muted light still cast a faint radiance that made his hair seem like liquid fire.  

“There’s a wooden bench we can sit on over there,” Lucien suggested. The lights of the festival were far away, the only sounds being the rustling wind and lapping water. Elain gingerly sat down. We are truly alone out here. Her concerns were not of wild animals lurking nearby, but of how the male would have her undivided attention.

“Is something wrong?” Lucien asked, concerned. Elain stared down at her mini pumpkin, panicking at his straight-forward question. Yes, something is wrong! She wanted to shout into the night. I allow myself half a day with you and now I don’t want this night to end. And I don’t WANT to feel that way…

Especially when I don’t know if you entertained my whims today simply because I’m the advantage you have over the Inner Circle. And I’m confused about how you feel towards me, what you think of me… 

Chaotic thoughts typically triggered Elain’s habit to hide. To make herself as small as possible, to avoid dealing with the thoughts and emotions. But if she managed to be somewhat functional in Lucien's presence today, perhaps she was also capable of confronting other issues with him. “I don’t know how to trust you.” Her voice was a nauseated whisper. 

Lucien’s neutral countenance shifted to alarm. “I shouldn’t have taken you so far out, we can go back—”

“No, it’s not that,” Elain quickly said. “It’s because you’re an emissary. A courtier. You know how to manipulate people.” 

“So you think I’m manipulating you,” Lucien ventured slowly. 

“No! Well, a bit.” Frustration stung at Elain’s nose, threatening tears. How am I supposed to explain myself!?! How does he always misread the simplest things while understanding my complexities? Nevertheless, she continued. “When you bought me that pear crumble…I was confused. Whether you were acting by the mating bond or whether you were being kind. I wanted to believe the latter. But then y-you sprang those questions at me, and it made me think you gave me the dessert to soften me up before you could—” her voice rose higher with hysteria. 

“Oh gods, no,” Lucien sighed as he rubbed his forehead. “I didn’t mean to interrogate you, my lady. I impulsively asked the questions because I was curious. You were willfully oblivious to your own feelings. It had nothing to do with the pear crumble…I got it because—” he blushed “—I thought it would make you happy.” 

Giddy warmth soothed some of Elain’s anxiety. “So you weren’t being nice to me…to provoke me later? Or to gain information on the Night Court?” 

“I do like to tease people, but if you don’t want me to do that to you…”

“No, that’s alright. I mean…I don’t mind your teasing, I suppose.” Elain looked away awkwardly. People hardly ever teased sweet Elain. They were only nice, courteous…and often boring. Sure, Lucien was a bit infuriating earlier, but his teasing made her blood run hot. In a good way.

“Well then. You’ve given me the stamp of approval to tease you mercilessly,” he smirked. Elain allowed a small smile, wondering what she’d gotten herself into. Lucien’s voice then grew serious. “I may tease you, but I would never manipulate you, Elain.” 

Elain shuddered slightly at the sound of her name in his rich voice. Not “my lady”, but “Elain”. The first time he’s ever said my name. “Alright,” she said quietly. “I didn’t mean to t-think badly of you.”    

“Don’t feel bad. I’d rather you be honest with me than be stressed trying to spare my feelings.” He said I was willfully oblivious…is he referring to my avoidance of the mating bond as well? He doesn’t want me to spare his feelings…so does he want me to reject the bond because he THINKS that’s what I want…or because he doesn’t want ME as his mate?

The relief she felt from their conversation about trust evaporated into anxiety. “A-are you referring to the m-mating bond?” she stammered. How does Nesta just bluntly say things left and right…I feel sick trying to talk about this. Being agreeable and keeping situations light is SO much easier. 

Lucien hesitated, his gaze darting between her face and his hands. “I don’t want to ruin the night,” he muttered. Frustration bubbled up in Elain. The one time I try to put a foot forward with him, he takes a step back. Was this what it felt like to interact with me during the last two years? 

“Who’s sparing whose feelings now?” she tried to tease, but her voice was shaky. Please respond, please respond, please… 

Lucien gave her a wry smile and cast his eyes towards the night sky. “Alright, you got me there.” His metal eye expanded and narrowed as he considered how to phrase his following words. “I thought today was a massive improvement from the last few years, but I don’t want you to feel…obligated to be around me. And if we are being honest, well…your concerns are valid. I struggle to differentiate between what’s real and what’s caused by the bond.” 

Real or fake, Elain thought sadly. He knows what’s real because he loved Jesminda so dearly. And Graysen…my love for him was real too. Unlike my sisters and their mates, Lucien and I are stuck comparing each other to our past loves. “Me too,” Elain confessed. “Differentiating between real emotions and the mating bond.” Lucien looked at her, surprised. 

“Give me an example?” he asked. 

Elain bowed her head, hoping her curls shielded her flaming face. There were too many moments, each more embarrassing than the last. But now that I think about it, the mating instincts have been quiet for the majority of the day. I only felt it when I was at the petting zoo and when I was playing the game. The realization that the majority of her thoughts and feelings were her own was discomfiting. “When I was playing the toadstool game…I was angry about Amarantha,” she explained. “I was furious, but it felt more than that? Like the bond had intensified my feelings and senses.” 

“What did you feel?” Lucien pressed.

Elain shuddered. “I wanted to destroy her for hurting you.” 

Lucien’s expression was guarded. “No one has ever fought her for me,” he said, more to himself than to Elain. “Even your sister only gave up her name and completed Amarantha’s horrid tasks because my life was held hostage.” 

Elain was aghast. “I didn’t know that,” she whispered. She thought Amarantha had only taken out Lucien’s eye. The Hybern general was more sadistic than she’d initially thought, seeking to harm her mate again and again Under the Mountain. The idea that he’d come so close to death before she even met him…angry tears threatened to spill over her doe brown eyes, but she clamped them down. “But what if it’s just the bond talking? Does that invalidate the act for you?”

Lucien took a moment to respond. “You said the bond had intensified your feelings and senses, so if you were already angry at Amarantha for what she did to me, then there is some grain of truth in the act.” His eyes perked up. “Besides, I thought you looked quite impressive smashing the toadstools. And that’s not the bond talking.” His full lips quirked in the corner as he looked at Elain. 

Was this what he meant by teasing me mercilessly? Does that include flirting? The gears in Elain’s head screeched to a halt at Lucien’s moonlit perfection and crooked mouth. She clutched her pumpkin tightly, trying to contain her nerves.  

Lucien gestured to her pumpkin with his own. “Want to launch these now?” He got up, walking to the edge of the water where dark waves brushed at the shore. 

Elain started. “We don’t have any matches!” 

Lucien chuckled. “You’re with somebody who has fire powers and you’re worried about matches?” He lifted his calloused hand, and a tiny orange flame leapt to life from his index finger. Elain gasped in appreciation; this was his first display of powers in front of her. She was fascinated by the orange and yellow hues dancing harmlessly on his tanned skin. “Come here,” Lucien said in a soft voice that sent delicious tingles down her spine.

Elain crept closer, allowing him to dip his flame into her pumpkin. It was real fire—she could feel the heat emanating from the candle. For a moment they both stood, pumpkins in hand, basking in the warm glow. Elain inhaled his scent, the fresh apple and soft earthiness of dried leaves. She noticed Lucien was doing the same thing to her, though he was trying to keep it discreet. The notion that a male was trying to smell her would’ve sent Elain fleeing, but right now, she was wrapped up in how Lucien’s scent made her feel safe and heady.

Lucien broke away abruptly to set his pumpkin on the water. Elain blinked, reeling at the loss of his solid presence near her. “Don’t push me in,” he warned teasingly, not looking up at Elain. 

His teasing brought out the mischievous side of Elain, for she primly replied, “I wouldn’t dream of doing that…for now.” Elain crouched down and gave her pumpkin a slight push to get it going on the lake. 

The two of them sat back down on the bench, though Elain kept a foot-long distance between her and Lucien. She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling the bite of the autumn night through her dress. 

“Are you cold?” Lucien asked. 

“Yes, but I’ll be alright,” Elain assured. Give me your jacket, give me your jacket, she mentally chanted. Of course, a lady would never demand a man give her his jacket. So she could only stare at the lake silently and wait for him to offer it to her. To her disappointment, Lucien did not put his burgundy jacket over her shoulders. But a few moments later, she felt the air around her warm precipitously to a comfortable heat. 

Elain looked around in wonder. “It’s a warming spell,” Lucien explained. “I’m the only one in my family who’s able to perform these spells.” There was a hint of a cocky brag in his tone, but Elain didn’t mind. His family, with the exception of his mother and Eris, treated him like shit. It serves them right that Lucien has special gifts. 

“I like it,” Elain commented. She allowed herself to glance at the male sitting beside her, feeling her heart skip a beat. Lucien caught her gaze and held it, the long scar and intricate golden eye lending to his otherworldly beauty. 

Elain understood the myriad ways men and women employed discreet glances and gentle manners in human courtship. In fact, she and Graysen had danced around the pillars of social propriety before falling in love. 

This was different. The tension between her and Lucien was thick, like honey. His scent still making her head spin, his eyes shining bright in the moonlight. And her heart beat so fast Elain was sure he could hear it. Lucien kept a respectful distance, but his face was filled with such longing and softness that it made her throat close up with emotion. Please, let it be his true feelings, Elain prayed to the Mother. Not the bond.

Elain’s eyes traveled to the uneven lock of hair that hung over his broad shoulder. She inexplicably reached out and touched it. Lucien’s hair may have looked like fire, but it was cool and silky to the touch. He shivered slightly when Elain’s slender fingers brushed it, just inches from actually touching his shoulder. “Lucien,” she said slowly, her pink lips forming the shape of his name. “Thank you…for spending the day at the festival with me.” 

“There’s no need to thank me, my lady,” he said gruffly, trying not to let too much emotion show. “Though I wish it didn’t come at the cost of my hair.”

Elain gave the stuffed sheep plush in his lap a little tap on the head. “These pesky sheep.” She smiled down at it. 

“I liked how you were really good with Daniela earlier,” Lucien said admiringly. 

She shrugged. “It’s the least I could do while you were fixing my mistake.” She paused and said, “What you said earlier about me feeling obligated to be around you. It’s true…I was…u-uncomfortable for a while.” She gulped nervously, clenching her fist. “I’m more comfortable after getting to know you today, b-but…I don’t want to mislead you…I still don’t k-know what to do with bond. I’m sorry.” The incoherent words were necessary honesty, but Elain felt horrible for putting more distance between them. She hung her head. 

Lucien wore an expression of simple understanding. “Please don’t apologize, my lady. I know you’re telling me not to get my hopes up. I also need time to sort out my feelings...” He trailed off, trying to gauge Elain’s reaction. Elain was pleasantly surprised at how Lucien was taking her hesitation in stride. She’d expected him to be upset, frustrated, or even sad. So she nodded encouragingly. “I suppose we are both very confused,” Lucien continued, “But regardless of what the future holds, I thought today was fun. And it’s safe to say you’re not as much of a stranger as before.” He smiled broadly at her. 

“Likewise,” Elain replied, glowing at Lucien’s pure expression with a smile of her own. It was the first time she’d ever seen him smile like that, and a selfish part of her wanted to be the reason for it. 

The two lapsed into a comfortable silence, watching as their two pumpkins floated out to join the congregation of other lanterns on the lake. The Harvest Festival lights glittered on the other side of the lake, the night was crisp, and she was content. 

Later that night

Lucien winnowed back to the Band of Exiles manor silently, bypassing the intricate network of wards he’d set up. He had just winnowed Elain back to the River House in Velaris, making sure she’d safely entered and closed the door before leaving. He had been tempted to stay in his dusty apartment, but decided against it. As if Elain would be that eager to see him again so soon. Keep expectations low, and you won’t be disappointed. That had been his mantra for most of his life. Still, he couldn’t help but entertain the bud of hope that maybe, just maybe, Elain was open to him. As a mate, a friend, or just another Fae—he didn’t care.  

The icy cold water of his bath failed to keep him from replaying Elain’s giggles in his head. In the almost three years he’d known her, Elain had only offered the barest of smiles in his presence. So even though her laughter was at his expense, Lucien resolved to tease her mercilessly and snarkily crack jokes just to hear it again. 

Lucien flopped onto his bed, holding the sheep plush against his bare chest. Is it creepy if I cuddle this stuffed animal thinking it’s Elain, Lucien contemplated. Yes. Yes, it is. His mind drifted to how beautiful she looked in her creamy orange dress, her brown waves long and loose, her eyes bright and assessing. She was especially charming when she had gotten a bit dirty inspecting the pumpkin field. Lucien hadn’t allowed himself to appreciate her beauty at the Harvest Festival, lest she scent his arousal and run away screaming. 

Lucien tossed and turned, trying to lull himself to sleep. It was unlike him to be so unsettled. He’d met plenty of females before, had courted and bedded them in all ways imaginable. It was different with Elain, though. Most beautiful female I have ever seen. But it was evident today that her beauty was more than surface level: she was beautiful in how she empathetically chatted with Daniela, how she tried to understand the intricacies of gardening and baking, and how she wanted to defend him. 

The last few years, Lucien had mulled over the mating bond with literal crumbs of information he’d gleaned from Feyre and awkward interactions with his mate. Because I barely knew Elain, every feeling I felt, every thought I had of her felt shaky, built on forced mate instincts and speculation. But now. Now that he’d seen the female, understood the good and the bad, his heart only warmed towards her. 

The bond in his chest hummed and glowed. Lucien yawned. It had been a long day. As he drifted off to sleep, hugging the sheep plush, his thoughts were only of Elain. My mate. I am yours, I am yours…

***

Elain had let out an unladylike screech the moment she walked through the front door of the River House. And Mor was standing in the front foyer with a wine glass in hand and a scrutinizing expression. Elain had mumbled an embarrassed “Hello, Mor” before dashing up the stairs to her room. 

She’d gotten ready for bed in a daze, replaying the events of the day in her head. Lucien struggling with the sheep. Lucien reliably leading them out of the corn maze. Lucien’s unmatched skill at darts, but also his clumsiness with the toadstools. 

Her skin burned as hot as his flame when she recalled the way his broad shoulders hovered over her, or how his muscles flexed in his jacket when he threw the darts. Or how his genuine smile made her feel on top of the world. The images burned into her memory. 

It wasn’t just Lucien’s looks or mannerisms, though she’d always known the male was courteous. He was humble, based on his interactions with others who were in awe of him. He seemed to keep his personal problems to himself, like her. But when she opened up to him, Elain felt much better. Like she was being heard. 

It’s like he genuinely cares about me and wouldn’t hurt me. Elain felt the sun pendant weigh on her chest, warm against the beating of her heart. But I need to wait. I gave Graysen my heart too soon and look what happened. Any male would put on his best face in the pursuit of a “worthy” female, just to abandon them after conquest. 

Elain finished brushing her hair and got into her comfy bed, hugging her large stuffed bear. It was perhaps a childish purchase during the postwar months, but the bear’s soft body soothed her during sleepless nights. The autumn night was chilly; Lucien’s ability to create warm air pockets would be handy right now. 

What if…what if I pretend the bear is Lucien? Elain’s breathing picked up as she dared to imagine what it would be like to snuggle in a bed with Lucien. Preferably with his spells—or his body—keeping her toasty warm. Oh gods, she buried her head against the bear. I am undeniably attracted to Lucien Vanserra. Aaaahhhh!!! I can’t jump to conclusions. He’s just a handsome male. Doesn’t mean that I like him, or love him. I need to gauge our next interaction carefully, to make sure it’s not just the bond speaking, Elain resolved. 

Surely he would come to the Solstice party this year. But that was three months away, and far too long to wait. Maybe he would give his weekly emissary reports in Rhysand’s office instead of sending them by letter. Or he could visit Velaris on a whim—he had an apartment here, right?

Gentle waves of sleep began to overtake her. A thread, golden and alive, pulsed inside her chest with the beating of her heart. Before her eyes closed, Elain could’ve sworn she reached for the shimmering bond. 

And that’s a wrap! If you’ve stuck it out towards the end of my very first fanfic, I appreciate you beyond words. I hope the ending wasn’t too much of a let down. I tried to keep this pretty canon-compliant with Elain and Lucien’s personalities, and as much as I love to see them make out in a corn maze or kiss goodbye, I suspect the two angsty lovers wouldn’t rush into the fluff without working through emotional stuff first. But I will definitely be exploring more non-angsty ideas for Elucien in the future!

#Elucien #Elain Archeron #Lucien Vanserra #acotar #Elain x Lucien #Lucien x Elain #Elucien fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #Elucien angst #Elucien fanfic #Elucien Tangled

[theladyofbloodshed]

Au Acosf - Chapter 83

*kill bill sirens* (a little 18+ sprinkling at the start of the chapter before the drama)

@a-court-of-valkyries @sv0430 @mis-lil-red @nesquik-arccheron @emily-gsh @sunsetsofanemoia @swankii-art-teacher @moodymelanist @nestaarcher0n @my-fan-side @c-e-d-dreamer @nestaspegasus @champanheandluxxury @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @lyzriel @dustjacketmusings @sugardoll22 @gwynethhberdara @embersofwildfire @faeriebambula @lady-winter-sunrise

‘Remember your promise.’

Nesta groaned beside Cassian. The spare bed was much smaller than theirs, so they had been jammed uncomfortably together all night. Zasha took up the most space; the smokehound was too needy to ever sleep on the floor. Cassian’s body was always sweltering too.

She peeled herself from his back, carefully moving a wing out of her face. ‘I do not.’

‘If Emerie came to dinner, you’d do whatever I wanted, wherever I wanted.’

‘Does it involve leaving the bed?’ She groaned more with each stretch of her limbs. Zasha’s nails were digging into her calf and Cassian’s other wing had tangled in her hair.

His fingers worked deftly as they plucked her hair away from the sharp talon near the tip. Cassian had to bend his neck at an odd angle to reach it. ‘We’re losing summer. Last few nights of nice evenings. Tonight, we are going to the hot springs far in the north. Just me and you.’

Nesta propped herself up on an elbow, heat pooling in her core from the roughness in his voice. ‘That’s the wherever part then. And the whatever?’

Cassian winked. ‘You’ll find out when we get there. Wear something that’s easy to take off.’

‘Will it be a repeat of the Day Court? I think I remember us rutting like animals in the oasis.’

A broad smile that made Nesta’s blood thrum flashed upon Cassian’s face. ‘I think of that daily, sweetheart. But we never spoke of our deal then so, I’m calling it in now.’

She pushed his hair out of his face, committing his handsome features to memory. She hated when they fought. Cider was blacklisted to her now. ‘What I said yesterday - about Mor and Eris - it will remain a secret, won’t it?’

‘Yes.’

‘Promise?’

Cassian kissed her fingers. ‘Promise.’

Cassian followed Nesta into the shower. Wordlessly, he lathered her hair with the shampoo before rinsing it. It had become a sort of a ritual to bathe together. There wasn't a part of each other's bodies that they didn't know now - and Nesta was surprised at how unabashed she was to be naked around him.

In the shower, he’d cradle her face, ensuring none of the product ran into her eyes then comb it through as the water seeped over their bodies and she would do the same for him.

More and more, he was letting her close to his wings. Nesta washed them carefully with minimal touch. She had learned the tendons closest to his back were the most sensitive – and most difficult to reach. A faint trail of her fingers against the delicate skin would make his eyes roll back. He’d fight against himself, bracing his feet in the bath, torn between begging for another touch and thrusting into her there and then. It always led to be more. Always. Another touch. Maybe a third. Then Cassian would haul her up to his chest, giving her barely a moment to wrap her legs around his hips before he was burying his cock inside of her with a groan.

The look in his eyes that morning was predatory; the hazel irises wholly swallowed up by the black of his pupil. When Nesta’s shoulder blades collided with the cold tiles, a gasp of breathy need broke free. Cassian had set a punishing rhythm. His strong arms pinned her into place so all she could do was drag her fingernails into the flesh of his back.

‘Fuck,’ he breathed in her ear, dangerously close to losing his composure.

There were times for gentle love making and delicate caresses, but this was not one. Nesta wanted it hard and fast. Her breasts collided with his chest as she squeezed her legs tighter around his waist, taking him as much as she could.

‘Bite me,’ Nesta begged, tilting her head to grant better access to her neck. She needed the sensation, needed the roughness that only he could give her. Needed to be vulnerable with him.

Cassian seemed torn, the rhythm of his hips had juddered, and his eyes stared at the pulse in her neck. The longer Nesta waited, the more desperate she grew. A needy whine mewled out of her lips.

'Please,' she begged.

Sharp pain punctured her neck where his teeth scraped against the skin. The pain was eclipsed by pleasure. His tongue caressed the places his teeth had been then kisses were pressed against the tender skin.

She tipped into it quickly, muscles clenching around her mate’s body as she burrowed her face into Cassian’s neck, moans competing over the thunder of the shower. Cassian pressed his mouth to hers as he came, chasing her pleasure, using a hand to brace both of them against the wall.

Legs like liquid, Cassian held onto her, foreheads pressed together, the water beating down upon them. He was perfect for her. As fiery and tempestuous as she could be, but full of love and passion for the other. This was her future – and she was happy to have it. To have him. All of him. That night, she would make him hers forever. At the hot springs, she would present him with food. He had bowed to her wishes for a mortal engagement, but she could grow to his tradition too. She wanted to be his mate as much as she wanted to be his wife.

When he inspected her neck, regret fluttered over his face. ‘I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.’

‘I wanted it.’

Gently, he lowered her so her feet touched the basin. His seed began to spill in a silken trail down her thighs as she bent them slightly to ease the ache from the spread position that they had just been in.

‘Why? Something from your filthy books?’

Nesta’s cheeks flushed. ‘No, I just wanted to try it. You spanked me before and I quite… Well, I…’

‘You liked it?’ His wings curled around them like a shield, blocking her path, the corner of his mouth twitched.

‘You can be a little more… possessive, if you like.’ Nesta trailed a finger down his bare chest, admiring the ink carved into the skin. ‘When I offered you that deal – and I said wherever you wanted - I wasn’t referring to a location on a map, Cassian.’

After a momentary lapse where she wasn’t sure if her mate was breathing, she glanced down at his cock to see it growing hard again. Her fingers lightly enclosed around it, dragging up and down a couple of times until it elicited a strong exhale from him.

She bent slightly so that her tongue could sweep up his hard length then she kissed the tip. ‘But you’ll have to wait until tonight.’

Nesta left him stood in the shower, completely dumbstruck.

***

The buzzing didn’t leave Cassian’s ears, not even when they sat at the table fully clothed eating breakfast. He could barely look at Nesta without wanting to throw her down on the bed and rip off her clothes. She was wearing one of her outfits from Spring – a pale blue stay with pink flower motifs over a white chemise and pale, pink skirt – and she’d probably break his neck if he tore it. She was a picture in it, as beautiful as the first days of spring after winter. The clothes were so innocent and Nesta seemed completely unbothered as she read a book and spooned porridge into her mouth with the other hand that Cassian had started wondering if he had imagined what had transpired in the bathroom. The soaked floor and the small, blue bruise on her neck with the only pieces of evidence that he hadn’t invented it. Each time her lips enclosed around the spoon or her tongue swept across her bottom lip, Cassian fought against the instinct to sweep the table and bend her over it.

Cass, can you meet Az at Iron Crest?

Rhys’ voice echoing into the chasm of his mind brought him begrudgingly back to Windhaven.

Must I?

It’s his turn on Nesta-watch and he’s already there. Karius wants a meeting with you about next year’s Blood Rite. You can do a Nesta handover there.

I’m quite capable of looking after my mate, you know.

I know, came the reply, but it’s Azriel today. You’ve had a gift dropped in the Hewn City by the way. Both of you. From Tamlin on behalf of the Spring Court – an engagement gift.

You’ve still not gotten us one.

Silence. Prick. Cassian shook his head and relayed the message to Nesta who wrinkled up her nose at the grey sky through the small, kitchen window.

‘You’ve not really sold Iron Crest to me.’

He couldn’t stop his eyes dipping to the pink ribbon binding her stay together and imagining slitting it with his knife to reveal her breasts. Nesta clicked her fingers in his face.

‘Seriously?’

‘If I knew that was the fashion for females in Spring, I’d have changed courts a long time ago.’

‘Pig.’

The temperature had dropped enough for Nesta to slip her cloak on, but she opted to leave Zasha curled up on the bed with his new Autumn Court blanket tucked around him like their big, hairy baby. Nesta stooped down to kiss the dog's head.

'You spoil him.'

'Do not act as if you do not kiss him goodbye either, Cassian.'

Cassian scooped Nesta into his arms, kissing her forehead as he tilted her so she smiled with contentment. He flew smoothly with her bundled in his arms because she was his entire world. Her eyes were closed and tucked against the strong column of his neck when they soared higher. He still hadn’t forgiven Rhys for flying fast enough to make her vomit just to be a prick and prove a point.

The wind was with them on the way to Iron Crest making the flight easier. It was miserable in any warcamp, but especially this one. The hard, grey stone encompassing the camp made it bleaker. No colour could be seen – even in summer. The tents were all canvasses of varying shades of faded brown, grey or black. Even the flag of Iron Crest was grey with a black knife crossed over an arrow.

‘Behold, sweetheart, Iron Crest.’

Nesta didn’t seem to want to be put down. She lifted her legs into the air when he tried like a toddler.

‘Poor Azriel stuck here every day.’

Cassian gave Nesta a jiggle until her boots scraped against the stone. A murder of crows watched them from a tree. The tree had been hit with lightning years ago, the trunk had been aflame, and ever since it never blossomed, never had leaves. Another reminder of how barren the camp was.

‘More have been given siphons. He’s had lots of females coming to training. He’s a big boy,’ Cassian said winking. ‘Suits me as I get to spend more time with my beautiful mate.’

Nesta gasped as the full camp came into view. Windhaven had a larger population – but that included more females and children who flocked there due to the shops and markets to make a trade. Iron Crest was known for its brutal training. At any time, six or seven blacksmiths were working at the row of forges along the western portion of the camp, constantly churning out armour or weapons. A little further into the hills were mines where iron ore and coal were extracted. The males were strong in Iron Crest not solely from training, but from working in the mines too. The expanse of the sparring area was mind-boggling – all would be occupied during the day as well. Many already were filling up with males who collected spears or swords to begin their training.  

‘Let’s find Az.’ Cassian kept Nesta close. The males in Windhaven wouldn’t say a word to her when he was around, but the ones in Iron Crest were a different breed entirely. Even females in Windhaven thanked the mother they were not born in Iron Crest.

They did a loop of the camp with no sign of him. Nobody had seen him that morning. Typical, Cassian thought. He was likely hiding in the shadows somewhere rather than making his presence known. When Nesta began to shiver, they bought strong tea from a seller and slowly did another loop with his arm wrapped around her slender frame.

Finally, they found him. The shadowsinger was speaking to an elder male with a scar slashed down his cheek. He was perhaps about eight centuries old and examining his bow. It took a long time to earn the right to use an Illyrian bow as a weapon and even longer to actually shoot with it. The three of them had been relentless in developing the strength to pull back the drawstring. Cassian had been the first to do it – but the last to master it. Once Azriel had the strength and stamina, his shots were more accurate. Cassian, of course, scoffed and called the bow a coward’s weapon to hide his wounded pride. 

At their arrival, Azriel dismissed the male. He swooped down to kiss Nesta on the cheek but didn’t extend the greeting to Cassian, thank the Cauldron. He led them to the shooting range where it was less busy and less noisy. Nesta passed a judgement on a male’s stance, saying he’d miss the target as a result. Az cocked a disbelieving eyebrow.

‘I shot a bow yesterday,’ Nesta declared, eyeing the male who was knocking another arrow to the string. ‘I’m an expert now.’

‘What she means is, Eris helped her and then he and Lucien got her drunk.’

Azriel narrowed his eyes. ‘You went to Autumn?’

The shadowsinger shifted uneasily on his feet. His eyes flitted across the males then beckoned for them to take a step out of earshot from the growing crowd.

‘I have nothing against Lucien.’ Azriel gave another wary glance over his shoulder. ‘That legion when you found the mask, they were Autumn soldiers – handed to Briallyn by Beron. No Beron now, but what if Briallyn has a new ally in that court?’

‘You think Lucien is working with her?’

Nesta shook her head in disbelief. ‘No.’

‘Lucien. Or Eris. He always gains something. I wonder if Beron wasn’t playing nice with Briallyn. Eris could fill that void.’

‘No,’ Nesta repeated. ‘Absolutely not. If that were true, they’ve both had ample opportunities to hurt me – and neither ever has.’ 

‘None of my spies have turned over anything about Briallyn. I can’t understand how Lucien has unless he’s being fed information. I’m sorry, Nesta. I know he’s your sister’s mate.’

Cassian drew Nesta closer to him and brought his wing around her. Her face was hard, mulling over Az’s words. The shadowsinger himself looked pained by the revelation.

‘I’ve been trying to trail both of them for a while.’

‘Have you told Rhys?’

‘Yes.’

‘And?’

Azriel scratched the nape of his neck. ‘He said we should monitor it but not act yet.’

A hard growl rumbled in his throat and he smacked a palm into his brother’s chest, making Azriel stagger back a step. ‘Lucien has been with Nesta for two days. Two fucking days. You let him take your duty knowing he could be compromised. You willingly risked her. Both of you.’

‘He told Feyre he’d take my duty yesterday, Cass. What could I do? Feyre said yes. She doesn’t know. I sent my shadows to keep an eye.’ Azriel swallowed. ‘I don’t know for certain.’

‘I’m not fucking good enough, but you’ll let Lucien near Nesta even if you suspect him!’ He squeezed Nesta tighter to his body. ‘Is he under the thrall of the Crown?’

‘The Crown or just an ally, I don’t know. I truly am sorry.’

Scores of males were readying themselves in the vast number of fighting pits and sparring rings. Cassian could see the warlord’s son, Kallon, encircled by a gaggle of eager friends, all choosing weapons for the day’s fighting. Nesta’s knuckles were white on the hilt of her weapon. He’d suppressed a laugh when she had put it on over her pretty clothes, but now Cassian was glad that Nesta had taken it.

‘Take her home. I don’t want her in this camp.’

Nesta’s hands were trembling. The signs were pointing to one of the Vanserras being linked to Briallyn. Eris and her had been close for a long time, but Lucien had a sudden fascination with spending time with Nesta. A sickly churning took up residence in Cassian’s stomach. Lucien had been in his house. Lucien had swept his mate off to the Autumn Court without a word.

Even with all the eyes of Iron Crest on them, Cassian pulled Nesta to him and kissed her. He cradled her face to wipe away her stray tears with the pads of his thumbs.

‘It can’t be true,’ her whisper was a shaking, fragile thing.

If he could have held his mate to his heart forever, he would. Karius was coming into the clearing, his scowl permanently branded into his features.

‘I’ll wrap this up quickly,’ he vowed, ‘and we will still go to the springs tonight. I promise. I love you. Stick with Azriel today. Everything will be fine.’

Nesta kissed him again, her eyes betraying the fear within. ‘I love you.’

He clapped his brother on the arm as Nesta slipped her hand into Azriel’s. ‘Keep her safe. You’re the only one I trust.’

Without the accompaniment of shadows, they winnowed away.

***

Spits of rain dotted the cobbled streets of Velaris. The smell of cinnamon and apple wafted from the tea pot on the windowsill. The tea had been a gift from Vassa from her homeland of Scythia on Solstice although she didn’t celebrate it. She said she just liked giving gifts and missed her home. The waft of apples reminded Lucien of his home. The Autumn Court would always be home even with his history and the strange future that was unfolding.

Helion seemed a decent male who did his duties to his court well enough, but he was not his father. Lucien couldn’t imagine ever calling him that. His father was Beron. The male had raised him the only way he knew how - with hard words and harder fists, but he had called Lucien son. Even if he had his doubts, he had called Lucien his son, had always introduced him as his youngest.

Lucien had a memory of being sick as a child and his father staying by his bedside through the night, when his mother was too exhausted from caring for him, in a rare show of affection. He wasn’t a male to comfort his children or encourage them, so Lucien still wasn’t sure if he had imagined Beron sitting in the chair beside his bed while he nodded off because he had wanted it so much.

On his twenty-first birthday, he had been called to the high lord’s study and Beron, in that characteristic way of his with so few words, had presented him with a dagger. It had been his grandfather’s – an Autumn Court relic. A weapon Lucien was still proud to brandish. He’d said nothing, merely pressed the hilt into Lucien’s hand and turned back to his work.

It was difficult to sift through memories without feeling as if the whole world was shifting beneath his feet. Good memories of his father were scarce. More often Lucien and his brothers cowered from the male, or tried not to invoke his displeasure. Many believed Beron to be all fire and temper, but he was much worse. There was an iciness to him that could never be thawed, his default was disappointment. He was cold and aloof, never offering praise or advice as a father should. He spoke down to his wife, pressed her so thoroughly under his boot, that Lucien feared his mother would never recover. And still, he was his father. Good or bad, Beron was the only father he had known. He hated the male and always craved his approval. Even after Jesminda, even after centuries of exile, Lucien still had a strange, desperate hope that Beron might have let him come home. It was complicated. Life was. Life had to be.

Lucien drained the final cup in the tea pot – now cold and unappealing – before striding to the River House. He could rest slightly easier that day, knowing that Feyre would be guarding Nesta. If he could, Lucien would have taken every duty. Nesta was surprisingly funny but as sharp as a blade’s edge; it was why she got along so well with Eris, he supposed. The pair had sparred back and forth with their words in the forest the day before with lightning-speed.

He patted the letter tucked into his jacket, ensuring it was there. Eris had insisted they stay in communication. It was a method from when they were children. They had learnt to winnow items to places as children - a rare gift in their mother's bloodline. She had taught them it – then regretted it once they began to steal each other’s belongings and disperse them around the vast Forest House.

It was banned entirely by their mother when Dolos made the little, lesser fae housekeeper, Cora, land in Eris' lap while he ate breakfast as a practical joke.

If Eris did not hear from him daily through their winnowed letters, he vowed to hunt his baby brother down with his dogs. Lucien knew Eris well enough to know the male spoke true.

‘You survived two days with Nesta then?’ Rhys was already opening the front door before Lucien had even knocked.

Lucien nodded. ‘I’d have taken a third day too. We were talking about Elain.’

That female was likely in the River House, probably hiding once she’d felt him moving closer through their bond. It had to work the same for her as it did for him. He always had an awareness of Elain’s presence. Sometimes he could even feel who she was talking to by picking up the emotions flooding the bond. If it was Rhysand or Cassian, she was usually nervous or flustered. For Feyre or Azriel, calm and content. Spending time with the two wraiths that she cooked with was when Elain seemed most happy. Their bond would feel warm like molten gold streaked with sunshine.

‘Nesta didn’t shut down any talk of Elain? That is surprising.’

Lucien did not smile. ‘Nesta’s a very nice person – if you’re nice to her.’

‘Ignore this big, Illyrian baby,’ Feyre said, sweeping Rhys out of the way to embrace Lucien. ‘He’s still scared of Nesta.’

Lucien’s face drained of colour. ‘Why aren’t you with your sister?’

Rhys threw up his hands. ‘A good question. I make a rota and everybody goes against it.’

‘You volunteered for Az yesterday, he’s volunteered for me today.’ Feyre poked Rhys in the ribs. ‘I don’t know why you’re complaining because now we get to spend a day together.’

The high lord wrapped his arms around Feyre’s waist and kissed the side of her head. ‘Who said I was I complaining, Feyre darling?’

‘I have to go.’

‘You’ve just got here,’ protested Feyre. ‘Stay at least for tea.’

Lucien was already tearing down the path towards the little bridge that crossed the river. His heart was hammering against his ribs. He’d had suspicions for a while. Suspicions he couldn’t voice in a court where he wasn’t accepted. Only Eris had listened – and Eris had been furious. It was why he insisted they stay in contact.

Illyria or the House of Wind. Illyria or the House of Wind.

Lucien verged left, boots smacking against the stone as he sprinted towards the home cut into the mountain. Beron was his father, but Helion was his blood. Lucien was a spell-cleaver in his bones. He could break the spell around the House of Wind to winnow in. He had one opportunity to prove his suspicions – one chance to beg the priestess to come with him - and he prayed to the Mother his suspicions were wrong.

*** Nesta glanced down from the craggy hill overlooking the churning, grey sea. It thrashed against the rocks and she balked at the sheer drop.

‘Where are we?’

‘The Steppes.’

That solved nothing. A harsh wind blew from the ocean straight through her cloak making her shiver. Behind them was a thick wood of pine trees that could provide more protection from the wind.

‘Cassian said to take me home.’

‘I’ve never known you to be one to follow orders, least of all Cassian’s.’

There was a mocking in his tone that Nesta didn’t like. ‘My mate is worried for my safety. He asked you to take me home.’

Azriel’s attention was caught by two figures materialising on the edge of a line of pines. Both were red haired, one was tall with a scar streaking through the golden-eyed while the other clutched his hand tightly, her teal eyes shining with tears.

Nesta’s stomach dropped. Gwyn was out of the library – and here at the Illyrian Steppes. With Lucien.

Azriel stood to attention, shielding Nesta with his own body. ‘Why are you here?’

‘I could ask you the same question,’ Lucien countered, drawing his sword.

They stood in a stale mate, Lucien covering Gwyn with his body, Azriel doing the same to Nesta. That was until, the brave priestess took a side-step out of the safety of Lucien’s shield. Her eyes met Nesta’s but there was no joy to be found in her face.

‘Where are your shadows, Az?’ The priestess asked, her voice wavered slightly and Lucien took a subconscious step closer to her, angling his body between her and Azriel once more.

‘They’re where I want them to be.’

The voice was flat and cold. It wasn’t unusual - but the absence of his shadows was. Nesta could not recall the last time she had seen Azriel’s shadows; they were usually a part of him. It was rare he was ever without them. But they had not been there at the dinner in Velaris. She hadn’t seen them in the library either. She hadn’t seen them at all in Iron Crest that morning or even now. It was as if the shadows had been banished from his side.

‘I cannot let Nesta go any further with you.’ Lucien’s voice held firm.

At Beron’s funeral, Azriel had embraced her. It had surprised her briefly but Nesta had thought nothing of it. Yet it was unlike Azriel to show affection openly, and never to be the first to do it. That was the last time she could recall seeing his shadows – the day Beron was laid to rest.

Even Cassian had commented that Az had been different recently – in a good way. He had been happy to go to Iron Crest, choosing to spend time there, his mood had been better. He’d talked away with Mor and Feyre at dinner with no shadows hiding him.

Gwyn spoke again, her face threatening to crack with despair. ‘Who am I?’

Azriel would not so much as look at her, like he had that day in the library - as if he did not know Gwyn. His face was twisted, with anger or despair, Nesta could not tell. The priestess’ bottom lip wobbled, her only tell that her heart was breaking.

Only Nesta had really known that Azriel was meeting her because the shadowsinger had so carefully guarded that part of his heart. None of the others had known. He had guarded Gwyn from everybody because she was so precious to him. Because Gwyn had needed time. And he had spent months and months talking with her in the library. It had been out of character for him to suddenly stop speaking to her… but what if it was a coincidence? What if he had stopped because he wasn't himself anymore?

‘Nesta,’ Azriel urged.

‘Why weren’t you in Iron Crest?’ Nesta asked, throat dry. ‘You were supposed to already be there this morning. We looked for you and you weren’t there.’

A scarred hand was extended to her. ‘Let’s go back to your cabin. I will explain everything.’

Usually, she would have taken it to spare him the pain of exposing the hands he despised. Usually, she trusted Azriel completely. It had been Azriel who had saved her from oblivion. But Nesta faltered.

Azriel had gone against Cassian once, to pull Nesta out of Velaris and to bring her somewhere safe, because keeping her safe benefited his brother even if it hadn’t felt like it at the time. Azriel had always put her wellbeing ahead of anything else, ahead of his brother’s feeling. But he had taken her to the Steppes rather than home; he had gone against Cassian’s order with no real reason.

‘I want to stay with Lucien.’

‘You have been spending time in Iron Crest. Lots of time, in fact. And you’ve been to the Autumn Court. Eris has found you there many times now, hasn’t he?’

That was right, Nesta realised as Lucien spoke. He was supposed to be in Iron Crest for days. And he’d willingly gone without complaint to a place that even Cassian hated. Cassian had even remarked that Az had seemed cheerier somehow.

Her heart stuttered; Eris had mentioned Azriel had been spotted in the Autumn Court forests a few times and she hadn’t thought anything of it, but he should have been in the warcamp on those days.

‘You have not been following your high lord’s orders. I fear you have a different master.’

‘Lies,’ Azriel spat, eyes narrowing at Lucien.

A shadow curled around the priestess’ shoulder and another across her body like a shield veiling her from Azriel. ‘Your shadows have been coming to me, Az. I can’t- I can’t understand what they’re whispering but I think they’ve been trying to warn me - to protect you. They brought us here today.’

‘Nesta, they are not to be trusted. How would Lucien know Briallyn’s movements before me? We need to go, now.’

‘Nesta,’ Lucien called, voice sharp. ‘We are allies, remember.’

It was the same line he’d said to her that day in the kitchen of her cabin, the first day she’d had a guard. Lucien had taken Azriel’s duty the next day too, volunteering to have it. If Azriel had been suspicious about Lucien, he would never have risked Nesta as Cassian’s mate. But what if it was the other way? What if Lucien had been the one wary of Azriel?

As soon as the deal Nesta had made with Eris was scrubbed from her skin, Lucien had been there. Eris had been irate. Both brothers had been encouraging her to accept the deal… because they had known that Azriel wasn’t truly his own person anymore.

His shadows had known that Azriel was under the thrall of the Crown. Lucien had been curious about them, going as far as asking Rovena – because he had noticed their absence too, noticed that for the first time since he was a boy, shadows didn’t trail Azriel. But they were a part of him, they weren't to be feared or scorned, the shadows loved Azriel - and he them. They wouldn't leave him without reason.

That evening in Velaris, when she had realised who Lucien’s father was, Azriel had been the first to her, the first to try and lead her away from the others – but Lucien had gotten there quickly to prevent it from happening.

How long had he suspected Azriel for – knowing that if he acted on his suspicion, the Night Court would not believe him?

Nesta’s fingers fluttered around the hilt of her sword. She had to think quickly. Azriel was a warrior with centuries of practise. Without his shadows, he was weakened slightly, but he could end her in heartbeats.

The shadows themselves were currently shrouding Gwyn from view, trying to protect the priestess. The shadows had known that Gwyn was special to Azriel and had sought her out.

‘Ask him how he winnowed into the library. It should not be possible.’ Azriel shifted closer but Nesta faltered backwards. ‘He has powers given to him by Koschei.’

‘I cleaved the spell because I am Helion’s son. I cleaved the spell because I realised that if you did not know this priestess who you had given your heart to, you were not the shadowsinger, not truly.’ Lucien still held his sword steady. 'How do you winnow without your shadows? I am not the one who has been given powers.'

Azriel’s chest rose and fell rapidly. There was another female that Azriel loved – one he loved more than anything in the world. He’d stayed away from her. Rovena had commented that she had not seen her son for a long time. A subconscious part of him that was not under control of the Crown had fought to keep Gwyn and Rovena a secret from Briallyn because he loved them more than anything in the world.

‘What is your mother’s name?’

I'm hoping to post the next part on Monday. That's Nesta's outfit... sorry about the cliff hanger!!!

#au acosf

[azrielsbxtch]

GWYNRIEL ONESHOT : BIRTHDAY SUIT

“Nesta!”

“What!”

“The cookies are here!”

Nesta came out of the living room where she was with Cassian. She grabbed a pack from Gwyn’s hands and went back in,Gwyn trailing behind her.

“You know you have fae hearing right? You don’t need to screech at each other to be heard” Cassian said lounging on the couch. Nesta threw a cookie at him but he caught it effortlessly and stuck out his tongue at her.

“Where’s Az? asked Gwyn. “I promised I’d save him some the next time a delivery arrived”

The cookies were delivered by teenage female Illyrians who had started their little small business. Emerie told the Valkyries about it and they made sure to place an order every week. The girls flew all the way from Illyria to deliver them to the House of Wind and the River House.They enjoyed it because they get to practice their flying.

“He’s in his room” Cassian replied. “He just got back”

Gwyn nodded and headed to the upper floor where Azriel’s room was situated.

As she got closer to his door,she assumed he wasn’t in because usually the minute she appeared in his hallway,his shadows would creep out the door in slow tendrils and greet her happily. Their absence indicated he wasn’t in his room. Oh well,she would just drop them on his bed she decided and walked straight into his room unannounced.

Holy. Fucking. Cauldron.

The cookies landed on the floor.

Azriel turned at the sound. He was fresh from a

bath,running a small towel through his hair and was utterly and completely naked.

Drops of water still shimmered on his body. Brutal and corded with muscles. His tattoos gleamed under the soft light in beautiful intricate swirls.Gwyn’s eyes slid downward in a slow progression that she just couldn’t seem to stop and fucking hell……

Her jaw dropped open.

He raised a sardonic eyebrow at her not even bothering to cover up and she could’ve sworn there was a glint of amusement in his eyes.

Gwyn swore out loud,closed the door and backed out of the hallway. Fast.

She went back to the living room where Cassian and Nesta were tangled on the couch.

“Why do you look like a tomato?” Nesta asked.

Gwyn groaned and ran to her room. She went to her bathroom and splashed some water on her face but to no avail. With her bright hair and flushed cheeks,she did look like a tomato.

—————————————————————————————-

Hours later,a soft knock interrupted Gwyn’s solitude of shame. There was only one person who bothered to knock that politely in the House and sure enough when she opened the door,Azriel stood there looking handsome and unruffled as ever.

“Hi” he said in that night chilled voice.

“Hey” she mumbled.

His eyes got that amused glint again and she covered her face with her hands and groaned.

“Stop laughing at me”

He chuckled before gently prying them away. He didn’t let go though and Gwyn felt a flutter in her stomach. His eyes intently focused on her tended to make her feel that way.

“Don’t be embarrassed.”

“I didn’t mean to walk in on you. I though you weren’t in because your shadows usually pop out before I arrive at the door”

“They were feeling a bit naughty today. They didn’t warn me too”

The shadows bounced around shamelessly as if to say they’d do it again with no hesitation.

Gwyn smiled shaking her head at them.

“So why were you looking for me?”

“The cookies. I dropped them by the door when….you know…”

He laughed again.

“You keep laughing but this isn’t funny”

Azriel dragged her to the couch in her room and they sat.

“I’m laughing because this isn’t something to get worked up over. It’s just my body” he shrugged

His strong,muscled,tattooed body but sure….just his body.

“And Illyrians aren’t the most modest race out there. Especially when there’s trust involved. I can’t count the amount of times I’ve seen Rhys and Cass naked”

“Really?”

“Yeah. After every snowball fight and in some….er….other situations. Anyways it’s an Illyrian tradition. There’s a cedar lined shed attached to one of Rhysand’s cabins in the mountains and we all get naked and take a long steam. It’s relaxing”

“So you guys just….lounge in there,sitting naked together….in hot steam….sweating?”

Azriel nodded like it was the most natural thing in the world. To him it probably was. To Gwyn….her overactive mind had already run off with her imagination.

She blinked once. Then blinked again.

Azriel’s lips twitched.

“Wow. That’s um….interesting”

“So you have nothing to be worried about. I trust you. Hence you can look at my body whenever you like Berdara” he said casually leaning back and picking up a discarded bracelet on the side.

“Mmmm hmm. Sure Az”

He twirled the bracelet in his hand.

“Wait you said and other situations”

“What?”

“You said ‘after every snowball fight and in some other situations’ What other situations?”

For the first time since the conversation started Azriel looked hesitant.

“Don’t lie to me” Gwyn warned.

He sighed. He looked at her and said “Okay. Years ago…and I mean years ago Rhys,Cass and I used to….”

“Used to what?”

“We were young and stupid…”

“Uh huh….and….”

“We used to….”

“You’re dragging his out”

“I’m looking for the right word”

“Just spit it out”

“We used to fuck together okay”

“Like…..with each other?” Gwyn said barely holding in her laugh.

“Noooo” he groaned covering his face as she burst out laughing. He grinned and said ,

“Like in the same room with other females.That’s the other situation. We don’t do it anymore for obvious reasons but yeah…we used to”

“So you had like mini sex parties” Gwyn said gazing at him with a smile. Then-

“I feel like there’s so much I don’t know about you Az”

He watched her intently. His gaze raking all over her face. Peering into those teal eyes. Then he reached out and twirled a lock of her hair around his finger.

“All you have to do is ask,Gwyn. All you have to do is ask”

#gwyneth berdara #azriel x gwyn #gwynriel #pro gwynriel #gwynriel headcanon #gwynriel fic #nesta archeron #cassian #nessian #gwyn berdara #nesta supremacy #pro gwyn #emerie #house of wind gang

[lovevalley45]

#fictober22 day nineteen

"Do we have a deal?"

original fiction (power payback)

word count: 1190

Going to some stranger’s house was not what Haley thought she’d be doing that night. Much less a stranger who was probably part of some woman’s seedy underground business. 

But when Emery had called, sounding concerned, she’d jumped into the car anyways. Nevermind that she’d dropped out of medical school after a year, she’d play doctor this one time. 

He’d given her the details over the phone - a backfire, cyrokinesis, extremely cold and faint. Backfires manifested differently in different people, but that seemed about right for their Talent. 

Haley hesitated before she knocked on the door. Emery hadn’t said who it was, just a “friend”, but she couldn’t help but be wary. That conversation with Magni had been weeks ago and he hadn’t sent her any word on how her roommate was tangled up with this. 

But finally, she knocked and tucked her hands in her pocket, resigning herself to this fate.

It was Emery who opened the door. Sometimes, she could see right through him, and this was one of those times. He actually seemed concerned, though whether it was for his friend or being found out, she couldn’t say. 

“Oh, great, you made it,” he said. 

Haley readjusted her purse. “Yeah, but you owe me.”

“I know,” Emery said, before letting her in. 

The house was stiflingly warm when she walked in, but that wasn’t much of a surprise with what she’d heard. It was surprisingly nice, if not a little messy. But it had looked bigger outside.

Her “patient” was sitting on the couch, blanket tossed over them as they propped their legs up on the coffee table. Even without seeing their face, Haley knew it was Red as they drawled, “Ah, the doc’s here.”

She walked over to them. Their eyes had been closed, but they met her with a look of recognition. 

“Oh. It’s you. Hey, stranger.”

Haley set her purse down on the coffee table. They’d only had that brief exchange at the door before Emery had taken the conversation outside, but apparently she’d been memorable enough for them. “Hey.”

“Don’t know why you’re surprised, I only have one roommate,” Emery said, standing behind the couch with his arms crossed. 

“Emery, how about you make yourself useful and put on some water for tea? Your friend here probably needs some warming up,” Haley said. 

“Will do,” he said, before heading off towards the kitchen. 

Red gave a weak chuckle. “I don’t own a teapot or anything.”

“Well, that’s his problem.” She sat down on the coffee table, not waiting for them to protest as she asked, “When did you start feeling this way?”

“Sunday afternoon, I think? I started getting the chills, thought I was maybe getting sick but I didn’t have the sniffles or something,” they said. “And then they just kept getting worse, my whole body aches, and I can’t use my powers.” They closed their eyes again, tipping their head back. “Not that I wanna use them right now. 

Haley nodded as she listened. “They’ll probably be out of commission for a few days, but if it lasts longer than a week, it could be permanent. Can you hold out your wrist for me?”

Red tugged down the sleeve of their heavy jacket to show their wrist, thrusting it forward just enough for her to reach forward and grab it. She pressed her fingers to the blue veins peeking through. Their pulse was slow, but steady. 

“What’s the diagnosis, doc?” they asked. 

“First of all, Emery kinda embellished the truth. I’m a med school dropout.”

“Oh, great,” they said. 

“But it seems like a standard backfire. With your power set, there’s a risk of developing hypothermia if your body temperature gets too low, but it seems like you’re already trying to keep warm,” Haley told them. 

“Doesn’t feel like it’s working.”

“It sucks, but the chills and aches will be gone before you get your powers back.”

Red didn’t look particularly glad about that. But they nodded, holding their hands close to their chest again. 

“I’m gonna see what’s taking Emery so long to boil a pot of water,” Haley said, getting up. 

When she got to the kitchen, Emery was leaning against the counter, checking his phone. But he stood alert when he saw her. “Are they okay?”

“They’re fine,” Haley said. “I’ve got some questions when we get home, though.”

He looked nervous as he stowed his phone away. “Alright.” Emery glanced out the open doorway to the living room. “I’m gonna see if they need me to stick around.”

“Fine,” she said. “Grab the tea out of my purse while you’re at it.”

She watched him duck out, and checked the stove. There was, indeed, water boiling on the stove. At least he could do that. Haley turned it off before she headed back towards the door, leaning ever so slightly out to hear  any conversation. 

“Do we have a deal?” Emery was asking. “You said if I asked for her help, you’d tell me what’s going on with these people Eld are getting me to find.”

Red let out a loud breath. “Geez, you’re really committed to that.”

“Red. You fucking agreed.”

“Oh, well, sorry, I was trying not to become a puddle on the pavement.” They were quiet for another moment, and she shrieked away from the door. “Listen, once your roommate’s gone, I’ll tell you the details. Eld’ll kill me if she finds out I let it slip. It’s bad enough I’m telling you.”

“Fine,” Emery said. “She’s already kinda suspicious.”

There was a chuckle, before they said, “No offense, bud, but you coulda come up with some kinda lie instead of just calling me ‘your friend’.”

“Oh, who are you to talk?” 

Haley heard rummaging, and made her way back to the stove. She busied herself with looking for the mugs, finally settling on one that was a little too winter-y. 

Emery dropped the bag of teas she’d brought. “There. Geez, did you raid our pantry or something.”

“Yeah, just in case.” She plucked out a tea at random and dropped it in the mug before filling it with water. “So? Am I done here?”

“They asked me to stick around a little longer, but yeah,” he said. 

She let out a sigh. “Let that steep for like three minutes, and tell them to try running a hot bath. Focus on warming them up.”

As Haley got ready to leave the kitchen, Emery asked, “Wait, do I have to help them bathe?”

She grimaced, turning back to face him. “No! Why was that the takeaway there?”

Before he could respond, she continued out to the living room and headed back over to Red. They had further cocooned themself in their blanket, but still perked up when she got closer. “I still never got your name,” she asked innocently. 

“People call me Red,” they said, sticking out a hand. 

“I’m Haley. Not ‘doc.’” She took their hand, encompassing the chill of it with her warm ones. 

“Well, we’ll see if fate brings us together again,” Red said. 

Haley forced a smile. “I guess we will.”

#alli writes shit #fictober22 #power payback

[omgkalyppso]

Borgakh: 🌌 MILKY WAY - what was the inspiration behind your oc? what was the first thing you decided about them?

Borgakh started as a w*rld of w*rcraft oc. I'd been playing a Troll Hunter named Kalyppso since I started the game at 17 and was changing servers to play with a friend. The number of times I changed servers while playing that game to "play with a friend" who stood me up is incredible, but this was one of the first times I think, because Borgakh was my main from then on. My partner and I used to sit on that account to get me the spirit beast pets. Loque'nahak, Skoll (and eventually Hati), were my favorites, but the hardest to get out from under the competition and respawn timers was Arcturis.

Anyway, when I changed servers I was more familiar with the game than when I started and chose my player race based solely on appearance, so I knew orc's had a bonus to pet damage, and beast master had always been my favorite subclass.

I didn't really think of Borgakh as an oc for a long time. She was the vehicle through which I was (re?)experiencing the game, but I'd always liked Lor'themar and it was some time after I'd played Dragon Age 2 that I was playing MoP where he's voiced by Fenris Gideon Emery, and I started to ship my oc with the regent lord.

I hadn't thought to bring oc's from one setting to another, but when I saw people doing this on tumblr, I eventually tried making Borgakh in ffxiv because my then ffxiv oc I didn't feel attached to. This lasted a while, but Borgakh also didn't really fit the setting. I wondered whether shipping her with someone in ffxiv would help, but it just felt like she was interacting with the spouses of friends' and mutuals' oc's, and I was still tangled up in thoughts of her and Lor'themar.

Which carried over into a dnd game where I played her, and my dm named a noble elf for her to have a failed relationship with. It was here that a friend introduced me to an oc of his that I still think of as Borgakh's best and dearest friend. This game is still technically on hiatus but I don't expect to ever play it again. I could take the story for myself but I don't want to.

Borgakh is in a different dnd game now, which plays about once every six months, so that's also excruciating.

Besides that setting, she's kind of in limbo. I've tried twice to link her with other oc's of mine, either long-standing or newly-created, but those don't stick. She is my oc that I like to explore most when I'm emotionally vulnerable and sad. She wants love and so do I.

#long post #borgakh

[whooftown]

Dog Grooming Routine at Home

Regular grooming your dog is essential to keeping them clean, healthy, and comfortable, and cleaning around the eyes, clipping their nails, and cutting their coats all assist in removing dead hair, skin, dandruff, and grime. Every dog breed is distinct and has various needs regarding grooming methodology and frequency, so conduct your research on your dog first. If in doubt, consult a local groomer or vet about how frequently you should groom your dog and whether there are any hazardous areas to be aware of for their breed.

Tips for At-Home Dog Grooming  Don't worry; we're here to assist you about dog grooming. Continue reading to learn how to groom your dog at home:

1. Bathing Dogs with loose facial skin or wrinkles will require special care. Clean the folds with damp cotton to prevent dirt and bacteria from causing irritation and infection. Always dry the regions between the folds thoroughly.  Start brushing to get rid of dead hair and mats, then bathes the pet with lukewarm water. Avoid pouring water into the ears, eyes, or nose. Gently massage in shampoo, rinse thoroughly, and give a good rub with a large towel. 

2. Brushing Grooming your pet's hair regularly will help keep it in good shape by eliminating debris, dispersing natural oils throughout her coat, preventing tangles, and keeping her skin clean and irritant-free. Dogs with short coats should be brushed once a week. The rubber brush is a good option for dirt, dead hair, and dead skin. A dog with short and dense fur is prone to matting. Hence use a slicker brush to get rid of tangles. Daily attention is required for long silky coats, and a bristle brush should be used. 

3. Eye Care Giving your dog regular home eye checks will help you stay on top of any health issues. First, face your dog in a well-lit place and look him in the eyes. They should be clear and bright, with a white border around the eyeball. Roll your thumb down your dog's lower eyelid and inspect the lining. It should be pink rather than red or white.

4. Ear Care Paying attention to the ears is especially important for dogs who have a lot of inner-ear hair or produce a lot of earwax. Cleaning your dog's ears too frequently or deeply can cause irritation, and never insert anything into the ear canal—probing inside can cause trauma or infection!

5. Nail Care It's time to trim your pet's nails if they're clicking or getting snagged on the floor. Cut a small amount of nail with each pass until the beginning of a circle appears on the cut surface, still nail-colored. The circle indicates that you are approaching the quick, which is a vein that goes into the nail, and that it is time to stop that nail and move on to the next. However, if your dog has black nails, the quick will be more difficult to see, so proceed with caution. If you cut the quick by accident, it may bleed; in that instance, add some styptic powder or corn starch to halt the bleeding. Smooth any rough edges using an emery board.

Final Thought

It is critical to establish and stick to a routine so that your dog becomes accustomed to it,but it is an essential thing to keep your pet healthy and happy. 

[ncssian]

A Modern Arrangement: Gwynriel Bonus Scene Three

Masterlist

A/N: NSFW, past sexual assault, trauma symptoms, Gwyn is unfairly self-deprecating + despite working on this since July I still don't know how science works and at this point I'm not gonna try to learn.

***

“Do you like movies?” he adds. “I’ll take you to the movies on Friday.” Preferably something boring and played out, so the theater will be empty and she won’t be paying attention.

Gwyn’s eyes widen. “Is going on dates also part of foreplay?”

“It can be,” Azriel shrugs. It will be when he does it.

Azriel tugs Gwyn by the hand down the carpeted halls of the movie theater, and it’s not until they reach their theater that she takes notice of the showing he brought them to.

“Ooh, how’d you know I love documentaries?” She turns to him with excited eyes. This is getting a lot more fun.

Az looks at the door leading into the theater, then at Gwyn, then down at the ticket stubs in his hand. “I didn’t,” he says, clearly disappointed. “I thought this would be boring. Should I get new tickets for something boring?”

Gwyn tugs on his hand as he starts to pull away. “No, don’t, I wanna learn about space!” She drags him forcibly into the dark theater, not caring about his foreplay plans that he probably uses on every other girl. Besides, this is the perfect way to ease her frenzied nerves and soothe her irrational fears. She can’t be anxious about Azriel touching her up if she’s distracted by a documentary.

“Your hands are sweaty,” Azriel notes with a hint of disgust as they climb past aisles of seats, searching for their row.

“They’re always like that,” Gwyn says cheerily, squeezing his palm tighter.

He makes a face and mutters something about forgetting hand sanitizer, but Gwyn doesn’t care as long he can’t tell how nervous she is.

Their seats are conveniently placed in the farthest reaches of the theater, hidden away in a corner dark enough that no one would see them even if they decided to straight up fuck there. Gwyn takes the seat closest to the aisle so she can make a run for it if panic starts to descend on her. She knows Azriel won't try anything she doesn't explicitly want—well, she mostly knows. You can never be too sure with a man. That's where the panic comes from.

She keeps her focus sternly glued to the previews as Azriel gets comfortable in the seat beside her. “You want a snack?” he murmurs over the sci-fi trailer playing in the background.

Gwyn throws him a look. "You just said five minutes ago we couldn't have snacks."

"Because I thought it would distract from your learning. Now I'm starting to think you need a distraction. Tell me what you want." He's already getting out of his seat.

Gwyn doesn't hesitate before answering, "Twizzlers."

Azriel makes a face. "I see your taste in sweets is still trash."

He's gone before Gwyn can comment, but it's safe to say that she's surprised he even remembers such an inconsequential detail.

Azriel used to be the kid who showed up to school without any lunch, always sitting empty-handed at the cafeteria, and one day Gwyn had felt bad enough that she offered him half of her turkey sandwich and a single straw of licorice. It wasn't charity or anything, considering how ten year old Az had taken one bite of the tough licorice and promptly spit it out. What was it he'd said to her face? I'd rather go hungry.

The documentary is starting by the time Azriel returns. He was right about distractions; she’s so intrigued as the voiceover starts playing that she almost forgets what she’s here to do. She gladly takes the Twizzlers from Azriel and settles in for an educational good time.

Azriel casually hooks his left arm around her right one, letting their hands tangle together on the armrest. Gwyn hardly even blinks. It’s just like the intimacy she has with Nesta or Emerie, except with a man. It’s not so bad.

Nesta and Emerie don’t run lines down her palm or play with her fingers while they’re holding her hand, though. Still, the touch is bearable. More than bearable, it feels good. Will Max hold her hand like this too when they finally go out? Gwyn turns giddy at the thought.

It’s a good ten minutes into the mysteries of deep space when Azriel says, “I don’t get it.”

“What part?”

“Any of it.” He moves his hand to her knee to grab her attention, looking genuinely confused. “I thought we were going to learn about planets, not theoretical stuff.”

“The theoretical stuff is the fun stuff,” Gwyn says indignantly. “Why are you paying so much attention to the documentary, anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be foreplaying me up?”

Az’s hand tightens on her knee, and he looks like he wants to argue about the movie more before he says, “Fine.”

They go back to watching the movie, but now he’s drawing circles around her knee. The gesture is flat and emotionless like a soldier obeying orders, which only goes to show how truly touch starved Gwyn is: she practically melts anyway. Sitting back with a small sigh, she lets herself be lost to Azriel’s subtle touch, even if he’s not fully into it right now.

Or that’s what she thinks, until his circles on her bare leg become slower and lazier, more drawn out in their pleasure. “Explain space-time to me again?” he whispers to her a few minutes later, now trailing his hand up her thigh. The hair along the back of Gwyn’s neck raises with his touch. He’s not using his confused voice this time at all— he’s using his bedroom voice.

He’s struck her weak spot. She doesn’t know how he knows, but she can’t resist from commentating during movies. “Well,” she licks her lips, “the theory is that distance and time and gravity directly impact each other.” His fingers brush dangerously close to the hem of her skirt, but she swallows away her nerves and keeps talking. “Imagine space and time as a flat, two-dimensional plane. Like two sides of the same sheet of cloth that never ends. Now imagine planets and stars as 3D objects weighing down on that sheet, making it bend and warp. The heavier the mass of an object in space is, the more the space-time continuum has to warp to accommodate it.”

“Fascinating.” Azriel’s hand is well under her skirt now, and Gwyn…Gwyn only widens her thighs more. Even with the frustrating heat between her legs, she feels oddly relaxed.

“Tell me more,” Az hums, fingers stroking up and down the fabric of her panties. Panties that are slowly but surely turning damp under his touch.

“I mean, I’m not the best at astronomy,” Gwyn tries to say.

She’s cut off when Azriel suddenly presses down on her clit over her panties with his thumb.

Gwyn jolts, snapping her knees shut. No, no, no! her entire body revolts. Azriel immediately pulls his hand out from under her skirt, holding it up so she can see it. His wide eyes ask if she’s okay.

Breathing quickly, Gwyn shakes her head hard. “Don’t,” she whispers. “Don’t touch me there.”

He nods and whispers back, “Okay, no clit, sorry.”

“You can still touch me in other places, though.” Gwyn doesn’t want one little scare to ruin the whole night. She was just doing so well, and her heart rate is already slowing down back to normal.

Az doesn’t say anything, but he abandons her legs to wrap his arm around her shoulder. “Let’s take a break. Watch the movie.”

Gwyn has no problem settling back into his hold. His jacket carries a strangely comforting scent of mint and tobacco, one that makes her want to bury her nose in his shoulder and fall asleep.

Okay, now she’s getting carried away. She doesn’t even know what’s going on in the documentary anymore.

Refocusing her attention on the soothing voice talking about neighboring galaxies, Gwyn lets herself forget the earlier shock her body took. Any lingering fear or arousal seeps out of her, and she feels so… at peace.

Some time later, she doesn’t know how long has passed, Azriel’s right hand lands on her thigh. A shudder escapes her as he drags his fingers along the inside of her leg, but when she glances toward him he’s still watching the documentary with vague interest.

She doesn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved that he isn’t going any further with his fingers. It’s just what she feared: he thinks she’s a freak, and now he’s given up. What’s the point in trying to seduce a twenty-seven year old with the mindset of a virgin?

She turns to look back toward the screen, and it’s only a second later that Azriel’s voice enters her ear. “Tell me where I can touch you.”

“What?”

“Tell me where to touch you,” he repeats slower, “and I’ll see what I can do with what you give me.”

Gwyn whitens, wondering what he means by what I can do. How far is he planning on taking their foreplay? How far does foreplay usually go?

Crap, she should’ve asked Nesta or Emerie for these answers before coming here.

“Um…” Gwyn stalls for an answer. She’s never thought too deeply about where she does and doesn’t want to be touched. “Nipples are a hit or miss for me,” she starts. “Sometimes I like it, most of the time I hate it. I guess it just depends on how comfortable I am in the moment. You can touch my throat, but don’t wrap your hand around it, ever. Everything else is fair play.”

He raises a dark brow. “Everything?”

“Yes.”

He doesn’t say anything after that, and Gwyn would kill to know what he’s thinking. When he finally speaks again, it’s to say, “Remember when I fell off the monkey bars and landed on top of you?”

“Huh?” Gwyn is confused.

“You were so tall for a third grader. It took us forever to hit the ground, seriously.”

“I hate you,” Gwyn deadpans.

“We were both sort of a pile of mush on the ground,” Az continues, ignoring her, “and I had my face buried in woodchips and splinters for days, but you could imagine my shock when I sat up to find a nine year old giant had cushioned the worst of my fall. And then you threw up your lunch all over my lap.”

Where is he going with this?

“Do you remember?” he prods her again.

Gwyn rolls her eyes, getting more annoyed by the second. “Yes, I remember.”

“Remember what I did next?”

Gwyn thinks back to that faded sunny day, trying to draw up the memory accurately.

“What did I do next, Gwyn?” His breath fans out over her ear. He surprises her by finally moving his hand back under her skirt, running a finger along the crease between her thigh and pelvis.

Her lips bunch in confusion. “You laughed.” Azriel had looked up from the puke all over his pants and giggled in her face, not even the slightest bit upset. “You were so weird as a kid,” she says. “Why did you laugh?”

“I thought it was funny. Hilarious, even,” he answers. “And I thought you’d just been through a terribly embarrassing ordeal because of me, and I wanted you to feel better.” His other hand, the one still wrapped around her shoulder, runs distracting lines up and down her arm.

“That’s…almost decent of you,” Gwyn admits. “But what��s your point?”

“I just wanted to say that I thought you were cool. I mean, you were cool before the vomit incident, but afterward I developed a real puppy crush, didn’t I? I got up to turn in papers at the same time as you, ate lunch at the same table as you, asked you for homework answers even when you didn’t know them.”

His voice gets impossibly quieter. “Even after I moved away, I thought of you, Gwyn. For a while after I left school, I’d think every girl I saw with red hair was you.”

Her breathing goes shallow. “And then what?”

“And then I found myself here.” His finger traces the outer line of her underwear but makes no further move. “A lucky twist of events, don’t you think?”

Gwyn hums in assent, though her brain is kind of fogged out now. Is he implying that he still, in this moment, has feelings for her?

His palm suddenly flattens against her center, causing her to squeak. She clamps her mouth shut as her face flames in embarrassment, but luckily nobody seems to have heard her. Azriel only huffs a laugh at her reaction.

She realizes for the first time that his body is practically twisted ninety-degrees toward her, fully facing away from the theater screen. All his attention belongs to her, like she’s the most fascinating thing in the whole room.

His other arm unwraps from around her shoulder so he can bring a grazing touch to her jaw. “Where else are you sensitive, Gwyn?” he murmurs in a low voice. “Here?” He brushes the skin beneath her ear, triggering a delicious shudder throughout her whole body. “Or here?” His fingers bury lightly into her hair, scraping against her scalp.

Gwyn wets her lower lip, her eyelids wanting to flutter shut at the butter-soft touches. “Oh, you’re good,” she admits in a whisper. If this is what foreplay entails, then she’s definitely ready for it with…

Her mind takes a second to remember the name. Max. Yes, of course, Max.

Heat spreads between her thighs, impossible to ignore thanks to Azriel’s hand still snuggled there. She tries to rub her legs together to ease the growing ache, but it only presses his hand closer to her core. He said he wouldn’t touch her clit, and he technically isn’t. He’s touching all of her.

“If you want me to come,” Gwyn acknowledges the impossible outcome that’s been hanging in the air all night, “I should warn you that it’ll only end in us both being disappointed.” Orgasm has historically taken her forever to achieve, even though she tries for one at least once a week. No matter what toys she uses or fantasies she imagines, it never comes naturally to her body— only through strained effort and force.

“It doesn’t matter whether you finish or not.” Azriel’s voice in her ear is reassuring, easy. “It matters whether you enjoy it.”

That sounds okay. She can do that.

Very experimentally, Gwyn wraps her hand around Azriel’s right wrist, the one under her skirt. His other hand is lazily drawing lines against the nape of her neck and across her shoulders in a way that makes her want to giggle and squirm, but she represses any noise or movement and simply lets herself be washed away with his touch.

Holding her breath, Gwyn hesitantly grinds herself against his palm. It takes her a moment to decide if the touch is bearable, if she likes it. And once the answer is a decided yes, she shifts against his hand again. Keeping his wrist in a tight grip, she moves faster, with more purpose.

“That’s it, find what you like.” His voice is like shadows, impossibly low and meant only for her to hear.

“Can you just—keep your hand there,” Gwyn pants, breathless. As if her hand isn’t already wrapped around his wrist and she isn’t basically rubbing herself against his palm.

But Az doesn’t seem to be a fan of letting Gwyn have control of the reins the whole time. “Settle down,” he orders in a murmur as he presses against her core. An instinctive part of Gwyn can’t help but obey at his tone; she collapses limply into her seat and lets him take care of her as he sees fit. Azriel’s other arm twines around Gwyn’s on the armrest in an easy yet intimate gesture, his hand resting over hers. To anyone walking by in the dark, they’d look like a normal couple casually holding hands.

It’s that thought that makes Gwyn feel inexplicably comforted, like nothing bad can happen to her here. No force can be used on her. Even now he’s being careful to avoid rubbing too hard against her clit as he draws out her pleasure.

Is she going to…? No, there’s no way she’s going to. She’s never come this easily in her life, and it’d be insane if—

She tries clearing her throat, but it doesn’t work. “Az, I think I’m going to—” Her sentence is choked off by a sudden overwhelming pulsing in her core. It’s nothing specific that finally sends her over the edge, only the pure buildup of it all. She has to slap a hand over her mouth from the surprise of it, her legs clamping shut around Azriel’s wrist at the same time. She only recovers her senses in time to remember how to move and flex her hips over Az’s palm, riding out this wave for every drop of pleasure it’s worth. The documentary keeps playing, and not a single soul turns to look their way in the dark theater as Gwyn falls from her high.

The moment she returns to her physical body, Gwyn shoves Azriel’s hand out from under her skirt. Heat crawls up her neck and ears, and she glances around the theater dazedly, wondering if anyone somehow sensed her climax. She feels stripped raw and vulnerable, like a neon sign is flashing over her head announcing GWYNETH BERDARA JUST HAD AN ORGASM.

She also feels…

“So romance does it for you, huh?” Azriel interrupts her train of thought.

“What?” Gwyn blinks out of her haze, still coming down from that climax.

“When we were pretending I was in love with you,” Az explains matter-of-factly, “I could feel how wet you were through your underwear. If all you need is romantic feelings to get you going, then Max should have no problem getting you aroused.” He grins and holds up the hand he just rubbed her off with for a high five. “Congrats, Carrots. You just learned how to come with another man.”

Oh my god, right. He’d been pretending, it was all pretend. And it worked.

Gwyn swallows something back and smiles shakily, her heart pounding fast as she lightly meets Azriel’s high five. She feels funny, like she could either laugh or throw up, but it isn't because of fear or dread. No, she feels almost euphoric. It must be the victory celebration going on in her head right now.

***

A cool breeze hits Gwyn on the way out of the movie theater, heightening her post-orgasm bliss. Every muscle in her body is slack. She can’t feel her toes. This is amazing.

It doesn’t hurt that Azriel’s arm is still lightly hooked around her elbow, no intentions or feelings behind the gesture. Just casual friendliness.

The thought warms Gwyn’s insides. That out of this entire crazy arrangement, maybe she managed to find a real friend.

Gwyn drops Az’s arm as they approach his sleek little BMW. She runs up to the car and turns to him with her best pleading eyes. “Can I drive?”

“No way in hell.”

Gwyn feels brave tonight. “You said when we left the theater that I deserved to celebrate. This is how I want to celebrate.”

“Gwyneth.” Azriel comes up to her and stops only a few inches away, deadly serious. “This is a vintage luxury—”

“Wow, the door is unlocked.” Gwyn pulls the driver’s door open and starts getting in.

“Wait, this whole time?” Azriel sounds panicked. Gwyn twists her neck around to check for burglars in the backseat, and upon finding no signs of break-in settles back into the driver’s seat. She doesn’t even have to adjust the mirrors since their heights are so similar. It really is a nice car.

She reaches out to shut the door after herself, but Azriel, who still stands outside, catches it with one hand. After a prolonged staring contest between her and him, Azriel is the one who lets out a sigh and lets go of the door. He rounds the car to get in the passenger seat, and Gwyn nearly vibrates with excitement when he hands her the keys to start the car.

“I feel so good after that orgasm,” she babbles as they pull out of the theater parking lot. “I feel like I just got my back cracked by a chiropractor, that’s how good I feel. And the movie and snacks helped, too. Have you considered being a professional orgasm provider?”

Azriel hisses in an amused breath through his teeth. “Last week you shoot my ego down with no mercy and tonight you say this? What game are you playing at, Berdara?”

Gwyn turns sheepish, shrugging her shoulders as she drives. “I don’t play games. I’m being honest. You’re…good at what you do.” She waves a hand at him. “It’s not my fault if you let it get to your head.”

“If you don’t stop me, who will?” He adds after a moment, “I’m fucking starving, though.”

It is late, and they didn’t get a chance to grab dinner before the movie. “There are some Twizzlers left in my purse.” Gwyn gestures to the bag atop the middle console.

Azriel’s face twists. “You must be out of your goddamn mind.”

“Well, it’s either that or week-old crackers,” Gwyn retorts. “There’s no fast food stops on the way home, and I’m not about to turn in the opposite direction.”

“You are truly a heathen,” he tells her, even as he grabs for her purse. “I’ll take the crackers.”

He must seriously be hungry if he’s actually going to eat her crummy old purse food, especially considering his aversion to all things messy or unclean. Gwyn listens to him rummage around her purse for a bit when she hears a metallic jingle, and she glances over to find Azriel questioningly holding up a large keyring strung with a variety of objects.

“No judgment, but these are some scary looking sex toys, Freckles,” he says, turning the keyring over under the passing streetlights.

Gwyn scoffs as she drives, even though the sight of Azriel touching her keyring makes her itch. “Those are for self-defense. Put them back.”

“Seriously? Wow.” He picks up a purple spiked object dangling off the ring. “What’s this do?”

“Put them back, Azriel,” Gwyn repeats, her voice hardening this time.

“Are they for defending against me, too?” His question makes her blink in surprise, but she answers without hesitation: “You too.”

That gets Azriel to put the tools back in her purse. Neither of them speak for a few long minutes, and Gwyn internally kicks herself for answering his question so harshly. It’s not his fault she can’t trust men, but how is he supposed to understand that? Azriel was so nice for taking her out and helping her orgasm tonight, and now she’s returned his kindness by stating she doesn’t trust him not to hurt her.

Azriel finally breaks the silence. “Do you think you could ever feel a hundred percent safe around me?”

Gwyn grimaces. “Don’t make this weird, Az—”

“I’m just asking.”

Gwyn glances over to him then, and almost gets arrested in the simple, curious way he’s looking at her. There’s no judgment or disappointment in his eyes like she expects to find, only the sense that he wants to know more about her.

Azriel reaches over then and takes a hold of Gwyn’s jaw with one hand, making her breath hitch— but no, he’s just redirecting her focus back on the road. Gwyn jerks the wheel when she realizes she’s steered too close to the meridian, and Azriel hisses and leans forward as if he can protect his car from her reckless driving.

“Sorry,” Gwyn laughs nervously, throwing an apologetic look in his direction. To avoid a scolding about safe driving, she directs the conversation back to Azriel’s question. “To answer your question,” she says somberly, “no. Not with you or any other man. Don’t take it personally—”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“There’s just always a risk, you know? I’m jealous of people who go through life being ignorant of that risk, but it’s there inside everybody.” Especially when women like her are even more likely to be repeat victims in the future. Azriel might be good at convincing Gwyn to try a lot of things, but he’ll never convince her that there’s such a thing as being too paranoid when it comes to her safety.

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” Azriel says. “It already makes sense.”

“Oh.” Gwyn’s voice comes out a little high-pitched. “Okay. That’s good.” Oddly enough, she believes him.

***

“It’s not a conspiracy, it’s fact—” Gwyn is arguing with Azriel by the time they arrive at her apartment building and pull into a parking space.

“You’re telling me the stars and planets can warp time? God’s time? You’re crazy,” he scoffs as they both climb out of his car.

“That’s literally how it works, Azriel. You think you know more than science?” She slams the driver’s door shut behind her, tossing the car keys over to him with more than a little irritation.

“How does science know about this so-called space-time continuum?” Az is practically yelling. “Was Interstellar a documentary too?”

“There’s math and physics to prove it, idiot,” Gwyn snaps as they both stomp up the stairs to her apartment. “Why are you still here?”

“I’m walking you home,” he snipes back.

“You’re trying to invite yourself in for snacks, is what you’re doing.”

“Of course I am; you tried to make me eat purse crackers for dinner,” Az mutters.

Gwyn comes to a halt as she reaches the second floor and finds a tall figure waiting outside her apartment door. Her heart rate picks up at the potential threat until familiarity kicks in. Gwyn nearly drops her purse. “Max?”

Azriel draws to a stop beside her. “Who?”

Her coworker turns around, brown eyes widening at the sight of Gwyn. “You’re here!” Max smiles pleasantly at her. “I was just about to give up and go home.”

Giving a little squeak, Gwyn stumbles backward into Azriel, who steadies her with his hands at her arms.

At six-foot-four with curly brown locks and the kindest eyes Gwyn has ever seen, thirty-five year old Max Kellan is currently Gwyn’s favorite man on earth. She also doesn’t know how to speak to him in the slightest.

“What—” Gwyn coughs, clearing her throat, “What are you doing here, Max?” Probably more important: how does he know where she lives?

“Merrill gave me your address, and I wanted to return this to you.” He holds up a plain gift bag that she doesn’t recognize. “You left your hoodie in my office the other day. I didn’t want you to wait the whole weekend to get it back.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Gwyn can see Azriel raising his brows nearly into his hairline. Max seems to take notice of him for the first time and says hesitantly, “I wouldn’t have come if I’d known you were on a date…”

“Oh no, no, no,” Gwyn rushes, shaking her head. Crap, how must this look to Max? “He’s not my date,” she says hurriedly. “He’s—”

“Her cousin,” Azriel answers, quick and smooth. “We just got back from a movie.” He has the nerve to elbow Gwyn in a teasing manner, like they’re schoolgirls on the playground or something.

Gwyn forces a laugh even as she elbows Az back a little too hard. “Yes, that’s right. We’re cousins.”

She can feel Max look between the two of them with skepticism, from Azriel’s brown skin and ethnically ambiguous features to her pale coloring. “Alright,” he says slowly. “Still, I’m glad I caught you. I’ll just leave this here then.” He places the bag in front of Gwyn’s door.

He’s leaving already? Gwyn tries not to let her heart fall in disappointment when Azriel blurts, “Don’t go!”

Both Max and Gwyn whip their heads toward him.

“Gwyn has something she wants to say to you,” Az improvises, shoving Gwyn toward Max.

No, she doesn’t. “No, I don’t,” she tries to hiss at Azriel, but he’s already backing away from her and Max. “I’m just gonna go…over here.” Azriel gestures vaguely in one direction, and walks over to a narrow wooden post by the stairs. He then makes a poor attempt at hiding behind it.

Left alone to face Max, Gwyn laughs awkwardly. “Thanks for bringing my hoodie back,” she manages to say. Honestly, she left it in his office so she’d have an excuse to return and pick it up, but this is a much better outcome than she could’ve expected.

A surge of bravery seizes her, fueled by the euphoric high she’s still riding after the movie. “I know it’s late but— do you want to come in? I can make you a coffee before you go.”

Azriel makes a choking sound from the end of the hall, but she ignores it, only having eyes for the man in front of her.

“I’d love that.” Max’s smile is soft, youthful. Gwyn turns into mush for the millionth time that night.

“Great, let me just—” She starts digging around in her purse for her keys. A small part of her is aware of the risk of inviting him inside, of course, but that’s what all her self-defense lessons are for. And for once, the benefits greatly outweigh the risks.

Remembering that there’s a second man with her tonight, Gwyn glances over her shoulder to shoot daggers at Azriel. Get out of here, she says with her eyes.

But what about snacks? he mouths back.

Her glare becomes an apologetic look as she takes out her keys. Sorry, I owe you, she mouths.

She’s pretty sure Azriel doesn’t catch most of that, but he gets the message. Nodding, he turns around and begins to head down the stairs.

Gwyn turns back to the door and unlocks it, shoving it open for Max. “You can go first and get comfortable,” she tells him, sweeping her arm inside the space. “Do you mind if I leave you alone for a minute? I need to give something to my cousin.”

Max nods. “I’ll bring this in for you,” he says, holding up the bag with the hoodie.

Gwyn is gone before he finishes his sentence, running down the stairs so she doesn’t miss Azriel.

She catches him already at his car, about to open the driver’s door. She grasps at the sleeve of his leather jacket to stop him, panting from the run down here. Damn, she’s dangerously out of shape.

Azriel’s hand drops from the door. “What is it?” he asks immediately. “Are you uncomfortable? Do you want me to stay?”

“What?” Gwyn pants. “No. I just wanted to say— thank you for tonight.” Can that really encapsulate it? How he made her feel safe and desirable and coveted despite the fact that they’ve only known each other for a short while? “I don’t think I’ll ever forget it,” is all she can muster. Because even if this arrangement is only temporary, she’s reaching milestones thanks to him.

Az’s hazel eyes soften at her words, but he covers it up with a smirk. “You flatter me, Gwyn.” He looks away and adds, “For what it’s worth, it was pretty memorable for me too.”

“Really?” she says, excitement creeping into her tone. “I was worried I wasn’t doing enough to hold up my end of the deal. It’s hard to rebound from an ex with a woman who can’t…” She shrugs instead of finishing her sentence.

Azriel’s smirk drops and his face becomes serious. “I didn’t go into this to get laid,” he states. “I did it to replace bad memories with better ones.”

“Oh. I never thought of it that way.”

“Now if you really want tonight to be unforgettable, you better get your scrawny ass upstairs to your real date.” He shoves Gwyn away from his car and back toward her building, making her laugh. “I’m going, I’m going,” she says. She scampers away before he can push her again.

On the walk back up the stairs, Azriel’s last words linger in her ear. Replacing the bad memories with good ones— that’s what they’re doing for each other. It sounds really nice when put that way.

***

tags:

@rarephloxes

@moodymelanist

@arinbelle

@sayosdreams

@bridgertononmymind

@live-the-fangirl-life

@a-court-of-valkyries

@secretlovelybeauty

@humanexile

@helion-ism

@my-fan-side

@royaltykxx

@xoblivisci

@planet-faerie

@katekatpattywack

@imagine-me

@meridainthedisneyland

@jungtaekwoonie-is-life

@rainbowcheetah512

@valkyriewarriors

@loosingdreams

@chosenfamily-valkyriequeens

@perseusannabeth

@that-golden-lyre

@imsointobooks

@skychild29

@laylaameer01

@aightimmaheadoutsblog

@azrielbedara

@awesomelena555

@agentsofsheilds

@champanheandluxxury

@pixieelea

@theoverlyenthusiasticwriter

@teagoddess99

@readiajin

@seashade

#gwynriel #gwyn berdara #azriel #a modern arrangement #a favor #ncssianwrites #gwynriel fic

[broodybatboy]

the night court's best gift giver

Summary: Azriel has a secret skill and sets out to bring joy to an unsuspecting friend. Pure fluff. Inspired by a brilliant prompt - this one is for you @ghostiewriter 😘🎁

[Read on AO3]

Azriel was good at a great many things. His legend was defined by his skills as a warrior. He was incessantly observant. His mind able to piece together information like a puzzle revealing it’s hidden image. Amongst his catalog of lethal skills, this instinct had a surprisingly charming application. He was the Night Court’s best gift giver.

In truth, he loved the challenge. Instead of his usual treachery, the mission was to bring joy. It was why Cassian always had a stockpile of jerky. Even Amren, in a rare spurt of gratitude, praised a gem that Az had selected. It was why Nesta had hugged him on Solstice night. And maybe, deep down, that hollowness in his heart made him feel like nothing. Why shouldn’t he give them everything?

Then, during, a late-night session he notices Gwyn’s braid falling apart. Pieces of her copper hair flying in every direction. Both of them exhausted from the hand-to-hand combat. A large front strand falls obscuring her vision. She doesn’t see Azriel’s fist and falls to the ground with the blow to her stomach. Rather than be upset with him, she becomes enraged at her hair. It was stupid. It was hideous. It was annoying. She wants nothing more than to shave it all off.

Azriel watches her pull at her hair in exasperation. There’s an edge of determination in his expression. He has a new mission.

Then, at dinner, Cassian is gathering his hair up in a bun with a leather cord, a maneuver Azriel has witnessed countless times. A stroke of genius hits Azriel and he sets out to complete his mission. On the table where the girls eat their breakfast, he places the gift box with a tag that reads Gwyn in his best cursive. The next morning the trio would find it and his mission would be complete.

“What’s this! For me!?!” Gwyn’s shocked voice echoes out to where Azriel is setting up the training ring. She's incredulous. Ever the conspirators, his shadows eavesdrop for him.

Cassian hears the commotion and hassles Gwyn to open the box.

“This is brilliant! Hair ribbons with a strip of leather cord on one side. They can grip the hair! Nesta, did you get these for me?” she asks.

“No, it wasn’t me.”

“Emerie, then? I’ll ask her at training,” Gwyn remarks.

“Gwyn, these are gorgeous!” Nesta exclaims as she too looks through the box.

Azriel will never admit to the two hours he spent inspecting the silks and picking out ribbons in every single shade of blue: cerulean, cyan, indigo, periwinkle, navy, teal and cobalt. He will certainly never admit to picturing his hands tangled up in her hair. He doesn’t need the credit. She wears the new ribbons each day. He will never admit to himself that her real smile is infinitely better than the ones in his head.

---

Then, one day, while working in one of the Illyrian villages, he stumbles upon a ceramics seller. He can’t stifle the smile forming on his face when he sees the mug. A chalice fit for a king. Better yet, for a true warrior, and her name is Gwyneth Berdara.

Gwyn is now a resident of the House of Wind. She is a welcome addition and he finds solace in her company. Certainly, much better company than Cassian and Nesta. As it happens, Gwyn and Az are frequently found together. They are both restless sleepers and their work demands early morning rises. Mornings are infinitely better with her and a cup of coffee.

One particular morning, Azriel busies himself preparing their daily coffee. She claims his coffee tastes better than hers. It must be his years and years of age. His dark soul obviously makes a better brew. Maybe the extent of his powers is not just shadows but also coffee.

Shadowsinger, Spymaster, Coffeemaker.

Secretly, he loves her praises. He looks forward to them every morning.

“Would you mind grabbing the mugs?” He asks nonchalantly and feels the corners of his lips twitch up.

He loves hearing her little gasp.

“IS THIS FOR ME!?” she exclaims in shock. He’s grateful his back is turned because he can’t contain his sneaky smile.

“This has my name inside!! But where did this come from!”

He comes over to see. In her hands is the mug that says “I defeated Ramiel” in big bold letters with an image of the summit and painted stars. Inside, a little inscription the artisan made that reads “Carythian Gwyn.”

“Looks like I got my prize, after all, Shadowsinger,” she says with the wiggle of her brows.

He lets out a booming chuckle. A signature Berdara-induced laugh.

“Where did this come from?” She asks him again.

Azriel has had centuries to master his poker face. She can’t possibly know it was from him. He merely shrugs.

Spymaster Tip #47: Deflect. Draw attention away from yourself.

“It’s Illyrian made so perhaps Emerie? Maybe Cass?” He tells her. Gwyn is skeptical. Yet, she can’t prove it otherwise. Az continues his deflections. He tries to change the subject. But Gwyn is fixated on the mug.

She begins to rant. About extravagance. About spoiling her. About how kind and generous all her friends are. How she’ll treasure the mug. How she doesn’t need much to be happy. How nobody has any business wasting money on her. She doesn’t deserve it.

Azriel does his best to hold it in. He wants to shake her and tell her oh she couldn’t possibly be more wrong. He’d give her the world if she asked.

“Gwyn, you deserve it more than anyone I know.”

He pretends to ignore how Gwyn’s eyes linger on him a little longer. Her sneaking glances during training. And every morning after that when she proudly shows off her mug she’s focused on him. Hoping, wishing, he’d flinch or give himself away. Azriel has had centuries to perfect his mask, he gives nothing away. His face is a stone. Yet, he can’t help the warmth growing in his chest. He may be a rock, but his insides feel like mush.

---

Then, one day, Gwyn has a horrible week. That wicked Merrill. Endless piles of scrolls and revisions. She feels like she’s going to pass out. Azriel knows better than anyone how Gwyn overworks herself. That night’s training is officially canceled. He orders her to get to bed early. He has a mission to attend to. Determination and ruthlessness are plastered on his face as he sneaks down to the library.

The next day, a note from Clotho mysteriously appears attached to a tin of cookies.

Merrill is out for the day. Enjoy the cookies, Gwyn.

---

“You’re leaving for the Continent this week,” she sets her book down and sits up. They had been reading together in the library all night. Suddenly, her whole focus is on him and she turns towards him. Realization is setting on her face along with something else. Concern? Sadness.

Her expression makes his stomach shrink about two sizes. It finally dawns on him. This will be the longest they will go without seeing each other. His mission is meant to take three weeks, possibly more, depending on what he finds.

Something aches inside him at the thought of leaving her. The sensation is strange. Going off for missions has never been...hard. Now, it feels different. He is leaving something behind. Rather, he is leaving someone behind. Without entirely realizing it, she has become the most important fixture of his days.

“It’ll be strange to not see each other at night.” He looks up at her. Those sweet sad eyes.

He foolishly wonders whether he could convince her to come along with him. The thought quickly erased from his mind as he imagines the sorts of horrors that could harm her. No, not yet.

Perhaps next time, with proper training and armed with every piece of intel and weapon he can find. Gwyn is an extraordinary warrior. He’d love nothing more than to have her by his side.

It occurs to him that he’s never trusted a partner, except Cassian and Rhys, on a mission. Even with them, he almost always prefers to work alone. Things are different now. He trusts Gwyn. She seems to make him reevaluate everything he knows to be true. It seems there is an enormous knot of confused emotions towards his best friend.

“I’m going to miss you, Shadowsinger,” Gwyn says a bit timidly but her fearlessness demands she looks him right in the eye as she says it

He stares at her. At a total loss of words.

If only she knew how much he would miss her.

On the night of his departure, he leaves a parcel at her door with Gwyn in his signature black script. In the box is a plushie of a pegasus, a black stallion with baby soft wings. And underneath it is a gleaming new dagger. A note:

To bring you comfort at night.

#Azriel is like a scary sexy version of Santa #gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel #acosf #gwynriel fic #gwynriel headcanons #gwynriel headcanon #gwynriel hc #azriel fanfiction

[charliespringsleftconverse]

Dancing with the Devil

Warnings: N/A There’s some fluff at the beginning and an F-bomb at the end.

Word Count: 2,143 | Read on AO3

Writer’s Notes: I wrote this months ago. I’m not sure if I’ll ever continue working on it as I had intended to write a whole fic BUT I did want to share it. Just in case if I never continue writing, at least I shared the initial chapter.

_______________________________________________________________________

“You’re tapping out at round five?” said Nesta. She licked her lips at the sight of him as her eyes ogled him, taking him in bit by bit. The golden sunlight trickling through the window magnified his beauty, strengthened the lines on his muscles, and enriched the night hue of his hair.

Cassian rolled to the side, his wings splayed, taking up most of the space on the bed. His hair, once in a messy bun, spread over the pillow, shimmering against the glow of the rays as sunset blessed the room. It almost seemed like starlight danced against his hair and skin. The dampness from his body—their bodies—now soaked onto the sheets. “It’s been more than five, and you know it.”

“Feyre’s right. Illyrian babies.”

“Is that a summons or a request for miniature carbon copies?” His chest was rising and falling as he tried to regain his breath. Cassian arched an eyebrow and folded an arm behind his neck. A curve formed at the edge of his lips, it was a hidden smile only noticeable to her eyes. His mate’s eyes. “Besides, I thought you wanted to wait.”

“Oh, I do. So, if your mind was on the latter, you’re highly mistaken.” Nesta inched closer, careful not to injure his wings in the process. Although his wings seemed rough, they were as delicate as a cherub. Especially after an intense workout.

She leaned on him, tracing invisible constellations from one side of his chest to the other. Her fingers were gentle on his torso as she painted the skies they’d trained, fought, and laid underneath from memory. Nesta placed her head on his chest and continued outlining other areas, her golden-brown hair trickling down her back like ocean waves. “How about we sleep in tomorrow?”

“How about I make you do cardio on the ten thousand ste-”

His words came to a halt as she slowly, very slowly, used her other hand to put pressure on the spot on his wings. She wouldn’t win against him on the training grounds, but here she was the General.

“Prick,” she said. Nesta raised her head from his chest, she wanted to look him in the eyes as he squirmed.

The back of his mouth made a low hum at her touch. His body was unable to withhold any response to her brush, her hands stroking him. “Witch,” said Cassian, his voice almost a purr.

“Bastard,” she whispered. Her lips grazed his, she was taunting him. She was challenging him against a battle she knew she could win. Never start a fight you can’t win, he’d taught her one morning alongside her team of Valkyries.

He growled and pulled her closer by the back of her neck, his hand drawing her in as his fingers tangled in her hair. “Now we’re talking,” he said against her lips.

_______________________________________________________________________

Nesta raised her sword in a perpendicular motion and rotated the blade, she was blocking and then slicing. With one swift motion, her sword angled at the invisible enemy. Emerie, Gwyn, and the rest of their elite team all moved in sync with every step, every swing, and every turn. They were a developing team of female warriors with recruits seeking to strengthen their combat skills as individuals, and later, when they were ready, as a unit.

“Block two,” Cassian ordered. Nesta’s eyes stayed forward, focused on the imaginary target. She pivoted and repeated the combination they’d been rehearsing all morning. “Thrust one.” She would definitely thrust him against a wall later for making them get up an hour earlier today. The look on her face said it all. It was like watching a wolf calculate their moves before pouncing on their next meal. She had several ideas on how to go about it, none of them involved leaving him unscathed. Later today, she’d feast.

Emerie pivoted and brought down her sword. “Easy there, girl.”

“You might set him on fire with that look,” said Gwyn. Her rotation was as smooth as butter, bringing her sword around in a clockwork motion with a quick flick of her wrist.

If Cassian hadn’t been wearing his Siphons, he could have easily done just that. Had he not been wearing his shirt, the sight of him would have made Nesta burn. Thank the Mother. The mere thought of him with his bare chest exposed under the sun made her cheeks flush. Nesta wiped her forehead, playing it off as heat exhaustion.

“Again,” he commanded.

Taking in a breath, Nesta rotated the blade to lead with the hilt and lunged forward, striking her target. “I’m just glad we’ll be able to enjoy ourselves tonight,” she said. They’d been planning to go out for weeks, but their different schedules hadn’t allowed them. Tonight, they had planned to go out dancing, and Nesta couldn’t wait to feel the call of the music. She loved when the melody wrapped itself around her and pulled her to the dance floor like the call of a lover.

“Valkyrie’s night out,” said Gwyn.

On her left, Nesta saw her friend miss a step and tense up. Regaining her balance, Emerie spoke in a low voice, “About that…”

Their voices halted for a moment as Cassian walked by, eyeing them. Those eyes appeared too knowing, too familiar with the trios chit-chatting track record. Those hazel orbs knew more than they let on, knew they weren’t discussing any battle strategy or another mind-stilling technique. Nesta and Gwyn exchanged looks, still awaiting an answer as he continued making his rounds.

“I didn’t know we were exclusively doing a Valkyrie night. So, I may have invited someone,” said Emerie. She glanced at her friends while trying to keep count of their steps.

“When we said ‘girl's night’, I thought it implied we could invite other females,” she added. Her gaze forward, following Cassian as he disappeared from range.

“Did you invite the other priestesses?” asked Nesta.

“The more, the merrier!” chimed in Gwyn. Her face was giddy at the thought of seeing more of her priestess, now Valkyrie, friends out of the library.

“Well, not exactly,” said Emerie. “It wasn’t a priestess, but she is a friend. I think she’s also bringing a close friend? I didn’t even think it was going to be just us. I mean, it’s-”

“Back row, move up,” Cassian barked. The two females at Nesta’s side tensed up at the sound. Their conversation evaporated from their surroundings, leaving only the intense glare from the muscular Illyrian that beckoned them.

Without needing to look at her sisters, Nesta knew what they were all thinking. Not again. This wasn’t the first time they’d been singled out for talking during training. Nesta rolled her eyes at her instructor, holding back her tongue at all the remarks she would have naturally let slip. The only thing that was restraining her was the fact that Cassian had recently threatened to have them all follow the same punishment if just one of them slipped out of line. Nesta wouldn’t do that to Gwyn and Emerie, although they would definitely get a kick out of the discourse.

She wouldn’t allow Cassian the satisfaction of bad-mouthing him and being reprimanded, not today, as much as she had the urge to. Instead, Nesta silently cursed his name and vividly daydreamed of how she’d shove him against the wall of their bedroom as his favorite words escaped her lips. How her mouth would be inches from his sweet spot beneath his ear, whispering all the terrible things she’d do to him. Of how she’d have him writhing and squirming as she rode him into oblivion only to take a step back, leaving him hard, begging for her to take him.

“Nesta, show me your stance,” he said. His voice was firm, he wasn’t playing around, not today. Asshole. Her restrained tongue would have saved her had she also held back the attitude on her face. Nesta wouldn’t allow him to get the best of her today. She placed her feet at an equal distance from her torso, just like he’d taught her.

Her eyes challenged him to say something, to which he, of course, gladly obliged. Cassian could read her as easily as she could spy a smutty book collection from a distance. Standing before her, the Illyrian prepared his stance, separating his feet and preparing his sword. Nesta had hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but she wasn’t one to back out from something so promising.

“Sweep me off my feet, Nes,” he said. Nesta could have sworn a smile crept on his lips. She was a wolf, a Valkyrie, and she had been death itself. If he was going to enjoy this, she’d be sure to knock the smug look off his face with everything she had until she had him cursing the Cauldron to boil him out of existence.

Cassian arched his eyebrows waiting for her to make the first move, but she took her time calculating how exactly she’d have him sprawled on the ground. To the side, Emerie and Gwyn, now next to each other, stood waiting to see how this would unfold. Gwyn’s eyes scanned back and forth from the muscular Illyrian to the golden-brown High Fae, waiting anxiously to see who would make the first move. Next to her, Emerie sheathed her sword and simply crossed her arms at the entertainment. If Az had been there, they’d most likely have started betting on who would have the last laugh between the two.

Having settled on the course of action, Nesta swung the metal blade forward and did not flinch as the steels clanged when they met, sending a strong vibration down from the point of impact to the hilt where her hand tightly wrapped itself. He was strong, but she was quick on her feet. Perks of being an avid dancer. She allowed her steps to fall into count to the beat playing in her mind while their steel blades created their own tune.

Clang. He struck back, and she blocked the hit, pivoted, and blocked again, knowing he would have used those couple of seconds against her. He retreated his sword, preparing another blow, but her blade beat him to the collision. Clang. Swinging her leg upward, Nesta kneed him where his thigh met his hip, hoping the blow would impair him for a moment and serve to her advantage. A low grunt escaped his mouth. There was a hint of pride in his eyes before he swung both their swords with enough effort to force Nesta to regain her balance a moment later.

With one step forward, her blade met his for a brief second before he twisted from the encounter, swung his leg from behind, and pinned her on the ground. Nesta tried to break her fall, but before she knew it, she was flat on the ground with a sword to her throat.

“Keep your knees bent. You want to stay on your feet, otherwise, you won’t be able to take a hit if you get pounded from the back,” he said. That stupid smug look still painted on his face as he held his sword steady.

Emerie and Gwyn’s shoulders rose and fell as they attempted to withhold their laughter. Nesta side glanced at them as she stood, wiping the dirt away. Their gaze dropped from hers as the pair chuckled from the sidelines.

Sheathing his sword at his side, Cassian spoke, “And to the two of you. Unless you can run faster than your mouth, I suggest you keep it closed.”

As Nesta returned to her spot, Cassian directed himself towards the rest of the team. “We’ll stop here and pick it up tomorrow. You all did well today.”

Rubbing at the back of her neck, Nesta turned to Gwyn and Emerie. She massaged the soreness just above her clavicle, knowing she’d likely have a bruise tomorrow. Emerie offered her some water, “Drink. We’ll need you at peak performance tonight.”

“It’s you who’ll need to keep up,” said Nesta. She downed the beverage, feeling blessed by the Mother to have something so refreshing and hydrating coursing through her after such a morning.

“Speaking of tonight, who did you say you invited?” asked Gwyn, her gaze directed toward Emerie who seemed to be praying to some god above to smite her on the spot.

“Mor.”

Fanfuckingtastic. Nesta could handle Mor for a night. She’d tolerated the tall blonde for quite some time because Cassian had asked. She’d do anything to make him happy, so she tolerated the blonde’s presence at dinners, and gatherings, and all formal meetings involving the entirety of the inner circle. Nesta took in a breath, held it, and let it go. She acknowledged her feelings, and let them vanish from her mind. I can handle Mor without a buffer.

Right?

#nesta archeron #nesta x cassian #nesta #cassian #acotar #acotar fanfiction #fanfiction #mor #the morrigan #morrigan #emerie #gwyneth berdara #gwyn #a court of silver flames #nessian fic #cassian x nesta #The Valkyries #a court of thorns and roses #acosf #acotar fanfic #acosf fic #fluff #acotar fluff #nessian fanfiction #nessian fanfic #ao3 fanfic #ao3 #read on ao3 #ao3 tags