#the day i can add elain to this

[readychilledwine]

Could i request something where az and reader are mates. They have a huge fight and “break up” and reader leaves the court. She finds out that she is pregnant and writes him a letter. He never shows up so she thinks he doesn’t want the baby. Rhys visit the court she is in and sees her with a child maybe a couple months old. He is mad because she didn’t told him and when he ask her why she keeps his nephew away she tells him that she wrote az but he never answered. Rhys is mad and ask az what is up with him to just leave his pregnant mate. Unbeknownst to him that az was searching for her the whole time. Az tells him that he never got a letter and they find out that maybe elain burned it. It takes some time for them but they find their way back and just fluff azriel dad who teaches his son how to fly.

( you could write more angst between reader and az because of elain or you could use a maid or something who wants az)

Here Without You

Summary - Being a single mother was more painful than you'd ever thought it would be, especially when your son's father was just a court away.

Warnings - Angst, Elain showing those claws, single mom status, a child, PPD and the thoughts that come with it, **edited to add** cheating

A/N - I had one of my friends who is a single mom help me with this one while also imagining my life without baby daddy, and um, yeah. We cried a lot, so hopefully, you all do too.

*message from Liz regarding the ending at the end*

💙Peep my Azriel Masterlist Here💙

You had decided whatever you had done to offend the Mother must have been truly unforgettable and unforgivable as you sank against the wall of your family chambers in the Day Court Palace.

Being a new mother was the hardest thing you had ever and will ever do. You had finally gotten Nox down after 3 hours of fussing and tears, and now you waited. He'd sleep 2 hours if you were lucky, wake up crying, and you'd start the process over.

You had wished for your mate more times than you could count, but that bridge was long gone and burned. He had ensured of that by not coming when you wrote him, by not even bothering to write you a response.

The last fight between you and Azriel had been ugly. Glasses had been thrown, a bottle of wine knocked over in rage, cruel words you would both have to live with ringing in your ears like a scream. 350 years. Gone. Thrown away like garbage. All for Elain.

Selfish, plotting, destructive Elain.

You stood, body swaying with sleep deprivation setting in before sitting at the table where your now cold food set. You were too tired to eat, choosing to instead drink the water you had been desperately craving 4 hour ago.

You had wished you could turn it to wine, drink it with no consequences, and still feed Nox when he woke, but that was not the reality of the world. So, instead, you allowed the room temperature flavorless beverage to slide down your throat before moving like a ghost to the couch. There was no point in getting comfortable in your own bed. You would have to be up soon anyway. It wasn’t as if you had help.

You were alone.

And that wasn't even the most painful part of it.

The most painful part was setting in doubt. The growing disbelief that you weren't capable of this, that Nox deserved more, that you should have dropped him at the cabin you had no doubt Elain had moved into, leaving him with her and Azriel to allow you to-

You cut your brain off, refusing to put those words into a full thought. Refusing to believe that your disappearance or death was better for your son than this.

This had to be enough, you had to be enough, because Gods if it wasn't and you weren't, then what truly was the point in living any longer.

Helion entered your chambers the next morning, eyes falling to where you were sat on the floor, shoulders shaking as sobs tore through you. He placed a large warm hand on your shoulder before taking Nox from your arms. "I know I can not offer much of a break due to his feeding cycle, but when is the last time you ate a hot meal, y/n?"

You shook your head. He was 2 weeks old. You supposed it had been before labor. Since then, it had been moments begging for just a second of deep sleep. Moments begging for the Mother to help you, to guide you. Moments where those prayers went unanswered as if they were just thrown into a void. "I don't remember."

Helion could have killed Azriel for you, for Lucien, for Nox. He almost had when you had winnowed yourself here, collapsing in his arms from the exhaustion magic and a growing babe had caused your body.

You hadn't known when you came to the Day Court, begging your oldest friend for a week of safety and healing that you were pregnant, but the High Lord had scented it the second you appeared.

It left him wondering how the hell Azriel hadn't.

"Let me hire a wet nurse for you," he offered again, knowing you would turn it down since your depressive state had you hyper fixated in this belief that all you were good for now was your breasts, and if you gave that duty away, what purpose did you have? "At least for the next few hours. To give you time to rest?"

You still shook your head, messy, tangled hair trying to sway. "I can't. I can't burden someone else."

Helion turned his head away from you, willing himself not to cry at the emptiness of your voice, at the lifelessness you had become.

"The Night Court and Spring are coming today," he started slowly. "I am the magic selected neutral ground for Tamlin and Rhysand to begin setting a peace treaty and trade routes." He waited for your reaction, almost breaking further as you gave him none. "Do you want to see any of them?"

"Lucien and Tamlin."

Helion felt his heart shatter for Cassian, the male who had been asking about you for months now. "The general-"

"Is Azriel's brother. And probably has taken his side. Attempts to see me are probably to give him some sick sort of satisfaction."

He dropped the subject immediately. Nox was asleep, content in the High Lord's arms. "I have time before they arrive, go nap." Helion ordered it, eyes blazing a soft gold and forcing you into submission.

Your bed had never felt so soft.

Helion was walking with Nox around the Palace, smiling and cooing the little male. He was always content when he was being held, and you were so deeply asleep you hadn't even noticed Helion holding the boy to your chest as he nursed. He walked towards where Lucien and Tamlin were.

His son, his pride and joy, looked just radiant in his Day Court attire. The soft, off-white pleaded fabric draping him showed the new healthy build he had gained since Azriel and Elain's transgressions, a golden snake wrapped his bicep, new golden earrings adorned those many piercings.

Lucien paused, a look of concern etching his face when he saw Nox before shaking his head rapidly.

But it was too late, Helion was already in the room where Rhysand also stood with the Inner Circle. The Lord of Night's face fell as he looked at the Illyrian boy, looking so happy up at Helion as he dozed off.

Cassian had frozen, mid sentence with Nesta. He had tried to take a step, wanting to see the babe he immediately knew was his nephew. His eyes met Helion's pleading with permission to approach. Elain's face had paled. A mix of guilt and fear running across it before she schooled it into a faked look of hurt and sadness.

But it was Azriel's face the broke the High Lord. It was a look he knew all too well.

The look of a father who missed the birth of his child.

The look of a father who didn't know he had a child.

The look of a father mourning lost time.

Lucien moved to Helion, taking Nox before leaving the room quickly. The boy did as he always did when his head found Lucien's warm bare shoulder. He released a heavy breath, snuggling into that familiar scent and warmth. "Your mother did not call for me last night," they all heard his soft voice trailing off, speaking to their nephew softly.

"You will tell me everything I do not know," Rhysand demanded as if he was in his own court. "When the fuck was he born. Why were we not informed of her pregnancy?"

Tamlin looked to Helion, digging the shit further. "Is she in the same room as last time?" The Lord of Day nodded. "I will go see her while you all deal with this."

Helion didn't answer, walking to the centered round table and taking the head seat. "To begin, Rhysand, this is my court. You will not make demands of me in my home." They all sat, aside from Azriel. His gaze was locked on the hallway Lucien and Tamlin had gone down.

If he ran, he could catch them. He could see you. He could-

The slam of hands on a table ripped him from his thoughts, and his head snapped to Helion. The High Lord was blazing, glowing like the sun itself, heat radiating from him. "Sit. Down."

An hour later and Rhysand had the bridge of his nose pinched between his fingers. "You saw her send each letter?"

Helion rolled his eyes, nodding again. "Every month after every check up and once after the birth."

Rhys pointed to Azriel. "But you never got them?"

"My son wouldn't be in another court if I had," Azriel's voice mirrored yours. Broken, empty, mourning. Mourning what was, what he had missed and would never get back. "You're sure she sent them to me?"

Helion could have snapped his neck. "Who else would have fathered her babe? You are the one who stepped out of the bonds of marriage and mateship. Not her."

Azriel paused, a sudden look of anger gracing his face as he looked up at Elain, shadows curling his ears. Nuala appeared, setting envelopes down in front of Rhysand. "In her room. Under her bed in a locked chest. Along with every communication you had tried to send to y/n, my lord."

Feyre gasped, turning her back to Elain and leaning further into Rhysand, holding Nyx tightly between them. She remembered those first few weeks. The sleepless nights, the pain, the emotional down pour. She would not have survived without Rhysand. Without Nesta and Mor. Without Cassian and you and Azriel. Her sister, the one who had held her as darkness swallowed her mind after her son's birth, had allowed you to endure this alone.

Azriel's hands shook, reaching for that stack. He separated out the letters. 10 for him. 2 for Rhysand and Feyre. 2 for Mor. 2 for Amren. 4 for Cassian and Nesta.

Helion stood. "I will let you all process this. Call for me when you are ready to do negotiations. The sooner you all leave, the better for her."

Rhysand's eyes shot up. "You won't let us explain to her-"

"Does it change the fact that he took Elain to their marriage bed? Does it change that he signed the annulment papers." Silence filled the room. "I believe that's why she left. Correct?" Rhys grit his teeth nodding. "Then all this changes is me, someone she trusts and feels safe with right now, informing her of what happened and allowing her to decide if she wants to reach out again from that point." He made a pointed look at Elain. "Which would not matter since I cannot see you removing the parasite from your court."

Helion walked into your room to Lucien and Nox laying skin to skin, a blanket over them as Tamlin held you, long fingers running through your dark hair. "And?" His son said.

"Your mate hid the letters regarding her pregnancy." Lucien whistled. "She's a snake hiding behind beautiful scales."

Azriel had tracked down your room with his shadows easily. The inner circle had been excused for the negotiations and allowed to explore the city. Cassian had flown Elain home, Mor and Amren winnowing Nesta behind them. Cassian wanted Elain out of his house, and Azriel could not have been more grateful to his brother for having his back.

He entered the room slowly and quietly. You were placing the babe in a crib on the balcony. It was shaded from the sun, shielded to remain the perfect temperature, and yet gave him access to fresh air, to the breeze.

You turned, eyes wide the second you saw Azriel. He moved to you so quickly that you could hardly process it. One second, your feet were on the ground, and the next, arms held you tight against him. Azriel was breathing deeply, memorizing your scent all over again.

He set you down, keeping you close to his chest, and sent a prayer to the Mother. "Elain hid all the letters," he began slowly. "She kept them all in her room. I didn't know. Had I known about you, about him, I would have crawled the very depths of hell to bring you back home to me."

You didn't answer. Tears fell as your body relaxed into him. It wasn't fair. The hold he had on you. The need you still felt in your bones when he touched your skin. You ached for Azriel so deeply it echoed into your bones. You longed for his smell. His voice.

Azriel took your silence as permission to continue. "I made a mistake. I will never be able to make up for it. Elain knew the second you left, I wanted to correct this. I was so blinded by her, by the feeling of being needed like that again, that I forgot how precious your independence was. How beautiful it is."

He couldn't stop himself from kissing the top of your head. "You are all I think about. Morning, noon, and night, it is always and will always be you. I am so sorry for what I have done. I am sorry for hurting you, for ruining us, for hurting the family we should be raising together. There are no words for my remorse."

"Why?" Your voice broke as you asked. "Why wasn't I enough?"

Azriel pulled back to look at you, hand raising to hold your chin and force eye contact. "Y/n, you are not at fault for my actions. You did nothing wrong. There is no partial blame, no what ifs. I fucked up. I made a mistake and it cost both of us everything. You are the victim of my actions, not the catalyst."

He saw you process those words and saw as they sunk in. "You were and are more than I will ever deserve. I want to spend my lifetime making up for it. Becoming a male you are proud of. I want to be the father I never got to have. I want to be the husband and mate you deserve. I know it will take time, and I do not expect your forgiveness today, but if you give me a chance, I will go to my grave worshipping the ground you two walk."

"Do you want to meet our son?" He broke at the question, feeling the bond opening back on your end. "This doesn't mean we're back together. It means we need to coparent for him while we work on things." He nodded rapidly, following you to the bassinet.

It felt like the world was coming full circle. You knew it would take time, that you two had many things to discuss first. This was a needed good start, though. Your pain eased slightly as you pulled back the curtains to the crib and whispered, "Azriel, this is Nox, your son."

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho

**I have received some pretty nasty anon asks, some unconstructive comments, and a good amount of general negativity regarding this fic. If you are unhappy with the ending and want to know why I made the choices I made as the author, click #discussingherewithoutyou. Unconstructive comments will be receiving the same copy and paste answer from here forward.

My time and content are free. If you do not like them, scroll.

General Taglist:

@mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium

Azriel Taglist:

@elle4404

#acotar #acotar x reader #send asks #send anons #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x yn #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #discussingherewithoutyou

[babybinko]

Made a TON of Venture Bros. genderbends :D

Bonus + some of my thoughts on all the designs under the cut:

This is from a conversation I had with a friend about how Dermott and Hank would behave in this AU (its exactly the same as normal)

Ok now some thoughts on my design process

Hank: I think I drew Hank's face actually perfect, I made her so cute. I also feel like there's a common trope with genderbends where athletic characters get short hair so I gave her long hair and gave Dean short hair. I actually think the longer hair fits her perfectly. ALSO I LOVE HER BOOTS.

Dean: I gave goth Dean more Accessories than normal because normal goth dean had no fucking swag (it was besties idea to make her pants ripped). Even before I started drawing college Dean I knew I was giving her those legwarmers you can pry them from my cold dead hands. Same with the legwarmers I knew the first dean design needed a Jean skirt its just the vibes.

Dermott: The millisecond I even thought about doing Dermott I KNEW she would be 2012 grunge girl aesthetic. Gigantic shoplifting energy. Love her.

Rusty: I wanted her to look like a mean mom and I believe I accomplished that goal. Absolutely had to add the glasses strap. Very Jamie Lee Curtis.

Brock: I drew the one with the hair down first and my friends preferred the one with the hair up so I just did both. I wonder if she was a cheerleader in college and killed another girl on her cheer squad by throwing her too far/dropping them.

21: I drew 21 then I realized I had just drawn myself with bangs. Also I drew her with a blunt because there's an episode where 21 has a joint in his mouth the whole episode the other henchmen are standing in stupid poses in the background and its maybe one of my favorite bits in the entire show its so stupid.

24: 24 took several attempts to get the hair right I kept drawing it short and curly and my friend told me to give her Elaine from Seinfeld hair which I think ended up working really well.

Monarch: One of my favorites I did. I feel like this one you can definitely tell how Bayonetta completely re-arranged my brain chemicals as teenager. I love the hip cutouts, I made a tummy cutout to kind of mimic how Dr.GF's monarch costume is kinda skimpy. It's also hard to tell because of the cowl but I tried to give her like a finger waves hairstyle.

Dr.Gf: I tried a bunch of different hats but my friends liked the brimless hat the most and completely doomed him into looking like a Bellhop (more than he already did). Its giving Tyler the Creator at the 2020 Grammys. I still think he's cute though :)

Billy: I really didnt want to just draw her in a suit because thats boring. The show always gives me 60s vibes despite being set in modern day (I'm sure its on purpose) and I definitely channeled that with Billy. It took a couple tries to find a balance between fitting her body but still looking adult but I think I got it in the end.

Pete: YAYYYY PETE YAAAAYY!!! ^_^ Shes so Ava Max Coded. I also gave her giant buckles on her shoes to match his stupid ass one two buckle my shoes ass shoes.

Triana: Very much looks like putting emo boy in the Pinterest search bar. I made her thigh highs into his sleeves and I gave him square bangs like her.

Dr. Orpheus: NEEDED to make her a hot milf and I did. Its a little hard to see but her shirt has lace over the open part. I love the hair Jewerly at the bottom of her braid. :)

#venture bros. #venture bros #Hank Venture #Dean venture #rusty venture #dermott fictel #Dermott venture bros #brock samson #henchman 21 #henchman 24 #the monarch #monarch venture bros #dr. girlfriend #billy quizboy #peter white #triana orpheus #dr. orpheus #Gary Fischer #billy whalen #dr. mrs. the monarch #Dr. Byron Orpheus #my art #venture brothers #genderbend #genderswap

[fieldofdaisiies]

Icarus Has Fallen

paring: Azriel x Reader | type: fluff | words: 5,4k | warnings: none playlist: can't help falling in love | la vie en rose | moving along | my heart will go on | I think I’m in love | you and I enchanted; this story is dedicated to two of the most amazing people on this app @brekkershadowsinger @moonlightazriel thank you for all your help and support and love (now you know why I asked for the songs)💛

Icarus has fallen.

It was the sun that made Icarus fall, and it is a female as bright and beautiful as daylight that made Azriel fall. In love. 

Deeply. Head over heels. No ground in sight.

He has never expected this sort of feeling. Not after Mor. Not after Elain. 

But the first moment he lays eyes on you, the second he spots you, splashing around in the large marble mountain in front of the castle Azriel is gone. His gaze remains fixed on you all the way to the castle, not once averting his eyes. His is so focused on the sort of beauty he has never ever seen before, he doesn’t even realise that Cassian is talking to him. He doesn’t register what Rhysand answers, or what his High Lady adds. Everything around him fades into insignificance, becoming absolutely unimportant. There is only one thing on his mind - only one thing he can focus on and that is you and figuring out a way to get to know you. To learn your name. To find out who exactly you are. 

He is only ripped out of his gazing by a deep male voice greeting the High Lord of Night and his entourage, including Azriel. He has to shake his head, his shadows calming a little around his shoulders.

"Welcome to the Day Court,“ Helion greets, his toga flowing around his strong thighs, his arms spread wide to welcome the visitors from Night to his court. Bowing their heads, they return the greeting and fall in line with the High Lord of Day who lets a casual eye run over each of them. "Where is Morrison?" he asks, his voice tinged with genuine curiosity, but also a hint of amusement. In the past, this question would have enraged Azriel. Not anymore. Not for a long time. He knows that Mor and him…there would never be anything between them. He knows this now. 

Rhys answers him that she has business to deal with, and couldn't manage to come here. Helion accepts this answer with a smile and says, "Please, follow me. Allow me to show you my throne room where the discussions will be held."

Azriel’s gaze, one last time, moves over his shoulder, craning his neck quite a bit to catch one last look at you. You are engage in happy chatter with who he guesses are your friends, hair and the thin white gown that is damp from the water, leaving absolutely nothing to imagination. His breath catches and—

"If you keep staring any longer, you might break your neck, Azzy.“ Cassian fetches his best friend back to reality, nudging him playfully in the ribs and colour blooms high on the shadowsinger’s cheeks when he meets the general’s gaze. "Wh-at?" he stammers, trying to pretend he wasn’t doing anything, but obviously Cassian isn’t stupid and sees right through his bluffing.

"I wasn’t staring," Azriel growls, his forehead lying in furrows.

"I am only teasing you, Az,! Cassian adds when he watches Azriel’s expression, the cold and indifference creeping back into his features. The general chuckles and returns his gaze to his own mate, his large hand holding Nesta’s tightly. "But you totally were."

Azriel tries to ignore his friend, shaking his head slightly, shoulders squared, posture straight as he follows the others into the big throne room of the Day Court castle. He wasn't staring. He was…observing. 

Everyone gathers around a large class table, the meeting starting a moment after, but Azriel is unfocused. Helion says something about Koschei, Azriel thinks. His High Lord adds something, and so does his High Lady. But his brain doesn't allow him to participate. Or is it is heart?

Yes, he found females attractive in the past. Many females. But it has always been different. He has never been so enthralled, so enchanted by someone he hasn’t even properly met. He has only seen you for a few minutes and—

"Tell Lady Y/N to come here. She should bring the Book of Death Gods and Dark Forces.“ Helion waves of his sentry and then focuses back on the conversation with Rhys. 

Azriel swallows thickly, the name, it has struck a cord in his heart. It sounds oddly familiar and he has no idea why. Like his heart has heard it before, remembers it, almost like it evokes memories deep within him… Within his soul.

The discussions continue, Azriel contributes with the occasional dip of his chin. He can’t focus, his mind is too…he doesn’t actually know. But somehow, seeing you, has pulled a lever in his head. In his heart. In his soul and focusing on anything else then the sudden pull he feels in his chest becomes a sheer impossibility. He has never felt this tug before…it is a wholly new feeling that renders him dumb. 

But he has to focus. This is important. Not only for the Night Court but for all of Pythian. 

Azriel brings up a hand and folds it over his chin, trying to listen in, his shadows perched on his shoulders, gathering information. 

"So what we know about Koschei is very little, but I truly hope that the ancient book in my possession can give us more answers.! Helion releases a loud sigh, his expression concentrated, posture rather stiff. He shakes his head, swirling pits of worry in his eyes.

He leans back in his chair and turns his head, acknowledging movement at the threshold. He lifts his gaze, "Ah!" he says, and waves you in with two of his fingers. "Come in, my lady."

Azriel, simultaneously to the High Lord of Day, focuses his gaze on the female figure appearing in the door - hair still damp, but the dress a new one. A dry one. 

His breath catches, heart skipping one or the other beat and if he hadn’t been sitting down he knows his knees would have given in right in this moment. 

As you enter the throne room, your curious eyes scan the room, taking the people gathered there. You curtsey to not only greet your High Lord but also his guests. His guests from the Night Court. Your gaze eventually settles on Helion, the High Lord of Day Court, engaged in conversation with Rhysand, High Lord of the Night, the opposite solar court to your own. 

Next to him is his High Lady, Feyre Archeron, the first High Lady Pythian has ever seen. She smiles at you, polite and kind, and you dip your chin at her. And next to her…you find a male, his beauty not comparable to any you have ever seen before. He is the most beautiful male that exists in all of Pythian, you know this, and you are captured by him. His expression is cold and indifferent, but his eyes of hazel, sparkle when they meet yours. His composed demeanour seems to falter as his eyes lock with yours.

For a fleeting moment, time seems to stand still. Azriel is struck by your presence—your grace, your elegance, your beauty, your brightness. Could you be the light to his darkness, the sun in his endless gloomy days. 

He's at a loss for words, captivated by you. It's as if the world around him dims, leaving only you illuminated in his vision. You are sunshine, and life.

You want to look away, focus on the task at hands - delivering the book, but you can’t. Your heart starts to sing inside of you, begging you to draw nearer to the shadowy male, to ask for his name, to get to know him, to—

"Lady Y/N, thank you so much for coming,“ Helion reaches out his hand. "I see you brought the book I requested.“

Your footsteps echo on the marble floor in the throne room as you approach your High Lord, finally averting your gaze form the beautiful male, holding the Book of Death Gods and Dark Forces in your shaky hands. He holds out his hand for the book, his attention momentarily drawn away from the discussion at hand. "Meet my guests, Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court and his High Lady, Feyre Archeron. Joining them, Azriel, and Cassian, the two best Illyrian warriors that there are.“

You smile politely, trying to greet each person again with the bow of your head. "It's my pleasure," you says, and then claim the seat on Helion's left, helping him open the large book and find the right page and then you start to read together, helping Helion and Rhysand filter out the important information (you are after all one of the head scholars of the Day Court, your wisdom and knowledge big). 

Azriel’s gaze lingers on you. Gods, you are so stunning, he barely knows how to keep his breathing steady, how to avoid the constant subtle glances into your direction - those stolen glances every now and then that make his heart beat faster. 

He wants to meet your gaze, accidentally, not make it too obvious he is staring. But you never deign him another glance, not once you look at him again, fully focused on the task at hand - going through the large book and some extra piles of parchment. Some other scholars, both young and old, have joined in as well, searching for any kind of important information. 

Over time sentries deliver more books and papers, all splayed out over the table until nothing of the glass was visible anymore. Your delicate fingers traces over the written words and every now and then you bring a hand up to brush back a loose strand of hair that has fallen over your shoulder.

Azriel is fully enthralled by you - never ever has he seen such a beauty before, you are breathtaking and stunning. He doesn’t know why he is feeling so strongly, why the sight of you made his heart skip one or the other beat and why there is a sudden pull, a tug on his chest and then it hits him like slap.

Might this…could this be the bond? Could you be his mate. It would explain why one look at you was enough to pull out the rug from under his feet.

You work for hours, discussion everything that is noted about the old Death Gods. Azriel is unfocused and he knows it. He wants to fight against it but he can't — like some force is restricting him from it. Like it only wants to make him focus on you. 

He doesn't even fully notice when the discussion comes to an end, not even registering what the outcome exactly is. 

"Don’t you trust my strength that I can carry all those books and papers back alone, High Lord?" you ask with a hint of teasing in your voice. Your eyes sparkle while they hold Helion's gaze.

Helion chuckles lowly in answer, smirking. "I absolutely believe in your strength, but I am also a gentleman and wish that someone helps you with the books, so—"

"I can help." At least six pairs of surprised and wide-open eyes dart to Azriel. He slowly gets up, right now not minding the attention he normally hate so much. "I will help you with the , if I may."

Lips that have formerly parted due to your astonishment, form a smile - bright and happy. "You absolutely may, I appreciate it a lot."

You are strong enough to carry the books alone, you most definitely are. But, you have this absolutely breathtaking male offering his help, you would be a fool to say no. Maybe you can get to know him a little better, maybe you will talk on your way to the Grand Library - whatever it will be, you will spend time with him and that makes you feel happy, and excited.

So, Azriel gets up and walks to you, picking up some books (the heavier ones, leaving the lighter ones for you). Everyone is watching you, surprised about the scene unfolding itself in front of them, but before it gets to uncomfortable, Cassian manages to pull everyone into a conversation, wanting to help his best friend out. 

Azriel is thankful, yet does not let it show, his sole focus on you. He nods his head at you when he has a tight grip on all the large books, signalling you he is ready to leave, and you should lead the way. 

Once you are out of the door, out of earshot, Azriel exhales loudly and finally opens his mouth. "I‘m Azriel," the shadowsinger introduces himself, voice quivering the slightest bit, his palms so clammy all of a sudden, he would love to wipe them down his trousers weren't he holding the many books. 

You turn your head and grin at him. A soft chuckle escapes you, "I know, Helion introduced you earlier." 

Colour starts to bloom high on his defined cheeks, embarrassment passing over his features, so you quickly add, "But I am very pleased to meet you personally. It’s my pleasure, Azriel. I am Y/N."

"Such a beautiful name," he whispers. Perfect for such a beautiful female, he wants to add, but doesn't do. Not yet. That would not be appropriate. He barely knows you after all. 

"So you are head scholar?" Azriel asks when you set out down a long pathway, at the end a large towering building and Azriel guesses it is the Grand Library. 

"Exactly. But I am not the only one. The High Lord has a Head Scholar in every library of his court." You explain a little more while you walk over to the big library, adding some random details that you love to share and he loves to hear. Azriel is interested in the information you share with him and that warms your heart - no one has ever truly cared about those things. 

From time to time, you find him marvelling at our surroundings, the large sunflower fields or the Pegasi that trot by, neighing and bowing their heads. 

You set out for the last part of the path, pebbles crunching beneath your feet, creating a soft melody in the same rhythm as the beating of your hearts. You tell him that High Lord Helion himself helped build this Library, and it took them over a century to finish it. 

Azriel gasps when he takes in the whole expanse of  the gigantic Library, crafted from marble and glass, reflecting the sunlight and towering over him - not in an intimidating way, more in an impressive way.

"Welcome to the Grand Library, you tell Azriel upon entering, smiling him and his astonished face.

"Stunning," he breathes, his gaze brushing you. He is only partly talking about the Library.

"Where to?" Azriel asks and you look around, unsure. You wish he could help you put all the books away, but you don’t want to keep him here for too long. 

"Just on my desk, if you please." You smile and tilt you chin into the direction of said desk. Azriel bows his head and follows without a word, shadows swirling around him, almost like they are dancing to a melody.

"The shadows. What are—?"

"I’m shadowsinger." He turns his head to you, a lopsided smile on his lips.

"Ah," you answer. "And what exactly does a shadowsinger do?"

He somehow looks happy over this question, happy to explain it to you. You listen in awe, his shadows skittering down his arms and reaching out to you, almost like they want to brush over your skin. Or pull you closer. To their owner. To—

"I think I should leave now." Azriel clears his throat and scratches the back of his neck. He doesn’t want to leave. Not yet. But he has too. First of all, they need to return to the Night Court and secondly, his heart is beating so rapidly and he has been looking at you for so long he doesn’t know how long he can survive without his knees giving him. 

You have changed something inside of him and he needs space and time to makes sense of it. He needs some solitude to order his thoughts.

"That’s alright," you say, a pang of sadness sparking in your chest. You want to spend more time with him, get to know him better, but your knees feel wobbly only when his gaze brushes you. You don't know what it is, but your are not dumb and suspect a larger force behind the emotions boiling inside of you. Could this be the Mother's doing. Could you and Azriel be connected through more than just attraction?

The shadowsinger starts to back away, slowly, hesitatingly walking toward the large entrance door, wings tucked in behind his broad back. 

"Thank you for offering your help with the books," you call after him. You meet his gaze. 

Azriel bows his head. "Any time you need me, I am here for you."

Cheeks turning rosy, and your heart skipping a beat, you place the parchments on the desk in front of you. You draw in a deep inhale, warmth spreading from your chest throughout your whole body.

Azriel is almost out the door, his footsteps hollowing through the large, empty library.

"Azriel."

You bite down on your lower lip. He halts on the threshold, one scarred hand braced on the door frame. It seems like his posture straightens and the shadows on his shoulders halt in their swirling, waiting for what you are about to ask. 

"Yes." He turns to you, a smile on his lips, hope etched upon his features.

"Will I see you again?" Tension leaves your body the moment you voice your question and see his expression.

Azriel seems surprised about this question, even his shadows have stilled, no longer swirling around him. "Do you want to see me again?"

You grin and brace your hands on your hips. "I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to." 

He smiles, yet doesn’t answer immediately.

"I would love to see you again," he eventually says, voice tinged with a rarely-there happiness. "Maybe we can work together again any time soon? There is still a lot to find out." He tilts his chin at said book, the one he carried back here.

Your heart flutters and so does Azriel‘s, heartbeat increasing, chest swelling with an emotion he has never felt before.

"I think that is a great idea."

He meets your gaze, eyes locking, the promise of seeing each other strong and steadfast between your hearts. "See you soon, Y/N." 

You smile politely. "See you soon, Azriel."

His name on your lips - nothing has ever sounded more beautiful in Azriel’s ears and he can’t avoid the grin, reaching from one ear to the other. An expression hardly anyone has ever seen on his face. With a fluttering heart, he lets door fall close behind him, exhaling loudly. 

He can’t quite say what has happened and why it hit him so hard when he barely knows you, but he is falling - heavily, deeply. Madly.

Will I see you again? 

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"I would like to show you something, my favourite place. Then we can continue with the book. But right now, we deserve a break."

You are hopeful, really wanting to spend time with him alone. You and Azriel, joined by other scholars, have been dealing with several books surrounding the topic of Death Gods for hours, your necks and backs aching already. 

"Are we allowed a break?" Azriel asks, raising his brow. He wants to say yes so desperately, but times is pressing and you need answers soon.

"Yes, because working too hard for too long without a moment of rest is not beneficial for making progress." 

You have a point, Azriel decides. He closes his book and with a contented sigh leans back in his chair. "What do you want to show me?"

"A special place here in the Day Court. It’s not far from here, we can return shortly." 

You step from one foot to the other, impatiently, because you really want to show him your favourite place. You know he will like it.

Azriel’s heart is beating a little faster when he gets up, surrounding the desk he was sitzing behind, spending hours being bent over paperwork. You want to show him something?

He is only a political guest so you showing him part of your court feels like a huge honour.

Heading towards the large marble doors, Azriel follows, his breath catching when his eyes follow the sway of your hips, how gracefully you glide over the ground. He has to shake his head, the tug on his chest so strong he worries his heart might rip right through his rib cage.

And he isn’t the only one feeling it. You need a moment, closing your eyes, his closeness doing something to your body. To your heart. And you very soul.

You close the door, waiting for Azriel to step away, to move, but he stays, his eyes running over you. They drop to your hand and then meet your own. He seems to hold his breath for a small moment, then inhales deeply, eyes still locked with yours, and parts his lips. "Can I hold your hand?"

You know that primarily he poses his question because of his scars. Maybe he has been rejected in the past, or he is genuinely worried you may feel disgusted? 

But there is no reason for it, you like his hands - they are big and unique. And you don’t care about the scars, not in the way he thinks. If someone caused him the scars, if someone hurt him, you care because you want to make them pay - severely. With their death. 

"You never have to ask for something like that," you say, voice tinged with empathy.

You extend your hand, grasping his gently, fingers easily sliding between his, intertwining them. "Your hands are so big," you tell him with a grin and it even draws a small smile to the shadowsinger‘s face. A beautiful smile, eyes glowing like you have never seen them before. "And our hands fit perfectly."

Azriel assesses your intertwined hands and with a sigh and the deep rise and fall of his chest, he eventually says, "They do. Like they were made for each other."

Your cheeks turn rosy, and you search his gaze. "Maybe they were," you whisper, voice tinged with a sheepish tone. Slowly you set out, one step after the other and Azriel follows, both silent. Both of you are too stunned by sensation sparking between your palms to speak - it feels like heat and tingles erupt, almost like lightning zips between your bodies.

You walk up a small pathway behind the Grand Library, through a canopy of large, towering trees, light dancing on every single leaf, and filtering through the branches. Your gaze moves over your surroundings, sometimes touching Azriel. He seems amazed, and to be liking what is presented to him which makes you happy.

You give his hand a gentle squeeze, just a small gesture but it makes his heart flutter, and a smile appear on his lips. Birds song in the distance, accompanying the rustling of leaves and the crunch of pebbles beneath your shoes. You inhale deeply when you come to a halt.

You are atop a small hill, overlooking most of the city below, and Helion‘s palace in the midst of it. Large fields of sunflowers stretch in front of you, Pegasi trotting on the paths in between.

"I think it is my favourite place. Here in the Day Court I mean." You turn your head to the side, already finding Azriel looking at you. His eyes shimmer with an emotion you can’t quite place - is it love? Admiration? Anticipation?

You smile at him, and he mirrors your expression. "I can see why." His deep voice is barely above a whisper, caressing your skin like feather. "It is beautiful." He pauses, but his lips part again, like he wants to continue. Azriel’s eyes run over your face, scanning every small detail, memorising it.

"Just like you," he finally whispers, and now you can see love sparkling vividly in his eyes. He lifts his hand, fingers halting mere inches from your face, "May I?"

You dip your chin and in a featherlight caress, the shadowsinger brushes a few stray strands of hair out of your face and tucks them behind your pointed ear. "I’ve never seen beauty like yours before, Y/N,“ Azriel says, his tone sincere. "And before you try to object, it is the truth." The corners of his lip quirk upwards and he smiles down at you. "You are a bright ray of sunshine, and with your smile alone you could light up the darkest night. Your beauty rivals that of the sun herself."

That has strung a cord in your heart and you feel how tears brim your eyes, the back of your mouth starting to ache. You don’t want to cry. Not right now, but the compliment was just too beautiful - no one has ever said something like that to you. 

"How fortunate that I thought the same about you when I first saw you - that you are the most beautiful male I‘ve ever seen," you whisper, voice a little hoarse. You lift your hand, resting it atop his, your soft palm touching his scars. 

"One day you will tell me the story of how you got those?"

"I will," Azriel whispers, a tang of gloominess filling his voice.

"But for now, I want you to know that they do nothing to diminish your beauty, or your worth. You are beautiful and perfect the way you are. Scars or no scars, you are the most beautiful male I have ever laid eyes upon."

Bouncing up on your toes, you bring your lips closer to his, almost kissing him. "You asked me if you could hold my hand, now I am asking you if I can kiss you." Your soft breath tingles his lips and a low, amused chuckle leaves Azriel. "Please," he breathes, eyes fluttering shut. You connect your lips with his.

It is a delicate kiss, lips moving in a graceful dance of tenderness and longing. 

The sun's warmth brushes your skin, intensifying the sensation, as if the Mother herself looks down on you, happy about this union. Time seems to slow around you, everything but Azriel and the feel of his lips against yours, fading into insignificance.

Azriel’s thumb gentle caresses your cheek, his tongue hesitantly gliding over your lip, asking for entrance which you grant him. The first stroke of his tongue against yours, elicits a gasp from you and you have to smile, pulling back from the kiss.

"That was—"

"I think we are mates!" The words just pour out of his mouth and he can’t stop them before they are already there, hanging in the air between you. He has lost control, his soul won the upper hand, and he couldn't stop his mouth from revealing the bond. 

Everything stops, even your heart and breathing. Your mouth is agape with surprise, and slight shock about this sudden and unexpected revelation. Yes, you have felt this tug on your chest as well, but…

It still surprises you to learn about him feeling the same. So, it is truly the bond. Air gets caught in your throat and your heart hammers against your rib cage.

"I…I—"

"I am sorry," Azriel admits and shakes his head, "I shouldn’t have said anything."

He wants to step away, but you don’t let him.

"Don‘t be." You smile up at him. "I was just…the bond is a huge thing, and I…you just surprised me, maybe even overwhelmed me with your revelation. It was so out of the blue." You step into him, arms slinging around his torso. He has gone stiff and you want some of the former light to return to his eyes. "I probably need a moment to order my thoughts and realise what it all means, but I am happy it is you. I’ve been feeling a pull towards you as well, Azriel, and it all makes sense now." You press a soft kiss to his pectoral.

His arms curl tighter around you, holding you against him, marvelling at the feeling of your bodies melding. Not only your hands are made for one another, but also your bodies. You are equals, one half of the same coin. 

"You don't mind it is me?" he asks of a moment and you can feel the sad thrumming of his heart through his chest. You tip your head back, trying to meet his gaze but his eyes are focused on an undefined point in the distance. "No," you say, voice soft, "I could never be disappointed about that." 

He finally lowers his gaze, eyes brushing yours. You smile and continue, "It might take us some time to figure everything out, to really get to know one another. To learn everything about the other person."

He bows his head. His shadows caress your upper arms, your face. 

"I don't want to rush anything. I want to give us time to get to know the other. I don't want to give the bond the upper hand and make us forget about the simple things of falling in love."

"I don't want that either. I want to learn everything about you, Y/N, before we accept the bond." His lips brush your forehead. "But I already call myself the luckiest male in all of Prythian."

A grin appears on his lips, so bright, that now he is the one whose beauty rivals the sun. 

The shadowsinger's chest heaves with a deep inhale, his chest brushing against yours, hearts beating in the same rhythm.

"I guess, Day and Night have at last found each other." You quip, nuzzling your face into his solid chest, his warmth so soothing to your soul, his scent bewitching your senses.

A bemused chuckle leaves Azriel as he tips your head back and gazes into your eyes, but soon the happiness fades from his face, a hint of worry and coldness reaching you through the bond.

"There is a chance for our love? Our bond?" Azriel‘s forehead lies in furrows, his chest aching fiercely all of a sudden. He hasn't considered this before, but you are from two different places of Prythian.

His throat works on a swallow before he continues. "We are from two different courts. Day and Night. We are—"

"Mates! Our souls belong together. So do our hearts. And when two souls belong together, there is always a chance for love."

You nip at his lower lip. "We will figure out a way to make it work, but we will stay together. We will be a couple. Our mating bond is stronger than the border of our courts!"

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

A loud chuckle parts your lips, your head tipped backwards, Azriel’s broad hand splayed out on your lower belly, fingers relentlessly tickling and teasing you.

"I love you, have I told you that already today?"

"Not yet, I think" you quip, giggling into his biceps.

Azriel leans in quickly, lips on your neck. "I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you." Azriel’s hot breath fans your skin and leaves goosebumps in its wake. "More than my own life, more than anything in this world." He nips at your skin. "My mate."

"I love the sound of it," you whispers, fingers stroking through his silken strands. "I love that I can call myself yours. And that I call you mine." You grin, even though he can’t see it, face still buried in the crook of your neck.

"I love being called yours, my sunshine."

Azriel‘s hand slides over the curve of your ass, squeezing gently and then he lets himself fall back onto the mattress, pulling you with him, your head resting atop his chest. He has arrived and his heart sings happily within his chest. 

The sun burned Icarus. Made him fall.

But Azriel is not afraid to get burned again. He is safe with you. Always. You won't burn him. And he won’t fall. Not in the literal sense of the word.

In love, though? He has fallen massively, deeply. He loves you with every part of his body, truly and fully. 

You are his mate. His equal. His home.

~~~~~~ tags (crossed-out I couldn't tag) : @juulle987 @marimorena06 @danikasthings @younxii@nightcourtwritings @mrofontaine @lunalilyf @whor-3-crux @tired-all-the-time @anni-was-here @ummmmmwat @azbracadabra @j-pendragonx @hollyismentallyillhelp @famousbasementpainter @bsenpai @lena-davina @red-highlady @thesugatoyourtae @azrielsbabyg @aroseinvelaris @moony-thoughts @wrensical003 @cherryjain17 @moonfawnx @crushedcloudsx @devilsfoodcake22  @valeridarkness @azrielscertifiedslut @mulansaucey @cynicalpotato95 @hanasakr @high-bi-andreadytocry @eerievixen @feyretopia @moonlightazriel @randomness-it-is @brekkershadowsinger @eliieee23 @girasoli-e-sorrisi @illyrianvalkyriecarynthian  @kennedy-brooke @highladyofillyria @theworthlessqueen @marina468 @topaz125 @illyrian-dreamer @azriels-mate123 @eos-princess @courtofjurdan @a-frog-with-a-laptop @insufferablebookaddict @callmeblaire

#azriel x reader #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotar #acosf

[azrielsdove]

I had the idea late at night so idk if you don’t want to write that, i understand haha

Reader and azriel are mates and have been for a while, nesta and elain were made and feyre and rhys asked cassian and azriel to look after them. Reader was okay with it but elain showed her a different side then the others, where she is rude and is telling her az will be hers, reader tried to bring it up in private but no one believed her because elain is so nice in front of everyone. Elain starts to sit in readers place and stands next to az, so reader isn’t even going out anymore. Az has a lot of other missions as well and tells reader that he only loves her and elain means nothing to him, maybe elain overheard that. After a mission az gives rhys his reports and then fell asleep on the couch, elain lays down next to him but he is so out that he doesn’t even feel her, reader wants to see after az and sees that, when she is trying to leave, rhys finds her and she shows him everything that happened even the parts where elain was rude, reader then leaves for awhile to get away from everything and azriel just loses it. You could add more angst if you want but i would love for a happy end with az and reader maybe where is is also pregnant?

The Other Woman: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Spiraling thoughts

***

Elain Archeron was quickly becoming the bane of your existence.

You understood the she had gone through incomprehensible trauma along with her sister, and you understood why Rhys would appoint Azriel and Cassian to help them. You had no issue allowing your mate to help the poor girl come back to life, accepting her new fate. No, that was not the problem.

The problem was that she was a nasty, two-faced, bitch.

The first time it happened you were completely taken aback, shocked by the words that had come from the otherwise soft-spoken female.

“He’s going to be mine, you know.”

You had stilled your movements, turning slowly to see her peeking out from the library doors. “Excuse me?” You asked, certain you had misunderstood.

She gave a sneering smile. “Azriel. I’m going to make him mine.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that had burst from you. “Okay then,” you said, moving to continue walking. You made a note to bring it up to your mate later, warn him that Elain may have gotten too attached.

Unfortunately the following days had been hectic, Azriel was sent on a dangerous mission for Rhys. You hadn’t gotten a chance to speak to him, and with the state he came back in you had no interest in adding anything else to his plate.

It happened again a few days later.

“Why would he stay with you when i’m here?” She asked, looking you up and down.

You raised an eyebrow at her. “I’m sorry? What are you on about?”

She rolled her eyes. “Azriel, obviously. Why would he need you any longer? I’m certain I can satisfy him miles better than you can.”

“Mhm,” you mused, nodding at her wild claims. “Do you understand the mating bond?”

She made a noise of annoyance, crossing her arms in front of her. “I have a mate, and I can’t stand him. That ‘bond’ means nothing to me.”

“It means something to Az,” you said, staring her down. “What has he done that makes you think he’s interested?”

She gave a pretty smile, smoothing the skirts of her dress. “Feyre has Rhys, Nesta has Cassian. It only makes sense, does it not? Three sisters, three brothers. He’s smart enough to have already figured it out. The only thing standing in our way is you.”

You hummed at her delusions, turning to leave the room. “Have a nice night, Elain,” you said, acting as if she had just been talking about the weather. You refused to give her the satisfaction of upsetting you.

Some nights later you were sitting with Azriel as he caught up with his brothers, lost in thought while you sipped your wine. You heard a faint call of your name, turning to meet the concerned eyes of your husband. “Are you alright, my love?” He asked, scanning you over for anything amiss.

You smiled, shaking your head. “I’m fine, just thinking.”

“You’re thinking pretty hard there. Az was calling your name for ages,” Cassian laughed, but his eyes showed the same concern. You sighed, taking a bigger drink of your wine.

“I’ve just been dealing with something, that’s all,” you said, swirling the liquid in your glass nonchalantly. Azriel watched you closely, trying to read what was wrong.

“You can always tell us,” Rhys offered, tipping his glass your way.

You took a deep breath, looking down at your hands. “Have any of you ever had any issues with Elain?”

Three blank stares met yours.

“I’ll take that as a no, then,” you muttered into your wine.

“What kind of problems?” Azriel pressed, worry in his expression.

“She’s just been, a little….rude to me.”

Silence.

And then loud laughter.

“Elain?” Cassian gasped out, pounding on the table. “Quiet, docile, Elain? Are you sure you aren’t confusing her with Nesta?” You shot him a nasty look, Rhys’ own chuckle drawing your attention to him.

“How has she been rude?” He asked, not hiding the smile on his face.

You looked down at the ground, embarrassment coloring your cheeks. “Maybe i’m just reading into it. I thought she was jealous…that she was into Az.” You regretted even bringing the topic up as Cassian and Rhys broke out in more laughter.

“No way! Elain has a mate, remember? Why would she go after a married male?” You nodded at Cassian, acknowledging his words.

“Yea, i’m sure i’m just misunderstanding,” you mumbled, draining your glass in an instant. You stood, heading for the door.

“Aw now, we didn’t mean anything bad! It’s just such a shock that Elain would be trying to get Az!” Rhys called out behind you, trying to convince you to stay.

You looked back, eyes connecting with Azriel’s. “I’ll be up shortly,” he said, his unspoken words hanging in the air. He was not going to let his brothers get away with laughing at you. You gave him a small smile and continued out to your room, leaving him to deal with them.

***

Elain only grew worse after that. She started openly flirting with Azriel, laughing at anything he said and placing her hand playfully on his arm. He always pulled away from her, moving to stand by your side as a silent “Stop”.

She didn’t care.

Azriel spent the nights trying to convince you that Elain didn’t matter to him, that you were the only one for him. You wanted to believe him, needed to believe him, but the comments she made when no one else could hear were getting to you.

“You’re too ugly for him.”

“Don’t you think he would want someone younger? Are you even able to give him children at your ancient age?”

“I know he wants me. He looks at me when you aren’t paying attention.”

“You’re pathetic, you know. He deserves better. He deserves someone who can stand proudly at his side.”

Her words swam around your head, eating away at you. You were sinking down into yourself, drowning in self-doubt. What if she was right? What if Azriel really did deserve better?

You began spending more time locked away in your room, an attempt to avoid Elain’s nasty comments. You had no desire to see her throw herself at Azriel, and you didn’t think you could handle much more of her taunting. A rational part of you knew that this was ridiculous, your husband would never give her a second look. Another part of you was embarrassed that this young girl was so good at getting into your head, that she had rendered you a shell of yourself. The largest part of you, unfortunately, bought in to all she said and hid away in shame.

Azriel was getting progressively more worried about you.

“My love,” he murmured, stroking his hand through your hair as he held you close. “I have half a mind to tell Rhys to send her somewhere else. Why does she trouble you so?” He couldn’t understand how Elain had torn down his perfect wife, leaving this ghost in her place.

You buried your face farther into his chest, wishing you could just disappear. “I don’t want to cause any trouble.”

He sighed and held you tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You are the stars in the sky, the warmth of the sun, the cool breeze under my wings. Nothing, and no one, is comparable to you. Especially not Elain Archeron. You are all there is for me, you are my everything. My heart and my soul. She is nothing to me.”

Tears fell from your eyes and his words prompted you to look up, the love shining on his face washing over you. “I know, Az. I know it’s foolish to allow her to make me doubt us.” You ducked your head down, ashamed. “Though sometimes I still wonder if you should’ve been mated to someone more powerful.”

Azriel clicked his tongue at your age-old concern, a conversation the two of you had gone over many times. “You know as well as I do that that’s not true. You were the one cauldron-made for me. We were sworn to each other from the day of our creation. Do not ever forget that.” He slipped a hand under your chin, bringing you back up to look at him. He studied your face like it was a painting, like he needed to memorize everything he saw. His thumb came up and brushed away your tears as he pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. “Elain will never be what you are.” He kissed you again and again, swallowing your fears with his adoration.

Neither of you noticed the form of the female standing outside the slightly open door.

***

Azriel was tired, shuffling through the house after yet another mission. He hated that he had been gone so often recently, especially with the issues you’ve been having with Elain. He was sick with worry over the whole situation, and was growing aggravated with Rhys’ lack of action. Even when Azriel had spoken to his brother himself, the High Lord still struggled to believe his quiet sister-in-law was being so horrible. Az even went to Feyre, who got upset that he would accuse her sister of such things.

He ran a hand over his face, making his way to the library to find you. He was disheartened when he opened the doors and found you weren’t there. He took a seat on one of the leather couches, deciding to just wait for you there. Azriel knew that you often came around this time to browse the books, and he was too tired to continue searching for you. He gave a gentle tug on the bond to alert you that he was home before tipping his head back and closing his eyes.

***

Elain was positively delighted to find the sleeping form of the Shadowsinger. She looked around quickly to make sure no one saw as she gently closed the doors to the library behind her. She wasted no time in curling up next to him on the couch, resting her head in his lap. She slowly dragged his arm over her waist, a wicked smile coming across her face. She knew you would be coming to find him, and what a sight you would see when you did.

***

The second Cassian dropped you at the House of Wind you were practically running through the halls. When you had felt the tug that meant Azriel was back, you demanded Cass bring you home in the middle of lunch. He grumbled about not being done as you packaged the food up for him, pulling him from the little restaurant. You were in much better spirits today, Elain hadn’t approached you in days. When Cass suggested going down to Velaris to eat you had jumped at the opportunity, excited to be in the happy bustle of people who lived there.

You slid to a stop in front of the library, one of his shadows twisting around your legs. “Hello,” you cooed, a smile on your face. The shadow started moving faster, almost as if it were upset. Worry took over your heart then, concern that Azriel had gotten hurt.

You threw open the library doors and stopped dead in your tracks. There, on the couch, was Azriel. Uninjured, asleep.

And curled up on his lap was Elain.

You stood there in pure horror, not noticing Cassian coming up behind you. “What?” He said, taking in the sight in front of you. You didn’t realize you were shaking in rage until he put his hands on your arms, trying to pull you away.

“Get off of me,” you ground out, ripping your arms out of his grasp. Cassian called your name, trying to stop the explosion that was about to happen. Your vision was red, the anger and pain of seeing the two of them cuddled up like lovers too much to handle. “I’m going to kill them.”

“You will not,” came a powerful voice, Rhys stepping in front of you. “My office. Now.” You wanted to spit at his feet and tell him to shove off, but one look at his eyes told you that wouldn’t end well. You huffed, allowing him to lead you away.

Unnoticed on the couch, Elain smiled.

***

“Why would you stop me?” You practically yelled, pacing back and forth in front of Rhys.

“You can’t murder my brother and sister-in-law in their sleep.” He said, as if this was a regular occurrence.

“That filthy bitch,” you swore, turning to face Rhys head on. “I tried to tell you who she truly was, and no one listened.” You glared at him, crossing your arms in front of you.

“Elain has never showed signs of what you spoke of. As horrible as it is, could it be that Azriel was a part of this?” He regretted the words before he was even done saying them.

“Why do you refuse to believe that she could be playing a dirty game behind your back? Behind everyone’s back? I had no reason to make up lies about her, Rhysand,” you spat out, power crackling at your fingertips.

He stood, coming to stand by your side. He pulled your hands into his, looking down at your glowing fingertips. “Show me,” he said, voice hardly above a whisper. You faltered, power fading away. You were embarrassed to let him see how badly she had affected you, but you knew he would not believe you otherwise.

“Okay,” you whispered, looking up into his eyes. You felt the strange sensation of Rhys entering your mind, pulling through all your memories with Elain. He listened to all the nasty things she said when no one else could hear, and felt the pain she caused you. When he was done he looked ashamed of himself, upset that he had brushed you off.

“I-I’m sorry,” he said, pulling his hands from yours. “I should have trusted you.”

You nodded. “Yea, you should have.” Rhys looked at the ground, his hands in his pockets. “I want to go away for a while. Anywhere. I can’t stand to be around her any longer, and I certainly have no interest in speaking to him.” You couldn’t even say your mates name, the hurt cutting too deep in your chest.

“As you wish,” Rhys said, “I’ll meet you on the balcony in an hour.”

***

Azriel woke with a start. Something was very, very wrong. Starting with the female asleep next to him.

He didn’t stop himself from jumping up, nearly knocking her to the floor. Not that he cared. “What are you doing?!” He hissed between his teeth, angry that she would pull a stunt like this.

Elain smiled up at him prettily, stretching as if she had been asleep for hours. “I was just sleeping, Azriel.” He hated the way she spoke his name, as if it were a sensual demand. “Your sweet little mate didn’t come to you, did she?” She fake pouted, tucking a hand under her chin.

Azriel’s eyes flared, his shadows whipping through the room. He stepped closer to her, hauling her to her feet with a strong grip on her arm. “This game you’re playing is done. Speak to me or my wife again, and I will make sure it’s the last thing you do.” He couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty at the fear in her eyes as he strode from the room, searching for you.

***

Rhys had taken you out to the cabin at your request. You wanted to be somewhere alone, but safe. “What should I tell him?” He asked as he headed to leave.

“Tell him to figure out what he wants before it’s too late.” Rhys nodded, looking you over once more. “If you need anything, i’m just a call away,” he quipped, tapping the side of his head before winnowing out of sight.

You sighed, sinking down into the plush sofa in front of the fireplace. You stared into the burning flames for what felt like hours, lost in your own mind. Azriel wouldn’t have lied to you, would he? Your mate has always been an honest male, had always loved you with everything he had. You found it hard to believe that he was messing around with Elain behind your back, regardless of what you saw. You knew how nasty she could be, and wouldn’t put it past her to pull something like this.

At the same time, the image of his arm draped lovingly around her was burned into your brain. You saw it over and over again, how well they complemented each other. The strong, dark Shadowsinger and the quiet, warm Archeron sister. Had the cauldron made a mistake? You couldn’t help but remember her words, ‘three brothers and three sisters.’ You and Azriel were mated decades before she was born, it could be plausible that the cauldron had made a mistake.

Yet the cauldron had also given Elain her own mate. It wouldn’t mess up twice, would it? Unless the cauldron had meant for you and Lucien to be mated, and Elain with Azriel. Perhaps something got crossed over and the pairings were mixed. Could all your years of joy and love with Azriel be wrong? You never felt anything was awry when you were with him, always feeling like you were truly meant to be.

You sighed and wrapped a blanket tight around you, willing it to keep away the lonely cold. You couldn’t imagine a life without Azriel by your side, and you didn’t know what you would do if that’s what he wanted.

***

“Where is she?!” Azriel bellowed through the halls of the House, shadows infiltrating every room and hallway. Rhys and Cass stood in front of him, trying to calm their brother. “I know you know! What kind of a game are you playing, hiding my own mate from me?!” He was angrier than he had ever been, angry at himself, at Elain, at Rhys. How could he have let Elain play him like that?

“I won’t tell you anything until you’ve calmed down,” Rhys stated, power rising to match Azriel’s.

“Calmed down? You expect me to calm down when that witch has been ruining my mates life, and now she’s disappeared and no one will tell me where she went?!” Azriel was seething, pacing angrily in the hall.

“I’d watch how you speak about my sister, Azriel.” He whirled around to see Feyre, eyes cool as she took in his agitated form.

“Your sister is a disgusting, selfish, spoiled brat! Someone tell me where my mate is before I tear this city apart!” He didn’t care that he was yelling at his High Lady, at his High Lord and brother. All he could see was red, and he was half a second away from leaving the House and looking for her on his own.

“Enough, Azriel,” Rhys commanded, bringing attention back to him. “Feyre, unfortunately it does seem true that Elain has been acting…undesirably.” There was a silence for a moment, her eyes widening as he shared the memories you showed him.

“Oh, Az,” she soothed, taking a step closer and reaching a hand out for him.

“Don’t touch me!” He shouted, pulling back from her. “I need to know where she is. I have to explain that what she saw was a dirty trick.” The anger was fading from his voice, despair taking over. What if you didn’t want anything to do with him anymore? He wouldn’t be able to handle losing you over this.

“Az,” Rhys started, voice calm. “She asked to go away. You’re going to have to give her time to process what has happened.” He took a step towards his brother. “I am sorry I didn’t listen before. She showed me her memories, of everything Elain had said. She will be dealt with, I promise you. I should have never let it get this bad.”

Azriel knew it wasn’t entirely his fault, but that didn’t stop him from lashing out. “Yea, you should’ve listened. When has she ever lied to you, Rhysand?” He shook his head. “Let me know if she contacts you,” was the last thing he said before storming off towards your shared room.

***

Some time had passed since you left Velaris, and the loneliness was threatening to overtake you. You had felt some tugs on the bond once Azriel realized you were gone, and had shut him out. You didn’t need him bothering you as you tried to figure out what to do. After pondering for days, you still had no idea what was true or not. You felt like you were losing your grip on reality, that you were sinking down into a pit of your own creation. You’d hardly moved from the couch since you arrived, staring into the endless flames.

A knock at the door startled you, but you no longer had the energy to truly care. You turned your head slowly to see Rhys walk in, eyes full of worry. “Have you moved at all?” He asked, taking in that the food he had left was untouched.

You shrugged.

Rhys came and sat next to you on the couch, looking you over. “He’s losing it without you,” he said softly, unsure what kind of mental state you were in.

Your eyes moved from the fire to him, stare blank. “I think you should come home. Being out here alone isn’t doing you any good. You’re withering away to nothing.”

Good. You’d rather disappear than live with the idea of Azriel and Elain. Rhys seemed to read this on your face, gingerly grabbing one of your hands in his own. “She’s been removed from the House. She’s not allowed out without Feyre or myself with her. She won’t hurt you anymore.”

You blinked. “What does Azriel think?” You asked, voice hoarse from no use.

“Az couldn’t care less about her. He’s worried about you.” There was a pleading in his eyes, begging you to come back with him.

“What if she was supposed to be cauldron-made for him?” Your voice was quiet, broken. You could feel the pain of your words as they hit Rhys, the shame of having ignored your attempts at warning him how Elain truly was.

“She isn’t. Even if you and Azriel were not mates, I have never met two people more suited for each other than you. It is clear that the love you hold is a special thing, something most won’t ever experience.” He tugs your hand closer. “Please. Come home.”

You didn’t know Rhys to lie to you, and your heart longed for Azriel. You couldn’t hide from this forever, regardless of how it turned out. “Okay,” you said, allowing him to pull you to your feet and winnow you back to Velaris.

***

Azriel was waiting when Rhys flew you back to the House, eyes wide as he took in the state of you. When Rhys set you down you immediately stumbled, head light from the lack of eating and sleeping. Azriel caught you before you could hit the ground, an alarmed gaze shooting to Rhys. “We will talk later,” he said, “take her to your room. I’ll send for Madja to check her over soon.”

Azriel nodded his thanks and carried you to your room, tucking you into the bed. You sunk into the familiar smell of him, trying to force the spinning in your head to disappear. “My love,” Azriel murmured, brushing hair out of your face. “What have I done?”

You opened your eyes and took him in. Truthfully, he didn’t look much better than you. There were deep shadows under his eyes, and his face was unusually gaunt. The stress of this situation had clearly taken its toll on the both of you.

“Are you in love with her?” You asked, tears pricking at the back of your eyes.

Azriel looked at you as if you had grown two heads.

“I’m sorry? In love with Elain? In hate with her is more like it.” You couldn’t deny the acid that dripped from his words, the anger the permeated the room.

“I saw you two. Asleep in the library.”

He scoffed. “I fell asleep waiting for you. She took it upon herself to take advantage of the situation.” He looked down at his hands, silver lining his eyes. “I never should have let it go this far.”

You sat up slowly, reaching out for him. Azriel moved quickly, gently laying you back down as he laid beside you. “Easy, my love. Your body is weak.” You hadn’t realized how bad you had gotten during your time at the cabin, suddenly feeling dizzy and sick.

“I’m so sorry, Az. I didn’t know what to do, I couldn’t handle it,” you sobbed, not even noticing the tears that had started falling.

“No, no. Don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong. I should’ve fought harder against her, tried harder to get Rhys to listen.” He cupped your cheek, running his thumb through your tears. You curled into his touch, allowing him to wrap his arms around you and pull you to his chest.

You cried until your head was pounding, Azriel whispering sweet nothings into your ears. “I love you. Only you.” Your tears slowly stopped, until you felt confident enough to look up at him.

“I love you. I shouldn’t have doubted you,” you said, leaning up to kiss him.

A knock sounded at the door. Azriel jumped up to get it, letting Madja into the room. She began checking you over, tsking at the state of you. “I’ll give you something for dehydration, and you’ll need to start introducing food again. Start with soup, and work your way up. I have a sleep aid as well, I recommend you take it promptly.” She ran her hands over your arms and legs, ensuring all your bones were still in good shape. She did the same over your head, shoulders, and chest.

“Your heart sounds good, and your lungs are working well. You were lucky the High Lord came when he did, much more of letting yourself wither away and you’d have a significantly harder recovery ahead of you,” she chided, continuing her check of your body. Her hands swept over your abdomen before she paused, bringing them back up. “Ah,” she murmured, Azriel immediately on guard.

“What is it? Is something wrong?” He asked, gripping your hand a tad too tightly.

Madja shook her head. “No, nothing is wrong.” She looked up at you and cocked her head. “You are a lucky girl, you know. Not many pregnant fae could have refused food and drink for that long and still kept a reasonably healthy body and fetus.”

You stared at her.

She stared back.

Azriel stared at the both of you.

“What?” You finally asked, breaking the silence that had settled over the room.

She smiled, pressing her hands against your abdomen again. “A baby. Healthy, winged, i’d say 12 or so weeks along?” 12 weeks? You did the math in your head, realizing with a start that around 12 weeks ago Elain started terrorizing you. That shortly after that her words began affecting you worse and worse, that you couldn’t understand why she was able to make you so upset.

Now you knew.

“A baby,” Azriel whispered, looking at you. Madja took that as her cue to leave, placing the medicine on your nightstand and slipping from the room. He pulled you into his arms, inhaling your scent deeply. Sure enough, there it was. A lighter, fresh scent hidden under yours. He must have missed it throughout the recent stress and his back-to-back missions.

“A baby,” you whispered back, more tears threatening to fall. “Our baby.”

You saw tears of his own in Azriel’s eyes as he leaned down to kiss you, whispering “baby” in between each kiss.

The ordeal with Elain behind you, you allowed yourself to slip off into sleep, dreams of your future with Azriel and your child playing in your mind.

***

I’m so sorry this took so long for me to finish! I got into a bit of a writing rut, but I hope this was what you wanted. Thank you so much for your request! <3

#acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #acotar x you #acotar x y/n #requests #the other woman

[lure-of-writing]

Can I request an angsty fic for az: ok so the good ol’ forgetting the anniversary because he was too preoccupied with elain, and at first he is like don’t over exaggerate, we had like over a hundred anniversaries already and elain seems to need him more, whom he already considers a good friend, but later he realizes his mistake and MUST grovel to win reader back 🤭 maybe you can add some sprinkles of eris and the jealousy trope in it, eris always having had a little crush on reader but its nothing serious, he just wants to agitate azriel lmao

Ok but no Eric would absolutely live for irritating Azriel with his crush on his mate. Like every time Eris happens to be around Azriel he asks how his mate is doing as if she were with him and not Azriel. Any who this is my first request so it might not be great but I hope you enjoy it!

For as long as you could remember you have always been a hopeless romantic. You wanted the soft but passion filled kisses, the slow dancing in the kitchen at midnight, the late night talks that turned into laughter filled pillow fights and after you met Azriel you got everything you wanted and more. But lately he's been preoccupied. And as the spy master of the night court you knew that he would be busy especially with the new added addition of baby nyx, Rhysand wanted Azriel to make sure that there was absolutely no cause for concern. But having been mated to Azriel for so long this was nothing out of the ordinary for him or his work schedule. 

A week ago you reminded Azriel about your upcoming anniversary and told him to make sure he had gotten the day off or at least the night. So when he flew off into the crisp morning air you weren’t worried about him not making it home in time to celebrate. Of course it was nothing like your first anniversary or your one hundredth but nonetheless you wanted to celebrate like you always did, honestly it was a tradition at this point. Two hundred and fifty years in, you couldn’t quit now. 

Slowly the morning turned into the afternoon and the afternoon into night and your mate was nowhere to be seen and you were starting to get worried. Was he ok? Did something happen? You weren’t a part of the inner circle so you never truly knew what was happening within the court or who was needed where but with it approaching midnight you called out to Rhysand mentally hoping that he would be able to explain your mates lack of presences and reassure you that he was ok. After a few minutes Rhysand responded to your question. “I haven’t seen him since this afternoon. Is something going on? Are you ok?” his response only panicked you more, if Rhys hadn’t seen him since this afternoon then where was he? “Yes I am ok it's just our anniversary and he hasn’t come home.” again it was silent in your mind until you heard Rhysands response. “I’m glad you are ok, I will get ahold of Azriel and send him your way.” “Thank you.” 

Fifteen minutes went by before the front door opened and walked in your mate. “Are you ok? I have been so worried about you, you were supposed to come home at seven.” it wasn’t like this was the first time Azriel has arrived home at a late hour so your concern confused him. “Why wouldn’t I be ok? Its not like I arrive home at the same time everyday, you should be used to this by now.” upon hearing his words you realized that he must have forgotten what day it was. “Azriel do you know what today is?” he gave you a judgemental look as if to say why wouldn’t I? “Of course, its wednesday.” 

“Is that all?” again he looked at you confused “Yes.” he sounded so certain of himself. “Not our anniversary?” as soon as the words left your mouth he knew he was in trouble. “Shit baby, I’m sorry I must have forgotten.” it was your turn to give him a questioning gaze “Azriel in the two hundred and fifty one years we’ve been together you have never, not once forgotten our anniversary so why now?” Azriel knew he couldn’t lie to you so he told you the truth. 

“I got caught up with Elain and she needed my help and I must have lost track of time.”  your mate watched as your face fell at his news. “And when exactly did she need your help?” “Around two” he watched as you nodded your head in fake understanding “And what exactly did she need your help with?” Suddenly Azriel understood how what he said sounded. “She started training and she needed my help with a few moves.” Again you just silently nodded “I see, and Cassian couldn’t have helped her why? I mean does he not train Nesta?” 

“Y/n I promise it's not what it seems like she just needed some help. Why are you getting so upset about it anyways?”  how could he not see why this upset you “Not only have you never forgotten our anniversary but you know that Elain has feelings for you.” so this is what that was about, Elain having feelings for him. “Elain knows that I have a mate and what does it matter that I forgot this time it's not like I forgot every other time.” “Just because she knows that you have a mate doesn’t mean that she respects it. I mean she doesn’t even respect her own mate and it matters because if it wasn’t for Elain you wouldn’t have forgotten. Honestly it feels like you care about her more than you care about me.” Azriel just sighed at this, he had already had a long day and didn’t feel like having an argument with you when he just wanted to sleep. “I don’t care about her more than you and you know that, it's just she's not used to her fae body yet and needs extra help. She's just a friend and right now she needs me more than you do.” With that you left for Amren's house where you knew you could find comfort. 

Just a few hours later you were talking to Rhysand about what happened between you and Azriel when his office doors swung open and strolling in was Eris. He gave the room a once over but when he saw you sitting on the sofa diagonal from Rhysand desk he couldn’t help but sit right next to you, after all you were his favorite mate of the inner circle members. “It's been too long since I’ve seen you last my darling y/n.” giving him a polite bow of the head you responded “It's nice to see you as well prince Eris.” something about seeing you get shy in his presence brought joy to him. “Come on darling no need for formalities” When you first got to know the inner circle Rhysand made it known to you that he would always have your back like you were family and Azriel always reminded you that you bowed to no one but without him by your side you couldn’t help but make yourself smaller and follow the rules of respecting those of that were high lords or their children. Rhysand watched as you made yourself smaller in order to please Eris and knew he had to call Azriel in even if both himself and you were less than happy with the male. “Eris leave her alone and give her some space to breathe while you're at it.” the priceling just laughed that Rhysand “Me and y/n are very good friends Rhysand I don’t think she minds.” Eris just gave your high lord a cunning smile before putting his arm on the back of the couch behind where you were sitting. Not a second longer had passed before Azriel was standing in front of you offering his hand to help you up from the couch. “Stay the hell away from my mate Eris.” Again the price just laughed “I don’t listen to you, only that lovely mate of yours. She is quite stunning. Whenever you are ready to leave him you know where to find me darling.” Eris finished with a wink. “Over my dead body” Eris just laughed at your mate for getting under his skin was one of his favorite pastimes. 

After returning to your own home Azriel was fretting over you like a worried mother but you just brushed him off. “I’m fine.” was all you said before walking into the kitchen. “Am I not allowed to be worried about you all of a sudden?” he watched as you shrugged and started to grab ingredients to make lunch. “Did you forget that I don’t need you, according to you. Which means I also don’t need you trying to make sure I’m ok.” Azriel sighed before coming to stand next to you just for you to move to the other end of the kitchen. “Y/n baby you know that is not what I meant.” “Actually, Azriel I didn’t know that was what you meant.”  Azriel had gotten an ear full from Amren this morning after she dropped you off to speak with Rhysand then he got another ear full from Cassian after he heard about what happened and thankful he was able to see how in the wrong he was. “Y/n please can you sit down and talk to me.” silently you pulled out the chair to the table and sat down. He followed suit. “I know what I said last night was wrong and I’m sorry I should have never said that.” 

Scoffing, you just looked at him blankly “And yet you did.” “Y/n please you know I didn’t mean it.” looking at him blankly still you just said “Again no I didn’t. If I were you I would maybe stop assuming that I know what you meant.” you had never put up much of a fight when it came to accepting Azriel’s apologies so he knew he messed up. “I am sorry for missing our anniversary. There is no excuse that I can give you that would be a good enough answer for why I wasn’t here. And I shouldn’t have said that Elain needs me more than you, I was wrong for saying that. Under no circumstance would she ever need me more than my mate does.” Azriel grabbed your hand and thankfully you let him hold it. “You know how I feel about Elain and her not respecting our relationship and yet you chose to ignore how I feel because she's “a friend and needs you more then me” that is extremely disrespectful to not only me but to our relationship. Not only that but to forget our anniversary hurts because you know how much work I put into having the perfect night and making sure you know how much I love you and yet you wonder why I am mad you forgot.” Every point you made was correct and Azriel knew he needed to make it up to you. 

“You are absolutely right I ignored your feelings about Elain and how she treats our relationship. I will talk to her about it and make sure she knows that just because she doesn’t like her mate doesn’t mean she can disrespect mine. I will have Cassian help her with training from now on and set clear boundaries with her. How does that sound?” with a nod of your head and a squeeze of his hand he continued. “And you’re also right that I do know how much work you put into making sure we have the perfect night. Even after all these years, I truly appreciate it. And I am sorry that I made you feel like it didn’t matter to me. You are the best thing to ever happen in my life, will you please let me make it up to you?” he watched as you pondered his question and finally you said. “Can we have a pillow fight?”

#azriel acotar #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel angst #azriel fanfic #azriel imagine #azriel one shot #azriel x reader

[thelov3lybookworm]

To Love and Cakes

Summary: Y/n is the daughter of a flower and gardening tools shop's owner in Velaris. When he gets sick, y/n makes her father take some rest and looks after the small shop herself. But she is new to all this as her father never let her work a day in her life.

One day, as she's looking after the shop, a red haired high fae comes looking for gardening gloves as a gift to someone. Y/n helps him, and learns that he is a frequent customer.

Due to his frequent visits, they soon develop a bond. More than friends, but not lovers.

Yet.

•○●⛦●○•

Tw: i dont think there are any but still, here we go. elain being a sour and jealous mate even though she's been sailing on the elriel ship, a few curse words and all. Can't think of anything else, so let me know if i need to add anything.

A/n: this thing has been in my draft for faxing months. This is, to me, the best work of mine. This is my baby. I LOVED writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading it.

(ps. even if youre not a lucien girlie, try reading it. i have a secret agenda to make every one of you creatures a lucien simp, just like im trying to make @artists-ally a lucien simp)

(also, the scene towards the end where reader is dancing was inspired by one of the fbaa books, if it seemed familiar or you were wondering)

t'is a long one children, Enjoy!

•○🌑○•

As Y/n finished walking around the store, cleaning, she thought back to the morning two days ago.

She had just woken up and was walking towards her father's kitchen for breakfast when she heard it. A cough. She quickened her pace, entering the kitchen to find her father bent over, his body heaving from the coughs.

She rushed to him, helping him to the nearest chair. When she bought him some water, he smiled up at her gratefully.

"How many times do I have to tell you to take some rest, father? Why won't you let me help you?"

"I might be getting old, but not that old that I need to rely on my daughter to help me earn. Unless you are trying to steal my shop?"

"Father!" She said, exasperated, even though she knew he was just saying that to irritate her. "You are staying home till you get better. I'll take care of the shop."

"But you don't know anything about it." At the glare she gave him, he finally conceded. "Let me help for today atleast. Show you how to handle it. I promise I'll rest."

She had come to visit and stay with her father for some days, having just quit her previous job, searching for a new one. They were well off, the house that Y/n lived in owned by her. She had wanted to see if her father needed any help around. Which he didn't. He wasn't very old and ill by any means, he just didn't know when to stop. That's why she had already made her father agree to closing the store earlier and taking the weekends off.

As Y/n put away the cleaning equipment in the back of the store, the bell above the door rang, announcing the arrival of a customer. As she hurried to the front desk, she caught a glimpse of the beautiful male that was waiting from behind a shelf.

He had dark crimson hair cascading over his shoulder that looked like fire, with one russet eye and one that was a golden metal one, which was whirring. A scar marred the skin surrounding that eye and trailed to his jaw.

Y/n quickly averted her gaze when she realised she was staring. He hadn't yet noticed her though, looking around the shop. She stepped out from behind the shelf and cleared her throat.

He turned to her at once, giving her a warm smile.

"Hello. How can I help you today?" She asked with a small smile.

"I'm looking for enchanted gardening gloves."

She wracked her brain for the location of said gloves before perking up. "Right this way." As she led the way, he followed a respectful distance away. To fill the silence, she spoke up. "Are you from Night Court? You don't seem like you're from here."

"Yes. I'm from... Autumn Court." His hesitation was evident, and Y/n didn't push.

"Here we are." She said, stopping in front of the gloves stacked neatly on a shelf. She left him alone when he nodded.

She began sorting out her desk, her father's, really, which was near the entrance to the shop.

By the time she finished, the male was done with his browsing and bought out the gloves to the desk to pay for them. The whole ordeal went silently and quickly. With a word of thanks and a 'good day', he was on his way.

•○🌑○•

Lucien's pov.

He stared at her. His mate.

He wondered if, under other circumstances, she would have not despised him. Could she have ever loved him the way others loved their mates? Would the two of them be together if there was no cruelty in this world?

He answered those himself.

The first one? Probably.

The second one? Maybe.

The third one? No.

Because, if there was no cruelty in this world, his love, one his father had killed, would not be dead. Jesminda would be alive still. And if she was alive, he wouldn't care for anything, even his own mate.

And maybe that made him an asshole, but he couldn't bring himself to care as he stared at Elain smiling at the Shadowsinger from the corner of the room, nursing a glass of whiskey.

He looked around the room, his eyes landing on the gift he'd bought for her. It was enchanted gardening gloves so her hands wouldn't get cut. Of course, the present had been discarded in a corner, unopened. It wasn't as if she didn't notice the gift. No, he had seen her look at it before placing it aside from her other gifts.

He'd seen her do that, and his heart had been pierced by an arrow. At least it felt like it.

As he stared at the gift, his mind drifted to the shop where he had bought it from. The shop run by the female. He didn't know why, but he couldn't stop thinking about her. She hadn't even said much, but she had simply caught his attention.

He blinked when a loud laugh interrupted his thoughts, looking at the inner circle sitting in the center of the room and having the time of their lives, while he sat in the darkest corner he could find. He knew he didn't fit in here, and that most of them didnt trust or like him.

He didn't know why he had accepted Feyre's invitation to stay for the night when he knew he'd be miserable.

He had thought that maybe, just maybe, they would include him in their fun. At least for one night.

He felt so dumb now.

After a little bit of contemplation, he decided it best if he left. No one was going to miss him anyways.

Quietly, he downed the whiskey in his glass, then rolled onto his feet. He set the glass on a nearby table, then turned towards the door. He walked towards it, his boots making no noise.

As he exited the room, there was no sign of the festivities slowing down. None. He removed his coat from the nearby hook, donning it as he stepped out, the door clicking shut behind him.

It wasn't until Lucien was out of the house that the sounds faltered for a brief moment, but then the laughter started back again, and Lucien sighed, his breath misting in front of him. He stared at the little cloud of fog in front of his face.

He didn't want to go home– if it could even be called that– not yet. The night was still young. Maybe he would go on a little walk around Velaris before he returned to the mortal lands.

He started the trek across the city, walking slowly, letting his mind wander, his eyes seeing everything but taking nothing in. It was like a waste of time, looking at the beauty but not caring enough to appreciate it.

He sighed, making his way through the vibrant market place. The children running around the place, candies in their hand, adults lingering around the place with their lovers and families truly added to the beauty of the festival.

But Lucien's eyes were unseeing, his heart unfeeling as he avoided the running and giggling children.

Someone slammed into Lucien from somewhere near him, and that finally broke him out of the haze that he'd been in.

He glanced at the fae leaning against him, trying to gain her footing in the crowded area.

"I am so sorry. I got pushed–" The female looked up at him, finally stable on her feet. She cocked her head, a smile spreading on her lips. "Oh. It's you."

He returned the smile, somehow easier than it should have been considering the foul mood he'd been. "It's me. I don't think I caught your name this morning."

The lady from the gardening shop grinned, her cheeks rosy, glowing with happiness. "Y/n."

"Lucien." He mumbled, studying her. She nodded, holding out her hand. He took it.

Then they stood there, awkwardly trying to figure out what to say. "Um... enjoying solstice?"

"Yeah." She returned, a relieved expression on her face. "Just left the house after dinner. My father said he's going out with some friends, so I decided to head out for some desserts. You?"

"Not really..." That was not the right answer, but Lucien was struggling to put on his mask of indifference.

"Oh. I'm sorry. Are you alone?"

He smiled ruefully as he looked away. "Very."

After a moment of silence, the lady spoke up again. "What are your thoughts on some cake? Pie? Or maybe cookies?"

Lucien blinked, then glanced at her. "What?"

She grinned, turning away and gesturing with her hand to follow her. Seeing that he had no other reason to haunt the streets of Velaris, he followed her.

She weaved in and out of the crowd, walking with purpose towards her destination. She stumbled sometimes, due to being pushed around by the crowd, but mostly by herself. She seemed to have a problem walking without tripping.

She tripped again, so bad that Lucien had to catch her elbow to stop her from faceplanting. She grinned up at him sheepishly.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes."

"Are you... drunk?"

She shrugged and shook her head. "I don't drink. It's taste is disgusting."

A small smirk made is way into Lucien's face, but he simply nodded at her to keep going. She continued on.

Soon, she was walking into a brightly lit shop, cakes and various baked goods displayed through the glass.

"This is my favourite place for sweets and baked items. It's really good."

She went to open the door, but Lucien stretched out his hand and held it for her. She blinked at him before smiling and stepping in to the warm interior.

"Hello." She greeted the kind looking old lady behing the counter, who smiled widely.

"How are you today?"

"I'm good. How about yourself?" Y/n replied.

"I'm good, I'm good. Just these joints creaking a little extra nowadays."

Y/n grinned fondly. "Maybe you should just get some rest, you old hag."

"Oh shut it. I will rest once I know I have succeded in convincing you to get a partner. Mother knows how lonely you must be."

"I'm not lonely, you old hag. As long as I have you and father, I will never be alone."

"Yeah yeah whatever." Then the old female seemed to notice Lucien, and her eyes lit up. "Are you finally seeing someone?"

Y/n blinked, then glanced at Lucien. Her lips parted, then a flush climbed up her neck. She furiously shook her head, and the old lady sighed.

"Well, hope I'm not dead when you finally decide to interact with others." The female bustled away as other people walked upto the counter to place their order.

Y/n turned to Lucien, her face red, and she gestured to the display of sweets. He grinned when she turned away again. "Choose what you would like to try. I always go for pineapple, but chocolate is also good."

Lucien dipped his head in a nod when she glanced at him to make sure he understood her, and then the two of them went on to get their cakes.

As they were about to leave the shop, the owner of the shop called to him. "Psst. Hey! You!"

When Lucien glanced up questioningly, the lady Y/n had been talking to motioned at him to come closer. He inched towards the counter behind which the lady stood as Y/n talked to another one of the workers.

"What are your intentions for her?" The lady hissed at Lucien as soon as she was sure no one could hear her.

Lucien blinked, taken aback. "What?"

"Don't you dare even think of hurting her. Males have hurt her enough. She is a pure soul, and if you hurt her, then I will carve your eyes out with a spoon. You hear me young man?"

Lucien nodded, dumbfounded. Thank the cauldron though, Y/n decided that moment to walk up to the two of them.

The old lady smiled at her, and then shooed Y/n and Lucien away. Y/n rolled her eyes and led Lucien out of the shop.

She crossed the road and settled onto one of the many benches overlooking the Sidra. She patted the place next to her and he obliged, studying her.

"What were you and the old hag talking about?"

"Nothing..."

Y/n raised a brow but stayed silent as she dug into the treat in her hands.

The two of them sat in silence as they ate, staring at the waters of the Sidra.

Unfortunately, soon enough the two of them were done eating, and Y/n turned to Lucien. She smiled. "Did you like the cake?"

Lucien gave her a smile. A genuine one, one that felt like he hadn't smiled in centuries. He probably hadn't.

"I did. Thank you for making my solstice better."

"I enjoyed the time too, no need to thank me."

And then the two of them parted ways, Lucien thanking her again and her telling him not to worry about it.

Lucien watched her until she had vanished between the crowd, then he turned and decided to walk to secluded place before he winnowed back to human lands.

A soft breeze caressed his face, and he closed his eyes, savoring the cool touch. His mind drifted back to Y/n.

He smiled softly, opening his eyes and leaning his head back, staring at the stars twinkling down at him, as if they were winking.

Maybe... just maybe, not all fae were miserable and hateful.

Maybe there was someone out there, like Y/n, who would not hate him for simply existing.

•○🌑○•

Y/n's pov.

Y/n only had one thought in her mind, and that was to hurry up.

She had been out in the market, getting the things she needed according to the cooking book she had recently bought.

She had decided to surprise her best friend since childhood with a home baked cake, and hence the rush to get home and start the preparations.

The catch?

Y/n was shit at baking.

The few times she had tried to bake, she had either ended with something that was too hard to even be called a rock, or with something that vaguely resembled... puke.

Even thinking about it sent shivers up Y/n's spine.

But back then she hadn't used a cookbook's instruction, she tried to reason with the sane part of her brain, the one that knew this was a bad idea.

Hurry up-

And she smacked into a wall. A very warm wall.

All her bags slipped from her hands and onto the ground as she stumbled back, barely keeping herself from falling onto her ass.

She lifted her head to apologise to whoever she had crashed onto when her eyes met russet and gold. Lucien.

She paused as she watched him cock his head, a little smile spreading on his features.

"I seem to notice a pattern, Y/n."

She lifted an eyebrow as she bent to gather her stuff. He followed. "What pattern?"

She tried to shoo him off by waving her hands, but he either didn't notice or didn't care. "You are always crashing into me. That sounds like a pattern to me."

She scowled, knowing that if her father or any of her friends saw her, they would yell at her for being disrespectful to someone who was helping her.

He grinned, glancing at her as he stood, most of her bags in his hands.

"Do you need any help carrying these?" He questioned when she climbed to her feet too, and she blinked.

"Oh no, it's alright. I'll carry them myself. I don't want to bother you."

"I insist. And it's really not a bother. I have nothing else to do. These are really heavy, let me help."

"You really don't have anything else to do?"

He smiled triumphantly, as if he knew he had won. "I don't."

She sighed. "Fine then. My house is nearby. Thank you vey much."

He shook his head, that smile still on his face. "No worries."

She led him to her house, a peaceful silence between the two.

It wasn't long before they reached her house, and she turned to him, keys in her hand.

"Please come in. Let me make you some tea." That was the least she could do for him.

"Oh no, that is unnecessary, I don't want to bother you. It was my pleasure to help."

"I insist. And it really is not a bother." She smirked, throwing his words back at him.

He shook his head, grinning. "Fine."

She let the two of them in, setting about to get some tea ready. "So, may I ask what you are going to with these?"

When Y/n turned to look at him, he gestured at the bags he set on the counter.

"Because from what I saw outside, these things are usually used for baking."

Y/n smiled. "Yeah. It's my friends birthday today. I was thinking of making her a cake."

"That's great. Do you bake often?"

Her smile now turned sheepish. "No. I tried a couple of times, back when I was younger," -six months ago- "and I damn near brought down the whole kitchen once."

Lucien chuckled. "So now you think you can do it properly?"

She picked up the cookbook nearby and waved it at him. "I will follow instructions this time."

Judging by the amusement in his eyes, she thought he would laugh, but he didn't. He simply extended his hand towards her and asked, "Can I have a look?"

She handed it to him, turning to check on the tea she was brewing.

The sound of the pages being flipped were the only sounds other than her pouring the liquid into cups for the two of them.

When she turned back around, she found him staring intensely at the book, his brows furrowed, a downward tilt to his mouth. She tried to make no noise as she set down the cup in front of him, hoping to not disturb his concentration.

But he glanced up at her, frowning. "This won't work. This is too complicated."

Y/n blinked, taken aback by the seriousness in his eyes and words. "What do you mean?"

He closed the book, setting it aside as he pulled the cup of tea towards him. "Baking is simpler than whatever bullshit is given in there."

"You know how to bake?"

"I helped my mother when I was younger."

"And exactly how many years ago was that?"

His eyes narrowed. "How many years since you baked anything?"

That made Y/n shut up.

She sighed ruefully. "Maybe I'm just not supposed to bake."

Lucien shook his head. "I can help."

She glanced at him. "What?"

He shrugged. "I don't have anything else to do anyways. I can help you bake the cake."

"I don't want to bother-"

"Its not a bother. I would love to help."

Y/n smiled behind her cup as she took a sip of her tea, a warmth spreading through her chest.

"Thank you. I appreciate the gesture." Then, she looked at the redhead for a moment longer before turning away. "And you know what? I am noticing a pattern too."

•○🌑○•

After a day filled with trying to decide on the flavour for the cake, the decorations, making the cake and laughter, it was finally time to sleep.

The party had been perfect, so many memories made, and so many things she could think about.

But no matter what, Y/n couldn't stop thinking about him.

She didn't remember the last time she had enjoyed herself so thoroughly around a male, let alone one she knew nothing about.

And as she went to sleep that night, trying not to think of how his eyes twinkled in amusement when she had dropped an egg on the ground- huffing and puffing- she failed to keep that smile off of her face.

•○●⛦●○•

Lucien's pov.

After the day filled with helping her bake, correcting anything she had been doing wrong and watching as happiness spread across her face when the cake came out almost nearly perfect, it was finally time to sleep.

The day had been perfect, a reprieve from the constant ugly thoughts Lucien had about himself. Memories had been made, though unexpected.

But no matter what, Lucien could not stop thinking about her.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed himself so thoroughly around someone, let alone someone he barely knew anything about.

And as he went to sleep that night, trying not to think of how she had jumped around and squealed in excitement- so much so that she had nearly burnt herself by the hot pan- Lucien failed to keep that smile off of his face.

•○🌑○•

Y/n's pov.

Soon enough, Y/n learned that the handsome male with the metal eye, Lucien, was the Lucien Vanserra. The youngest son of the High Lord of Autumn Court.

He frequented the shop after that day they spent baking, him and Y/n becoming fast friends. He'd told her that he lived in the human lands with his friends, Jurian and Vassa.

Recently, she had learned that this Jurian he was friends with was the Jurian from the war centuries ago, the powerful human commander, remade by the Cauldron.

Expect Lucien to surprise a four hundred year old fae who thought she could not be surprised about anything anymore.

Y/n shook her head with an exasperated grin, finishing braiding her hair. She had spent the whole afternoon wondering what hairstyle would look good with her dress for her meeting with Lucien, eventually settling for a simple braid. Few strands framed her face, and she thought it looked better than any elaborate hairstyle she could have done.

Even after six months of being friends with him, he never failed to shock her by telling her things about himself.

He had sent a letter in advance that he would be visiting today, and he wanted to meet with her in their favourite cafe before reporting to the High Lord.

She had, of course, agreed. He was the only friend she had other than the female she had baked for, what with her being cooped up in her home with a book in hand when she wasn't working in the nearby jewellery store.

A knock sounded on the door, and Y/n practically flew down the stairs, taking a deep breath to calm her heart before opening the door.

There he stood in all his glory, smiling at her. The fading sunshine made his hair look on fire, his skin glowing.

"My lady. You look quite...dishevelled." He murmured, his eye twinkling. Y/n frowned, lifting her hand to her hair. It had looked good when she checked it in the mirror. Maybe the braid didn't look as good as she thought it did. In which case, she wanted to go and jump off a cliff.

Before her hand could touch her hair though, Lucien caught it, grinning and pressing a kiss to her knuckles, all the while maintaining eye contact. Y/n blushed.

"When I said dishevelled, I meant you look like you've run a mile. That looks exquisite." He said, straightening and flicking her forehead. "You look exquisite."

"Shut up." She mumbled, shoving his shoulder and stepping out, turning to lock the door. When she had finished, she turned to find him leaning against a pillar of the front porch. He smiled and inclined his head towards the road.

They walked towards the cafe, talking about his past days in the human lands and her job at the jewellery store. How she didn't really care for it and was thinking of taking up something else.

They soon reached the cafe which stood right on the banks of the Sidra and had outdoor seating as well in the backyard, right next to the river. As they settled down in their usual seat in a corner right next to the river, her eyes sharpened on the paper stuck on a nearby wall.

"Hey Lucien? Do you see that?" Y/n questioned, making Lucien glance back at it.

"Yeah. Looks like they're hiring." Lucien's eye lit up as he turned back to her. "You should try." She nodded enthusiastically.

Soon, they finished their food and Lucien was waiting to pay, having insisted on paying while Y/n talked to the hotel's owner. She was quite happy Y/n said she wanted to work there. They finally settled on her starting in two days.

After that, as they were walking home, the delicious smell of freshly baked cakes reached them. Y/n grinned at Lucien who took her arm and walked towards the stand where an old lady was selling small round cakes that were the size of Y/n's palm. They made idle conversation with her while she handed them their treats.

"You two make a good couple. Are you mates?" She asked as soon Y/n took a bite. Which was very unfortunate as she immediately choked on it. Lucien patted her back, grinning as he turned to the lady.

"No, we aren't mates. We're just friends."

"What a shame. But maybe the bond hasn't made itself known yet?"

Lucien shook his head with a sad smile. "That would've been wonderful, really." Y/n's had whipped to him, her eyes wide. Did he just say what she thought he did? Could it be that he... no. That was stupid. He had a mate that he would die for, regardless of whether she liked him back. He would never...

"But I already have a mate." He continued.

"Oh I'm so sorry then for assuming things."

"Don't be. It's not like it matters anyway. She doesn't want the bond."

"Oh mother, that's truly unfortunate. Maybe you could be with someone else? I loved someone in my youth, but he never paid me any attention. Then one day my friend advised me to forget the male. Now I'm married to my friend and I think I couldn't be any more happy."

Lucien looked thoughtful. "That's a good advice, I must say. And I'll definitely think about it." He winked at Y/n, making her blush furiously.

They continued on after that, though there was silence now compared to their earlier mindless chatter. And it was filled with tension. Y/n wrapped her arms around herself, staring into the waters of the Sidra nearby.

As they walked, her mind wandered to what Lucien had said to the woman. Could he really mean what he had said? He wasn't one to joke about such serious matters... but then again, maybe he was jesting.

Soon, they had reached her house, and she stepped up to open the door.

"You want to come in? We can have some tea..."

Lucien smiled. "I would love to if it's not a problem."

As she set about making the tea, he sat watching her every move. Which made her work extremely carefully, wondering if he was judging her. Which was absurd. Because, not only would Lucien never judge her, but also because she never would have cared for something so trivial as someone judging her. So why did she care now?

Because you lov–

She shut the thought down before it even finished.

•○🌑○•

Lucien's pov.

It had been over a month since he had seen his Y/n, and he was already craving her presence. Initially, he been able to go longer periods without meeting his friend. But as time went on, he became more and more enraptured with her and shorter and shorter became the time period between his visits.

The way she laughed on anything he said. The way her eyes would light up when she looked at him. The way he could make her blush by just looking at her. How she would get excited when taking about the newest book she was reading or when she learned something that made her happy.

He just couldn't get enough of her sometimes. All he wanted to do was stay and bask in her presence.

Of course, it wasn't possible, what with his work of going back and forth between human lands and the Night Court, as well as Day Court, where he had been spending some time getting to know his father.

It was a shock when he found out that Beron wasn't his real father, but he was adjusting. She had a big part in his acceptance. And he was grateful for it.

Now, he was going to leave his emissary duties for the Night Court, going to live in his father's court permanently. Which was why Feyre had decided to have the whole of the inner circle and him go out to eat for dinner. Lucien had suggested the cafe by the Sidra for the ordeal.

The place where Y/n currently worked.

He was smiling at his thoughts of her when he knocked on the door of the River House. Nuala opened it, greeting him with a smile before letting him enter. There was already sounds of chatter coming from the living room as he walked towards it. Everyone was here then. Great.

The quicker this was over, the faster he could spend time with Y/n.

He would leave soon, but that didn't mean he wouldn't come back to Velaris. He had important people here.

He had informed Rhys about his departure a few months ago, and had agreed to stay till they found someone who would be willing to take up the duties of Lucien. They were still searching for someone, so Lucien was still the emissary.

•○●⛦●○•

Lucien tapped his leg on the floor impatiently, his eyes constantly flitting between the tables and booths in search of his friend.

It had only been a few moments since he had arrived with the inner circle, but he simply couldn't wait to catch a glimpse of her.

While he was searching for Y/n, he failed to notice the High lord and lady's, as well as the entire inner circle's eyes on him.

He craned his head, and he finally heard that beautiful voice he'd been dying to hear from behind him.

"Good evening. May I take your order?"

He turned his head so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash, but Lucien didn't care as his eyes met those of Y/n's.

Her mouth lifted at the edges, a knowing look in her eyes as she turned away to converse with Rhysand.

His brain didn't process the words being exchanged between the two, he was so busy admiring her.

And wondering when the damn dinner will be over so he could finally talk to her and catch up.

When she left the table after taking their orders, she distcreetly brushed her hand against his bicep, pulling a smile on his face.

Just an hour or so. He reminded himself as he focused on the table in front of him, ignoring the looks of the inner circle, including Elain.

Which wasn't all that hard.

•○●⛦●○•

The time seemed to pass slower, just to torture Lucien that night.

Right when Lucien was about to loose his patience, everyone had finished dessert, and were on the verge of leaving.

Lucien stood, nodding at Cassian and Azriel in goodbye, hugging Feyre and shaking Rhys's hand. Making some excuse- unconvincing, he was sure- about having to go meet up with Vassa and Jurian, he walked away, eyeing the place Y/n had disappeared into.

He knew that she was about to leave, had probably already left, and he couldn't wait to tell her all the juicy stories he'd acquired over his recent travels, as well as the budding tensions between Vassa and Jurian.

The moment he stepped out onto the road, he heard her voice.

"So desperate to meet me fox boy?"

Lucien smirked, turning to find the owner of the voice leaning against a wall. "You wish."

Her eyebrows lifted as she pushed herself off the wall. "Sure. Didn't seem like it was just my fantasy when you were searching around like an eager puppy."

He grinned, though a flush climbed up his neck at being caught red handed. "Just wanted to see you so I could tell you about Vassa and Jurian."

Y/n grinned, throwing her arms around his neck as she buried her face in his neck. He returned the hug in kind, warming up his body a little through his magic so he could ward off the chill in the air surrounding them.

They stayed in the hug for longer than seemed appropriate, but no one was watching anyways. And neither of them cared if anyone was.

Y/n was the first to pull away, smiling shyly up at Lucien.

"You want to get some cake before we go home?" Y/n questioned, beginning towards the general direction of her home.

"I feel like we should make it ourselves." Lucien wiggled his eyebrows, throwing his arm around her shoulders as they began the trek to her home.

She shook her head slightly, becoming redder by the moment as she grinned softly at her feet.

•○🌑○•

It was solstice tonight.

It had been one not-long-enough year since he'd met Y/n.

Lucien's chest felt lighter than it had been in ages.

They had already found a new emissary who they trusted, and so today was Lucien's last day as a member of the Inner Circle.

He was here today to deliver some reports to Rhys.

The sound of utensils and laughter greeted him as soon as he entered the River house, the inner circle being as loud as ever. But as soon as he stepped foot in the dining room, everything went silent, all eyes turning to him.

He smiled at Feyre, nodding to Rhys and pointing to the papers in his hands. He placed the stack on a table nearby, before nodding again to the rulers of Night and turning away.

"Wait! Where are you going? Come have dinner with us." Lucien looked at Feyre, shaking his head.

He didn't want to stay. Not when all that was going through his head was how he would go up to Y/n's door and knock, and how she would open the door suspiciously, those eyes narrowed. But then she would realise that it was him, and she would fling the door open with squeal, tackling him into a hug, laughing. How when she pulled back, she'd realise she was in her pajamas and would self consciously brush herself down, touching her hair. How–

"Lucien?" Lucien winced, coming back to the present.

"I can't stay. I have to go meet a friend."

"Oh. Did you plan a meeting beforehand?"

"Oh no. She doesn't know I'm here. I'm going to go surprise her."

"She?" A gentle and soft voice intoned. Lucien stiffened. The voice he had wanted to hear acknowledge him ever since the bond snapped for him.

He turned to look at Elain, his brows rising as he took her in. She was standing from her seat next to the shadowsinger, her knuckles white from clenching her fork so tightly. Her brows were furrowed in anger, and she looked murderous.

"Yes..." He didn't really know how to answer the question, so he simply watched her.

Rage entered her eyes. "Is this the female you went with that night when we were out?"

Lucien blinked, wondering what was making Elain so angry. "Yes. Exactly that one."

Elain huffed out a bitter laugh. "So is she trying to steal my mate now? She did look like someone who steals males."

For a moment, no one moved. There was so much silence it was deafening.

Almost everyone was staring between Elain and Lucien, their eyes wide. Except from Amren, of course. Nothing could faze the little devil. And Nyx, who waved around a piece of carrot like a sword.

Lucien smiled slowly. "Glad to know your thoughts on my life, mate. I will let her know of your amazing thoughts about her."

Lucien turned away, walking towards the foyer, but just before he turned out of sight, he glanced back, his eyes meeting Elain's.

"She and I were only ever friends, but now that you've said it, I realise that we never were meant to be friends." Lucien smiled slightly, bowing his head. "Thank you."

And with that, he left, ready to meet with his friend.

•○🌑○•

Y/n's pov.

Her solstice had been normal. Nothing great to do. Her father had gone out drinking with his friends, her friends having been busy with their own families. Even the old hag was busy tending to and celebrating with her brother.

She was sure Lucien would also be busy with something, since he hadn't written to her to let her know of his arrival if he was coming.

That left Y/n alone.

But then suddenly, a knock had sounded on the door, and Y/n's heart had fluttered before even knowing who stood on the other side of the door.

After Lucien told her what was going on with Vassa and Jurian, he began telling her of the events that went down in the High lord's home as she got ready to take a stroll around Velaris with Lucien.

Her blood boiled when she heard of the things Elain said to Lucien, but a smile of reassurance from him was all it took for her to calm down.

They were in the main square of Velaris right now, watching the people dance around the huge fire in the centre.

It had become a tradition in the recent years for the people of the city to come together and dance the night away, laughing and drinking and mingling. It was a wholesome event, where younger people would gather around the old towards the end of the night and simply listen to their tales.

This was the first time Y/n was attending with someone else, as usually she would come here alone and sit next to the elderly, watching as younger couple her age danced around and bonded.

The glow from the fire danced in Lucien's eyes, making it look like there was fire inside those mismatched eyes. There was a relaxed grin on his face, one like she'd never seen before. He seemed so careless now, so free, it made Y/n smile too.

"You're staring." He pointed out, his voice barely audible over the cheers and the faeries singing along.

Y/n blushed, but in a sudden burst of boldness, she spoke, looking away. "It would be a crime not to."

From the periphery of her eyes, she found him gaping at her and had to suppress a triumphant smile.

"You know, I feel like the Mother took extra time making you."

He let out a surprised laugh, the sound lighting fires across Y/n's body.

"All that extra time to make me ruined by a fucking scar."

His tone was light, though Y/n could sense a hint of insecurity and sadness under the joy.

She turned to him, watching as the smile slowly vanished from his face at the look in her eyes.

"You are beautiful, Lucien, scars and all. And if I had the chance, I would show you how beautiful they are to me." She let her hand reach up toward his face, ignoring the heat entering his eyes or the way his pupils dilated as she traced the scar that ended at his jaw.

"Beautiful. So fucking beautiful."

HIs eyes fell shut as the music came to an end, and the people dancing around the fire dispersed for a moment.

"Y/n..." He whispered, his hand reaching up to hold hers against his face.

The music started up again, a soft and slower sound than before, more sensual.

This one was for people who were a couple or in a relationship, just a slow waltz to cool down before everyone again joined in a faster, more traditional dance.

"Dance with me."

The words were a shock to her system, and she nodded without even thinking.

It wasn't until the two of them had begun dancing, her arms wrapped around his broad and strong shoulders, their faces barely inches away, that she remembered that this was a waltz for couples, and she and Lucien were definitely not a couple.

She glanced up at him, his eyes already fixed on her. She opened her mouth to tell him, trying to ignore the warmth against her skin from the fire behind her, his body pressed so close to hers in the front.

"Lucien, this dance is for-"

"I know." He mumbled, his eyes smoldering. "I know." He repeated, making sure she understood.

Suddenly, his arms around her waist became more apparent, the way they rested over her lower back. The way the stray hairs that had escaped his low bun tickled her neck, the way his breath washed over her skin when he exhaled.

Y/n's mind was about to either stop working, or remind her of Lucien's touch every two minutes, and honestly, she didn't know which one she prefered.

He never broke eye contact once during the whole dance.

Soon, but not soon enough, the slow music came to an end. And the people that sat along the outer edge cheered, clapping and demanding the couples kiss. And as all the couples shared that intimate moment, Y/n's heart rate picked up, panic clawing up her throat, feeling so many eyes on her and him, wondering what Lucien would do.

She didn't have to wonder long, though.

Lucien began leaning in, making Y/n's eyes flutter closed. She swallowed, licking her lips.

Then she felt his hot breath closer to her face, his lashes brushing gently against her skin as she felt those plump, beautiful lips on the corner of hers.

She felt him smile against her skin. All the while, it was hard to breathe.

But then he pulled away, a flush on his cheeks. If it was because of the heat of the enormous fire behind her, or because he was genuinely flustered, she couldn't tell.

As the faster music started, Lucien grinned wickedly at her.

"Let's dance, my lady."

•○🌑○•

Y/n's feet were sore, but it was all so worth it.

At some point during the night, she had discarded her shoes next to a kind old male who she had known since she was a child.

All the dances after Y/n and Lucien's initial waltz had been fast paced, where everyone changed partners every few moments. It was one of the best things that had happened that night, getting to know new people and dancing and singing along to the top of their lungs.

It was all so beautiful.

She had always thought so, watching from the sidelines. But now, being one of the people she would have watched, it was a whole different experience.

The dancing was supposed to go on for atleast one more hour before the elders gathered and began telling stories. That would go on for the rest of the night.

And so, Y/n decided to get some rest, maybe somewhere on he benches near the Sidra where it would be quiet before returning to listen to the elder's tales.

Listening to loud music for hours was one way to invite a headache.

Y/n began making her way up to Lucien, who stood on the opposite side of the huge fire, but then she paused, simply admiring him.

He had discarded his embroidered overcoat next to where Y/n had placed her shoes, now only in a simple, thin white shirt that clung to his sweaty frame, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

He laughed as he held the hands of a little girl, giving her instructions on how to move. The little girl's tongue poked out of her lips as she concentrated, and Lucien was just as concentrated as her.

Once the current music came to an end, the girl grinned up at Lucien, and he ruffled her hair in return before she ran away, maybe to her friends.

Y/n finally walked up to Lucien, smiling tiredly at him.

"Hello, you."

He smiled back. "Good evening, my lady."

Y/n rolled her eyes at the title. "Shut up."

"Can I not even greet you now?"

"Yeah yeah whatever. I'm going to go sit at a bench, rest a little then return. You coming?"

He nodded, walking over to where his coat lay on the ground. He picked it up along with her shoes then returned.

When she tried to take her shoes from him, he waved her away.

The two of them walked in silence, heading towards the quiet river. Once there, they walked onto the bank and settled down where the place was relatively drier than all other places. Y/n dipped her feet in the cold water, releasing a relieved sigh at the soothing sensation.

Lucien pulled out two packets from the pocket of his coat, tearing open the wrapper and handing one to Y/n. She looked at him, confused.

He simply opened his pack, and then bit into the cake.

"Why do you have these with you?" She questioned, though she began nibbling on the little treat.

He shrugged. "Jurian found these at a bakery in mortal lands a few days ago. I thought you might like it."

She smiled, staring into the water as she slowly chewed.

"The inner circle were in the crowd tonight."

Y/n whipped her head to look at Lucien, but he didn't even seem bothered or interested in talking about the inner circle. He said it so casually, like he was telling her it was night and not day.

After a moment, Y/n spoke. "Was Elain there?"

He nodded, taking a bite of the cake. He took his time chewing before he gave her a response.

"I saw them after the fourth or fifth song. Apparently, they'd been watching since the first song."

Y/n gaped at him.

He glanced at her. "What?"

"Why are you so nonchalant about this?! Your mate saw you dancing with me on a song meant for people involved romantically!"

He blinked, then raised a brow. "And?"

"That might ruin any chances you had with her!"

He shrugged again. "There was never any chance anyway."

"Lucien! You-"

"Look Y/n. It's been long since the bond made itself known. It's been long enough that if she wanted to accept the bond, she would have. And long enough that if she didn't want the bond, she would have rejected it."

"Yes I know but you love her-"

"Let me speak, love. Let me get this off my chest. I never loved her. She didn't give me the chance to. The pull I felt towards her was simply the bond clouding my judgement. The desperation with which I seeked to gain her attention was me simply yearning for happiness. If I had not been so lonely and upset all the time, maybe I wouldn't even have acknowledged the bond if she ignored it too.

"And maybe I am a bastard for that, but I don't know what had gotten over me for the past year or so. I had lost almost all of myself, until you came along.

"You-" Lucien looked at Y/n, his eyes bright "-you made me realise that I did not need another person to make me happy, and that I didn't have to stop being myself for someone to love me. And i will be eternally grateful to you for it."

Y/n shook her head, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall. "Lucien, you deserve to find love. You deserve to have a happy life."

"And I know that now. All because of you."

"But I did nothing." She sniffed, her cake forgotten in her hand.

"You didn't have to. Just simply being my friend and showing me kindness made a significant difference in how I saw myself."

"But what about Elain? What about the bond?"

He smiled. "She can be with anyone she wants now. She wanted to have control over some aspects of her life after having been forced to turn, and honestly, I don't blame her. I would have wanted to do the same if my life had been anything like her."

"And what about you?"

Y/n felt like she knew the answer, but she still wanted to know.

"I do not need a bond to be with someone I love, you know."

"And who is it that you love?"

His smile turned knowing. "You know the answer, don't you?"

"Tell me still. After all, you do love hearing yourself speak."

This was a serious moment, but Y/n felt like if she didn't try to lighten the air by joking, this would become real. And she didn't know if she could handle that.

"I love you, Y/n."

She closed her eyes, telling herself this was not real, that she would wake up soon, and realise this had been a dream. Just like all the times before she had had the dream of being with Lucien and then waking up, all alone in her bed and staring at the ceiling.

But when silence settled around her, him staring at her expectantly, she realised this was no dream.

That someone like Lucien really was in love with someone like her.

She closed her eyes, a tear slipping out of the corner of her eyes. "You don't mean that."

She felt his thumb brushing away the tear a moment before she felt his lips on her cheek. "I do. I am in love with you, my lady. I would do anything to show you how much I love you. To prove to you that I really do."

Her eyes fluttered open, staring into his eyes as he rested his forehead against hers. "Why?"

He chuckled. "What do you mean why? There is not need of a reason for me to love you. I simply love you because you exist."

After a moment, she whispered what she had been dying to scream. "I love you, Lucien. I love you so much."

His smile widened, and he began closing the distance between them. "Then let me be yours."

Just before their lips met, she mumbled. "Be mine."

And her body ignited.

•○●⛦●○•

Her joints were creaking, but the old hag watched, and waited.

She had this primal need to have the little girl she'd watched grow up in front of her eyes find happiness, and she would threaten even the mother if the need arose to make Y/n happy.

But she didn't have to do that, because as she watched, the fire head male leaned in and pressed a kiss to Y/n's lips, and the old hag smiled, giddy with happiness and excitement.

And then she turned away, meaning to hobble back to the solstice celebration in the main square and leave the two younglings to enjoy the night together.

But then she paused, staring at the young female that stared at Y/n and the fire boy she'd fallen in love with.

Slowly, the old hag's brain remembered that this female with soft features and silky hair was the high lady's sister. And in turn, Lucien's mate.

Damn the mother. The old hag cursed, shaking her head.

"Leave them be." The hag ordered the girl in front of her, who turned to her with wide eyes. "They both deserve happiness. Don't you dare think about getting in the way."

The girl in the lilac dress nodded, her eyes becoming watery, but the hag had already begun walking away.

And after a final glance at the giggling couple on the riverbank, the girl turned away, jealousy and relief warring in her chest.

•○●⛦●○•

When Lucien pulled away, his hand still resting on her cheek, she couldn't stop a giggle from escaping. His lips quirked, a little swollen.

"Something funny?"

She shook her head, her cheeks warm as she turned back to the water. "Should we do a toast, my lord?"

He laughed at that, shifting closer to her as he put an arm around her shoulders. "And what will we toast with? We don't have wine or anything."

"We have these cakes." She pointed out.

He lifted his cake into the air. "Alright then. To love!"

Y/n wrinkled her nose. "And cakes!" She said as she raised her hand, and Lucien laughed.

He laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

Carefree and happy.

And Y/n simply watched, admiring.

Loving.

•○🌑○•

Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392

#acotar #Lucien x reader #Acotar fanfic #mating bond #a court of thorns and roses #Lucien fluff #acotar fandom #acotar series #fluff #Lucien fic #Lucien fanfic #sarah j maas #acotar headcanon #Acotar writing #acotar fluff #acotar x reader #reader insert #lucien vanserra #lucien acotar #pro lucien vanserra #lucien vandaddy

[acourtofswiftiesandshadowdaddies]

Can you do an angst prop with #8 and #10 with Azriel, I don’t know maybe Azriel spending all his time with Elain because of the three sisters and three brothers thing,but he doesn’t love her, he loves reader but is sure of the 3x3 thingy, leaving you relationship of 300 years in shambles because the bond hasn’t snapped for him yet, but it has for reader, so when she goes to end the relationship it snaps for him, making him panic when she says #10. Make him grovel a lot but please do a happy ending 🥹 I love angst with HEA.

Tolerate It

Azriel x reader, Lucien x sister!reader, Helion x daughter!reader

Warnings: angst with happy ending, subtle mentions of cheating, swearing, Elain slander, ooc elain

Prompts: “You can’t even see how much you hurt me.” , “Our forever seems to have been short-lived” & “This isn’t just a(n) [object], it’s a promise.”

Summary: Azriel believes that Elain is his mate, he distances himself from you till you decide to leave him and the bond finally snaps for him.

a/n: heavily based on tolerate it by taylor swift. guys i love Elain but i had to add elain slander to it. if you see any mistakes no you don’t 🤩

I had noticed it, the days when he started coming home late or smelt like jasmine instead of his usual cedar.

But still every single night I waited by the door like a kid, cooked his favourite meals for him. Just for him to say “I ate at Elain’s”.

I can’t even remember the last time he kissed me or told me he loved me. I had found solace in my brother, Lucien, both our mates in love with each other. Not that Azriel knew he was my mate.

It all finally snapped when I heard Azriel talking to Rhysand and I make out the words “Y/N must be lying she can’t be my mate, Elain must be my mate it should be three sisters three brothers.” I don’t wait to hear Rhysand’s response.

Bolting out of the River House sobs wrack my body. I go to Lucien and when he opens the door I collapse in his arms unable to hold it in me anymore. “He said he thinks I’m lying” I mumble out. A fresh wave of tears flowing. “300 years, 300 fucking years” I freely sob this time. “I loved him for 300 years and he says that I’m not his mate”.

“Your love should be celebrated” he assures me.

“My beautiful sister how would you feel if we visit papa?” his voice is a soothing melody. I sniffle and nod “I need to get my stuff from the apartment though, can you come with me?” I mutter. He nods in understanding and rubs my back.

When we reach the shared apartment, there’s a small dim light as I open the door, I see Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel sitting, now all staring at me. “Love, where have you been?” he says going to touch me. I pull away and look to the floor and say “Don’t call me that”.

I head into our bedroom and gather my stuff, walking out I see Lucien waiting at the door for me and Rhysand and Cassian standing next to Azriel. “Rhysand thank you for your hospitality for the past years, but I think it’s time I visit my father,” I say kindly. “What so you’re just leaving us?” Azriel finally speaks up.

“There is no us Azriel” I glare. “You think I’m dumb, you think I don’t know what you think and that you would rather Elain be your mate, you think I don’t know how you smelt like her every time you walked through that door or the fact you haven’t kissed me, touched me or even said I love you to me for past 3 months,” I finally burst, months of pent up anger, frustration, betrayal and what more poured into that.

His brows furrow in confusion. “You can’t even see how much you hurt me,” I scoff lightly. Then I see something switch in his eyes but he masks it as quickly as it was shown.

I say goodbyes to Cassian and Rhysand wishing them and their mates well. Finally I turn around to Azriel and say “Our forever seems to have been short-lived”. With that I walk out the door with Lucien by my side.

Azriel’s POV

I felt the bond snap the second she said her last sentence and left. How could I have been so stupid. I collapsed onto the floor as my brothers came up beside me. “I felt it” I whisper, “The bond”.

The next few days have been living hell I cut off all ties with Elain and went to visit Feyre, she always had the best advice. “Hi Feyre,” I mutter out. “Oh are you here for the portraits Y/N drew of you? She used her best colours for it, they’re really beautiful” More guilt washed through me at those words.

Your POV

2 months later

I have never been happier, yes I still think about Azriel from time to time but my father is rather excellent at taking my mind of that. Though lately it’s been harder as flowers, chocolates and letters of his apology have piled up. But I didn’t care he made his choice.

I head to my father’s court where he had told me to meet as I walk in I hear my father say “Rhysand we might be allies but I will cut off all ties if your spymaster harasses my daughter one more time,”.

Rhysand argues back “But Helion they are mates,”.

“I didn’t see you guys go through all this trouble to get your sister in law to talk to my brother” I say as my gaze narrows in on Elain. “Feyre, Nesta it’s good to see you again, Cass” I nod towards them. “Rhysand what a pleasure, can’t say the same about the other two,”.

Nests snorts out loud, I send an amused smile down her way. “You guys can’t just let her talk to me like that” Elain whined, she fucking had the audacity to whine. “My daughter will speak to you however she wishes,” My dad almost never took on a commanding tone but when he did you best believe everyone shut up. Elain didn’t seem to get the hint and kept whining “Azriel do something,”.

He rolled his eyes, “Elain I don’t like you, I never have how many times do I have to say Rhysand forced me to help you,” I smile a little at that.

My eyes widen as I feel a faint tug from the bond. I couldn’t be. Eyes straying from my father to Azriel, I almost choked on my spit when I saw him smiling.

Gods I missed his smile.

Clearing my throat, “Dad I think it’s ok for me to talk to Azriel, we’ll be in the ballroom.” I say walking praying to the gods that he would follow me.

I let out a breathe of relief when I heard the scrape of a chair. Walking into the ballroom, I turn to him and say “Well don’t be expected to be forgiven so easily, you’ll be expected to apologise”.

I grinned when I heard his response, “Yes Ma’am”.

He reached behind his back and pulled out a glass golden rose the ones I had gotten a plethora of real ones over the last two months.

“What’s this?” I gasp, “It’s a glas golden rose you’re favourite, you can keep it forever, it won’t die just like our love”

“I want you to know that this isn’t just a rose, it’s a promise” he muttered out. I held the rose smiling to myself. “Thank you, it’s beautiful, now explain” I say my gaze hardening.

He took a deep breath and started, “Rhysand had asked me to take care of Elain and it was wrong of me to even assume that you were lying and Elain was my mate, and she had been spraying her perfume onto me every time I left, probably to make you jealous, I’m really sorry my love, but I felt the bond”.

“So you only love me because there’s a bond between us now” I state more than question. “Gods no, I love you more than myself, I love you to the moon and to saturn, I would get down on my knees for you,” he says and I’m shocked to see him actually fall to his knees. “Please take me back love, I miss you so much and so do my shadows,”.

I guide him up and lean to his lips on my tippy toes and kiss him, “Dance with me, princess?”.

“But there’s no music” I giggle as he presses ticklish kisses to my neck. “We don’t need it,” he replies back.

He dips me and I yelp shortly cut off by a kiss, as he pulls away and places us upright again he mutters against my lips “We can do anything in this world as long as we have each other”.

#fantasy #taylor swift #book #azriel x reader angst #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #acotar series #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #a court of silver flames #acosf #azriel x reader fluff #tolerate it #azriel shadowsinger #acourtofswiftiesandshadowdaddies

[coeurdedior]

It’s always « poor Lulu » and never « poor Elain ».

Elain who had a mother who didn’t care about her. A mother who only cared about Elain’s beauty and what that beauty could bring her. A mother who didn’t believe in her. A mother who said she had no ambition, and that she only cared about her gardens. A mother who wanted Elain to have an advantageous marriage.

Elain who saw her father’s death. ( and maybe she feels guilty for his death for not arriving sooner. The fact she said nothing could have saved him. Did she have to make a choice between saving Nesta and Cassian or her father ? A life for a life. We don't know if changing the future can have consequences. )

Elain who saw both of her sisters almost die in front of her.

Elain who has been kidnapped two times. (And we don’t know her thoughts about it.)

Elain who was thrown in the cauldron. (Feyre literally said that Elain’s screams broke her heart and Nesta said she felt violated ») Also, the fact Elain was thrown the first one, she didn’t know if she would survive. She had to deal with pain, stress, fear and also, the humiliation when almost all of the men in the room laughed at her. Also, the fact she was almost naked in front of them.

Elain who had her heart broken by Graysen. He rejected her because she is a fae now. He didn’t accept her as she was. And during this time, she had to learn to love a body that people made her hate (people seems to forgot but for Nesta and Elain, Faes weren’t good people. They learned to fear and hate them.) All the sisters had to deal with this transition. Be the thing they learned to hate. They were humans and now they are faes. They saw their lives changed overnight.

Elain who had to deal with her new power. She was lost between reality and dreams. She saw and heard things that no one else saw and heard. She must have also thought she was crazy or something was wrong with her. Until Azriel told her she was a seer. She blinked and woke up. (And it makes me laugh when people said that she needed sunlight or see the gardens when it is written in the book that « she woke up »when Azriel told her she was a seer. You can’t make an interpretation when it’s literally written).

I also add that Elain was depressed in the beginning of ACOWAR. She wasn’t eating, she didn’t speak, she was staying in her bedroom.

And finally, Elain who had to deal with a mate while she is interested in someone else. A mate who reminder her of her trauma. A mate who reminds her the worst day of her life probably. (It’s also why I prefer Elriel than Elucien or even Gwynriel. The first meeting between two characters is very important to me, and the circumstances in which Gwynriel and Elucien met are just too sad. Elain and Gwyn look at them and they remember the worst day of their life, it’s not very romantic to me).

So, the lack of compassion for Elain is so incomprehensible. She’s literally the definition of suffer in silence.

And, I’am tired of seeing comment like « Lucien deserves to be happy ». They act like Lucien carried all the misery of the world on his shoulders.

All the characters suffered.

#pro elain #elain archeron #elriel #lucien vanserra #anti elucien

[azsazz]

Change Your Ticket (Part 5)

Rugby Star!Cassian x Reader (A Modern AU)

Summary: Dating famous rugby star Cassian Bailey is a dream. What's not one is keeping your secret relationship under wraps. Will you and Cassian be able to keep from the limelight or will your relationship crumble because of it?

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3,541

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

Notes: ugh. i don't like this one.

_________________________________________

“What?”

There’s no way she just said what you think she said. You wouldn’t be able to hear it with the pounding of your heart and your blood rushing through your ears, you can’t even decipher her next words as the floor falls from your feet.

How would she know that? You pride Mor on her innate ability to find out most information about almost anyone, she’s like a secret agent sometimes. Once, when Feyre had had told you and Mor that her sister Elain was to be engaged to a man no one in her family liked, Mor spent two nights digging into his socials and finding out everything she could about the bastard. To this day, Elain still doesn’t know who it was that sent her those anonymous screenshots and photos of him with another woman.

But right now, you don’t think it’s possible for Mor to have found something out like this. You and Cassian have been so careful, to the extend where you’d been a little paranoid even, always checking your surrounding and planning the times you and him meet up down to the second. You’re anal as fuck about it, but it’s worked for eight months. So why isn’t it working right now?

“I know you don’t want me to repeat myself,” Mor huffs down the line, but her voice is all static, your ears ringing. Your phone is buzzing incessantly in your fingers and your arm is numb with it. You’re terrified to pull the device from your ear, not knowing who or what kind of messages you’re receiving right now.

The elevator rings, signaling its arrival to your floor, and the doors sliding open almost feel like a death sentence. On numb legs, you step forward and off the elevator, Mor’s voice still echoing in your head. You’re dating Cassian Bailey?

Bright flashes jolt you from your thoughts. Whipping your head to where the front entrance is located, you quint, holding your hand up to block some of the glare. Your stomach drops to the floor at the sight. A crowd of paparazzi wait outside, snapping pictures of you through the lobby’s clear windows.

Holy shit. This is real. This is really fucking happening.

You’re not prepared in the slightest. You don’t know what to do, your mind is racing with a thousand thoughts a second and the strobes coming from the front of your building blind you, leaving white spots in your vision, taking out another one of your senses. Mor is rambling on in your ear, shrill sounding, and if you could make out the words through your muddled mind, you figure she’s scolding you and feeling a bit betrayed by you keeping this a secret from one of your closest friends.

Outside, the people shout. Their words are muffled by the thick glass, but it only adds to the anxiety scorching your veins. The collar of your shirt tightens around your throat and your breathing turns shakey. You’re frozen to the spot, halfway out of the elevator, the doors trying to slide closed but your body against the sensor keeps them angrily pulling back open.

The people waiting for the elevator upstairs are probably pissed.

“Mor?” you ask, and she falls silent. You must not sound like yourself because Mor never lets anyone interrupt her. Ever.

“Yeah?” Her tone is cautious, obviously picking up the emotion—or lack thereof—in your tone.

“What’s going on?”

It’s the only thing you can think to say. Your mind is being hammered with thoughts and the bright lights trying to blind you aren’t helping in the slightest but your feet are frozen to the ground. You know you look like a deer in headlights and that you should move, force yourself to do anything besides stand here like a fool for them to get all of the pictures they want—

Your body surges into action, striding out of the elevator and turning down the hall, giving them your back. You can hear their pathetic pleas for you to turn around and walk their way, but you know better than that. They’re here for one thing and one thing only—to see exactly who Cassian Bailey is sticking his dick into.

Rumors and stories will be swirling by tonight. Your phone buzzes in your hand again and you’re sure these pictures are already up in the tabloids, social media, every inch of the internet they can reach. You wonder if Cassian’s seen any of it and then remember that he’s finishing up practice, so he won’t be by his phone to see all of this for at least another hour.

You’re all alone in this.

Mor sighs your name sadly, and your chest squeezes tight as you round a corner, putting a wall between you and the paparazzi. What she’s about to say isn’t going to be something that you want to hear, but maybe it will make it all the more real.

“There was a picture of you in the Morning Mail,” she explains, and your throat tightens. The Morning Mail is a stupid tabloid online that updates every morning. Most of the time it’s filled with silly stories of random acts of kindness or pranks gone wrong with the occasional post about the current celebrity gossip. You didn’t even know that many people followed the account. Mor does because she’s been on their feed a few times and it gained her thousands of followers overnight. “You’re wearing his shirt.”

You want to choke. You never leave the house in Cassian’s clothes; you make sure of that. You’ve been so careful all this time, parking down the street from his place when you visit, forcing him to take a car and get dropped off since people are surely tracking his personal license plates. You don’t sit with the other families in the stadium at the home games, and Cassian doesn’t even follow you on social media.

You’re wearing his shirt, you echo, wracking your brain for any chance you may have slipped up. Nothing comes to mind, and when you hang your head, it hits you full force; the t-shirt you’d stolen of his in your rush to avoid his more than cheeky attitude this morning. Distracted by his wandering hands, his charming smile, you’d shoved one of his on, tucking it into your slacks before rushing out the door.

“Fuck,” your voice wobbles, tears pricking your eyes and emotion thickening your throat. It’s a black fucking cotton t-shirt, and apart from the sheer size of it and how it hangs loosely from your body, you haven’t the slightest idea of how they know it’s his. But it is, and they know.

A quick glance around the corner has your heart stammering in your chest. The photographers look like a bunch of wild animals, climbing over each other trying to catch a glimpse of you. You pray that their flashes are reflecting off of the glass and ruining their photos, but surely, your luck has completely run out if this is how your Monday is going.

You need to get out of here, now.

“I’ve already called Feyre,” Mor says down the line, and you’re confused on why you weren’t the first call she’d made when she continues. “My attempts went right to voicemail, and I called you right back as soon as I let her know. We’re already on our way to your place but we can swing by if you want a ride?”

“Yeah, I—”

“(Y/N)?” Tarquin’s voice startles you as he peeks around the corner. His bleached brows are furrowed deeply, a frown painting his face when he catches the frazzled look on your face. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

Ah, so he’s also seen the mass of crazies outside trying to capture a front cover photo of you.

You have a choice right now, to lie to your coworker and say that you have no idea what’s going on or who they’re trying to take pictures of, or confide in your best work friend who’s been with you since the start. Literally, you both started on the same day and have been inseparable since.

You choose the latter.

“Would you mind giving me a ride home?” you ask, holding your hand over the speaker of your phone while you talk to Tarquin. “It seems as though my car is surrounded by strangers.”

With a quick glance back in the direction to the front doors of the building, Tarquin agrees, tone hesitant and a little confused, but he’s gracious nonetheless. “Sure, I can do that. Let me bring my car around the back and I’ll pick you up there?”

You nod, thankful. “Yes, please. Thanks, Tarq, you’re the best.”

He smirks genuinely and you’d roll your eyes at his antics if you weren’t shaking down to the bone. With a wink, Tarquin makes his way through the crowd, and you can hear his cheerful voice as he shoved through the doors, obviously loving all of the attention.

“Mor?” you ask into your phone once he’s gone, “I’ve got a ride, just meet me at my place.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

“So…are we going to talk about why all of those people were asking me about you and trying to get pictures?” Tarquin asks once you’ve successfully made it out into the busy traffic and away from the fleet of paparazzi surrounding your place of work.

Tarquin had picked you up at the back of the building and you all but dove into his car before any of the photographers could catch a glimpse of you. Your coworker had shoved a baseball cap in your direction, one with the Sealion’s logo on it that you reluctantly shoved on your head, slumping down in your seat so you weren’t seen.

Your phone has been buzzing constantly, and you’re worried you might actually have to get a new number with the onslaught of texts, calls, and notifications threatening to send your phone into the same shock you’re currently experiencing. Your parents have even been trying to get through, but you haven’t had the guts to answer any of them or even dare to look on any social media platform. You’ve just been staring at the screen, constantly lit with incoming messages, buzzing fervently in your lap.

You glance at the clock on the radio, blinking 5:32. How could your entire world have turned upside down in the matter of thirty-two minutes? You’ve gone from normal girl working a nine to five at a graphic design firm to Cassian Bailey’s girlfriend all because of a fucking plain t-shirt.

You don’t know if you’ll ever get over that, the fact that an oversized, black cotton t-shirt is your downfall in all of this. It’s mind-boggling to believe that someone had connected the dots that quickly, but there are some avid fans of Cassian’s that you wouldn’t dare to go head-to-head with.

“What’s there to talk about?” you speak softly, defeated. With a sigh, you shut your phone off. It’s the best way to avoid what’s going on on the internet until you can wrap your head around everything and what you plan to do about it. You’re exhausted already, just attempting to think about it. You let your head fall to the side, the leather squeaking against your head as you look over at your friend. “You heard them, Tarq.”

Everything that you’ve worked for, your privacy, your art, might all be ruined. Gaining your own following in the graphic design community had been hard, and now that you’re about to be known by the world doesn’t sit right with you. How are you supposed to make really work-related connections when people might only be seeking you out to get closer to Cassian? The thought of being used like that makes your stomach roil. Your trust issues are about to be through the roof.

You stare back out at the traffic and squeeze your eyes shut tightly. Your brain hurts and you just want to be in the safety of your home.

“So, you’re dating Cassian Bailey,” Tarquin says, like if he almost can’t believe it himself. A sharp pinch to your shoulder has your eyes shooting open and your body bolting upright, only for the seatbelt to lock and nearly choke you.

Yelping, you glare at your friend, but his ice blue eyes are focused on the road. “Hey! What was that for?”

“For not telling me, obviously,” Tarquin scoffs, glancing over his shoulder and flicking on his turn-signal to switch lanes. You peek out of the passenger mirror, anxious that one of the photographers caught a glimpse of you leaving and has somehow followed you thus far.

“I didn’t tell anyone, if it makes you feel better.”

You’re answered with a roll of his eyes.

You don’t know what to say, how to respond to Tarquin, how to respond to any of this. All you want to do is crawl in a hole and hide away for the next few years. How are you supposed to go about your day normally when everything is anything but normal? You’ll be expected to show up with Cassian now, be there in the crowd for the home matches, you know people will be looking for you.

A headache splits your skull at the thoughts running rampant in your mind. There are so many things to think about now, each and every move you make is going to have to be calculated. You’ll have to think about what you’re going to wear, how you’ll present yourself, thinking about what to say before you speak. Anything you do now will reflect on Cassian’s career, and fans will be blaming you for his mistakes.

It's all too much.

“How long has this been going on?” Tarquin asks softly, as if sensing you’re stuck in your head and need help getting out. You don’t really want to talk about you and Cassian at all right now, but you shove those impending thoughts aside with a sigh, and talk to your friend.

“A little over eight months, now.”

“Is he hung?”

You splutter, choking on your saliva, and Tarquin laughs. This, this is why he’s your favorite coworker. Tarquin isn’t afraid of saying what’s on his mind, no matter how HR unfriendly the question may be.

“I’m not answering that,” you laugh, craning your neck to look out the window, hiding your hot face. The blush staining your cheeks is answer enough.

Tarquin tuts, turning down your street. It’s empty, and you breathe a sigh of relief when he pulls up to your building and there isn’t a crowd of people shouting your name and trying to take your picture. A little of the tension eases from your shoulders.

“Do you want me to pick you up for work in the morning?” Tarquin asks, pulling over to let you out.

You shake your head, gathering your things. “I’m going to call in sick tomorrow. Don’t know what I’m going to do after that. Do you think Alis will let me work from home permanently?” You ask. Alis, your boss, is a strict woman who you can’t seem to figure out if she likes or dislikes anyone that works for her.

Tarquin huffs, “I doubt it. She’s tough as nails, that one.”

“Might just have to quit then, I suppose.”

Your friend’s jaw drops and he looks at you with eyes of betrayal. “You are not going to leave me with the wolves like that! I’ll come drag your ass out of this apartment everyday if I need to.”

“But if I quit, you’ll get to take over Tamlin’s project,” you tease, and his eyes widen comically. He hadn’t thought about that one, apparently. Unlatching the lock, you slide out of the vehicle. You lean down, looking back at your coworker. “Thanks for the ride, Tarq. I’ll text you later.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Feyre and Mor meet you at the door to your apartment, their arms packed with grocery bags filled with candles, ice cream, frozen pizzas, and a lot of alcohol.

“You look like you need it,” Feyre had said when you eyed the bottle of vodka she’d unloaded on your counter.

You do.

You have no appetite, picking at the crust of your slice of pizza. Your stomach stirs sickly, the never-ending thoughts consuming you as you fill your two best friends in on the last eight months you’ve spent with Cassian, from when you’d accidentally run into him at the grocery store late one night after a horrible date gone wrong, to this morning, when you’d slipped into his shirt and hastily left for work. You’d left out the part about Cassian trying to seduce you back into bed, but your friends got most of the story.

“This is insane,” you groan, shoving your plate away from yourself with a sigh. “What the hell am I going to do?”

You hadn’t turned your phone back on, you hadn’t wanted to. You left it in your room when you’d gotten home and changed into your most comforting clothes, stuffing that fucking shirt that got you caught to the bottom of your hamper in rage.

Snuggling deeper into your hoodie, you drag the bottle of vodka closer to yourself, pouring a heavy-handed shot. The alcohol burns your throat on the way down and you grimace, focusing on the burn instead of the pricking at the back of your eyes that hadn’t gone away since you’d all but fallen into your best friends’ arms.

“First, we’re going to need to start brainstorming how to get you out of this. Thankfully, I have a little bit of experience with this sort of thing.”

And she does. Mor has been in the tabloids more than a few times, and most of the time it’s a semi-true story with made-up aspects to really make it seem juicier than it is. She was once photographed coming out of a popular restaurant at the same time actor Harry Hybern was headed in to meet with some friends, and the media had a field day with it. As much as she liked the actor, Mor was upset with the fact that he is thrice her age. You would’ve hated being on the other side of that phone call when she’d dialed the magazine that printed the article, demanding a retraction.

“What’s the first thing you usually do when this sort of thing happens?” you ask. Maybe talking to Mor about her experiences in the public eye will make you feel a little better, if not offer an idea of what you can do yourself.

“See how cute I look in the pictures,” Mor answers, unabashed.

You huff out a laugh in response, Feyre giggling into her glass. “That’s the first thing I do when I see you in the media too, Mor,” she says with a grin, “That vomit green look from the other day? Not your best work, and (Y/N)’s plain black t-shirt tucked into her slacks was so cute! I’m totally stealing that look.”

“Go ahead,” you wave her off because you’re never wearing it again.

Mor glares a little, pouting. “Anyway, back to the topic at hand. Helping our friend and her sudden fame. I’m thinking Cassian’s dick will take care of most of the emotional turmoil,” she says and Feyre laughs a little too hard. Mor reaches into the bag and pulls out a notebook, flipping it to the first page. “We’ll start with some brainstorming—"

A knock at the door startles you from your wallowing. Back straightening, you glance at your friends taking up the other side of the kitchen island, eyes wide and heart hammering in your chest.

“What if it’s more photographers?” you whisper, and your fingers tremble a little so you clench them instead.

Mor and Feyre share a glance, a flash of worry crossing their features as if they hadn’t thought about it.

“I’ll get it,” Feyre decides, placing her half-drunk glass on the counter as she stands. The blanket droops from her shoulders, flopping onto the back of her stool like you want to be right now, a puddle of fabric and emotions. “If it’s them, I’ll say that this is my place and I don’t know who you are.”

“Good idea,” Mor compliments, nudging your glass with the beck of her hand. She gives you a soft, encouraging smile. “Drink up, (Y/N). It’s probably not the paps, but we’ve got to get you less paranoid so you can think better.”

“Not sure getting wasted is going to help with my thinking,” you mutter, tipping your glass back anyway, “But whatever.” Mor is ready when you remove the empty cup from your lips, already pouring you more. You’re glad to have such amazing friends to drop what they’re doing and come over in your time of turmoil, and they haven’t even laid into you yet about keeping this huge secret from them.

Small victories, and all that.

“(Y/N)?” Feyre calls from the other room. She sounds shocked, almost, and the sound of it makes you want to throw the blanket over your head and cower like a fool. “It’s definitely not the paparazzi.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Change Your Ticket Taglist: @justasillylittlegoofyguy @starsinyourseyes @jdeclerc @indiedash @kennedy-brooke @tothestarsandwhateverend @azsteris @obsessivereaderchick @aalxrose @acourtofbatboydreams @azrielover @bookishbroadwaybish @itsinherited @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @vellichor01

#cassian x reader #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #cassian #rugby!cassian #cassian au #change your ticket #acotar au

[synthsamuri]

Fanfics of the Year

As holidays roll around, I thought it'd be fun to throw out some of my favorite 19 day fics from this year! I've never done a fic recommendation post before, can you believe!? Reblog or comment and throw out some of your faves too! I'd love to see them and share their work around! 1. unstoppable force // immovable object by welcome2atlantis How is this both angsty and so funny at all once. Truly a work of art and I love the dynamic between He Tian and Mo in this one. The character growth is immaculate. 2. Open the door (it'll make you feel better) by Anonymous

Wow, the writing in this is seriously top notch work. I felt immediately drawn in to these vivid feelings between characters. I also feel like this author brings out an interesting dynamic between Zhan Zhengxi and Mo in particular that I really found myself enjoying.

3. desecration by Fayre

I'd be remiss if I didn't mention this one. Fayre is such talanted writer and if you haven't read their other works, do yourself a favor and dive in. This fic though! My emotions can barely handle it, and I love it.

4. Bites by Asfodel

Another one I have to mention and another writer I recommend. This one had some surprisingly soft moments that nearly made me cry. It just feels so intimate.

5. Devil's On Your Shoulder (Strangers In Your Head) by ineffablefluff

As a big fantasy lover I have to mention this one. This writer creates a scene and drags you in. It's adventurous, bold, and heart wrenching.

6. The Edger by Elaine (LumCheng), rainy19days

A really fun format going back and forth between writers and characters. This is one of the more recent ones I've been reading and its sexy, funny, romantic, and just incredibly enjoyable.

7. fever dream by figglypudding

I could honestly put several on this list from this writer. I love a good sick fic, and thats exactly what this is.

8. get what you get by powerandpathos

This one is one chapter and every word is perfection. I would honestly take a whole series of this. It was written so well and the emotions are handled so well.

9. My Shelter by Mrs_Tears

Mo goes through some serious trauma and finds comfort in He Tian. What else is there to say? It's perfect!

I could honestly add so many more. Truly grateful to have such great writers in this fandom!

#19 days #19 days fanfiction

[glossamerfaerie]

ACOTAR characters and the solar eclipse

Cassian: stares directly at the hidden sun without protective glasses, the dummy.

Nesta: whacks Cassian for his stupidity. She is unamused by her mate tackling her into his arms and flying straight into the clouds. Once she stops scowling and struggling, Nesta is quietly awed by how beautiful the sky looks. They spend the next few hours in the skies, flying north and following the eclipse’s path to the Illyrian mountains.**

Gwyn: hangs out in the training ground with her fellow priestesses, Emerie, and Azriel. Cassian had grabbed Nesta in the middle of training, and everyone else had agreed to pause their drills to admire the sky. While the priestesses and Emerie chatter amongst themselves, Gwyn notices that Az has removed himself from the group and is standing near the weapon rack. Gwyn approaches Az, teasing him that as a Shadowsinger, the eclipse is a triumphant moment for the shadows to come out and conquer the training ground. A puzzled Az asks what she means. Gwyn shrugs, explaining that she’d noticed that the shadows avoid direct sunlight and stay away during morning training. She’d only ever seen them at night or inside the house, you see. At these words, the shadows cautiously exit the House of Wind — but they don’t swarm the darkened training ground like Gwyn expected. Instead the shadows stay close to Gwyn for the duration of the eclipse. Gwyn laughs in delight and pretends to bat them away in jest. When the returning sunshine marks the end of the eclipse, the shadows don’t disappear into the safety of the house. To Az’s shock, the shadows hover around Gwyn for the rest of training, seemingly immune to their fear of sunlight for the first time ever.

Feyre, Rhys, and Nyx: Feyre has ensured that Nyx can’t take off his protective glasses by accident, taping them securely to the back of his head. When the eclipse starts, Nyx gets very upset and starts bawling — not because he’s scared of the dark, but because this has never happened before and it’s scary. Feyre quickly uses her Day Court power to light up her body, distracting Nyx and providing a source of light. When that doesn’t quell the crying, Rhys comes over and does his Night Court blanket of darkness trick, coating the River House with his power and stars. It’s still dark, but Nyx is familiar with this kind of darkness and stops fussing. 🥹

Elain: watches the eclipse in her garden. Alone. When the sun disappears, Elain suddenly, desperately, irrationally wishes for Luci sunshine. She wishes for sunshine, nothing else. Elain is relieved when the world goes back to normal an hour later, chalking up her pesky thoughts to temporary insanity and sun deprivation.

Helion: there’s no solar eclipse in the Day Court, duh. The Prythian path of totality has a random break between the Dawn and Night courts. Even science and gravitational physics have to obey the court borders, obviously. Rhys did invite Helion to view the eclipse in Velaris, but Helion declined. He’d attended a previous eclipse centuries ago and felt his magic wane during the phenomenon; while beautiful to witness, Helion has no desire to experience that vulnerability again after Amarantha’s imprisonment.***

————

I wrote this out very quickly and missed some folks — I’d love to know how you think the characters would react! Wanna add your own take? Feel free to reblog or comment. ☀️🌄☀️

** Yes, I know the eclipse travelled southwest in the real world, but let’s pretend it can go north. I don’t know if that’s possible with science 😭

*** Idea shamelessly stolen from Avatar: The Last Airbender 😅 Hey, it makes sense!

#my acotar headcanons #gwynriel #elucien #feysand #nessian #gwyneth berdara #azriel #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #feyre archeron #rhysand #nesta archeron #cassian #pro gwyn #gwyn x azriel #nyx archeron #helion spell cleaver #emerie

[readychilledwine]

Training Tensions

A second part of Early Mornings (link in masterlist and coming soon) in a way. Showing the beginning of the mateship/courting between Cassian, our illyrian oc (who now has a name), and Nesta. But with a plot twist so I have an excuse for something that may get posted later.

Summary - Nesta can't help falling harder and harder for Irelina. They've been ignoring it for months now, but the dam has to break at some point

Warnings - fxmxf threesome inferred, oral, mentions of a trouple/poly-relationships, husband encouraging someone else to bang his wife (because Cassian is a king), mentions of impact play, wing play, oh and some actually emotionally stuff. It's NSFW but not as spicy as I've been known to post

A/N - I hadn't intended to add to Early Morning much, but when I'm in a writers block, my mind goes back to her, Nesta, and Cassian, and the emotional bond between her and Nesta. So you may occasionally see pieces of them sprinkled between other updates.

"He's just selfish!" Nesta landed another harsh punch that had Irelina smiling with pride inside despite the stinging in her hands growing. "He just thinks he knows everything," another sharp punch landed on her pad. "And for being able to get into people's heads, he understands nothing." 

The final blow caught her off guard. Nesta pulled a move the young female watched her use while she was sparring with Cassian. A faked right into a left into the stomach. Nesta gasped as she doubled over. Eyes wide in shock as she began to cough. 

"I'm so sorry!" Nesta was at her side, a hand gently touching her back. "I-"

"Don't apologize," she wheezed out. She placed her hands on her knees, taking deep breaths through her nose as Cassian ran over.

"What happened?" Nesta backed away, only for Irelina to reach for her hand and hold her there. Electricity shooting through her at the contact.

"She's a visual learner," is all she said. "She took a fake shot on me and it worked because we had hardly even discussed that yet. I'm so proud of you, Ness."

Nesta's face slightly flushed with the praise before she buried it away. 

-

Training the next day involved her and Nesta in meditation. Focusing on their inner self. "I can feel how unsettled you are. Talk to me." It was a gentle invitation. One Nesta took immediately.

"I just do not understand how you all sat there and did not tell Feyre she would die."

Nesta watched her eyes open. "There was not a single day that went by since I found out that I did not want to tell her. Trust me." Irelina paused, looking towards where Cassian and Azriel were sparring. "It just was not my place. I do agree it was not handled properly, though."

Nesta's mind froze, unprepared to have her feelings validated. "You don't think I'm wrong?"

She shook her head at Nesta, eyes closed again. "I think Rhysand, my dearest brother, should have included his mate and wife in decision making regarding their babe and her body. I feel HE should have told her right away and included her in the search to find solutions."

She opened her eyes, finally looking at Nesta with that gaze that reminded the younger female of molten honey. "I do not think you told her from a place of genuine concern and love, though. That is the only thing I do not believe was handled correctly on your end."

Nesta sook her head. "I do love her, it was concern."

"It is not your love I question, Ness. It's your intention. In your heart, yes, you meant well. In your subconscious, no." Nesta studied the illyrian female, her beautiful face and scarred wings. "I think you are grieving so deeply, Nesta, your heart has begun to be poisoned. You are blinded by your rage and hurt. I understand that heartache." 

"We failed you," she continued. "We failed you, and Elain, multiple times. We failed you when you were forced into that Cauldron, we failed you when you were recovering, we failed you when your father died, and we failed you after the war."

Nesta felt her heart swelling, her eyes beginning to water. She had longed to hear those exact words for nights now.

"I failed you," Irelina said softly. "I failed you when I allowed you to go down the same pathway I did of numbing yourself through booze and sex. I failed you when I wasn't there every day and night holding you. I failed you, and I will never be able to make up for it."

She held her hand to Nesta, then gently laced their fingers together. "Everything you are feeling, little dove, every piece of anger, of longing, of sadness, of self doubt, of absolute burning sheer rage, you are valid in those feelings. You are allowed to feel those feelings." She brought Nesta's hand to her lips, kissing the top of it gently, "it's how we move forward in how you process those feelings, how you let them free, that makes the difference in your soul's peace or turmoil."

-

Nesta was awake before her. Before Azriel and Cassian. Eyes locked in the fire burning in the hearth. Her dreams were haunted by Irelina, but not the way her nightmares had plagued her. 

They were haunted by gentle touches, soft whispered words of love, support, and encouragement. 

They were haunted by memories of the two of them, when Rhys would allow her off her leash and the two of them would spend time reading, finger tips running up and down her arm as Irelina jotted down notes for reports or flipped her horror novel behind her. 

Nesta jumped when soft hands found her waist, a kiss placed on her temple. "Why are you up so early, dove?" She shivered at the sound of her voice laced in sleep. "Want breakfast or coffee? I can steal some tea from Azriel too?"

Nesta's mind flashed to the last time they had breakfast alone, to when Irelina served her coffee and the fluffiest pancakes she had ever had. Nesta had hardly been able to control herself around Irelina and Cassian for weeks after that, but her  rage towards Cassian helped. Her jealousy of hearing him make his wife a begging mess helped. 

"I was wondering if we could not train today?" Nesta asked quietly. "Just take a day to relax, you and me?"

"I'd have to ask Azriel," she said. "But I will work something out with him. Did you want breakfast?"

-

Azriel had not let Nesta out of training. Following his orders to a t, much to both of the females disappointment.

Nesta and Irelina were sparring basic hand to hand and currently locked together. It didn't take her but a spare second to take Nesta to the ground, straddling her hips and pinning her hands above her head. 

Nesta's chest was heaving, her eyes wide and mouth parted slightly.  Irelina's brows scrunched together at the same time Cassian gripped his chest over his heart and Azriel's shoulder. 

She was off Nesta in an instant, moving through the House of Wind as Nesta ran after her. 

She locked herself into the bathroom of her and Cassian's room, sinking against the wall. Nesta jiggled the door handle forehead against the cool wood, "Irelina, let me in." She knocked softly. "Talk to me, please. I know you're scared. I was scared when I felt it too, but you've made me feel so safe, please."

She heard Cassian's footsteps. "Lark? Baby, what's wrong?" Irelin didn't answer. Sitting with her head against the wall, a new silver thread gleaming next to a golden one. She tugged them both before closing the bond down. 

Cassian knew the message, placing a hand around Nesta's shoulders as he saw that pretty silver string too. "Give her a little bit, dove. She's shocked."

"You knew?" Cassian nodded at her question.

"Of course, dove. I knew the second I laid eyes on you in that manor you were mine, ours." Lark and dove, Nesta noted immediately. His little birds. The thought spread warmth through her body. The thought of being his. Of being Irelina's. Of being theirs.

-

Irelina skipped dinner, punching her feelings into one of the spare bags into the early hours of night. 

Nesta could feel her confusion, her excitement, her pain radiating through her hands. 

Cassian and Azriel had left for the evening claiming there was an emergency in Windhaven, and telling Nesta to behave herself while they were gone. Nesta closed her book, walking to the training grounds and sitting to watch Irelina.

She was covered in sweat, muscles and breasts shining in the light of the full moon. She struck the punching bag quick, precise, and repeatedly. She was wearing nothing more than a tight pair of leggings and a bra built for training. Her dark hair was messily braided back with a few pieces framing her high cheekbones. 

Nesta felt her eyes trapped on the muscles flexing in her thighs and arms.  Irelina paused, her head turning to Nesta. She shook whatever thoughts were running through her mind off and went back to beating the punching bag. 

The loud flapping of wings and a soft thud next to Nesta ripped her from the inappropriate place her mind was going. 

"She likes to bathe after doing this," it was an emotionless purr that made Nesta growl. "She likes lilac oils and red wine. Plenty of bubbles."

Nesta glared towards Rhysand. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because Cassian asked me to ensure you took care of her tonight since he won't be here to do it himself. It is your duty, after all, as her mate." Rhysand took off again, flying back to the home he and Feyre were staying in. 

Her mate. The words replayed over and over again like a crescendo in a symphony. Her mate.

-

Nesta prepared a bath for her, pouring the scented oil and wine for both of them, and waited. Irelia froze at the door, already wrapped in a towel. 

Nesta took a step back from the bath, sitting in the vanity chair. "I thought you needed something to help you relax. You don't seem okay lately."

She nodded. "Thank you." She moved toward the tub, stepping shamelessly out of the towel and into the warm water. Nesta was reading her romance novel while Irelina bathed. Her eyes locked on the sultry scene being painted for her between the two female love interests. Her thighs began to squeeze together occasionally, begging for friction. 

Her eyes began to flick to the naked illyrian female. Her breasts were peeking above the water, bubbles hiding the toned body and curves below. 

Nesta was desperate to touch her. To kiss her. To have her. "Your back looks sore," she stated. "Do you want me to come rub it?" 

The scent in the air changed immediately. The lilac oil mixing with something slightly musky. "If you'd like to?"

Nesta swallowed that bit of fear in her bones, moving to the tub behind her and sitting with her legs in the warm water.

The steam in the room was thick as if it was adding to the tension between the two females. Nesta moved her wet dark hair over one shoulder and began rubbing her shoulders.  A soft moan had Nesta almost pausing before moving lower. "Cassian needs to give you a massage," Nesta joked.

"He tries," she laughed out. "He really does. But he gets distracted."

"I can see how." The words came out before Nesta could stop them. They hung in the air like magic. Lingering in their effect on both of them. Irelina turned between Nesta's legs, wet hands trailing her bare right calf. 

"You can't say things like that, Nesta. Our self control with you is already low." She lifted Nesta's long left leg over her shoulder and trailed a few testing kisses up her calf. "There's so many things I long to do to you, Nesta."

The oldest Archeron sister's face had flushed. She pulled her dress up further exposing her legs, then her stomach, then her breasts until it was off and they were both laid bare to each other. "Show me," Nesta whispered. "Show me what you want to do to me."

So Irelina did.

-

Cassian could smell sex in his room the second the door opened. He knew one scent immediately. Pomegranate and currants, his wife. The other a vanilla spicy musk with touches of amber. 

A familiar moan had him hard instantly as he moved mindlessly to the bathroom door. 

The sight behind that door was heaven. Nesta had his mate laid out on the tile bathroom floor, her back arched as her hands tangled in Nesta's freed long hair. 

Nesta had her head between his mate's thighs, tongue and mouth working her timidly but encouraged by each hair pull and breathy gasp. "Like that, Ness, please, fuck." 

Cassian moved the chair Nesta had previously been in, drinking the wine that was opened straight from the bottle. Nesta looked up, seeing him and pausing, ripping a pleading whine to leave his wife's throat. 

"Don't stop on my account," his voice was deep, laced with arousal as he watched Nesta. "Keep going, Ness. Unless you need me to show you how to make that pretty bird sing?"

Nesta's eyes grew dark at the offer. At the thought of learning how to draw the same noises from Irelina the way Cassian did. He smirked, moving to Nesta. He took one of his wife's beautiful legs, placing it over Nesta's shoulder, similar to how she had pulled Nesta apart earlier. "Do to her exactly what you want done to you, Ness." 

So she did, sucking her clit into her mouth and licking that bundle of nerves. 

"Fuck. Please?" Moans turned into whimpers as Irelina pulled Nesta's face further into her heat.

Cassian ran a long finger down Nesta's spine, feeling every bump and ridge. Memorizing every building muscle. Nesta hummed under his touch, sending vibration through his wife causing another crying moan. "Is this okay, Nesta?" She whined in response, arching up for Cassian. "What a beautiful little thing you are, sweetheart. We've wanted you for so long."

"So long," his mate moaned and confirmed. 

-

Nesta woke up between two warm bodies, two sets of wings caging her in like weighted blankets of protection. She turned to her side and traced Irelia's Face and played with her lashes causing the other female to wrinkle her nose and pull her closer. "Did we hurt you?" Nesta shook her head at the sleepy tone from the other female. "This doesn't have to change anything between us, Ness. We can still just cuddle, read, and be friends."

Nesta swallowed thickly. "And if I want more? If I'm ready for more?"

"Then we're more," she whispered. "But he is part of the deal, so you two will need to work on your…. Current relationship." 

"I don't know how."

She ran a hand through Nesta's hair. "Let him train you with me. Stop pushing him away. Talk to him. Cassian can be rough, but once those walls you two seem to fortify around each other melt and bend, you're both these soft creatures needing love and validation. Gentle understanding."

She pulled Nesta to her, kissing her lips softly. Nesta rolled them over carefully, a hand going to Irelia's Delicate wing, making her arch her back. 

"Oh?" Nesta rose a brow. "I thought Feyre was kidding." 

Irelia shook her head quickly. "Pretty serious. Watch." She watched as Irelina danced long limber fingers on the ridge of Cassian's wing. "Get on top of him. Take what's yours, dove. I know you want him back inside of you." She tugged that string, making Nesta gasp. "Shall we turn him to putty?"

Cassian woke up to Nesta on his already hard cock, riding as she kissing Irelina, whose pretty dripping cunt was just in reach of his happily awaiting tongue.

-

Azriel sat with his hands folded at the table as the three of them emerged one by one. The scent of it was overwhelming. The ridiculously pungent bond. The heavy scent of sex.

He rose a brow at Irelina, knowing the female would tell him everything shamelessly to draw jealousy out of him.. "Anything happen while we were gone? Anything I as Nesta's babysitter need to know about."

She rolled her eyes at him, forcing Nesta into her normal seat next to Cassian and taking the spot next to Azriel. 

"You can join us next time if it makes you feel better, Spymaster." Cassian and Nesta's eyes both lit up. "Maybe I'll even let you beat me with a cane or hang me from the ceiling."

Nesta noticed how that immediately got Azriel's attention. His scarred hand flying to Irelina's neck. "You know better than to tease me, little bat." Azriel smirked at the shock on Nesta's face. "Welcome to the throuple, Ness. Excuse me while I go remind this pretty little thing who is actually in charge between the 3 of us." He took Irelina by her neck back up the stairs, whispering in her ear as he moved with her.

Cassian leaned back with a smirk. "Welcome, dove. Might want to start mentally preparing for that one."

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #cassian x nesta #nesta x reader #nessian x reader #cassian x illyrianoc

[lovemyromance]

If she wanted to, she would

Intention is everything these days. Which is why I want to bring up the point, "If she wanted to...she would." Which basically is a roundabout way of saying, authors write things for a reason. Every single interaction, word, breath taken by their characters is over-analyzed.

"If I write 'she pouted', will my readers think she's frustrated or just childish?" "If I write about this couple breaking up, will my readers think that's the end?" "If I want these two to get together slowly, should I add in a few shy smiles?"

Every. Single. Word. Is. Chosen. Carefully.

So let me ask you this: If SJM wanted to set up for a pairing other than Elriel, why didn't she?

Why didn't she include positive Elucien interactions? Why didn't she even include Lucien in ACOSF? Why didn't he get a bonus chapter POV? Why didn't she have Lucien in Velaris, trying to show he is willing to fight for Elain? Why didn't she write Lucien figuring out Elain was a Seer, understanding her? Why didn't she write Elain willingly, unprompted inviting him to Velaris after the war?

Why didn't she write Elain giving Lucien a solstice gift? Why didn't she write Elain even using Lucien's solstice gifts? Why didn't she write Elain striking a conversation with him? Why didn't she write Elain even being able to be in the same room with him?

Why did she give all the positive, romantic-coded interactions to Elain and Azriel - not Elain and her actual mate?

The only time I saw SJM write "mate-like" behavior from Lucien is in ACOMAF, right when Elain enters the Cauldron/he covers her with his cloak. That's it.

Otherwise, Lucien is nowhere to be found around Elain. But Azriel is. Azriel is the one reacting to Elain, thinking about Elain, dreaming/losing sleep over Elain. Tell me why did SJM include that kind of pining and constant attention from Azriel, but not the same from Lucien, her actual mate?

"Oh, but they don't have any reason to interact right now" "Oh, but Elain is still mourning Graysen" Okay, and? Azriel is still there. Lucien doesn't belong to a court at the moment, you're telling me Azriel can find time in his busy spymaster day to sit with Elain in the garden and get her custom necklaces, but Lucien can't make the time to see his mate? Whether or not she wants to see him, Lucien could have just been in Velaris, not all the across Prythian. The fact that Lucien is not even there is does not give me hope for the Elucien ship.

And I'm not going to discuss Gw*nriel, as I'm not wasting time in analyzing a crackship. That entire ship could be summed up by the same argument: If SJM wanted to, she would have written actual romantic interactions (however small) with them. But she did not.

Look at what SJM did write. Read the pages. Take the blinders off. And maybe then you'll see that it was obvious all along.

#azriel #elriel #elain archeron #elain x azriel #pro elain #acotar #elain

[acourtofbooksandinsanity]

this is long but js bare with me please. i had this idea for an azriel x reader but this could be paired w anyone. so the reader is an archeron sibling. shes nesta’s twin and when they get Made in the cauldron they both take something from it. Nesta taking the power of Death and the reader taking Life. the reader logically id say is like the opposite of Nesta. She’s just so joyful, happy and fun to be around, probably had the most to lose in the transition from mortal to high fae and when she switches to fae life she adapts fairly quickly (or so it seems). id also like to add that nesta is really protective of her probably more so than she is of elain. the reader has a talent for music and loves to sing, through which she expresses her actual feelings for being Made (i was kinda thinking my tears ricochet would be perfect especially the line “i can go anywhere i want anywhere i want just not home”) so she just kinda plays the piano and sings to herself about these feelings until one day when azriel hears a melody coming from a particular room of the house and hears the reader singing. idk if this is goofy but since i cant write (or maybe i can i just havent tried it) if any writers are interested in writing about this id love to see ittt and if u do please tag mee💗💗

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf #rhysand #feyre archeron #nesta archeron #azriel #azriel x reader #elain archeron #sarah j maas #mor acotar #azriel x you #writers on tumblr #fantasy #rhys acotar

[starsreminisce]

Just thinking about the little details Elain would start noticing in Lucien's mannerisms the more she's around him, especially since Lucien has begun attending more Night Court events.

She notices the way his eyes crinkle when he genuinely laughs,

The slight uptick of his lip before he says something sarcastic,

The subtle purse of his lips when he's lost in thought.

She giggles to herself as she picks up on these nuances, gradually unraveling his true personality beneath the veneer of politeness and formality. Contrary to popular belief, this suave emissary isn't as enigmatic as everyone claims. In fact, he's quite humorous, and she can't help but chuckle at his sarcasm.

This amusement resonates through their bond, prompting Lucien to also notice Elain's subtle shifts:

How often she looks to him for reactions,

How she stifles her laughter before composing herself upon catching his eye,

How her eyes soften when he genuinely laughs or sparkle with amusement when he feigns it.

He tries to decipher why she's giggling, inadvertently making himself more self-conscious around her. As a result, he becomes less expressive, which disappoints her until she realizes that his mechanical eye reveals more about his thought process through its sounds—a clear tell for her.

A click indicates contemplation, a whirl suggests skepticism, but the tell she's waiting for is a few seconds of silence followed by three hard clicks, signaling that someone has crossed a line and Lucien must find a diplomatic response. He often fails, but she appreciates the effort.

One evening during dinner, someone makes a particularly foolish remark. Elain glances at Lucien, counting the seconds until she hears the three hard clicks, accompanied by a subtle twitch of his lip.

Unable to contain herself, she bursts into laughter, disarming everyone. She tries to regain composure but ultimately reveals the truth:

"Lucien is debating how to tell you that you're being ridiculous without being too offensive," she confesses.

Lucien narrows his eyes, and she hears a whirl followed by a soft click.

"Don't bother trying to deny it," she adds before he can respond.

Realizing the playful banter she's initiated, Elain inhales sharply as Lucien's smile widens into something mischievous. She knows she's in for it now.

However, to her surprise, Lucien simply shrugs and casually remarks, "I wasn't planning to say anything at all."

"You're such a liar," she retorts with a grin.

"I truly wasn't," Lucien insists. "It's not every day that I hear something that leaves me speechless."

"Thank you, Lucien," the person interjects cheerfully.

Elain's widened eyes meet Lucien's mischievous gaze before he smirks and winks.

In that moment, Elain realizes exactly what females mean when they call Lucien a rake.

#elucien #pro elucien #elain x lucien

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Hop to it Tink

Pairing: Thumper & Tink

Summary: As the mid 60’s consume Elvis with his ever more arduous film schedule and immersive hobby pursuits, Elaine crafts a friend out of a rival. For either spouse it’s not the ideal of way to cope with a lost child and estrangement, but the confusion that can occur from dumping any old thing into a wound to close it up is enough to bewilder the most grounded person. Much less a young girl like Elaine Presley who finds herself scrambling for a hint of girlhood as her five children and husband rely on her to keep it all afloat. Just as she’s going under, a pretty painted hand lifts her up.

Dedicated: to Ashley and Christi who both begged for this to be written and added so many details themselves that enriched it. Credit is also due to @prompted-wordsmith for the wicked suggestion of Benetint being used herein.

Warnings: sensuality, 18+, no outright smut but many mentioned offscreen acts, suggestiveness, this can be read as two girl friends or a little more, I tried to keep it nebulous as I imagine it would feel for Elaine herself in her exploration. a rather alarming emphasis on feet, pampering and painting toes and Elvis being overly into that, phone teasing, Larry being a little too psycho analytical over why Elvis and Elaine are having trouble after Jo, mentions of a stillborn, mentions of marital dissatisfaction, hinted male infidelity, hinted Polaroids and homemade spicy films, Elvis turning shit into being erotic that isn’t? That’s men for ya. And then just fun fluffy stuff with the kids but that’s no warning. I didn’t edit this really, I’m too tired, my apologies for any errors.

Requested: yes ✔️

Circa: 63-67

“Hey Tink?” Ann’s voice, always enviously soft even while sounding mischievous, asks abruptly in the middle of an hour long chat.

“Oh what now?” Elaine giggles into the gold phone Elvis has stashed on his nightstand, feeling silly to be sat on her bed in the middle of the afternoon, frittering it away with chatting and giggling to a friend.

That’s rather proof that Elaine needs it. Too much ‘strictly business’ in her life these days and Elaine knows if Elvis were here he’d be poking her forehead and making her fall back and put her feet up. She taps them on the floor instead, tap tap tapping her heeled boudoir slippers on the bed frame in a giddy tick as she waits for her friend to spring whatever wickedness is behind that tone of voice.

Her friend.

Elaine had hoped Ann would like her, be willing to be a buddy to THE Mrs. Presley but what they’ve got now is something she didn’t even think girls could have. It makes her view Elvis and his buddies more tolerantly, the stupid and goofy comradery she was starved for without even knowing it has slowly had its way with her in the form of Thumper and bike riding with Thumper and chatting with Thumper and kissing Thumper while Elvis writhed beneath them…so maybe it’s not like his mafia boys at all, but somehow it’s deeper despite the unorthodox beginnings and carnal undertones that seep in and out of it at whim.

“Whatcha got going on tomorrow night?” Ann asks at last, sounding altogether too nonchalant.

Elaine's heart pounds and she purses her lips, sensing a game here. She’s so like Elvis, this friend of hers, maybe that’s why Elaine gets butterflies in her belly at the chance to see and enjoy Ann, or when the telephone rings and it’s her sweet self sounding like she’s actually had to pace herself from calling Graceland when she knows full well Elvis isn’t home. She calls for Elaine, and something about that makes Elaine bite her nails and kick her feet.

“Oh not much, Jack and Jesse are trying the scuba gear in the pool right now,” Elaine sighs, “and if they don’t die tonight I suppose I’ll be here tomorrow making sure they’re still breathing and fixing sandwiches and seeing to it that Ella’s got her puppy ready for the show.” she waits a beat and adds, “You know full well he isn’t gonna be home.”

“Who?” Ann asks with overacted ditziness.

“Him.” Elaine rolls her eyes, “At least another five days away, stupid Arizonan weather has decided to rain and there has to be reshoots.”

She can hear Thumper humm on the other line with something that’s more contemplative than compassionate for Elaine’s empty bed. “How’re your toes?” she asks.

Elaine peers over the fluffy slipper tops and the profusion of lime green feathers adorning the slippers, “Decent, but they’ll need to be redone before he gets back.”

“Red?”

“French tip.”

“Hmm, Pink next, I think?” Thumper says.

“Yeah alright.” Elaine bites her lip and makes herself stop or else they’ll start peeling and need more Vaseline.

“I have to be in LA day after tomorrow. And I have a flight tomorrow morning. It stops in Memphis.”

“How nice.” Elaine murmurs, pulling on her lip now, slightly better than biting, she supposes, and it hides her grin from the gal a thousand miles away in New York.

“Yes, I thought so.” Ann agrees.

“And it’s such a long flight, New York to LA.” Elaine coos, “You’d get cramp if you didn’t break it up, can’t have you holed up like that, unable to walk out the shakes.”

“No, you wouldn’t want it for me, would you?” Ann babifies her tone and Elaine does fall back into the covers grinning stupidly up at Elvis’ ugly harem lamp above her.

“No, no I wouldn’t dream of it.” Elaine swears, “You just come by Graceland, stay the night, stretch your legs a bit, fill your belly, let me curl your hair.”

“And we can talk about boys.” Thumper agrees, like that’s her return currency for good southern hospitality…and it sorta is.

These nights when she stays, they’re something sweet and young and silly like Elaine hasn’t had in years. Never once herself in full since she married, losing all friends who knew her before Elvis, collecting folks who knew Elvis long before her, and a snazzy supply of darling children whose most stimulating conversations are about tricycles and losing a new tooth -Elaine is a little starved.

And Elvis -well, as Tink, she's his best friend, without doubt, and he is hers. But she’s also his wife, his woman and his home and his ballast and his doll and his lover and his mama and his ideal. So many roles. What she can’t talk to Elvis about is only relegated to one topic.

Elvis himself.

And such a man, a force more than a man at times, oh it needs an outlet and somehow the Mafia wives and even Betsy Blue Eyes Harrison with her discreet goodness and friendship can’t speak of what Elaine wants to speak about. A body can only go so long without bragging a little about what they’ve got, and when what you’ve got is a national heartthrob and the most famous man on earth -secrets about earth shaking ardor that rivals cataclysmic tempers, well, sometimes Elaine wants to speak of it. Or, rather, about the parts that make her love it, look forward to another day full of it. The little things that she can’t trust anyone else to know or love or see kindly.

Except for Thumper. Thumper -who has already admitted to loving him the same way, seeing him the same, living for him similarly. It’s the oddest consolation, and stranger still that his wandering eye gave it to her, but Elaine will take it.

“Yes, we could talk about boys.” Elaine agrees with Thumper, both knowing that when they say boys, they mean boys such as Naughty, Widdle Fella, Elvis Presley and The Memphis Flash.

Tomorrow comes and her sons are alive and hardly stripped out of their swimsuits to sleep before getting back in them and plunging to the depths of the swimming pool with metal tanks on their back and masks on their faces. She can’t bear to watch, looks like a perfect way to die at home, and so she stays inside and helps Ella groom her puppy for the pageant and Rosalee has an embroidered collar that needs help with fastening the buckle -she did the stitching herself- and although she hasn’t seen Daisy in hours, that wasn’t unusual.

In the afternoon she sends a car to the airport, Marty grins at her wildly and she gives him the old eyebrow before taking herself to her bedroom as the hour nears and going through a rather worn routine that still pleases her like when it was new.

The sound of the big door suctioning through the house can be heard upstairs, as can the chorus of children screaming “Aunt Tamale!” and Elaine knows it’s time to make an appearance.

Ann braces to a squat with her bag dropped beside her as a tidal wave of Presley children launch themselves at her over the foyer floor, tackling and clinging and squeezing vehemently with grinning, beautiful faces. Three are wiry, chlorinated and shirtless. It takes a moment for Ann to realize one is Daisy and that no, they’ve not made a third son since she saw them last. Jack’s golden hair has gotten darker and that’s heartbreaking but at least his dimples are deeper than ever and Jesse is just as sweet and courteously loving as always with Ella tagged behind with a wet doggie that Ann takes in her arms and let’s lick her face and Rosalee had a sketch to show her of what looked like a deformed couch but was most likely intended to be her beloved daddy’s profile and -

Oh Elaine.

Always one to make an entrance, to set the tone of a good game. She looks perfectly at home leaning against an upper bannister while observing the hubbub from above, with sheer navy cascading around her like a thundercloud and her hair tousled to perfection. Young Elvis’ portrait yearns behind her on the wall and Ann smiles at the rightness of it.

She waits till her children loosen the gambit just a little before wafting down the stairs in a tulle blur of long limbs and soft focused curves and she throws her arms around Ann and her sensible, tweed traveling suit.

“Thumper, I’ve missed you!” She’s no icy Madame in her own home, sweet Elaine, her porcelain face and macabre loungewear aside, she is warm and glowing in the rays of a waning day’s sun and Ann clings a little longer, arms around her neck and giving flesh beneath her hands, feeling oddly at home in this foyer.

“Missed you, too.”

The sleepovers always start with evenings like this. There’s playing with the kids and dinner, they may end up in the pool, they may end up watching home movies to show her what she’s missed since last visit. Perhaps there’s a new golf cart to try to flip on its top. But when bedtime comes, Thumper is a loving taskmaster, insisting everyone get to their respective rooms, starting the process thirty minutes early so that there can be as much dithering and “one more chapter” as can be and still get the kids conked out at a decent hour. Rosalee is allowed to stay and use the phone to talk to Elvis till 10:30 and in the meantime Thumper conducts tooth brushing competitions and Elaine sorts out breakfast plans with Mary.

And then it’s time for bedtime, and where Elaine might waiver about being so selfish as to deny her kids the little tiny bit of girlhood she’s carved for herself this evening, Ann has no qualms guarding that for her and summarily cleans out the big king bed of progeny.

Only little Jack is occasionally allowed to stay.

Weaned, or so Elaine swears but Anna has doubts, the kid is golden and soft and lanky like all little five year olds should be, and blessed with an unerring accuracy in beaming and scowling at the right times to get exactly what he wants. In short, he is Elvis come again in a tiny, button nosed, rosebud lipped cherub with sweaty curls begging to be pushed off his forehead by a loving hand and of course it’s half the delight to let the little fella stay and camp on the bed when they read their tabloids to each other, watching him laughing maniacally along with them at rumors about themselves that Jack doesn’t even understand.

Jack is also excellently skilled at wedging the foam pads between their toes when it’s pedicure time, allowing Elaine and Ann to bask back in matching boudoir chairs with their feet propped up on the matching stools Elvis got. Pink stain pouring over little round stools for when he wants to haul one up and chat to his wife while she applies her lashes. Jack insists on wedging the foam between their toes himself and sometimes tries his hand at painting with varying catastrophic results.

“Heyar, i’s wight heyer.” Jack’s little drawl still butchers Elaine’s diligent elocution lessons but both women fawn over him regardless when he passes them a roller they had planned on using later -not anymore- they drop the sectioned hair in process and start again with the one he gives them.

“He’s really precious, isn’t he?” Ann sighs once, staring down at him where he finally passed out between them, soft, chubby knees he got from his daddy bent askew and long fingered hands for a child tucked beneath a milk fat cheek.

“I don’t think I’d have made it without him.” Elaine admitted once and when Thumper gave her a searching look she went on, “Before there was you, there was just him. And when everyone else was ready to be happy again after Jo, he never minded when I’d take him to a room to nurse him and -“ she trail off, face lit warm by the harem lamp’s multi gemmed glow and the golden bedding around them, dark hair pinned up in rollers to show how young her face really is without paint and artifice, “-I even remember once being in Elvis’ trailer on set, right after and it was like every kid who cried around me-my body would respond and let down more and I-I didn’t have a baby for it. Except for baby Jack, and I remember sitting in that hot trailer on the lot while all the kids were out with Elvis touring the set and I was…crying.”

“Of course you were.” Ann snuggles closer, reaches over Jack’s little form to squeeze Elaine’s arm.

“I was sobbing my eyes out, actually.” Elaine admits with a shy turn of her head towards the padded headboard, “While he nursed. And then I felt his chubby little hand, all clumsy and sweaty, wiping them off without ever breaking his latch on the nipple. Wiping the tears off my cheeks.” She clarifies, “I didn’t know a baby could be so loving in the way I needed, and I’ve been close before, Jesse was my world I swear, and Ella is like watching myself again. But -his dimples pop when he gives that crooked grin and he won’t even let go of the latch, just a little…” she mimics his grin with her thumb in her mouth Ann laughs at the sight.

She laughs at the things Elaine finds funny and and she gets why Elaine loves what she loves. And night after sleepover night, Elaine finds herself admitting more and more and gets back an earful in return. It makes her giddy and makes her kick her feet when she picks up the ringing phone and hears her friend on the other line.

“I think I need to freshen up my hair.” Elaine will sigh into the receiver.

“I like how you’re growing it out, less structured, it’s younger!” Ann will agree before adding just as emphatically, “Just needs a little trim and some styling. I can come Thursday.”

One such Thursday in ‘64 Tink came out of the bathroom with tin foil in her hair and scared giddiness in her smile.

“I’ve got a surprise for ya,when you get back, Naughty.” Elaine told Elvis on the phone, forcing herself not to bite her nail in anticipation and ruin the new coat of polish.

The surprise had been an auburn haired wife.

Elvis noticed the effects of the sleepovers himself, beyond the wild sight of auburn hair, even as he looked at them askew and with a confused belligerence about fun being had without him, and many a demand regarding “what sorta fun are ya having? You’re my wife, dammit!”

His logic that ‘it don’t count if its two girls’ when excusing a night of the three of them rolling in Ann's rough cotton sheets as soon as Viva Las Vegas wrapped, didn’t hold up now. Now it very much did count that they were two little girls. Two unsupervised little girls and he was relieved when Jack stayed with them, but less so when he heard from Jack that they painted their piggies and arm wrestled in their nighties.

Elaine legitimately enjoyed grappling on the fluffy white carpet of the music room floor after ice cream had been served and wiped from childrens’ chins. It was something she tried with Elvis and never managed to win except by clinging to his back like a limpet, and even then he’d win by crushing her into the pile with his weight.

But with Ann she could tussle and strain and keep up some of that old verve that had once had her nailing softball practice in high school and currently crushing Vernon at tennis. No one in the Memphis mafia was allowed to tackle her or ought else when games were played on the lawn and no amount of flattery convinced Elaine of competency she had not exercised in years. Thumper provided just such a foil and Elaine found herself winning and losing with a clean conscience and sore body time after time, children applauding at either result.

She felt a little wild, like she had when Elvis brought the three of them together that first night, pacifying her qualms about the rightness of it as only he and his unfailing logic could do. But these days she was less and less burdened by rules or even expectation, it was her own house, her own life and if Elvis Presley had cracked open the door on hotel sheets, then Elaine saw little blame to be garnered from stepping over the threshold and creating a little world for herself that made her feel more than used up and unsellable. A “fact” Colonel Parker and the family Enterprise winced over daily. She could shut herself up in Graceland or Palm Springs and see to it that her children got an education, her husband's favored meals were served when he deigned to come home and her sanity was somewhat in place for it all by any means possible.

Elvis, for his own part, knew damn well he’d invited in whatever wild spirit of independent merrymaking Elaine now partook of. He also trusted her implicitly to keep it under wraps within the halls of their house, to indulge respectably and set a good example for his children.

It was undeniable, since her friendship with Ann began, she was looking younger, happier and more content than he’d seen her since before the tragedy, before Jo.

And Elvis cared mostly about that.

And in the way of those who do not know how to comfort others regarding a tragedy that they themselves have not recovered from, he found himself making concessions and negotiations, a bit of “so long as I can keep this, you can have that” sort of bargaining.

The ‘this’ and ‘that’ were never quite verbalized, but it was understood in that miserable harmony of married couples that he’d keep his women and his crowd of unedifying friends and employees so long as she might have household stability and a certain license to be a nutcase. Perhaps it would buy him and Larry time to figure out whatever fucked up Retrograde or inner chakra was keeping him from being able to bodily make love to his wife in the traditional way.

Larry swore he was only scared to make another child and lose it, hence why his wife remained hypothetically attractive but he could not complete his attraction carnally.

Elvis thought Larry should stick his head in the wood chipper for such a simple answer, there’s no way in hell that’s all there is to it and yet it likely was and Elvis couldn’t quite manage to accept that. Accept that he was still grieving. It wasn’t an option really. Not with everything else going on, all the different ways he was needed and wanted elsewhere, and not with the way Elaine swore she was fine until he could figure it out, so long as he loved her and was there for their kids.

Which he is. And when he’s not, Ann’s there. And Dodger. Or Marlon -on Daisy’s insistence. Or the whole damn nation.

So, much as the current order of things rankled Elvis, perhaps out of some suppressed awareness of his own role in it, ultimately having his Happy Tink back was his greatest wish.

And if it made Thumper happy as well? -goodness, it was a better end than most dalliances could boast.

But it was hard being a little sidelined, and when Charlie pointed out that Elaine must feel similarly about his flings and his fellas, Elvis wasn’t sure what the hell he was on about as Elaine was very much incorporated in both, as much as she liked to be. She just liked to be less and less and that was on her. Charlie still suggested he tell her how he felt about it.

But then Tink beat him to it.

He was laying there in bed, at Graceland, at some pitch black early morning hour one time, with five sleeping children scattered in their bed, when she told him she didn’t mean to make him feel lonely. It was all Elvis needed to hear. That she knew she was doing that, and if she knew it, then he knew that before long she’d find a remedy. He just needed to be a little more patient.

Which wasn’t his forte but Tink was quick and ingenious and once she’d come up with how to help, he just about wished she never had. The cure was as cruel as it was mouthwatering.

Elvis was in his trailer one day, on a movie set as Elvis was most days this year, and had spared some time from shooting due to another department needing to sort something out. The something didn’t matter, what did matter was that he got to sit in his trailer with his friends earlier than usual for an evening, put on his helmet and watch the game. And then his team won. Which, in the raucous, bottle clinking, cigar lighting jubilation of celebrating such a win, had him almost missing the ringing of the telephone he had wired in.

Only the Colonel and Graceland and little blonde Shirley from last movie set had his number and so Elvis scrambled over his red sofa cushions, threw off his helmet and leaned over to pick the phone up, hollering, “H’allo?” into the receiver while chopping at his throat with his hand in a demand for silence from his boys.

“Naughty?”

“Why, if it ain’t my pwecious baby wife.” he cooed with a sappy grin on his face, happily flipping on his back in the cushions, all being right with the world with his girl’s voice in his ear and his team in the playoffs.

“How’re you doin’ baby?” she asked him sweetly, and he could hear her settling into the sheets, the rustle couldn’t be from the kitchen.

He kicked his feet up above his head and propped them against the wall, “Pretty damn good, you watch the game?”

“Jesse and Thumper gave me a play by play.” she informed him.

“What were you cookin’?”

“Dumplings. Couldn’t step away.”

“Aww.” he knew it had to be something precious and easily burned to keep her from watching. “And now?”

“Now I’m petting Whiskers.” she informed him.

Their cat. “I trust Annie ain’t pettin’ any kitties of mine, is she?” he mumbled in a discreet little growl, cupping the phone to his mouth.

Joe glanced over anyway. Elvis found the toe of his boot tapping a jittery rhythm against the trailer wall and as annoying as he found it himself, he couldn’t stop. He felt nervous, oddly, like when he used to call Elaine from Germany, way back when before she’d joined him. Back when he wasn’t sure he knew her fully. She kept him on his toes and he liked that, it made his blood rush and satiated his natural eagerness for newness -but oh how he wondered sometimes how she always dredged up this newness. If he knew her, really knew her would -would she keep being so surprising?

Fuck. Maybe Larry was right, maybe he needed to pop a pill like an old fart and get it on with her, get it outta his system.

Where were they? Oh, cats. And Ann.

“Elvis, c’mon, really.” Elaine chided with a giggle, “Ann is setting up the pedicures.”

“Oh.” Elvis sucked in a breath at the way such a reassurance sent the blood from his panicked brain to his jealous heart and then melting down like molten desire right between his legs. He flexed his belly and gnawed on his thumbnail. “Oh yeah?” he tried again and sounded so damn wrecked that every friend in the place looked at him as if he’d just put on a porno. “Y’all paintin’ your piggies? Mmm? Pink, yeah? Fuck’meee.”

“Mhmm, well, she hasn’t gotten to painting yet.” Elaine expounded with a sigh, “She’s oiling them up, I’ve had to endure a fifteen minute sermon on dry cuticles, Elvis, and now she’s squeezing and rubbing my poor piggies till they’re tingly-“

“Laney!“ he hollered as if she dropped a 2x4 on his own toes and the guys crowded in, a mixture of mockery and interest on their faces. Elvis spread a hand out on his chest to regulate his breathing and cursed at the realization that his wife wasn’t the slightest bit clueless as to what she was doing. “Oh Laney, what -what’s she usin’ to oil ya?” he begged to know, his nose breathing deeply as if he could guess it a thousand miles away.

“Baby oil, Elvis,” Elaine sounds so earnest in his ear, “I told her you don’t let me use nothin’ else on them.”

“Good girl.” he growled after realizing she couldn’t see his decisive nod of approval at her obedience.

“Oooh” he hears her breathe in his ear and startles up from the couch in a little flail that has no destination save that he heard his wife moan and it requires some expenditure of energy from him or he’ll go nuts laying here imagining her in her babydoll nighty, her pretty little bare toes getting oiled up by Annie.

“Tink, what she doin’ to yous, Tink?” he demands urgently, and the guys crowd closer, Elvis tugs at his pant leg and knows it’s futile, his rock hard dick is trapped in Edith’s well tailored trousers and all he can do is bring his feet off the wall and spread as much as he can.

“S-she’s rubbing my arch.” Elaine tells him, “I was wearing those pretty little white heels all days, the white ones you got me.” she reminds him and he smiles at the visual of her clicking through their home.

“She makin’ ya feel good?” he prompts his eyes glossy and far away from his gaudy trailer and the smell of cigar smoke. “Rubbin’ the sore right out?”

“Yeah, yeah feels good.” She slurs.

He can just picture her all puddled and lax and slippery- “Hers all gooey?” he hopes, running a hand over his belly that keeps flexing and quivering like little Elvis is deep in cunt.

Elaine on the other end of the line smirks at the shift in his tone, gone entirely from jealousy to fanciful imaginings that are far, far beyond anything she’s indulging in but somehow it’s terribly exciting to know what he’s thinking, to lure him in and have only his own, nasty, boyish mind to blame for the misfire. She winks down at Thumper who truly is doing a remarkable job on those sore arches and gives another little moan. “Yeah, yeah I could fall outta bed I’m so gooey.”

She hears the shuddering breath he takes and can imagine him, crisp slacks and ruffled pompadour, laying on his back against velvet red cushions, legs splayed in a pantomime of dying and his lackeys gathered around like a sleazy last supper.

“I think we’ve really got his motor thrumming, Thumper.” she feels safe enough to giggle and hears Elvis give only a heart rending:

“Goddamn, whyyyy!” over the phone in reply.

“Need a defibrillator, boss?” she can hear Marty ask him and hears only petulant moaning about needing a wife in reply.

It did the trick, or at least, part of the trick. The trick of making the Presley’s feel connected to each other again and Larry agreed that it was good, a good step towards normality even if it was a little polyamorous and crowded for a typical marriage. Such phone calls made Elvis feel included and Elaine nearly re-besotted with a man who, when on the other end of a phone line and thousands of miles away, sounded desperate and devoted, something her wifely self hadn't felt from him in a little while.

Elvis brought home amongst his many gifts a couple of new cameras, and having taught Jesse how to use the still one, paid his son five dollars for each documented arm wrestle and diving contest. How he paid his wife for each documented lingerie try-on and manicure session was never revealed but her shoe box of pastel gauzy Polaroids suggested the compensation was ample incentive. How Tink paid Thumper was anyone's guess and no one’s knowledge. Maybe it was that Cartier diamond set she wore to a premiere the following week.

It was a natural graduation of events that Elvis should, being at home during one of Thumper’s convenient memphian layovers, be a camera wielding witness to one of these night time pamperings. They politely ignored him and his bright lights that beamed on their little haven in front of the dresser, pink satin chairs aglow and their faces almost angelically washed out on the film. That night, Elaine’s hair was restored to a deep chocolate color, Ann’s outfit for her next premiere was chosen and the silk pajama’s Elvis donned for the evening had to be discarded.

The camera wielding didn’t stop there, when Thumper was brought down to Circle G Ranch, an entire production was made, the only picture film Elvis Presley ever fully produced and directed and costumed in the 1960’s -and it was full of subtext, straw, piglets, bare skin and harmed vegetables. But it occurred over an slippery, sweaty, pungent afternoon and was not a sleepover and so has no place being detailed in this chapter.

What does deserve a place here is the great Tink and Thumper adventure with Benetint that happened about a year into this charming, girlish, sleepover habit.

They’d bought matching nighties you see, sheer with a gingham print. Yet, when going to photograph their charming selves in them, they found the rosiness lacking -or at least, Thumper thought it could be improved. The printed fabric was to blame for the faded-nipple effect but was too adorably bucolic to be abandoned entirely. So, after a foray into the smokey backstages of some Vegas showrooms, Ann arrived one day in Palm Springs with her sundry gifts for the children, and tucked into her purse, was an uninspiring little bottle of something that could easily have been mistaken for nail polish.

Sitting cross legged on the vanity, Elaine soon learned it was anything but.

It was too quiet in the bathroom, just their huffed breaths and the squeak of the lid unscrewing. Even before the icy chill flicked over her skin she felt her arms break out in gooseflesh and she sucked in a breath, bracing for the tickle. Elvis had done this, to her belly, that first time she’d grown his children and her belly rent apart with a lightning bolt down its middle.

It had felt loving then, kindhearted and boyish.

Ann crouching to bosom level, flicking the little brush with its smelly mixture across her pert nipples, breath ghosting against the red blush of Elaine’s breast, silk pooling useless off her shoulders -this was different, oddly so. Somehow more intimate than when a man, or what Elaine knew of men, did it. Here was no pleasurable usage to brace for, only girlish admiration and a charming lack of regard for ought else but this, this single, charged, shivering moment.

Elaine could see Ann’s dark roots from up above. She wanted to pull that thin bottom lip of hers and snap it back against her teeth. Feeling useless sitting getting adorned so soberly, Elaine swiped the hair falling into her friend’s eyes, up and off her brow and into the buoyant coif that chasing the children had already half dismantled.

It made Ann drop her brush. “I wasn’t expecting-“ she fumbled.

She went back to it, such warmth so close and Elaine watched with a confused heart as Ann swirled the icy slick once more over the outer ring of a babe abused areola, taking her bleeding little rosebuds and making them into dark cherries.

“How do they look?” Elaine asked Thumper as Ann stood at a little distance in the large bathroom, eyeing up her art with her absurd little brush raised, a consummate artist and a distracted friend.

“You look like I imagined.” Ann replied as if without thinking before her face colored the shade of the pink rug and she must roll her eyes in an effort to sabotage the escaped sentiment.

“Imagined when?” Elaine asked, leaning forward on the counter, not bothering to cover up as it would only smear, perhaps some part of her knew without consulting the mirror the image that she made.

A dark haired vixen with the body of an ivory cello, leaning forward with those creamy mounds topped like Shirley Temples with their little ornaments.

-knowing yet curious, hungry yet soft.

Ann swallowed hard and thought about the end of all this that Elaine had once predicted in the beginning, an end that was all wedding veils and bouquets and everlasting vows with some fella Ann was supposed to find and love since Elvis wasn’t available. Elaine swore it would come and Ann had hoped she’d been right. The idea sickens her lately, thinking of somehow there being some other best friend, someone else to flick bath water at and ogle in their silk pajamas, someone else to have her heart lurch over when the children crawl atop them and the motorbikes thrum beneath them. The more successful she got the more she wanted this.

Just this.

“When he used to talk about you.” she admits her imaginings had been detailed and flattering for the wife of the man she once lay beside. Not even in dreams of wildest jealousy and unfair slight could Elaine be anything but something Ann craved to know and be known by. “I-I dreamed of being stabbed by you.”

Ann had woken up flaming with desire from those nightmares. Pretty Elaine Presley coming alive from the front of a newspapers and screaming “traitor!” hacking at Ann’s broken little heart with a pie server. Only for Elaine to end up being kind, lonely and a bit of a tease.

“Why’re you crying?” Elaine asked softly, finally slipping off her marble perch and taking Ann’s chin in her hand firmly.

“I’m going to miss this.” she muttered miserably in realization of the overseas tours next year and the boys she entertained but didn’t like enough to trust with a single secret and the way Marlon was around here too often lately. “And you know too much of me.” she hit Elaine’s arm playfully.

The grip on her chin jerked in retaliation. “I’ve been worried. You’re getting famous.” Elaine admitted, and the way she referenced fame was if it was a cancer.

“But I can come here, right?”

“Always.”

“Even if I’m married?”

Elaine looked a little surprised and questioning and when Ann shook her head in the negative to being currently engaged she lightened again, “Especially if you’re married. Married women go mad without some woman to talk to about being married.”

“You’re some woman.” Ann purred because Elaine Presley was stood too near with her pale soft breasts brushing Ann’s arm.

“You could be too, if you’d let me paint you.” Elaine dug the bottle out of Ann’s chilled fingers and went back to the sink, her reflection showing the heightened color crawling down her neck. “Get over here Thumper.” she snapped her fingers and Ann slinked up on the counter like a condescending house cat. “Am I to paint over chiffon?” Elaine stared at the still tied nightdress unimpressed until Ann was forced to fling it open - to her credit, not without adding much pizzaz to the whole thing with a high kick that only barely missed Elaine's face and a haughty toss of her head.

Her act petered out with a shy chuckle that faded into fully nothing.

“You’re very pretty.” Elaine whispered as she stood frozen in front of her in a ready stance, bottle clutched and tiny brush brandished, looking like a juvenile boy trying to recall his father’s tips on how to flatter. “But, then - you know that, I suppose.”

“I’m cold.” Ann whispered, her eyes darting to the side.

“Oh, yes,” Elaine was suddenly in motion, stepping nearer with clear eyes, “this makes it worse. Trust me. I’ll be fast, I swear.”

“It’s fine.” Ann breathed and then promptly forgot how.

As if in slow motion she watched Elaine crouching to better see her work, and her pretty hand burdened with all of Elvis’ shiny spherical gifts descended until it made contact on her bare nipple.

“Oh Elaine.” Ann enunciated through a gasp, her hands that had been listlessly sitting on the countertop curled over the edge of the marble, gripping tight.

“Cold isn’t it?” Elaine murmured again, her hand coming to rest beside her work in direct opposition to the cold paint. Firm, steadying, warm flesh on her sternum made Ann tremble, she watched Elaine‘s eyes flick up to meet hers, an odd sort of edge and command in them she’d never seen before.

Or. Rather, she had, but only ever with Elvis, only ever directing that look to him.

“He did this to me once.” Elaine told her, voice gone deep and then another stroke of the brush. “Not my nipples -it was my belly.”

“Captain Marvel.” Ann huffed a laugh, recalling the way he’d made her trace the bolt on his wife their first night, eager as a boy who’d discovered magic.

“Captain Marvel is telling you to hold still, missy.” Elaine chided her wiggling friend and Ann felt a flush all over.

“I’m just breathing.”

“Hard.” Elaine snarked, staring down at Ann’s heaving chest with a sardonic brow.

The intensity of that gaze was too much.

“It’s too much.” Ann said it in defense and Elaine’s eyes fluttered up to meet hers, her whole body straightening.

“For you too?” Elaine begged tremulously and Ann felt a rush of connection at her vulnerability.

“For me too.” she nodded.

“Gosh.” Elaine exclaimed, startled but making no move to flee, she just stayed there, hemming Ann in on the countertop and studying her face like it was the dearest thing.

“This isn’t making it better.” Ann whined as she felt that beautiful face near hers -the thunk of Elaine’s forehead against her own soon followed.

She felt her hands hold her waist gently like a dozen lovers had before and none felt as tender as this.

“You know the thing about fame is,” spearmint wafted over Ann’s face and she closed her eyes to listen to Elaine’s soft, pondering drawl, “it's held up all those years as the thing that’ll make everything all right. When the only thing that makes things even slightly bearable is a friend who knows what you're talking about. If you ever get tired, Annie, of being known for all the wrong reasons, you just come on back. We’ll always find something of us here, I know it.”

Elaine’s thumbs played across freckled skin like dainty wipers on Ann’s cheeks, swiping off one tear after another into her dyed hairline and one mere jut of Ann’s set chin brought the lower half of their faces together.

plush, warm, minty, sticky, glossy, brushing, lilting

-turn aside.

“Do you wanna -the camera, Tink?”

“No.” Mrs. Presley answered honestly as she stepped back, a little tremble in her voice, “Not tonight. I think -perhaps I, perhaps we, should call Elvis.” Elaine stared off into the adjoining bedroom with swimming eyes, their little project once undertaken for his gaze had suddenly become too intimate to be shared, even with him, even as dried ink on a glossy Polaroid weeks from now, “And maybe bring in Jack, he looked restless.”

“Oh yes.” Ann cheered and it was weak, snotty, hoarse little lie. But it was for Elaine. Anything for Elaine. “Let’s.” she agreed.

—Yes. Bring in Jack, why don’t you? And Elvis and Marlon and your charities and your causes and when it gets too crowded with just us two, bring in the whole nation!—

Ann willed the puddling tears away from the rim of her eyes, it wasn’t fair how a woman so immune to jealousy as Elaine Presley could spark so much in others.

“I bet Jack will be up to my shoulder by the time I get back from tour.” Ann joked as they crept down the hall to their boy’s bedroom, “And Jesse will break my heart with your face on a teenager's runty little body.”

It was a promise. To be back.

And come back in good spirits and with good intent. To take as much as was offered, be happy with it. Just as she knew if she herself showed up tomorrow with a husband, Elaine would be as ecstatic as if it were her own dream come true.

Some friends really do just love you enough that way. And that had to be enough.

Tags, if you’d like to be added just drop a comment to that effect below. I don’t bite and I do adore feedback, I run off of even the slightest scream from you. I appreciate you all and hope you enjoyed this. Xoxo marina

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