#Driver x Cassian

[illyrianbitch]

One Summer— Part Three

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: One beach house. One festival. One summer to fall in love.

Warnings: alcohol use, mention of drugs, mentions of scars (azs hands), slight Tamlin slander (lighthearted tbh), reader being observant, az being… well az :)

Word Count: 4.7k

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✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Introduction to Philosophy was taught by professor Jeff Davids. 

It was one of the smaller classes you’d taken in freshman year. Though many people took it to fulfill a General Education requirement, it was more significant for you. It marked the beginning of your Philosophy major and a longstanding obsession with the ideas of ancient thinkers.

It was the same for Morrigan and Feyre, both of whom you met in Professor Davids’ class. Like you, they were Pre-Law students. And while you’d sat with Feyre on the first day out of pure chance, you were sure that it was fate that pulled you both into an assigned group with Mor— and Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel. The three boys had chosen Intro to Philosophy because it had enough seats for all of them.

There were many things you remembered about your Intro to Philosophy class. Professor Davids was a rockclimber, the Allegory of the Cave was one of the most well-known philosophical concepts, Cassian always came ten minutes late, and Mor’s first major presentation was an in depth and perfectly executed criticism of Plato’s The Republic. You remembered it clearly. She argued against the idea of Plato being classified as the ‘first feminist’. Even if you hadn’t already shared Mor’s belief that Plato fell short of feminist ideals, her presentation would have won you over. Just two months into your friendship, Mor had already made a lasting impression. You remembered her eloquence, the way she commanded the room—a woman of honor and dignity.

It was strange, in an endlessly entertaining way, to see the same woman before you now down on one knee, chugging the last of her drink in the Summit Pulse parking lot. 

She let out a belch as she stood and Cassian responded with an approving whistle, giving her a sloppy high five. “Fuck,” she said, gingerly dabbing at her smeared lipstick. “Can someone pass me my bag?”

Summit Pulse had officially begun twenty-five minutes ago, at 11:30 AM. You’d arrived at 11, found two open parking spots, and began your small, almost humble, tailgate— consisting of various seltzers, shooters, and beers for the boys. 

You’d driven in two cars: Feyre and Rhys in one, and Az, you, Mor, and Cassian in the other. It was more economical to get two parking passes for the three days, so the boys had devised a plan. The idea was simple: whoever wasn’t driving in the morning would get heavily intoxicated right from the start, making full use of the tailgating privileges. Since the sets ended around 10 PM, by the end of the night one of them would be sober enough to drive. For today, Az was the designated driver, while Cassian would take over for the ride home. 

Rhysand’s plan was far simpler. He would only drink modestly throughout the day— but no matter what, he was driving home. This was for two reasons. First, no one but him was allowed to drive his car anyway, and second, he didn’t want Feyre to be worried about her ride home. 

When you’d asked the boys why they hadn’t included you, Feyre, or Mor into the shifts, they had shrugged and adamantly opposed. According to them, it was their job to take care of you, to let you have fun at a festival knowing you’d have three eyes watching over you. Not to mention that they knew their alcohol tolerances better than you three. 

Rhys, with a sly smile, had also pointed out that your edibles made predicting sobriety a bit unreliable.

He was right, of course, so you didn’t argue— even if you hadn’t brought them today.

You handed Mor her bag. Her nimble, ring-clad fingers dug through it as you grabbed your phone, offering the camera screen to her as a makeshift mirror. She sung out a small thank you in response.

It was already hot out, a fact you’d prepared for but nonetheless hated, and the seltzers in your stomach gurgled in the heat. It suddenly crossed your mind that you should’ve had a heavier breakfast. But the morning had been chaotic, so you were now forced to rely on the festival food— food that was bound to cost three times as much as it would outside of festival grounds.

Two voices joined the sounds behind you and you cranked your head in time to watch Feyre bound over, a bounce in her step. She wore simple shorts and a flowy, linen tank that swayed with her movements. The look of it seemed to perfectly pair with the outfit Rhysand wore— white linen shorts and a short-sleeved button up, a few more buttons undone than necessary, of course. An image flashed into your mind of a very probable future: Feyre and Rhys married in this very city, white linens and salt-air breezes at their reception. 

Cassian and Azriel would fight for best man, of course, and when they were both asked, they’d fight about which was number one and which was number two. Feyre’s maid of honor would be a much more nuanced choice, balanced between her two sisters and you and Mor. 

At least, if you and Feyre were still friends by then.

You pushed the thought away— a silly, irrational, and anxious thought. They appeared a lot, especially when you weren’t as busy as you’d conditioned yourself to be these past few semesters. It was strange how those thoughts manifested when you were at your happiest. But there was no room for those this summer. You’d told yourself this over and over. One summer to just live, you repeated in your mind, one summer to exist. 

Feyre wrapped her arms around your shoulder, tight enough to give you a welcome squeeze but tender and careful so as to not disrupt your mirror duties. 

“You smell good,” you told her as the sweet smell of pear reached your nostrils. She met your eyes from the side as you grinned. “Look even better too.”

A small blush painted her cheeks and Feyre smiled. “You think?” 

You nodded and Mor ran a gentle nail around her lips, picking up the excess red gloss with her nails. You watched as she struck a pose. 

“And how do I look?”

There was a mischievous glint in her eyes that seemed to intensify by the second. Her excitement grew as the drink she chugged began making its way through her system. 

“Good enough to get free drinks.” 

You felt Feyre nod in agreement against your shoulder. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Summit Pulse had been going strong for hours and you were riding the high of it all. The sun was still glazing in the sky, your ears were still ringing, and the crowd's anticipation for the next set was almost tangible despite it not starting for another hour.

You guys had staked out a great spot near the front, close enough to give you a full view of the stage. Sadly, you hadn’t come early enough to get barricade, but you were more than content with the place you held in the growing crowd. Az and Cass had ventured off some time ago to grab more drinks and a small, worrying voice in the back of your mind began to worry that the two boys would struggle to rejoin the group. 

You tried to pay it no mind, focusing on the game of Heads Up you were playing with Feyre and Mor. Feyre held her phone to her forehead and prompted the next word to come. 

SPRING.

You and Mor exchanged a conspiratorial glance, gently pushing one another to create a space between your two bodies. A mirrored grin grew on your faces— ones with such childish glee and mischief that Feyre immediately picked up on the shared thought.

Her eyes widened as she shook her head. She dropped her hands to her side. "No," she whined, "Please don't."

You frowned in feign confusion, bringing a hand to cup your ear. "What?" you exclaimed, "I can't hear you." You looked back at Mor, watching as the face she formed mimicked yours. "Do you hear anything?"

Rhys fought to suppress a grin, wrapping his arms tighter around Feyre as she let out another helpless groan. He gave her a kiss to the temple as he leaned in further, eyes bouncing between you and Morrigan.

"I-" Mor stopped, bringing a hand to her chest as she exaggeratedly examined her surroundings. "I think it sounds like….like…"

Rhysand leaned into Feyre's ear. "Like Spring?"

"Oh god," Feyre whined. The sound fell on deaf ears. "Kill me."

Tamlin Spring was Feyre's boyfriend in freshman year, a first love so smitten with her that it bordered on slightly creepy— teetering across that fine line of obsession and adoration. You found Tamlin tolerable in small portions, but the others hated him with a passion. In truth, they hated a lot of people, your ex boyfriend included, and you just chalked that up to the reality of growing up in the same small city with the same people. You thanked eighteen-year old you everyday for choosing to attend college in a different state.

"Spring, you say?" you chimed in. Mor mimicked the motion of drawing a bow across a fiddle. She gave you a look and without missing a beat, you launched into a memorized dance, feet bouncing in an exaggerated jig while your hands moved as if playing invisible fiddles.

This abomination of a dance was one you and Mor had created one random drunken night—- a way to commemorate the infamous serenade Feyre had received from Tamlin post-breakup. At the beginning of their relationship, Tamlin's musical talent was impressive, even charming. But when he pulled out his fiddle and played what was meant to be a heartfelt apology, it left Feyre cringing and you unable to defend him anymore. Thus, the iconic dance was born.

For what it counted, the tradition to embarrass Feyre with your performance of it lasted longer than their relationship ever did. 

Feyre's face was three shades redder by time you found yourselves unable to continue the dance any longer. She leaned her head back against Rhysand's chest as he laughed and hugged her tighter, apologizing for his own musical incapabilities. She tucked her phone tightly away in her pocket, muttering some off handed comment that she was never playing ever again. 

You were still giggling and catching your breath as Azriel and Cassian returned, slowly making their way through the crowd— each holding a fresh, cold can of beer. Azriel's face was neutral as always, but a glint of amusement sparkled in his eyes as they met yours. Cassian, on the other hand, wore his usual broad grin. He murmured polite, flirty pleasantries to every pretty woman they brushed past.

"Damn," Cass said, filling in the space Mor had saved for him by proxy of a strange, wide-legged stance. You’d done the same for Az. "Did I miss you hitting the Tamlin?"

You and Mor let out another shared round of giggles and Feyre groaned into the sky once more. Cassian turned to Rhys with a grin.

"Do you two have no shame?" Az said, settling into the space between you and Feyre. He took notice of Mor's lingering gaze on his drink and offered his can to her eager hands. 

You shook your head, a grin plastered on your face as Mor brought the drink to her lips. The two of you made eye contact, and maybe it was the buzz of the drinks you’d already had, the tiny high making everything funnier, but you couldn’t hold back a laugh. Mor followed suit, the sound coming out of her in a wet snort as Azriel's drink sprayed everywhere.

Once you both finally calmed down, Mor pushed Azriel's drink back to him with an extended hand, batting her eyelashes as she met his gaze. "Thanks, Az. I needed that."

"I'm good. That's all yours now." Azriel pushed the can back to Mor with a single finger, a look of playful disdain on his face. His eyes, however, shone with amusement—enough to show that he wasn't really angry, not even disgusted, despite his expression. "I'll get a new one later. Preferably with less spit."

Mor offered him a sheepish smile. "My bad."

She offered the can to you next. You narrowed your eyes at it for a moment, then shrugged with a resigned smile and raised it to your lips. You felt Azriel's gaze on you, noticing the amused, skeptical eyebrow he raised. You waited for him to say something, to speak in that low tone he often preferred in public, but he only shook his head, chuckling softly.

His eyes lit up a few seconds later.

"Wait a second,” he said.

Azriel's gaze flicked to Cassian, and without a word, he started patting him down. Cassian angled his head to the side, brows furrowed as Az’s hands wandered around his form. “Dude,” he said, “What's with the hands?”

Azriel didn’t respond, continuing his search with focused intent. He wrapped a palm around Cassian’s exposed biceps to face him further, finally reaching the fanny pack strapped to his broad chest. 

“Got it,” Az declared. When he pulled away, you caught sight of the device in his hand. Cassian paused for a moment, and you could see an out-of-pocket response on the tip of his tongue, but he simply shrugged and rejoined the conversation he had left with Feyre and Rhys. 

His camera was held securely in his hands as Azriel turned back to you and Mor. Your eyes drifted down to the way his palm held it. It looked so natural there, a perfect fit, and the glow of inspiration in his eyes sent a flutter through your body. You hadn’t realized that he had brought it— hadn’t seen when Cassian went through security with his bag. 

Az lifted the camera in a silent invitation and Mor let out an excited squeal, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to pull you in close. You smiled and your focus fell on Azriel. He held his camera with a careful, precise grip, ensuring you were perfectly in frame. With every movement he made, either a height adjustment or a turn of the camera, he sent a quick glance to his surroundings, quietly making sure that he refrained from accidentally bumping the people around him. 

It was sweet how he managed to remain respectful in such a large crowd, how he cared enough to be aware of such things. The thought burrowed itself deeper into the area of your mind that had gained a heavy label this past week: Longings for Azriel, as you called it. An embarrassingly fitting title. 

He took the picture with a satisfied smile and lowered his camera, the sunlight casting a warm, almost golden glow over his features. For a moment, your mouth felt dry at the sight of him. The harsh sun you’d been cursing for hours now seemed to soften, bathing his eyes in a molten blend of brown, gold, and green. Azriel had been in his element all of today. You saw it clearly— the ease in which he spoke with all of you, the way his eyes gleamed and the smile on his lips persisted. Every set you’d watched had been enjoyed through two ways: dancing with Mor, Feyre and Cassian, or admiring Az as he listened. Your grip tightened around the can you still held. 

Mor leaned in to view the image on the camera’s screen and your surroundings poured into your consciousness once more, the loud sound of the crowd rising in level. You closed the gap Az had created when he stepped back and, in a moment of self-indulgence, brushed lightly against him to view the picture.

“This is so cute. I love it,” Mor fawned. She placed a hand on Az’s forearm and gave him a sweet smile. “This is such a great photo, Az.”

Azriel angled the screen towards you. You didn’t doubt her words, but Mor was indeed right. It was a great photo.  You could see it all perfectly: the bustling crowd, the stage, the speakers in the background, and you and Mor glowing with happiness. It stirred something emotional within you, a perfect memory you could imagine showing future children to prove that their parent was once cool.

You looked up at him. “This is perfect.”

He smiled, almost timidly. “Yeah?”

“I guess you're back on track?”

Recognition sparked in his eyes. “I think I just found my mu—”

Just then, the crowd moved like a restless sea and a body pushed into you. You stumbled slightly and Azriel's hand instinctively reached out to steady you, his touch warm and firm against the exposed skin between your shirt and pants. A shiver ran through you at the contact.

You turned to look at the person. He looked to be around your age, if not a few years older, with green eyes and a strange mullet that almost gave him bangs. Mor glared at him, but it was Azriel who spoke.

“Watch it,” he growled.

“My bad man,” Mullet slurred, eyes shifting between you and Azriel. “Didn’t see you.”

Azriel’s glare followed him until his figure melted back into the crowd, muttering under his breath, “Cut that mop you call hair and maybe you’d see better.”

You suppress a laugh at Azriel’s irritation, a huge amused grin spreading across your face. You’d forgotten how protective Az could be, even if it wasn’t strictly necessary. His readiness to jump to the defense of those he cared about was endearing at its core, so you swallowed the small urge to make fun of his response. 

Instead, it was Mor who broke the tension, her voice laced with mockery. “Damn, Az.” She raised an eyebrow and a small smirk grew on her lips. “If looks could kill, you’d be a serial killer.”

Az rolled his eyes but there was a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, betraying his true amusement despite his feigned annoyance. 

You handed Mor the canned drink back and clapped your hands together. “Alright. I need my own drink, so I’ll be back.”

Az handed Cassian the camera and turned to you. “I’ll go with you.”

You shook your head. “No, its okay. You just got back.”

Az gestured to the drink Mor had swiped. “I could use another, too.” He looked around. “And I think you might need some help getting back.”

You scanned the crowd, noting how it thickened with every passing second. Having Azriel to help navigate through would be a relief. And the prospect of some alone time with him was just as appealing.

“Okay,” you smiled. “Thank you.”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

The line for drinks was manageable, with only about seven people ahead of you. The festival buzzed around you, the air thick with the scent of food and the distant hum of music from other stages.

Azriel stood next to you, head slowly scanning his surroundings, silver dagger earring glistening in the sun. Your eyes lingered on the slight curve of his lips, at the way a sense of ease hung from his resting features. 

“You know, I knew you’d enjoy this,” you found yourself saying, voice carrying over the ambient noise. “The live music and all. But part of me is surprised.”

He looked at you, one eyebrow raised. “Why’s that?”

”I thought you weren’t a large gathering type of person.”

You held many memories of Azriel from over the years. The memories from the past two years were few and far between, but the ones from freshman year—- those you held in abundance. Azriel’s quietness was something you noticed before you knew him. He was content to watch, content to observe. It was why photography seemed so fitting for him, a hobby for someone who liked to collect moments, to enjoy them from a watcher's vantage point rather than that of a main actor. 

Azriel chuckled softly. Despite the festival’s noise, you heard it in perfect clarity.  

“I’m not. But that’s for gatherings where I’m expected to constantly engage. This is different. Everyone here is doing their own thing, no one is paying attention to me. I can just disappear into the crowd.” 

You let the words settle and studied him more intently. It occurred to you how unrealistic his words felt to you, how silly it was to think that people’s eyes didn’t naturally gravitate towards him. And you thought that it was a bit silly too, then, that your eyes did. 

You and Azriel were friends, maybe even in the lightest of terms. Friends that could’ve been more, could’ve had a deeper connection, platonically, had it not been for choices you made. And yet, your eyes always found him. All of this morning, all of this past week. Your gaze found him time and time again, like a magnet calling to you. 

You shook your head and a small laugh left your lips. An amused, timid sound. Azriel nudged your shoulder.

”What? He asked, but you only shook your head again, letting the smile linger on your lips. “What is it?” Azriel asked again. 

You met his gaze then, that surveying, intense gaze, and shrugged. “It’s just, you could never disappear into a crowd, Az.”

His brows furrowed and you held his gaze, watching as a flicker of confusion crossed his face—- or perhaps it was curiosity, instead. You felt a flutter of something deep and tender inside of you. You swallowed.

“At least not for me.”

The line moved forward and you sent a silent thank you to the sky, stepping ahead. Azriel lingered behind for a moment, eyes still trained on you. His brows were still slightly furrowed, but a smile tugged at his lips—-something tender, like your words touched him in a way he hadn’t expected. 

You ordered your drink, offering a grateful smile to the girl behind the table, and stood to the side as Azriel stepped up to order. The girl’s demeanor changed almost immediately—- cheeks flushed slightly, a new timid smile playing on her lips as she drank in the sight of him. You resisted the urge to laugh at it, a desire born out of total understanding rather than mockery.

Azriel was a stunning kind of attractive, a cold type of handsome that made you shiver if you stared too long. And the girl, she was pretty too, you thought, in an angelic sort of way. Blonde hair like Mor, blue eyes like Feyre. It dawned on you that you might look at Azriel the same way, with the same childish awe and longing admiration. The thought made you blush in embarrassment and you took a sip of your drink.

Azriel seemed oblivious to the effect he was having, focused solely on the screen before him and paying for his drink. She turned around to face him, drink in hand, and leaned forward to offer it. 

And then her eyes fell to his hands. She let out a small breath, a sound that seemed to surprise even her, and her eyes widened in response. Az’s drink was placed on the counter much harsher than she likely intended.

As strange as it sounded, sometimes you forgot about Azriel's hands— forgot that they weren't what were considered normal to the causal observer. You didn't know if this was a good thing, if it was something Azriel preferred or had no opinion on.

Like most people, you'd noticed them when you first met him. Azriel was a quiet observer, a motionless one at times. But in class, when you caught yourself staring at him more often than you'd ever admit, you'd catch sight of the way he'd anxiously crack his fingers with the pad of his thumb. It would bring your attention right back to his hands, to the ridges on his skin.

The scars that marred his hands were extreme, yes, and a certain sadness flowed through you when you looked at them long enough— when you thought about what pain he must've endured— but they were also beautiful. Something so entirely unique; unique enough to where you knew it was him whenever he touched you.

But as hauntingly beautiful as his hands were, eventually they simply became a part of him, something as mundane and expected as his right earlobe or the freckle on his cheek— the one that disappeared into his dimple when he smiled hard enough.

The girl tried her best to catch herself, quickly pushing forward Azriel's canned drink on the surface and giving him a timid, almost apologetic smile. But it was too late. You saw the switch clear as day, watched as something dark ran through Azriel's face— something parallel to childhood fear, to deep-seated embarrassment, to heated resentment, all in one. He pressed a button when prompted for a tip, his gaze steady on his finger as it moved across the screen.

You cleared your throat, leaning forward to grab his drink in your free hand and motioning him away from the growing line. Az seemed to snap out of the daze he'd fallen into, meeting your hurried motions with a furrowed brow. You nodded towards the crowd.

"C'mon," you said, offering the can to him. "We gotta head back."

The whine in your voice did its intended job, concealing your actions as ones driven out of an impatience to return rather than a desire to protect him. It wasn't that you thought it would bother him if he realized what you were trying to do, no, but you didn't want him to read it as something rooted in pity. You didn't want him to fall further back into his head than he already had.

When he didn't reply, you pushed his drink further towards him with an impatient hum. He raised a singular eyebrow for a fleeting second, the corners of his lips twitching upwards as he took the cold drink from you, fingers brushing against yours. Nothing flashed in his face at the contact— there was no twitch, no flicker of something darker in his features.

"They're not going on for another forty five minutes," he finally said.

You sighed, a dramatic and weariful sigh, and the curve of his lips blossomed into a smile.

"Az,” you began, “Some of the best moments are going to be found in that crowd while waiting."

For the second time, you beckoned towards the crowd. You ignored the flutter in your chest as you leaned forward to grab his hand, tugging him along behind you— ignored the tightening in your chest as Azriel held onto you tighter.

You made your way back through the dense crowd, struggling to move until you finally reached your friends. Feyre and Rhys were the first to spot you, offering a cheer of greeting as you and Az squeezed into the spaces they’d saved for you. Mor’s eyes traveled to Azriel, scanning his face quickly. 

“Whats wro-“

You widened your eyes in warning, giving a small, subtle shake of your head that only she could pick up on. Mor mouthed a clarifying question and in response you brought your hand to the one that wrapped around the cold can of your drink, gently brushing your palm against the knuckles.

Her eyes widened in understanding and a small frown found her lips. She wiped it off within seconds, any trace of it perfectly concealed as she grabbed Azriel's attention with a large smile. 

"Aren't you so excited? I'm so excited."

Azriel nodded, but his expression remained a bit guarded. Your stomach twisted and Mor shot you a worried glance. You looked at Az, nudging his arm with your shoulder, and his gaze dropped to you.

”Cheers?” You said, lifting your drink in invitation. “For good luck.”

Azriel’s face softened and the remaining edge washed away. His eyes glimmered as he lifted his drink. 

“Cheers,” he replied, clinking his can against yours. 

Thirty five minutes later, the crowd came to life as the band walked on stage.

They played for a total of forty-eight minutes. 

Your eyes were on Az for around twenty-seven of them. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

authors note: they notice each other 🥺🥺 they pay attention to each other 🥹🥹 god this makes me miss having a crush— noticing every small thing, those BUTTERFLIES!!! i love them your honor

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: 

@rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg

@evergreenlark @marina468 @azriels-human @panther-girl-124 @bubybubsters

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @feyretopia  @ninthcircleofprythian @velariscalling @azrielrot

@justyouraveragekleemain @marigold-morelli @mrsjna @anarchiii @alittlelostalittlefound-blog

@melissat1254

@m4tthewmurd0ck @beardburnsupersoldiers @isnotwhatyourethinking @tothestarsandwhateverend

thank you for reading 🫶🏻🫶🏻

[azsazz]

Off Grid

Azriel x Reader [Formula One AU]

Summary: Ferrari has signed on rookie driver Dorian Havilliard. Azriel must learn to navigate the 2024 season with a new teammate and his secret relationship, with you, who just so happens to be the team’s media trainer.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 2,109

Notes: This one goes out to @moosemahboi for the ask this morning 😏 enjoy 😉 (idk why I can’t tag u but hopefully you see this)

Also, sorry if the formatting looks like shit I’m posting this from my phone. I busted this out so fast tho whoops

_________________________________________

“Azriel, how are you feeling knowing that Ferrari has signed young Dorian Havilliard for the 2024 season?” The reporter asks, sitting eagerly on the edge of his seat. He has his phone out, recording Azriel’s responses. The man has been hanging onto every word Azriel has said; him and the other thirty journalists eager to pester him, all cramped within the small room.

Beside him, Cassian snickers under his breath, all too obviously happy that he’s not the one who must suffer this torturous questioning. Azriel refrains from rolling his eyes at the absurdity of it all. Well, it’s not absurd but it feels like it because it’s been the only question anyone seems to care about right now, they no longer care to ask how the new chassis feels, what his thoughts are about the new Las Vegas race added to the schedule, how he’s projected to be one of the top drivers this season. Was supposed to be one of the top performing drivers of the season. Ever since Ferrari leaked that Dorian Havilliard is making his debut with the team for the first race, it’s been a feeding frenzy for the media, trying to be the first to glean insider information about the fresh meat.

“I think he’ll make a great addition to the team,” is all Azriel offers in response.

He’s hot and sweaty from practice and being blinded by flashes of cameras that don’t seem to be stopping anytime soon isn’t helping his mood in the slightest. It’s the part of his job that he despises the most. All Azriel wants to do is drive, because nothing feels as good as the adrenaline when he’s behind the wheel, but right now all he wants is to go home, not respond to million questions he’s already answered too many times before. And to be honest, he’s kind of pissed about Ferrari signing Dorian Havilliard and nixing Rowan Whitethorn, who has signed on to be McLaren’s first seat after Aedion Ashryver’s accident at the final race of the 2023 season that sent him into early retirement.

There’s a beat of silence, and when it’s clear he has nothing else to say about the matter, someone else pops up from their seat and another question is hurled his way. “And what about your former teammate, Rowan Whitethorn? How is he taking the news of losing his seat to Havilliard?”

The urge to roll his eyes into his fucking skull is so great he almost doesn’t stop it, but the last thing he needs is the team’s media trainer on his case about the appropriate ways to conduct himself during media panels, no matter how pretty she is.

They should be asking this question to Rowan or even Dorian, whenever he begins press for the upcoming season.

“Rowan understands,” he tries to hide the sour tone in his voice. Azriel and Rowan have been driving together for the past three seasons and it’s been one of the best experiences he’s had with a teammate in Formula 1. He knows the constructors are too worried about placing him on the same team as Rhysand or Cassian, who he grew up with at karting school. They’re like brothers and they act like it too, but if they were on the same team the rivalries would feel even more drastic than they already are. “He’s a good driver and talent like his isn’t going away anytime soon.”

Rowan’s new teammate, Hunt Athalar, nods from Azriel’s other side. He and Cassian seem to be enjoying not being pestered with surface-level questions, and Azriel wishes that he was feeling the same.

With a few more unnecessary queries about Dorian, press finally ends. He, Hunt, and Cassian are escorted from the room, the trail of flashes and conversation starting up clinging to his back as he walks.

“Fucking hell,” Azriel mutters to Cassian, who jabs him in the side with a snigger once they’re cleared the room, the door shutting with a loud click behind them. “I hate these interviews.”

“Don’t need to tell me that, mate,” he laughs wholeheartedly, and Azriel glares. “I’m pretty sure everyone can tell. Might want to learn to act like you like it, though. Ferrari won’t keep you if your attitude sucks. But I’m sure that media trainer of yours is about to hunt you down and tell you the same thing.”

Azriel frowns. He thought he’d done a pretty good job at deflecting the questions about his new teammate.

“People like me for me,” Azriel shrugs, defending himself. He’s never been a bullshitter, no matter how badly his team has wanted him to be. This is what the people get, 100% Azriel, take it or leave it. And Ferrari has decided to take it, for the last three seasons. The second half of his sentence is drowned out as Cassian’s snickering becomes full-bodied laughter. “And my trophies speak for themselves.” He doesn’t mean to come off as cocky, but he’d rather be authentically himself than a puppet to the media.

Cassian shakes his head, wiping the nonexistent tears from the corners of his eyes. “No, people like me for me,” he winks at Azriel’s glare. “They like you because you’re a decent driver.”

Azriel’s nose crinkles. “Decent? My car is projected to perform even better than Rhys’ this year!”

They three drivers turn down a hall, nodding to the two Haas drivers they pass: Bron and Hart.

“We’ll see, won’t we, Athalar?” Cassian cranes his neck around Azriel, directing the question to the silent driver on his other side. Hunt and Azriel have never been close, but the angel of McLaren offers a genuine smile in response.

“Should be a good season, boys.” Azriel and Cassian share a look. A perfect media-trained answer, Hunt gave. The other driver turns off down another hall, “See you later.”

“What a weirdo,” Cassian mutters once Hunt has disappeared from sight. “Good luck to Ro, having to deal with that.”

Azriel finally rolls his eyes like he’s been wanting to do since he left the press room. “Yeah, and I’m the asshole.”

Cassian huffs and the pair of drivers stop at the end of the hall where it splits to go to their respective driver rooms.

“I’ll see you later, man.”

“Hopefully in a better mood, Azzy,” Cassian chuckles and dips down the hall before Azriel can toss another glare or remark at him.

Shaking his head, Azriel returns to his driver room. He’s going to grab his things and get the fuck out of here, because relaxing at his hotel sounds much better than waiting around here any longer.

A knock on the door interrupts his actions, and Azriel wonders why the Mother fails to grace him with one sliver of luck today.

“Come in,” he grunts, snagging his water from where he left it on top of the desk.

You enter the room with your phone and clipboard in your hands. You’re typing on your phone, fingers flying across the screen as you reply to another email. The water does nothing to quench Azriel’s suddenly dry throat.

He can’t help the way his eyes drag down your body with your attention on your phone, drinking in the sight of you in your pressed pants and professional button up shirt. There’s a lanyard around your neck with your Ferrari employee access printed on it and he wants to wrap his fist around the strap and—

Wherever his mind was drifting off to is completely shattered by your piercing eyes. He hasn’t had enough time to prepare for your apparent annoyance at his attitude during the press conference. You don’t look happy, and neither is his name as it rolls from your lips in a disappointed manner. “Azriel.” You step further into the room. “What the hell was that out there? You know you can’t—”

Your rant is cut off as Azriel consumes the space between you in two long strides, leaning in to slant his lips over yours, eating up your words. You can’t help but to melt into it a little, a lot when his tongue traces the seam of your lips and you part for him, brushing up against your tongue in a sensual move.

When he straightens, you’re panting and a bit flushed. Arousal burns through your body like petrol on the track, but you steel yourself against that fire in his eyes, all ready to light you up.

“Not even going to say hello before you start in on me?” Azriel asks, licking his lips. Your eyes follow the motion, and he smirks. The way his body is pressed up against yours and the firm grip of his hands on your hips threatens to distract you further, especially when his red racing suit is slung around his waist, leaving him in that tight, black long sleeve that contours around his lithe body perfectly.

“No,” you agree, and he frowns. “I’m upset with you.”

“Was it something I said?” He cringes at his own lame attempt at a joke, ducking from your serious gaze. “‘M sorry, I’m just sick of all the Dorian questions. They’re not asking anything about the season or the car, only how I feel about a rookie taking Rowan’s seat.”

You ache for him, you really do, but things like this happen in the sport and he’s been in it long enough now that Azriel should know better than to act like this. You can admit, Rowan had been an asset to Ferrari and to Azriel, wriggling his way under the stoic driver’s skin like a worm, burrowing deep into his heart.

“Az, you need to stop playing it like Dorian took his seat on purpose,” you console gently, “We both know that it was Rowan’s time, and he couldn’t resist what McLaren might’ve proposed.”

“I know, I know,” Azriel replies unhappily, retreating to perch on the arm of the small couch. He can accept it, but he doesn’t like it, preferring to blame the new driver instead. “I don’t want to deal with that little punk,” he groans, because the thought of putting up with a cocksure rookie tires him. “Coming in here thinking he owns the damn place.”

“Azriel,” you tut, rolling your eyes. You put a hand on your hip. “That was literally you four years ago.”

“It’s different,” he mutters, but you both know that it’s not.

You abandon your phone and clipboard on the desk in the room before standing between his parted thighs and wrapping your arms around his neck. His damp hair is slicked back but a strand falls across his forehead and he looks really good like this, head tilted upwards, gold eyes painted with false innocence.

“Why don’t you, instead of being Dorian’s enemy, you become his ally?” You ask softly, fingering the hairs at the nape of his neck.

“Because that’s not how the team works, baby,” Azriel sighs, enjoying the way you’re scratching his skin. He wants to lean forward and rest his head in the crook of your neck, maybe take a cat nap or nip at the skin there. “We might drive for the same team, but I’m not looking to be the supporting driver.”

Fuck that. There’s no way he’s letting a rookie take his seat when he’s worked his ass off since he received it. He’s been driving for Ferrari since he first got an in the sport, four years ago. He fought tooth and nail to work up from second seat to first, and Azriel will be damned if Dorian rips it from under him in one season.

“Your jealousy is showing,” you tease your boyfriend a little, poking him on the nose. You know you shouldn’t be doing this, hanging all over each other when anyone could walk into the room, but you can’t resist your draw to Azriel. “It’s not as endearing as it is when you’re jealous that I’m talking to one of the engineers.”

“Don’t remind me,” Azriel grunts, eyes hardening a little. “You’re mine and I don’t like to share.”

You snort, “That much is clear, babe,” you step out of his arms and miss the heat of his body already. You collect your things from the desk and return to him for a quick kiss. You shoot him a final knowing look, dodging his attempts at capturing you against his chest again. “Work on it, Azriel. I mean it.”

He salutes you as you open the door to slip out. “Yes ma’am.”

It shuts quietly behind you and Azriel slumps back onto the couch, sighing.

It’s going to be a long season.

_________________________________________

@iambored24601 @secretlyhers @kylaisra @daily-dose-of-sass wasn’t sure but figured u might want to see this one 😅

[acotarxreader]

Timing

Azriel x Reader

Synopsis: Timing works against you and Azriel as a series of unfortunate events lands the two of you alone for the night with a broken down car and a breaking down friendship

Warnings: Angst, Modern, I don't know how cars work, rough draft writing

A/N: My first modern fic for these guys, hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think of a more modern setting!

Requests Open!

-------------------------------------------

“We're going to die”

“We're not going to die Cassian, calm down”

“We're going to die”

“We're not going to...GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE WAY JACKASS!!!”

“I agree, we're definitely going to die” Rhysand chimes in from the backseat.

“Would you babies calm down for fucksake I know what I'm doi...OI PEABRAIN! YEAH YOU! YOUR BRAIN IS THE SIZE OF THAT GAP YOU LEFT! SHARE THE FUCKING ROAD!.... Bastard” 

“Yup, we're dead” you heard Feyre whine from behind you before launching into a prayer. You swerve the car tightly around the corner, the only way you know how, sending your friends in the backseat skewed.

“Fucking hell YNN!” Cassian grabbed the overhead handle whispering his own prayers. 

“If you cook like you drive then Gods help us” A now slightly green Rhysand adds, helping Feyre to sit back upright and tighten her safety belt further.

“If we even live that long” you hear Feyre whisper.

“The utter lack of faith that my friends have in me is really quite disheartening….who wants to bet I can make all these green lights before they change?”

“No!” They all scream in unison as you laugh and accept the challenge.

The car hit the curb outside of Azriel’s house, it hardly reaching its stop before Rhysand tumbled out onto the grass practically kissing the ground leaving you rolling your eyes from the driver's seat. Cassian lay across the grass alongside Rhysand shortly after, both thanking the Gods to be in one piece. Azriel laughed from the porch of his home, slogging his rucksack over his shoulder before locking the front door and strutting down to his friends. 

“Let me guess, YNN is driving?” You replied with a small wave of your fingertips as you leaned against your car door. 

“Nope no definitely not, I'm driving the rest of the way, I refuse to arrive at the camp in a casket” Cassian rights himself again before standing to remove the keys from the ignition, receiving a dirty look from you. 

“You’re all such cry babies” you laughed, pulling your bag out from the trunk of the car as the rest of your friends tried to fight off the seasickness your driving provided. 

“Shit!”

“What’s wrong YNN?” Feyre rested her head along the headrest of the back seat to meet your eyes on the other side of the car boot. You had begun to pull out the contents of your bag, Rhysand now joining your side. 

“I forgot my medication, I have to go back” the group groaned, causing a guilty feeling in your stomach to form. You were all already behind schedule, with a lot of other college students already well on their way to blackout drunk at the campsite for spring break. 

“I’ll drive you back in my truck for it, let all the others go ahead so we don’t lose our spot?” Azriel offered

“How unusually kind of you Az” You scoffed

“Fine, die, suits me, I’m on music” Azriel shrugged, throwing his bag on top of the contents of yours in the trunk. The two of you locked eyes, a standoff beginning to take shape. The both of you had a rocky relationship at best, it being amplified when Azriel slept with your cousin when she visited last year. 

“Okay but I drive”

“Suits me, I hate driving” Rhysand looked between the two of you, almost certain someone would be arriving at the campsite in a casket. 

—-------------

“YN, if you crash my truck we're going to have some serious issues”

“I paid for gas so therefore it's my truck” you chewed out, the wheel spinning through your hands as you went along the mountain trail, a good two or three hours behind the rest of your friends. 

“That wouldn’t hold in a court of law” You accelerated into the turn, sending Azriel crashing into the car door with a thud. You had been driving for almost an hour, taking one of Azriel's shortcuts that had taken you well and truly off the beaten path through a wooded area.

“Seriously! Was that necessary!?”

“I don’t want to miss out on any more of the fun”

“It’s not my fault we had a leak in the tyre, I never drive this thing, it was bad timing!” he folded his arms tightly into his chest, regretting his act of kindness. The engine screeched at your harsh handling, Azriel clenching his fists until they drained of colour, his leg bouncing off the floor. 

“Stop shaking your leg it's distracting me”

“You’re making me nervous!”

“And you’re making me insane!” Your hand found the knob of the radio, twisting it to release 80’s pop music at deafening volumes to drown out your singing.

“YN! SERIOUSLY! YOU’RE IMPOSSIBLE” He moved to turn it down, you batting away his hand as the car ploughed up the steep incline of the hillside before barreling down the open road. 

“Driver controls the music!”

“It’s my truck!” Azriel shouted back, you drowning him out with George Micheal. Azriel huffed, reaching for the two-litre bottle of Coke at his feet. 

“WAIT A-” It was too late, the bottle practically exploded as Azriel opened it, the speed of your driving shaking every ounce of the liquid sugar. 

“HOLY SHIT!”

“YOU FUCKING IDIOT!!!” You finally slammed down on the brakes, skirting the truck off the side of the road into the dirt, the vehicle screaming out to you. 

“ME?! IT'S YOU WHO'S DRIVING LIKE WE'RE IN A RALLY!"

“OH MY GOODNESS IT'S FUCKING EVERYWHERE!” You ran your hands across your soaked face, the cabin of the truck now tinged caramel brown forevermore. 

“NO SHIT SHERLOCK” He snapped at you

“YOU’RE GOING TO DRIVE ME INSANE!” You shouted down at your ruined clothes. Azriel cautiously lifted the bottle to his mouth as you watched him out of the corner of your eye, infuriating you further and causing you to bat the bottle out of his hands back to his feet. 

“Fucking idiot” You scrunched your eyes together. 

“We’ll sort it out at the camp, it's only another…three hours” he groaned as you rested your head on the sticky steering wheel before exhaling deeply. 

“Its fine, this is fine” You readjusted yourself before turning the keys in the ignition, the truck huffing back at you.

“NO NO NO NO” you banged the steering wheel as the bonnet began to flood with smoke. 

“FUCK!” You threw yourself back against the soaked chair in frustration before leaping out and banging open the hood, followed by a string of colourful language as smoke filled the road. 

“How bad is it?” Azriel cautiously stuck his head out of the window as you attempted to look past the smoke. You stomped to his window, a piece of hot rubber in your hands.

“Oh...that looks like it's important…”

“Yeah it is...was, it's your timing belt...it was the timing belt. We're fucked! All because you don't do car maintenance!” 

“If you didn’t drive like a fucking lunatic it would have been fine!” You gave an exasperated shriek in reply, tossing the rubber to the floor and storming back to the hood of the car, hands on your hips. Azriel texted Cassian before sliding out of his truck to join your side, the smoke clearing. 

“Do you want the bad news or the really bad news?” You replied to him with a glare. 

“Okay okay, they’re already all way too drunk to get behind the wheel and Rhysand called his dad’s mechanic, I sent him our location and he can’t get up here until the morning, it's his kid's birthday” he said almost timidly. 

“Fuck” You cleared your lungs of oxygen, your hands lacing together on the top of your head. 

“And we can’t fix it? I thought you were good with cars”

“I’m not fucking magic, I can’t just pull a new belt out of thin air” You slammed down the hood before whipping the driver-side door back open, the sweet liquid now drying into a pure sticky mess.

“What the fuck are we going to do Azriel?”

“I guess we’re staying here for the night” He left the rusting hood to circle to the back of the truck, extremely thankful he had put your things in the back of it before splitting the group up. 

“We can’t sleep in here, it's disgusting” You huffed, slamming the door. 

“No need to break the door as well-” he regretted the joke once he became the recipient of your famous death stare “-we can sleep in the back” 

“Maybe you can take a look under the bonnet and think of something, you’re the engineering student” You were becoming desperate, the thought of being stuck in the middle of the woods with your best frenemy as night closed in becoming too much to process. 

“I’m doing civil engineering YN” he scoffed, throwing a leg over the back of the truck and spreading his sleeping bag across the freezing metal. 

“Oh great so if it was the road we were driving on that exploded you’d be of some use” you laughed, standing up on the tow bar to aid the swing of your leg into the back. 

“Precisely” He grinned, offering you his hand to help pull you in. 

The two of you exchanged your coke-covered clothing for the spare thicker layers you both had thankfully packed, settling into the small nest you had built in the back of the truck as the stars began to show you their faces in the sky. Azriel dug through his rucksack, fishing out two cans of beer chilled from the night air and offering you it with a smile. 

“We don’t have to miss out on all the fun” he tipped the top of his can off of yours as you both leaned on the cabin of the truck, watching the stars twinkle, hoping it would be enough to distract you from the growing cold. 

“This day has been crazy”

“Sorry I added to your stress YNN” You rolled your head along the metal of the cabin to smile softly up to him. 

“Sorry I drive like a maniac”

“I'm sorry you drive like a maniac too” You swung your hand out from under the sleeping bag to hit him into the chest with a thud as he chuckled.

“Sorry I called you impossible and a bitch YNN”

“You didn't call me a bitch?”

“Maybe not out loud” You laughed to him, finishing off your beer and sinking down further beneath your covers. The night sky was beautiful but the accompanying bite in the air was undeniable. 

“We’re going to die out here” you chattered out, the warmth the beer had provided to your system leaking out as Azriel discarded the two empty cans in his bag. 

“Probably, but at least it's a nice night” his shivering rattled against the metal mattress. 

“Maybe bears will eat us before we freeze to death”

“No bear is gonna catch me”

“Azriel there’s no way you could outrun a bear”

“Who says I had to outrun the bear? I just need to outrun you” his laugh carried through the woods to match yours until the strangely comfortable silence swaddled the two of you until the stress of the day took its full toll, lulling you both to sleep. 

-

The bright sun shone through the slots in the tall evergreen trees, heating the metal of the truck to a cosy temperature until those very rays crossed the path of your eyes, waking you from your deep and surprisingly comfortable sleep. 

“OH MY GOD!” You shot upright, the world blotting into focus, your sudden movement causing Azriel’s breath to hitch as he dragged an arm across his face, your legs still slightly tangled in one another. 

“For fucksake, its like living with a Chihuahua, what the fuck is wrong with you now Lassie?” His hand crossed his chest in an attempt to slow down his heart rate again. 

“Nothing, nothing happened, we were just cold, that's all” you collapsed back down beside him, breath returning to you. 

“Would it really have been that bad if something were to happen?” Azriel laughed through his stretch, the metal mattress a cruel mistress for his back muscles. 

“If you ever tell anyone about this I'll remove your kneecaps” you threaten.

“What? That you tried to make advances and planned this whole thing to get in my pants? No, I would never YNN” His laugh echoed across the hills again as you thought about his previous comment. You groaned again, running your hands through your hair.

“We were just cold, why are you acting like this is the worst thing to ever happen ever”

“Because it is the worst thing” You sat up again and Azriel followed suit, covering the part of him that showed all his cards. 

“Why?”

“WE’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO-TO INTERACT LIKE THIS! I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO LIKE YOU! ” Your hand gestured between the two of you.

“WELL WHAT IF I LIKE YOU?!” his raising voice only matched yours as frustration grew.

“WELL I DON'T LIKE YOU!”

“REALLY!?”

“NO!” In the heat of the moment, you lunged slightly forward, colliding your lips with Azriel’s. His warm hand cupped your face gently as your hands ran across his thighs. You pulled back almost as fast as you lunged forward. 

“Oh my Gods oh my Gods oh my Gods” You leapt out of the truck, pulling your sweatshirt tighter across yourself and began pacing while Azriel stared at you, mouth slightly agape.

“Did you just kiss me?” His voice was low as though trying to speak to a spooked horse. 

“I-” The slam of a car door caused you both to jump as the mechanic rounded the truck with a smile and perfect timing. 

“Right let's get you two love birds back on the road”

“We're just friends!” You quickly shot back, the mechanic giving you a weird look before heading back to the bonnet of the car alongside you. What the hell just happened was all Azriel could think.

-----------------------------------------

Whatcha think?!

[phoward89]

Masterlist

Stepcest, Stepson!Coryo x Stepmother!Reader, Sub!Coriolanus, Switch!Reader, Crassus Snow x Younger!Reader

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is a warning in and of itself. Crassus Snow is a cold hearted asshole, but he's a hot asshole... Stepcest, older man/younger woman, arranged marriage, cheating, affairs, secrets, cussing, secret love child, Coryo is a bit selfish and too ambitious, Crassus decides to try and be a better husband/father, breakups

Part 8:

The backseat of the car feels like it's closing in on you as Alexios, your driver, pulls away from the curb. Your chest tightens and you feel so overwhelmed. Your emotions are getting the better of you and before you can stop it, you break down in tears. Sobs violently wrack your body as your mind keeps thinking about being betrayed by Coriolanus.

Your loud cries have a negative effect on your son, Cassian. The baby starts crying as a result of hearing your loud sobs. Cassian's wails get louder and louder as the chauffeur steers the car out of the high-end shopping district of Capitol City.

Alexios looks back at you and the baby via the rearview mirror and he can't help, but to be concerned. You're both crying and he’s not sure what to do. Should he keep driving? Should he ask if you're okay? Nothing happened that he's aware of to trigger off your crying jag. Your driver/bodyguard is inwardly panicking because he has no idea why you're having a meltdown in the back of the car. A meltdown that's causing your baby to fuss loudly as well.

Looking between the road and the rearview mirror, the driver hesitantly asks, “Mrs. Snow, are you alright?”

Hearing your baby's wailing paired with the driver's inquiry of your well being snaps you out of your tears. Your son needs you to calm him down; to soothe him, so you quickly take a deep breath and wipe the tears from your eyes. “I'm fine, Alexios. Just a bit tired and overwhelmed from shopping with the baby.” You lie to your driver while moving a shaky hand to comfort your crying son.

Alexios nods, only to assure you, “We'll be at the penthouse in a few minutes.”

You thank him while soothing your son. The rest of the ride home didn't take long; you managed to comfort Cassian and get him to calm down before the car even pulled up to the curb of your building.

“Ma’am, where would you like me to place your shopping bags?” Alexios asks while helping you and your son out of the car.

“You can put them in the master bedroom.” You told your driver as he shut the car door and popped the trunk.

Pulling Cassian's pram out of the trunk, your chauffeur told you, “I'd be more comfortable placing the bags in the foyer or the main room, Mrs. Snow.” Unfolding the pram and gesturing for you to place the baby in it, Alexios proclaimed, “The master bedroom is your husband's domain as a man, not mine.”

“Okay, then place the bags in the foyer and I'll bring them into the master bedroom once I'm done putting Cassian down for his nap.” You tell the driver while placing your son into his pram.

Once your son's settled in the pram, you wheel him over to the large double doors of your building’s lobby. The driver's right behind you, only to hold the door open for you to walk inside. As you head towards the elevator bank, Alexios goes to retrieve your endless number of shopping bags from the trunk of the car.

You feel a bit tense as you wait for the elevator to arrive. You know that you have to keep it together for your son; that you can't have another breakdown like the one you succumbed to in the car, but it's easier said than done. You feel so heartbroken, helpless, and lost. Coriolanus made you out to be a fool. He played you like a fiddle, making you believe every word he said.

But now…

Well…

Now that you caught him red handed with another woman (Livia Cardew of all people!) you know that things are over between the two of you. You can't carry on with him; put your own rocky marriage in jeopardy when Coryo doesn't truly value you or your love.

The ding of the elevator doors sliding open breaks you from your mental musings. Quickly, you wheel Cassian's pram into the elevator. And much to your surprise, your driver's right behind you with an ungodly amount of bags hanging from his limbs. In fact, he's carrying so many shopping bags that he looks like a Christmas tree covered in ornaments, garland, and tinsel.

“Are those all of my bags?” You ask, taken aback on the amount of bags being toted by Alexios.

“Yes, Mrs. Snow, these are all of your bags.” Alexios confirms while you press the buttons to close the door and for the 12th floor.

Grandma'am was still taking her afternoon nap whenever you entered the penthouse. You also realized that you're alone; that Coriolanus was still out- most likely with that Cardew shrew. Good, not like you're in the mood to deal with him right now anyways.

You parked the pram in the foyer and took Cassian out of it, all the while Alexios was setting down a pile of bags by the front door of the penthouse. You thanked your driver for his help before bringing Cassian to his nursery for a feeding and his late afternoon nap.

Cassian has a hearty appetite, so you didn't have any problems nursing him. In fact, the baby ate eagerly. He also went to sleep almost instantly after his meal. For being a couple of weeks old he truly was a good baby. Didn't fuss too much; was easy to tend to.

Once the baby was down, you brought all of the shopping bags to your master bedroom. Somehow, while unpacking the bags, you managed to hold it together. Well, you're still an emotional wreck while hanging up the clothes you bought, but at least you're not crying your eyes out anymore.

But you can't afford another crying jag, you have a baby depending on you to take care of him. You have to be strong and push your feelings of hurt and betrayal aside in order to be the best possible mother you can be to Cassian.

And when you brought the few bags full of Cassian's items to the nursery to put them away, you're tense.

Very tense.

You manage to put all of Cassian's new outfits and toys up without shedding a single tear. But, you're wound tighter than an 8 day clock tho. You're very on edge, all because of what you accidently discovered this afternoon at the coffee shop.

You can't help, but to wonder if you did something wrong to make Coriolanus seek out that bitch, Livia Cardew. Maybe you should've pushed aside your emotional discomfort and just given him a couple of blowjobs? Then maybe he'd still be faithful to you. But, if not being able to fuck fo 6 weeks is the reason why he's cheating then maybe the relationship’s fickle; wasn't as strong and loving on his end- like he claims it to be.

You're broken out of your thoughts by Grandma'am’s voice echoing out in the penthouse with the simple question of, “Y/N, dear, are you home?”

“Yes, Grandma'am, I'm home. I'm just finishing up putting Cassian's things away.” You call back, assuring your mother-in-law that you're fine.

“I'll be waiting for you in the main room, dear.” Grandma'am told you, so you wouldn't be searching the entire house for her.

And a few minutes later you walk into the main room with a hatbox in your hands. “I got you something, Grandma'am.” You announce, coming up to the elderly woman that's become more of a mother to you then your own mother.

“Oh, Y/N, you didn't have to do that.” Grandma'am lightly protested with a soft smile as you placed the hatbox onto her lap.

Taking a seat next to her, you explain, “I know, but I wanted to get you something as a thank you for being supportive during my pregnancy and baby blues.”

Nodding, she lifts the lid of the box. She lets out a tiny gasp upon seeing a gold satin turban with a gold and diamond sun broach in the middle twisted part. Pulling the beautiful turban out of the box, she gratefully smiles, “Thank you, dear. It's beautiful and I can't wait to wear it.”

“I was hoping that you'd like it.” You admitted to Grandma'am as she placed the turban back in the box; setting it aside.

“Did you get something for Crassus?”

Of course she'd ask you that…

With a sigh, you shake your head and admit, “No, I didn't know what to get him.”

Grandma'am pats your hand while assuring you, “Next time we'll go shopping together; find something real nice for that son of mine you call your husband.”

You smile and nod, silently thanking her.

Crassus came home about 15 minutes before dinner, as was his routine now, and took a seat in the living room with you. Grandma'am, like she does every night, excused herself to go inquire about dinner from the cook. She did that every night when Crassus arrived in order to give you, him, and the baby some family time.

Coriolanus came home about an hour earlier and went straight to his room after giving both you and Grandma'am a curt greeting. In fact, you're dreading having to eat dinner with him tonight. A part of you wishes that he didn't come home at all, that he stayed out. But, of course, that wish went unfulfilled.

Anyways, once Crassus was sitting with you in the main room he went about the routine he created for the two of you. He asked about your day while watching Cassian nearby in his baby swing. And, of course, you told your husband about your shopping trip with the baby. But you left out the part about running into Coriolanus at the coffee shop, he didn't need to know about that.

Crassus thought that an afternoon shopping would've made you a bit happier than you were. He noticed that you're a bit tense; it's concerning because you seemed to be in a good mood lately. He decides that he'll ask your driver if you ran into anyone or if anything happened while on your shopping trip.

“Perhaps next time you go shopping mother can go with you?” Crassus suggested while subtly eying the clock to see if it was close to dinner time yet.

“Oh, I already talked to her about it and we agreed that we'll go shopping together with Cassian next time.” You tell Crassus, earning an approving smile from him.

“I’m glad that you're getting along with mother, Petal.” Crassus admitted right as Coriolanus walked out of the hallway and into the main room with a pissy look painted on his face.

“Is dinner ready yet?” Coriolanus asked, his eyes narrowed at how close you're sitting with his father. Hmm…seems like he's jealous? But he doesn't have a right to be since he has Livia now.

“Grandma'am went to check a few moments ago.” You told your once lover, tone a bit tight.

“Sit down and wait, Coriolanus. It won't be much longer now.” Crassus ordered his firstborn.

“It better not be, father. I have a study group to attend in half an hour.” Coriolanus grumbled while taking a seat. One as far away from you and his father as he could be.

“Isn't that a bit late for a study group, son?” Crassus asked, his blonde brow arched up.

Yes, wasn't it? Well, the study group was actually a meet up with Festus and Hilarious at Pluribus’ club, but Crassus and you didn't need to know that. Coriolanus feels that you two thinking he's at a study group makes himself look better and more mature. That if you knew he had time for the club and not for you, well…But you can't blame him, he's a young man with needs. Needs that you're not fulfilling at the moment.

Coriolanus never was a choirboy and is only loyal to one person, himself.

“I'm meeting up with Festus and Hilarious to study for our finals. We decided to meet up after dinner since everyone has different schedules.”

“Ah…” Crassus nods. “Since when do the three of you have such taxing schedules?” Your husband countered your stepson, causing the younger blonde to look like he's about to swallow his teeth.

But before Coriolanus could reply, Grandma'am strolls into the room with the announcement of, “The cook’s ready to serve dinner.”

Well, looks like dinner saved Coriolanus from having to pull a believable lie out of his ass.

Dinner was quiet, but tense. Crassus picked it up right away that you seem upset about something. Also, the way that Coriolanus keeps giving you hard glances here and there makes him believe that something's wrong. That something happened.

The war hero truly believes that something transpired between you and his son. Why else would Coriolanus be eying you with a hardness in his baby blues? Any other time his son's giving you pathetic puppy dog eyes. But not tonight.

Grandma'am’s eating her roasted chicken while ignoring the awkward silence in the dining room. You don't get to be her age without learning to ignore a thing or two, including awkwardness at meals. As long as the uncomfortable silence doesn't turn into an argument that'll ruin her dinner, Grandma'am is totally fine with eating and ignoring the big elephant in the room.

Crassus on the other hand isn't the type to ignore the big elephant in the room. Unlike his mother, he's not putting a doily on the elephant in the room’s butt and acting like it's not there. No, the general's going to approach it.

Turning his attention to you, Crassus asks, “Is something wrong, Petal? You seem a bit tense.”

“Oh, nothing's wrong. Really, I'm fine, just a bit tired from shopping this afternoon.” You lie because you can't tell your husband the truth. No, he'd never understand that you're tense and agitated because you caught his son, who you've been having an affair with, cheating on you while out at a coffee shop. Yea…that'd go over like a lead balloon…

“Alright, as long as you're fine I won't pry.” Crassus told you despite every fiber of his being begging him to pry.

But he'll drop the matter for now, only because he senses that you're not comfortable speaking about it- or should he say around his son. Crassus decides that he'll ask your driver, Alexios, about your outting tomorrow. Surely your driver/bodyguard has an insight on what's troubling you. And if not, well…he doesn't want to think about that possibility.

Coriolanus' icy eyes dart over to your form, gazing at you harshly. Almost as if he's silently daring you to bring up the subject of him being rather cozy with Livia Cardew in the local coffee shop. It's as if he wants you to acknowledge your pain, your broken heart at seeing him with somebody else, at the dinner table; in front of his father, Crassus. But you won't give him the satisfaction. In fact, you refuse to meet his gaze and opt to stare down at your plate instead.

Crassus noticed how his son's hard glances at you are making you nervous; are causing you to stare at your plate while picking at your food with your tightly clenched fork. He doesn't like what these tiny details are implying. How they're making light of a pressing suspicion he's had about Coriolanus and you for a while now.

Looking at his gold Rolex on his wrist, Crassus pretends to be concerned about his son's plans. “Coriolanus, shouldn't you be going soon?” Looking at his younger doppelganger, he says, “You don't want to be late for your study group, do you?”

Looking down at his own wrist watch, Coriolanus nods. “Yes, I should get going.” Putting his fork down, he apologizes properly for his sudden departure with a charming, “I'm so sorry to be rushing off in the middle of our meal, but I have a study group with Festus Creed and Hilarious Heavensbee that's due to start soon and I don't want to be late.”

“Oh, Coriolanus, don't you worry. You go on and tend to your studies.” Grandma'am said in a tone that showed she was proud of her grandson's studious nature. If only she knew the truth about his ‘study group'.

“Don't stay out too late studying, Coriolanus.” Crassus told his son as the younger blonde stood from the table. It was evident in the stern, deep tone of his voice that Crassus' remark had a double meaning to it.

Coriolanus clearly picked up on the double edged sword that was his father's words. So much so, that he just nodded as scurried off. Secretly, Coriolanus feared that his father had figured out that he was hanging out at the club; would tell you about it. That's the last thing he wants you to know. It's bad enough that you accidentally stumbled upon him and Livia on a coffee date, but if you found out about his clubbing…well…

Coriolanus fears that he won't be able to successfully lie his way out of that. No, not with you acting all out of sorts lately.

But does that slight fear stop him from taking off to meet up with Festus and Hilarious? No, no it doesn't.

While Coriolanus was living it up at the club with his friends, Festus and Hilarious, you were at home spending a quiet evening with Grandma'am, Crassus, and Cassian. You played a couple hands of gin rummy with Grandma'am before going to the nursery to check on the baby. And once Grandma'am retired to bed, you spent some time with your husband.

It wasn't much, just watching some talent show on CapitolTV and then the news before heading to bed. The atmosphere was quiet, but heavy between you and Crassus as you got ready for bed. He didn't bring it up, knowing you'd probably wave off his inquiry, but it did bother him.

Crassus thought that he was making progress with you; that he was making you happy. But now…well…he's not sure anymore. You seem to be tense and weighed down by something. Something that wasn't bothering you before and he doesn't like it.

He walks out of the large walk-in closet, donning his navy silk pajamas, and makes his way to your shared bed. He gets into it only to wait for you to emerge from your side of the closet. And when you do walk out of it, Crassus can't help, but to notice how motherhood has matured you- has given you softer curves and fuller breasts. He notices that, although you're so much younger then him, you have a womanly glow about you as your silky nightgown hugs your body in all the right places.

How has he never noticed this before? Was he truly so wrapped up in work, stuck in his own head, that he never noticed the beauty that you, his wife, truly is? Crassus prides himself on being a calculated and tactful man, but it seems when it comes to you he's anything but.

You don't notice your husband's icy blue eyes melting as they follow your every move while you cross the room, taking your silk robe that matches your nightgown to drape over your vanity bench- something you do every night in order to easily grab it whenever you need to leave the room to check on the baby, etc. But why would you notice the way Crassus is looking at you; that it's different then every other night? Softness isn't something that's easily found between you and your husband. The fact that he's starting to feel something for you doesn't register to you, but why would it? It's not like he's ever made any intentions of wanting more than a surface level marriage.

“Come to bed, Petal.” Crassus orders, folding over your side of the duvet for you.

Turning away from your vanity, you simply tell him, “I'll be right there, Crassus.”

Your husband watches you as you make your way over to bed. His eyes roam over your body as the bed dips slightly while you get into it. As he does every night, he gives you a lingering peck on the lips while saying, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Crassus.” You reply, as soon as the kiss ends, before laying down and pulling the duvet up around your shoulders.

You feel your husband settle next to you, only for him to switch off the lamp on his bedside table; engulfing the room in darkness. You stare at the wall in the dark, listening to your husband's breathing grow shallow as he falls asleep. Crassus is a light sleeper, but he usually falls asleep rather quickly.

You're secretly waiting for the sound of the front door opening paired with the faint echo of Coriolanus’ Florsheims clunking against the floor because you need to confront him about what you saw in the coffee shop this afternoon. You can't let it go. You need to tell him how you feel. You need…closure.

You're not sure how long you've been staring at the wall in the dark for whenever you finally hear Coryo get in. Your breath hitches and your heart seizes tightly in your chest. It's finally time to confront your stepson.

You gingerly pull aside your blanket and slowly rise from the bed, careful not to wake your husband. You look over your shoulder, seeing that Crassus is still asleep, before rushing to grab your rob from your vanity bench. Quickly, you toss it on and leave your master bedroom.

Your bare feet patter against the marble floor as you make your way down the hallway towards Coriolanus' room. When you reach it, you don't even knock- just open the door and walk right in.

You're met with the sight of a disheveled Coriolanus. His button up shirt's a bit wrinkled, fly of his pants is undone, his pale skin’s flushed, platinum blonde curls are messy, and his baby blues slightly glassy. Clearly, he wasn't out studying. The faint smell of liquor, posca to be precise, emitting from his pores is proof that he was out at the club with Festus and Hilarious instead of at a study group with the boys.

Seeing you standing before him in his room in your robe and nightgown brings a cocky, lustful grin to his face. Coriolanus feels like the cat that got the cream, seeing you enter his room right after he got home proves to him that you've been up all night waiting for him. That you still want him; need him.

But Coriolanus is wrong about that. So very very wrong.

You keep a considerable distance between you and the younger Snow while announcing, “We need to talk, Coriolanus.”

“Oh, mommy, we both know you didn't come here just to ‘talk’.” Coriolanus coos, moving to close the distance between you.

You back away from him before his outstretched hand can touch you, causing a frown to form on his face. But before he can ask what's wrong, you bombard him with the reason why you came. The million dollar question of, “How long have you been cheating on me with Livia Cardew for, Coriolanus?”

Coriolanus blanched, as if you just threw a pot of boiling hot water in his face. How dare you ask him that? He's declared his love for you, hasn't he? Cemented it by giving you his child, right? So, shouldn't you be lovingly opening your arms for him; taking care of his needs? You shouldn't be asking him about Livia Cardew, it's not your place to ask.

Oh, and he's going to let you know that too.

Coriolanus’ brows furrow deeply as he sharply tells you, “Don't worry about Livia Cardew, she's nothing to you, mommy.”

“I'm not stupid, Coriolanus. I have eyeballs, I saw you two pawing all over each other at Sweet Brew.”

“We weren't pawing all over each other, we were studying for a class.”

“Oh, so is that what you call your dates and outings these days? Studying?” You sarcastically asked him. Shaking your head, you scoff, “I heard what you said to her, Coriolanus. You called her ‘my darling’.”

“Y/N, I think you're overreacting-” Coriolanus began to say, only for you to cut him off with a frantic, “I'm not overreacting. You're cheating on me and I'm done.”, while angrily waving your hands in the air.

A scowl crossed the blonde's face. “What do you mean you're done?”

Did he really just ask you that?

Folding your arms over your chest, you give him the answer of, “You're cheating on me with that bitch, Livia, so we're over.”

“Livia means nothing to me, but you do, mommy. We can't be over.”

“We're over and done, Coriolanus.”

“And what? You think my father suddenly cares about you-” Flinging his arm in the general direction of the nursery, Coriolanus barks, “about Cassian?” His cerulean eyes turned into dark soulless stones as he snarled, “My father will never care about, let alone love you and the baby. He's just bored; amusing himself by toying with you. But he'll grow tired of it; go back to ignoring you.” His lush lips curled up cruelly as he added in, “And he'll do it to our son too.”

Coriolanus' words cut deep. They also wound your already fragile soul. But if that wasn't enough, the final blow to your shattered heart was when he told you in a sickeningly sweet, syrupy tone, “When my father tosses you aside like trash you'll be crawling back to me on your knees, begging me for a crumb of attention.” His face, once so angelic, morphs into an unreadable mask as he taunts, “But I don't know if I'll take pity on you, the mother of my child: my son, when that day comes.” A dark chuckle sounds deep in the back of his throat. “You say you're done with me because of what you think you saw between Livia Cardew and I, so I'm not sure if I'll be able to be a fool in love for you once again when the time comes that you realize your mistake in choosing my father over me.”

Hot, salty tears are rolling down your cheeks profusely. His cruel words has you crying so badly that your vision's blurry. How can Coriolanus claim to love you, but turn around and act like this? Say such hurtful things?

“Stop crying, Y/N.” Coriolanus snaps out in frustration. “All you ever do anymore is cry. I'm quite sick of it.”

Hastily wiping your tears away with your hands, you tell him, “I'm sorry you're sick of my crying, but I can't help it.” You feel as if you need to leave, as if you'll suffocate if you stay in the room with him any longer. Taking a few calming breaths, you say, “I'm done, Coriolanus. I hope you treat Livia better than me.”, before rushing out of the room.

You're lucky that the argument between you and Coriolanus didn't echo throughout the hallway, waking Crassus and Cassian- who are both light sleepers. But, when you return to your master bedroom and get back into bed, your movements stir your husband. He groggily asks about the baby and you assure him that everything’s fine; to go back to sleep.

But everything's not fine. No, right now you're suffering from a broken heart. First love and first heartbreaks sure do have a way of draining the life out of somebody's soul, that's for sure.

Your husband doesn't need to know that though. The less Crassus knows of your shame the better.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @princess-harvey @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress @nayveetbhh @someonefromwutheringheights @shellybellysstuff @solatiiium @ryomen6

[theladyofdeath]

Anxious & Bewitched {nessian}

Ship: Nesta x Cassian Summary: College AU; Nesta loses a bet and has to go on a date with Cassian to a haunted corn maze. T/W: None; Fluff

Written with @snelbz

As Nesta opened the passenger side door and dropped from the cab of the truck, a chill breeze had her tucking her hands into the folds of her thick sweater.

The driver-side door closed behind her and she took a deep breath.

She had no reason to be nervous. There was no reason to be nervous. It wasn’t the first time they’d hung out together, wasn’t even the first time it’d just been the two of them, without the rest of their friends. But this time… This time was different.

He appeared around the front of the truck. “I told you I’d come around to get your door.”

Reigning in the urge to roll her eyes, Nesta muttered, “Yeah, well, you were taking too long.”

He laughed, as he always did when he was clearly exasperated by her. She wondered if somewhere, deep down inside, Cassian secretly wanted to throttle her instead of being amused by her annoyance. She wouldn’t be surprised if he did.

“Most girls—” With one look shot in his direction, Cassian stopped speaking and cleared his throat. “Like corn mazes,” he finished, even though she knew damn well that wasn’t what he was going to say. “Do you?”

Nesta shrugged. “I don’t think anyone really enjoys corn mazes. We all just do them because it’s a tradition.”

“Glad to see you’re excited,” he muttered and shoved his hands in his pockets as they walked toward the ticket booth. “I hope you don’t get scared too easily. They say this is the scariest maze in the county.”

Nesta glanced at the setting sun, barely still in existence. She gave it fifteen minutes before they were in complete darkness. “Do I seem like someone who gets scared easily?”

They reached the front of the line, which saved Cassian from having to answer the loaded question and headed for where the festivities would be starting as soon as the sun fully set behind Ramiel in the distance.

“So,” Nesta began as she looked around at the stands and vendors around them. “I believe the stipulations were one dinner and one trip through the corn maze.”

“And apple cider after the maze,” Cassian reminded her with a wink. The bet they’d made last week over whether Azriel or Elain would earn a higher score on their English lit midterm had won Cassian a date with Nesta, after over a year of rejections. He would make it count.

Nesta’s dramatic sigh was mostly for show as she said, “Right, how could I forget? Where do we start?”

“Dinner?” He asked, gesturing to the stalls they paused before.

Chili, soup, and roasted chicken legs; kettle corn, funnel cake, and, of course, hot cider. The options were limitless and as Nesta’s stomach rumbled hungrily, she realized her appetite was as well. “I could eat.”

After a quick discussion over what they each wanted and whether or not it would count as a date if they weren’t eating the same thing, Cassian led Nesta to an open picnic table, placing her bowl of hearty tomato soup in front of her as she sat down. Rather than taking the seat across from her, Cassian sat next to her, the heat of his thigh against hers as he took a bite out of the massive chicken leg he’d decided on.

He ate like an animal and Nesta hated to admit that she found it oddly attractive. 

Nonetheless, she said, “You eat like a barbarian.”

“I eat like a man,” he corrected and nodded towards her soup. “Are you going to pretend to sip that thing like a lady instead of devouring it like you want to?”

The word devour from his lips sent a chill down her spine. She’d read too much smut.  

And yes, yes she was.

Nesta took her sweet time sipping her soup, just to spite him. He was finished in less than a minute but he waited patiently for her once his food was long gone. 

Half an hour passed before Nesta’s bowl was empty and by that time, the moon and the stars were shining brightly in the night sky. Cassian took care of their garbage and clapped his hands together as Nesta stood from the picnic table.

“Ready?”

She sighed, even as a whirlwind of anxiety and excitement swelled in the pit of her stomach. “I guess I don’t have a choice, right?”

His grin was intoxicating as he said, “Not at all.”

They lined up behind a group of high school students, Cassian recognizing the green and silver of their letterman jackets from the next town over, and sat in companionable silence as the teenagers planned how they’d make their way through the maze. They discussed who would lead, who was too scared and would walk in the middle, and who would bring up the rear, making sure those people from the middle wouldn’t fall behind.

Before they knew it, the excited giggles of the group became shrieks and howls of laughter as they meandered deeper into the maze.

Then it was their turn.

“After you, Nes,” Cassian said, gesturing to the long walkway ahead of them. It faded into nothing but darkness and he swore he heard her swallow before she turned to him.

“I don’t think so. This was your idea, so you get to go in first.”

The attendant rolled his eyes and held an arm out toward the entrance. “I’ve got a line and you’re backing it up. You can go in together.”

Nesta opened her mouth to protest but Cassian took her by the hand and pulled her into the maze. Before she could even catch her breath, they were enveloped in corn stalks, the shrieks and screams of others radiating around them.

Nesta’s body grew taut, so much so that she hadn’t even realized that her hand was still in Cassian’s until they turned their first corner.

“So,” he began, and she could see his smirk in the outline of the starlight, “not scared, huh?”

“I swear to the Cauldron, I will leave right now if you don’t shut up.” The words rushed out of her. She took a deep breath, then another. “I’m not scared. I’m just—”

A guy dressed as a bloodied up zombie jumped out of the cornstalks and Nesta screamed.

But it was Cassian that jumped nearly a foot in the air, a long string of profanity tumbling from his mouth.

Nesta stared at him.

Cassian, chest heaving, stared back.

Then, despite herself, Nesta laughed.

With an exasperated sigh, Cassian took Nesta’s hand again and dragged her away from the still snarling zombie.

“Holding my hand a little tight there, aren’t you?” She asked, once they had moved farther into the maze. He could hear the smile on her face, but didn’t look at her as they surged forward. “Don’t worry, Cass, I’ll keep you safe.”

A twig snapped at their backs and Nesta whirled, turning to face the…empty path behind them. Her eyes darted around, searching despite not seeing anyone or anything there.

A terrified scream from somewhere deeper within the maze had Nesta gasping and clutching onto Cassian’s arm with her free hand.

“I could say the same for you,” he snapped, and cursed when the sound of a chainsaw began to rev from somewhere in the maze. “I’m having a blast.”

“Me too,” she hissed, grounding herself in the warmth of his body. She had never felt so annoyed and so safe at the same time. Maybe if she closed her eyes, this whole experience would be so much more enjoyable. 

Ignoring the fact that she was clinging to Cassian for dear life, Nesta continued to make her way through the maze, wishing she was literally anywhere else every time they came to a dead end.

They had just gotten away from a psycho in a hockey mask when Cassian said, “I have no clue how to get out of here.”

Nesta looked down the creepy pathways before them. “I don’t either. Isn’t there some trick to getting out of mazes?”

Snapping his fingers, Cassian took her hand and began pulling her down the path to the right. “Right turns only.”

The psycho in the hockey mask was waiting around the next turn with the rest of his team.

“Why do you even like this stuff?” Cassian demanded as they stopped to catch their breath, warily looking around at the corn stalks, waiting for someone to jump out at them.

“I don’t,” Nesta replied, peeking around the corner, cringing at whatever she saw. “I hate it.”

When there was no response, Nesta glanced over her shoulder, half-expecting him to be gone. Instead, she found him staring at her.

“What do you mean you hate it,” he asked, eyes on hers.

“I mean, I hate getting scared,” she snapped, looking back around the corner. “Slashers and horror movies are the extent of my interest in being scared.”

He muttered under his breath, “I’m going to kill them.”

With her brow furrowed, Nesta turned to find him shaking his head. “Who?”

“Feyre, but I’m sure it was Rhys’s idea, too.” He stepped up behind her, finally seeing the clown standing in the middle of the path and stepped back. “When I asked her for an idea of what you’d want to do, she said you’d love this. That you love haunted houses.”

Nesta tried her best not to gape but couldn’t help herself. “She said what?”

Cassian just shook his head, dragging Nesta past the creepy ass clown. 

“You don’t like this, either?” She asked, when he said nothing. Cassian just shook his head, and Nesta scoffed. “Wow.”

“Being scared pisses me off,” he admitted. “Which, your sister knows.”

A realization hit Nesta as they turned yet another corner: he hated being scared, but he brought her here anyway.

Because he thought she would love it. 

She hadn’t realized she was staring at him until a second clown popped out of the stalks and Cassian’s hand gripped onto hers so tightly that it hurt.

Nothing else was said until they reached the end of the maze, just a few minutes later. There were no other big scares, nothing else to take any additional years off of Cassian’s life and he wished his sigh of relief when they finally walked out into the open air of the festival wasn’t as loud as it was. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, beyond thankful that the entire ordeal was over and he’d made it out alive.

“Alright,” he said, exhaling one last time and looking towards the stalls. He’d seen someone selling hot cider when they’d first gotten here. “I could go for some cider. Honestly, I’m down for something stronger, if you are, but—”

A tug on his hand had him leaning down and then a warm kiss was pressed to his cheek.

For a moment, he stilled, thinking what had happened hadn’t just happened, but when he met her gaze, she almost looked as surprised as he was. Her eyes were wide and hesitant, glancing hectically between his eyes and his mouth. Cassian swallowed, scared to say or do anything to break whatever the hell was going on here. 

“Thank you,” she said, quietly but firmly, eyes locked on his. 

“For what?” he asked, blinking. “You were miserable.”

“So were you,” she agreed, and shook her head. “So, thank you.”

“I wanted you to have a good time,” he admitted, brushing his fingers against hers. “I didn’t want you to regret having said yes.”

Her fingers grazed his again, but then she laced them together. “Technically, I didn’t have a choice, since I did lose a bet after all,” she said, voice taking on a teasing tone before dropping back into something softer as she smiled. “But I’m glad I came. I’m glad I said yes, Cassian.”

She glanced down at their joined hands, squeezing his fingers once before she met his gaze. His eyes were already on her and he couldn’t help but stare in awe at how beautiful she was.

Blushing, Nesta cleared her throat. “So. You owe me a drink.”

Cassian hesitated. “Cider? Or…”

“Something stronger may be nice.” Nesta breathed a laugh and Cassian couldn’t help but smile. “Something to take the edge off.”

Cassian couldn’t deny that. He could use the same thing, something to take the edge off. “There’s a bar two miles up the road. I think it’s a biker bar, but it seems… Well, I’ll keep you safe.”

Nesta raised a brow. “Maybe I’m the one to keep you safe.”

Cassian sighed. “You can’t ever just say okay, can you?”

Nesta pretended to think about it. “No.”

Yet, with a wicked smile, she dragged him by his hand to the parking lot - which was nothing more than a field marked off with rope - until they were at his truck. Still holding her hand, Cassian opened the passenger side door and helped Nesta up inside before rounding the truck and climbing up behind the wheel. 

The ride to the corn maze had been okay. Conversation had been awkward. Not bad, but a little forced. The ride to the bar was nothing like that. It was brief, but by the time Cassian put the truck in park and cut the engine, he had Nesta dabbing at her eyes as she laughed at a story he was telling her about a prank he and Azriel had pulled on Rhys when they were in high school.

“To this day, he can’t stand the smell of tartar sauce,” he said, shaking his head as unbuckled his seatbelt.

She did the same, laughter still shaking her shoulders. “I don’t blame him, I don’t think I can think of it the same way either.”

With a grin, he opened the door, hopping down and rounded the truck. When he opened her door, he offered her his hand. “You waited this time.”

Her cheeks darkened just a bit, but her eyes sparkled as she said, “Well, I wouldn’t have wanted to take your chance to be a gentleman away.”

“Again,” he added.

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Again.”

After taking his hand, Nesta hopped down from the cab and he locked the truck behind them as they made their way inside the bar. It was pretty busy but they managed to find a little table tucked into the back. 

“What’re you drinking?” Cassian asked after Nesta plopped onto the bench.

Nesta lifted a brow. “Surprise me.”

Cassian chuckled. “You trust me that much?”

“We’re about to find out,” Nesta crooned.

Suddenly nervous, Cassian made his way to the bar and waited for the bartender to find her way towards him. He took the time to decide what drink best represented Nesta Archeron.

In the end, he returned to the table with two drinks and two shot glasses.

“What’d you get?” She asked, eyeing the drinks as she set them on the table.

“Jack and Coke,” he said, hovering his hand over the first. Then the second. “Vodka cranberry.” Then he slid one of the shot glasses in front of her and took the other himself. “And a shot of tequila for us both, in case you hate either of those.” 

Grinning, she looked back at the drinks. “And if I want the Jack?”

“Then it looks like I’ll be having a pink drink tonight.”

Rolling her eyes, Nesta nudged the Jack and Coke closer to him and took the other. “I like both, but this is my favorite.” She picked up the shot glass and held it out to him. “Cheers.”

Clinking his glass against hers, Cassian tossed it back, before placing it top down on the table. He did his best not to make a face, but found himself chasing his shot with his drink. Blowing out a brisk breath, he asked, “So am I to assume that haunted corn mazes aren’t a part of your yearly Halloween traditions?”

Nesta shook her head, leaning back in her seat. “Absolutely not. I’ve never even been to a haunted house. Feyre and Elain used to try and get me to take them in high school, before they could drive, but I’ve never liked it.”

“Me either.” He drummed his fingers on the table next to his drink. “Why would I want to pay someone to scare me shitless?”

With a laugh, Nesta agreed. “What about you? Anything you do for Halloween every year?”

“Pumpkin carving. Hands down.”

Nesta scrunched her nose.

Cassian blinked. “Do you have…an issue with pumpkin carving?”

“It’s so messy,” she said, sipping from her drink. “And I hate the feeling of all the guts between my fingers. No, thank you.”

Cassian shakes his head, eyes narrowed in her direction. “What kind of person hates pumpkins? Who hurt you?”

“I like pumpkins.” Nesta laughed. “I just like them intact.” 

“You’re missing out,” he said, and his toe nudged hers until the table and lingered. “Maybe you should give it another try. Maybe you’ve done it wrong.”

“You’re very passionate about carving pumpkins,” Nesta chuckled.

“I prefer calling it pumpkin art, but yes I am.”

Nesta laughed again and Cassian stared at her in awe. It was nice to see her laugh, smile, be happy instead of glaring daggers in his direction.

He looked away from her, his finger circling the rim of his glass. “You could come over, one night this week, if you wanted. We could carve a couple pumpkins. I’ll handle the guts, all you’d have to do is the fun part.”

Raising her eyebrows, Nesta asked, “And what exactly is the fun part? The stabbing?” 

“That and realizing that what you carved looks absolutely nothing like what you planned.”

With a snort, Nesta asked, “I thought you said it was pumpkin art?”

“I did,” he replied with a shrug, but the corner of his mouth was lifted up in a smirk. “But I never said it was good art.”

Tipping her head back, Nesta laughed. When she was done, she brought her glass to her lips and took a drink. “I’d love that.”

Cassian was almost shocked by her revelation. “Yeah?” She nodded but Cassian tried not to get his hopes up too much. “How about Wednesday?”

Nesta slowly set her glass back down. For a second, she hesitated, but then she said, “I can do Wednesday.”

Nearly dropping his glass, Cassian stared across the table. She was not only on a date with him now, but agreed to another in only a few days time. 

Either he was dreaming…or she was already drunk.

Maybe a bit of both. 

After a few more drinks, Cassian glanced at the clock over the bar and saw that it was pushing midnight. “We should probably go. You said you work at nine?”

With a groan, Nesta nodded. She worked at the library on campus and the librarian was not lenient about tardiness and attendance. “Bright and early.”

Drumming his fingers on the table, Cassian stood. “I’ll pay our tab and we can get out of here.”

By the time he returned, Nesta had finished her drink and was slipping her purse over her head.

His hand fell to the small of her back as they left, the crack of pool balls and droning of the jukebox in the corner fading as they walked out the front door.

As soon as they were outside, Nesta shivered. “It’s definitely fall,” she said, tucking her hands under her arms.

With a laugh, Cassian wrapped an arm around her shoulders and tucked her into his side, not letting himself second guess the move. “It’s almost like you should have worn that coat I mentioned when I picked you up.”

“I’d rather be cold than admit defeat,” she joked, but Cassian sensed there was a bit of truth to it, even as she leaned further into him. “Besides, you seem to like my lack of a coat.”

He did. “I wouldn’t like it if you were to die of hypothermia.”

Nesta snorted. “Once again, look who's being overdramatic.”

She let him open her door and help her into the truck, before it roared to life and he headed back into Velaris. On the ride back to her apartment, Nesta admitted she’d never been to a high school football game, much to Cassian’s dismay.

“What did you even do on Friday nights?” He demanded, glancing over at her as they stopped at a red light.

“Stayed in and read.” She said it like it should have been obvious, and honestly, it probably should have been.

“We’ll have to fix that, too,” Cassian said, just as the light turned green. “There’s nothing like being under those lights, the sounds of the game.”

Nesta lifted a brow. “There’s also nothing like curling up in bed with a good book.”

Cassian shook his head, amused. “You can’t tell me that reading is better than a real life experience.”

“Football is not a real life experience,” Nesta protested but that playfulness in her tone remained. “It’s a sport where people are either getting injured or praised way too much. Sometimes both.”

Cassian looked over to find her already watching him with the smallest of grins on her mouth. “So hateful.”

“I could say the same for you,” she crooned.

“Fine,” Cassian laughed. “You come with me to a game and I’ll read whatever book you give me.”

Eyebrows raising, Nesta asked, “Whatever book I give you? Any book of my choosing?”

“I already feel like I’m going to regret this, but yes.” Cassian pulled into the parking lot of Nesta’s building. “Any book of your choosing, as much or as little smut as you want.”

Nesta’s cheeks darkened. “I’ll start thinking then.”

He put the truck into park, looking over at her. “I can’t wait.”

The cab of the truck was silent, as her eyes met his. It felt quiet, intimate, safe. Softly, like speaking too loudly would shatter whatever was building between them, Nesta said, “I had fun tonight. Despite getting the shit scared out of me.”

���Me too,” Cassian agreed, hardly more than a whisper. “Can I walk you to your door?”

“Yeah.”

Neither of them moved.

The realization that Cassian had no idea what to do was daunting. He had never had trouble with women before but Nesta was a different breed. He’d waited years for this moment and now that it was here, he felt he was walking on glass and it would shatter beneath him at any given moment.

Nesta cleared her throat when the silence dragged on. “Should I get my door this time or…?”

That set Cassian in motion and by the time he rounded the truck and opened her door, she was doing her best — and failing — to hide her grin.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, taking her hand and helping her down.

Her laughter was quiet, but she didn’t let go of his hand as they headed up the stairs and to her door.

“So I’ll come over Wednesday?” She asked, and it was more than Cassian could have hoped for. He’d half expected her to change her mind, to pretend she forgot, and move on.

“Yes, I mean, yeah.” He was stumbling over his words and he cleared his throat. “I’ve got a bio chem lab that lets out at three, but I’m free anytime after that.”

“Then I’ll be there after three,” she said.

Cassian's hand tightened in hers as they stood on her doormat. “Sounds good.”

“Good.” With one last smile that had Cassian feeling weak, Nesta turned towards her door.

Before he could think twice, Cassian pulled on her hand and pulled her towards him until their mouths met, softly. He was still walking that line of caution even if caution was the last thing on his mind.

But she kissed him back, each touch sweet and gentle and nothing like he expected a kiss with her to be like, but far better.

He cupped her face, her lips soft and lush against his, and breathed in her scent before stepping back. The blush on her cheeks was beautiful, her eyes bright, and her breathing was shallow and quick. He wanted to kiss her again, something more than the quick meeting of their lips, but he forced himself to take another step back, to head towards his truck. “I’ll see you Wednesday,” he said, gaze locked on hers.

“Wednesday,” she repeated, voice soft, and unlocked her door. It opened with a creak and she stepped inside. “Goodnight, Cassian.”

The door closed and he was left staring at her autumn-themed wreath. So soft, there was no way she could have heard it, he breathed, “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

[lyssasdrafts]

i’ve fallen down the f1 driver path… who wants a formula driver! cassian x reader fic??

[localfraudster]

Did this for fun and IM. A. GENIUSSS FOR VTK /j

Anyways so if they say that the festival of corruption/match with Gadam vs Captaons is on the 15th November and Cassian did that bc his exams were the next day, which would be the 16th of November. CSATS irl Korea is on the third week/Thursday of November, and vtk is mostly 21st century.

So here are the years vtk could fit into:

If we take a look at the usage of phones in vtk, they mostly use modern touchscreen mobile phones, and during the 2000s, they weren't in full use by the public, so we can rule out 2000 and 2006.

The years that vtk could be set in is from 2017-2034. This is just a rough estimation as

Vtk is not the same world as ours, it is fictional

Me ruling out 2000s may be incorrect

This is just an estimation and as of the moment I'm writing this, we do not know how far our society may change in the future so the way people dress in vtk could be from our recent years.

Let's just assume vtk is set in 2017/2023,

Cassian (Gangu), the bullies, Minyeong, Naeun, Yuri, Uchan, Rick, Raul, the psyker trainees who barged into Gadam vilzone, Driver, Red Eye, Crow, Black Hand, Crush, Double Blade, literally majority of the villains would be like gen z

Cassian Lee, Jeff, Tuppence, Jiseon, Daewung would all be millenials

Don King would be Gen X, same goes for the card villain guy and blue serpent I think? They all look old.

This is just a hypothesis and it isn't confirmed, and I made this just for fun so don't take this seriously.

[roselensedeyes]

Be still, my foolish heart - part one

Pairing: elriel, elain x azriel

Word Count: 11.1k

CW: child abuse

NSWF: yes

Hello everyone!

I'm sharing part one of my newest fic. I don't know when part two will come out, probably at some time next week. I'm also working on a 7-chapter fic for Azriel's week. I'm super excited about that one because I started it months ago and I'm now fixing it so it fits with the prompts. You can also find it on AO3 here. Enjoy! Here's the link for Part two.

She’d almost asked Rhys or Mor to winnow her to the camp, the weight of the muffins and pies too heavy, but they didn’t know about her frequent visits to the remote location– none of her family did– and she really, really didn’t want to answer the questions that would surely arise.

It wasn’t that she meant to keep it a secret forever. But this was her thing, that gave her a purpose she’d never had before, not even when she started gardening as a child, or when she picked up baking with Nuala and Cerridwen all those months ago. She wanted to keep it for herself for a while, just a bit longer.

So Elain told Cassian she was going to a house to help its owner with this overgrown ivy that gave no sign of going away anytime soon, secretly getting into a carriage that would take her to her destination. 

“Good morning, Mr. Garth,” Elain called out to the driver. The man– male, she reminded herself– slightly turned his head her way in greeting, the white and gray in his hair noticeable in this light. Garth smiled, the skin around his eyes crinkling.

“Good morning to you, too, Miss Elain,” he said cheerfully. Then he took notice of the baked goods she was carrying. “By the Cauldron, Miss, if you’d told me you were bringing stuff with you I’d have picked you up near your house,” he exclaimed.

“No,” Elain hastily said, causing Garth’s eyebrows to shoot up his forehead. She hurried to clarify, “I just meant, there was no need. A little exercise is good for me, or at least that’s what my older sister says.”

The older man chuckled. “That’s what my mate says, too.”

Elain’s stomach churned at the word, but waved it off with a humming sound.

Soon, they reached her destination. The magical scenery of Velaris faded to harsh weather, the snow thick as it fell and covered the ground. Her heart squeezed at the sight, her blood screaming at her to hurry.

She’d already opened her door by the time the carriage came to a stop, quickly gathering the pies and muffins before setting off to the small building, not before leaving a few coins to Garth, to his never-ending protests.

Elain struggled to open the heavy wooden doors while making sure the food wouldn’t fall. She had just made the decision to knock and pray someone would hear, when someone opened it for her.

She looked up to see Carys’ bright, sweet smile flashing at her. Elain couldn’t help her own as she looked at her friend. “Thank you,” she said.

“Don’t worry, El,” Carys replied. “I see you made good on your promise,” she pointed at what she was carrying.

Elain nodded. “Yes. I feared the children would send me away if I came empty handed,” she whispered, eyes gleaming with joy.

Carys laughed with her, and together they walked to the dining room, where she knew the kids were awaiting breakfast.

Elain had first heard of the orphanage when she was assisting an elderly lady with her garden. The female had invited her in for tea and told her all about her granddaughter who was volunteering at an orphanage slightly outside the city. She’d explained about the high number of children who had lost their parents in the war and had no other family that could take them in. Elain had left with a tears-stricken face and her heart shattered in a million little pieces. Two weeks later, she’d met with the female’s granddaughter, Carys.

Carys had welcomed her, showing her the place and introducing her to the little ones. Elain had almost started crying as she met them, but she was quick to bat her tear away, Carys’ instructions sounding loud and clear in her head. Never let them see you cry. All they need is a feeling of normalcy. Tears are often associated with the loss they suffered.

Five months later, Elain was now a volunteer, too. She came by at least three times a week, four if she managed it. She helped feed them, bathe them; she played with them and brought them on walks. The kids adored her, almost as much as she did them.

As she stepped into the room, several heads turned to her. So many, too many babies didn’t have a place to call home. Her heart constricted in her chest at the thought. Elain knew most of them would never find their forever home, would grow up in this place until they reached maturity. She only hoped that by that time, the kindness and affection the volunteers had shown them during their childhood, would shape them into good people.

 “Miss Elain!” Many cried out, launching themselves at her and Carys. The two young females hugged them all as best as they could, but soon the children noticed what they were carrying. Gasps filled the room.

“Pies! You remembered, Miss Elain” A little girl exclaimed excitedly. Elain smiled back at her and nodded.

As soon as the pies and muffins were placed on a few tables, Elain and Carys were immediately forgotten. They watched in amusement as the kids all but flung themselves at the baked goods, devouring everything. It was a good thing Elain had already cut the cakes in slices.

Carys went to help the smaller children, who were on the verge of crying their lungs out at the thought of not getting something, too. Elain was about to follow her, when something in the corner of her eye caught her attention.

Under one of the unused tables, a little boy crouched. His little legs were bunched up to his chest, his eyes red and terrified. His wings were tucked in tight, as though he feared brushing them against any surface.

His eyes locked on hers as Elain slowly walked to him. His hazel eyes widened even more. He began scooting backward when he saw her approaching. She stopped dead in her tracks a few feet away from him, and raised her hands in a placating manner.

“It’s alright,” Elain soothed. “I only wanted to say hi to you.”

The child didn’t say anything in return.

“My name is Elain,” she greeted him, uncaring of his silence. It wasn’t the first time a small one refused to speak. This one couldn’t be older than four. Elain wondered if he even knew how to speak. “Do you want me to bring a muffin? Or would you rather a slice of apple pie? We even have a blueberry one, if you prefer.”

He looked at her hesitantly. She smiled, trying to reassure him there were no wrong answers. After a few minutes of unblinking staring, he gave a single nod. 

“That’s great! I’ll bring you each of everything. Or do you want to be with your friends?” He shook his head vigorously, like the thought terrified him. Elain smiled at him in answer.

When she returned less than two minutes later, the boy was still in the same position. Elain carefully sat down on the floor, handing him the food. He reached out just as carefully. He seemed to study which one he wanted to eat first, weighing the choice in his head.

It was then that she noticed it. His wings had scars on them. Elain swallowed, willing her face to remain the same, yet a noise escaped her. His little head jerked up and he noticed what she was looking at. He tried to tuck in his wings even more, pain flashing across his features. Her heart began bleeding.

“Can you tell me your name? I need to give this beautiful face a name,” she asked him, her voice tremulous. 

He didn’t say anything for so long that Elain believed he didn’t want to share this information with her. She opened her mouth, but a quiet, young voice stopped her. “Uri.” 

“That’s such a beautiful name. Thank you for telling me,” Elain said, her hands shaking. The corner of the boy’s mouth quirked up at her words. “How old are you, Uri?”

He looked at his hands, then held up four fingers. “Wow, you’re such a big boy!”

This time, his smile was wide, bright. It took all the control she’d mastered over the years to hold the tears in.

They spent hours crouched under the table, conversing quietly, away from prying eyes. Well, it was mainly Elain who spoke. She told him about her sisters, her parents and her new family. She told him all about gardening and baking, of how her friends, Nuala and Cerridwen, had helped her when she was sad. He retreated into himself when she asked about his family or his past. The blood in her veins went ice cold as millions of possibilities ran through her mind. So she talked about herself, making him laugh and gasp and smile. At some point, Uri began rubbing his tired eyes, stopping mid sentence to yawn.

Elain opened her arms. “Do you feel sleepy, sweet boy?”

He nodded. 

“Do you want me to tuck you in?” 

He seemed to hesitate, before slowly crawling into her warm embrace. Elain hugged him to her, mindful of his damaged wings. She got up with his arms tightly hugging her neck. She felt him tense as they walked past two male volunteers. They smiled at him, and Uri began shaking slightly. Elain tightened her hold on him and made it to the bedroom.

She gently laid him under the covers, caressing his hair and landing a kiss on his forehead. She smiled when she saw his cheeks coloring. “Have a nice nap, Uri.”

His hand shot out from under the covers to grab her wrist. Elain’s eyebrows rose high on her forehead. “What’s wrong, sweet boy?”

He mumbled something. “I’m sorry, Uri, I didn’t get that.”

Uri took a deep breath, like it was an effort to get the words out. “Stay. Don’t go,” his voice was quiet, but steady. Elain’s heart puffed up before squeezing tight. She sat down on the tiny bed, his hand still on her wrist. 

“That’s fine. Do you want me to tell you a story?” She asked him as she stroked his cheeks.

He nodded, nuzzling her hand. So Elain began narrating to him a story her father used to tell her when she was a child, when nightmares wouldn’t allow her any sleep. It was a tale of hope, of love, of friendship.

Uri fell asleep quickly, his hand still touching her. The sight warmed her soul, and it was painful to pry it and gently lay it on the bed.

She silently closed the door behind her and went in search of Carys. The black haired female was playing with some of the older kids when Elain tapped her on the shoulder. Her smile slid off her face as she noticed Elain’s pale face. “What happened?” She asked, alarmed.

“What do you know of Uri?”

Carys furrowed her brows. “Uri?” Her eyes cleared with understanding a few seconds later. “Oh, you’re talking about the Illyrian boy.” She shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t know much. We found him hiding beneath a tree a couple days ago. He was blue from the cold, we thought he was… Anyway, he hasn’t said much since we brought him here.”

Elain could feel new tears threatening to spill. “We need to do something about his wings,” she stated, as though she would allow no alternative.

Carys nodded. “The Illyrians aren’t forthcoming with their help. I was thinking about sending a letter to the High Lord, hoping he’d see it and provide us help soon.”

Elain shook her head no. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of this, I know who to call.”

When she left hours later, her body heavy with stricken worry, she instructed Garth to take her to a different address from the usual one. He gave her a curious look, but didn’t comment on it. 

The cobblestone was slippery outside, the weather bleak like Elain was feeling. A cold wind gave her skin bumps, and she wrapped her cloak tighter around herself. She knocked on the door, then knocked again, this time louder, when no one answered. “Open up. I know you’re in here.”

Silence, before she heard light steps from the other side of the door, which opened a few instants later. 

Azriel’s hair was ruffled, the shirt he had on wrinkled. His hazel eyes, so alike Cassian’s, so alike Uri’s, were red from sleep. His posture, though, was stiff, giving away his unease at having her at his house.

Elain had discovered it by accident, and Az had made her swear she wouldn’t reveal it to their family. She’d nodded, pleased at knowing one of his secrets when he knew so many about all of them. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked her, worry clouding his features. 

“What does it mean when an Illyrian’s wings have scars on them? Is it normal for them to hurt?”

Azriel’s eyes widened in surprise. “What?”

“If an Illyrian has scars in his wings, is it normal that–” she repeated, but Azriel interrupted her.

“Where is this coming from? Whose wings are scarred? Did something happen to Rhys or Cass?”

She quickly shook her head. “No, no. They’re fine. It’s…”

When Elain had made the decision to come here, she’d understood she would have to share this part of her life with at least someone else. Her comfort couldn’t come before a child’s health and safety. So she took a deep breath, and told Azriel everything.

He listened carefully to what she had to say. He always had, as though her words were his new law, forbidding him from deviating from them. Az had always made her feel sacred, important, strong. She spent her night wondering what had changed, when it did. She hadn’t found the answer yet, her tear-stained pillows proof of it.

Az ran a hand on his face when she finished speaking. “What happened to him?”

Elain sighed sadly. “I don’t know. He refuses to talk about his past. It took me hours to get him to tell me where he comes from.” She told him Uri’s camp’s name, and saw him clench his hands into tight fists. 

“I need to see him, so I can tell the healer what he needs,” Azriel explained.

She bit her lip. “I don’t know that that’s possible. I think… I think a male figure in his life hurt him badly. Might be the reason why his wings look like that.” She recounted his reaction to the two males. Azriel nodded his agreement. 

“Here’s what you need to do.”

-

The next day, Carys was surprised to see Elain back so soon. The latter explained what she planned to do. Carys let her go with a promise of calling for her if anything went wrong.

Uri was still in bed. He was sleeping, his face contorting in pain and anguish. Elain knew at once he was having a nightmare. Silently, she reached his tiny bed, the blue covers stained with tears. “Uri, wake up,” she whispered softly, not wanting to startle him. He didn’t wake. Ever so gently, Elain ran her knuckles on his cheek, all the while murmuring his name.

Slowly, Uri opened his eyes. Terror lined his features, and a sob escaped him. Elain kept caressing him, whispering words of comfort as he came to. He blinked, his eyes not as vacant and bleak as a few moments before, and finally noticed her. His cheeks reddened slightly. Elain watched as Uri tried to burrow himself even further under the covers. She smiled and giggled. “Hello, sweet boy. Do you want to give me a hug?”

He seemed to hesitate, looking at her in what she almost called self consciousness, but he crawled out from under the sheets and onto her laps, like he had done the previous day. Elain rubbed his back where she didn’t risk touching his little wings. “Should we get ready for the day and then eat breakfast?” She asked him, already walking toward the bathroom. Uri nodded, his head resting on the crook of Elain’s neck. 

She took great care of his pained wings as she helped him bathe, as she helped him wear some clothes Azriel had given her. Elain smiled at the older Illyrian’s thoughtfulness.

As Uri finished his breakfast– some leftover blueberry muffins from yesterday– Elain recounted what Azriel had said to her the night before. “I need to examine your wings,” she said. Uri stiffened. “I know, I know, sweet boy, but my– my friend has wings like yours, and they were hurt, too. He knows how to fix them, he told me how to. Can I take a look?”

Elain held her breath. She wasn’t going to force him to accept if he didn’t want to– only the Cauldron knew what had been done to him– but she really, really hoped he would. Seeing those injuries on a child made her blind with rage, and all Elain wanted to do was to take his pain away.

“Fine.” His small, child-like voice was barely audible.

Elain let out a sigh of relief. “I’m only going to take a look today. Tonight, I’ll meet with my friend and he’ll tell me what we need to do to fix these beautiful wings,” she explained. “I already know they’re going to be majestic when you get older,” she booped his nose.

Uri blushed and giggled. Elain laughed with him. They played a while together, before they found a secluded place where Elain could assess the state of his wings.

She had to swallow the fury and tears at the sight of what had been done to them, to him. His wings had laceration and burn scars. Someone had cut and burned them. Her hands closed in tight fists at her sides, her mind swimming with thoughts of hurting whoever was responsible.

“My papa doesn’t like me much,” Uri’s words stopped her fuming. Elain glanced in the mirror, caught his eyes. They were in a bathroom that was long unused, the plumbing required too expensive to afford. 

“Why do you say that?” She asked, even as she kept checking his wings out.

Uri shrugged. “He tells me all the time. He says he only wanted to be with my mother, that I wasn’t supposed to be here.” The way he said it, like it was normal for a parent to utter such things… Elain had to take a deep breath to quell the rage simmering in her blood.

“That’s not very nice, is it?”

Uri again shrugged. 

“What happened to him?” She asked, and immediately knew it was the wrong thing to say. His face shut down, his body tensed, and he wriggled to be put down. “I’m tired, Miss Elain. Can I go sleep?”

Elain cursed herself, but nodded anyway. She went with him to his bedroom, stayed until he fell asleep. Then, she all but ran outside, Garth already waiting for her. During the long minutes of the ride, she thought back on Uri’s words, what she had seen. Her vision was red, and when she finally got out of the carriage, she pounded on Azriel’s door.

This time, he didn’t bother pretending he wasn’t inside. 

“El–” Azriel started, but Elain’s anguished voice interrupted him.

“He burned him, Az. He cut him, he hurt his own son. How could a parent, anyone hurt a child?” Her voice broke, and Azriel’s concerned face appeared blurry to her.

Elain felt wetness on her cheeks just as Azriel’s scarred hand rested on her shoulder. She brought a hand to her face and wiped away the tears she hadn’t realized she’d shed.

Azriel’s other hand lightly touched Elain’s chin, lifting her head up. “It’s going to be alright, lo–Elain,” he murmured. 

Their eyes locked, and the tenderness in his had her nodding. Something tightened low in her belly.

“Now, take a deep breath and repeat what you just said, slowly.”

Elain did as he asked.

She watched as his hazel eyes, so much like Uri’s, darkened to the point they resembled a depthless pit the more she explained what the Illyrian child had told her and what she’d seen. The next time Azriel spoke, the ice in his voice sent a shiver down Elain’s back. “Do you know where his father,” the last word was said with particular vitriol. “lives? His name?”

She shook her head. “He didn’t say. He only said that his father doesn’t like him. The things that male has said to him… I’m sick just thinking about it.”

Azriel’s eyes flashed with so much fury that told Elain exactly what he thought of the male, and what he planned to do to him when he found him. Because he would find him, be it the last thing he ever did. And, Elain mused, she would join him in letting Uri’s father know what, exactly, he was worth. 

“Do you think,” Azriel’s voice brought her back to the present. “that the child would be comfortable around me?”

Elain inclined her head. “I’m not sure. He gave me the impression that he’s wary around males. Why?”

There was nothing, absolutely nothing on Azriel’s face as he said, “My own brothers did the same to me when I was slightly older than him. I think it would be best for him if he heard the healing process from someone who went through the same hurt as him.”

Her heart stopped beating for a while. When it picked up again, it did so with a rage that burned scarlet. She’d known something had happened to him, his scarred hands proof of it. But never would she have thought it had been done to him by his family–

Her horror and wrath must have shown on her face because Azriel asked, his brows furrowed, “Feyre didn’t tell you?”

Elain let out a distressed noise. “What— What happened to them?”

Azriel’s eyes shut down. “You don’t want to know.”

She bared her teeth, something wild clawing at her chest. “I do. If they still breathe, I want to end them myself.”

Azriel’s eyes widened. One of those beautiful, scarred hands splayed on his chest, where his heart lay beneath. “Elain—” He rasped out. 

They’d moved into the tiny living room as they’d talked. Now Azriel let himself fall on the gray sofa, panting.

Elain reached out, concerned. “Are you alright?” She asked, but as she made to touch him, he jerked away like a spooked animal. 

Her hand froze midway. “I’m sorry,” she apologized, confused. Elain didn’t even know what she was apologizing for.

Azriel shook his head. “I need… Let me know if Uri’s fine to meet me. I have somewhere to go.” He wouldn’t even meet her eyes.

It was like that night again, she thought bitterly as she exited his house, not even bothering to say goodbye. 

Her heart constricted in her chest as she realized how stupid she’d been to come to him. She should have gone to Rhys, or Cassian, or even Madja. Her mind betrayed her by replaying that fateful night all those months ago.

Elain closed the door of the carriage and banished those thoughts.

-

She went back to the orphanage a couple of days later. She inquired more about Uri, but Carys had learned nothing more about him. “I can show you where we found him, though,” she offered. Elain readily accepted, scanning the area keenly, memorizing it down to the smallest details, in order to be able to describe it to Az, or, if necessary, to allow Rhys a clear view if he needed to go through her mind. 

Her hands closed into two tight fists as she noticed there was no shelter in the area, just a few trees under which Uri had surely sought refuge. 

“Sweet boy, I have to ask you something,” Elain said now, while she and Uri were playing with a few blocks in the orphanage’s playroom.

He glanced up at her. His wings were touching the ground, but he didn’t seem to mind. She remembered her younger sister, Feyre, once explaining that it was a profound shame for an Illyrian’s wings to drag on the ground, a sign of weakness. Elain wondered if Uri had ever been taught how to fly. Somehow, she didn’t think he had.

“My friend would like to meet you,” she started slowly. His shoulders immediately bunched up. “You know how you told me your father doesn’t like you much? His brothers didn’t either, and they hurt him badly. He wants to help you.”

Uri didn’t say anything as he went back to his blocks. Elain barely held her sigh in. She knew it was a long shot. She’d seen how he reacted around males, she should have expected his, albeit silent, refusal. Hopefully, Madja knew how to help him, or maybe Azriel could explain to them the best–

“Will you be there with me?” Uri’s small, quiet voice interrupted her thoughts.

Elain settled her eyes on him again, and watched as his attention was wholly on her. “Of course. You’re my friend, now, Uri. You’ll never get rid of me,” she answered solemnly even as her fingers tickled his sides. He giggled, and it was the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard. Her laughter soon joined his, and for the first time in months, years, her heart felt light.

As their mirth slowly trailed off, Uri gave his consent to meeting Azriel.

“That’s good,” Elain nodded. “You will like him. He’s quiet like you, but his heart is full of love to give.” It was just that he hadn’t met the right person to give all that love to, Elain thought wistfully. She’d once believed she was that person, and what a fool she’d been. Her heart ached at the knowledge, but she hoped he would find her one day soon. 

Uri’s eyes flashed with interest at that, but he didn’t voice his curiosity. He went back to playing, throwing her glances when he thought she wouldn’t notice.

When she got home hours later, she let Azriel know through the twin wraiths, Nuala and Cerridwen, about Uri’s decision. Her friends could tell something was bothering her, somehow knowing she didn’t want to talk about it. Nonetheless, they spent time with her, trying to cheer her up.

She may not have the love of her life in her arms, Elain mused, but at least she had this. And much more. She had her family, her friends, her job, the orphanage, and Uri. She had much to smile for, to be happy about.

-

“Just a heads up. He doesn’t talk much, and he needs his time before opening up. That also includes telling you if he wants fruit or cereal for breakfast,” Elain warned three days later.

The shadowsinger nodded, even though his eyes were focused on the small building, assessing all the work that was visibly needed. 

“We’re hoping to save enough money to fix… everything,” she answered his silent question with a laugh.

He swung his gaze back to hers and arched an eyebrow. Elain shrugged. “We’re reaching the goal soon, and then some more. I might have put the request on top of the pile of papers Feyre and Rhysand have to go through. I might have also added my name there.”

She could have sworn his lips twitched, amusement dancing in his eyes. Her heart constricted with the need of having him.

Elain cleared her throat, aware that a flush had spread on her neck. She could have sworn Azriel’s ears were tinged red, too. “Let’s go meet Uri.”

The child in question lay on his tiny bed. He appeared to be sleeping, his face peaceful. Too peaceful. Elain knew at once he was faking it. She turned to Azriel, mirth in her eyes, and saw the understanding and glee on his features.

“Oh, Azriel, he’s sleeping,” she faux-whispered. “We’ll have to come back on another day. He’s sleeping.”

Azriel shook his head. “That’s too bad, I brought him a present, but I guess I’ll have to give it to him some other time,” he said, doing his best to sound serious.

Uri tensed, cracking one eye open.

Elain interlaced her arm with Azriel’s. “Let’s go, you can give it to him next time.”

She made to open the door, but Uri’s “I’m awake, Miss Elain” stopped her. Exchanging an amused glance with Azriel, they both turned to him.

“You’re awake!” Elain exclaimed, sounding surprised. “Uri, this is Azriel, my friend I told you about. Azriel, this is Uri, my newest friend,” she introduced them.

The child nodded vigorously. His gaze shifted to Azriel, and some of his excitement dimmed. He seemed to study him, taking in his size, his wings. His weariness slowly eased off, leaving interest in what Az had said he had for him.

“Oh, yes,” the shadowsinger said, his shadows handing him a soft toy. It resembled him, the hazel eyes, the dark hair, the wings. It was an Illyrian toy.

Uri’s eyes flickered with something that looked a lot like yearning, though a hint of fear and hurt could be found in them, as though he wouldn’t allow himself to believe it was for him, that he deserved it.

“My mother gave it to me when I was your age. She’d made it herself, claiming it would give me strength and that one day I’d be tall and strong. I think it worked, what do you think?” 

Uri nodded, awe shining on his face. 

“I want you to have it. So when you feel like you need it, you can just hug him tight to your chest and borrow his strenght,” Azriel finished, offering the toy to the boy.

The young Illyrian grabbed it, holding it tight in his arms. Unwelcomed tears filled Elain’s eyes, and she had to look away.

“Thank you, Mr. Azriel,” replied Uri brightly.

Az only inclined his head.

“Right,” Elain caught their attention. “Uri, do you remember what I told you about Azriel?” She waited for his nod before continuing. “Do you think he could take a look at your beautiful wings?”

The small child hesitated, but after a furtive glance in Azriel’s direction – who was trying his best to make him feel at ease – he gave a small nod.

-

It was a painful process.

Azriel knew it would be. He’d gone through it all those centuries ago, except in that case he was Uri and in his stead was his mother. 

Uri was trying his best not to make any sound as Azriel grazed his wings, trying to assess how deep the damage went. 

“Can I touch your wings, Uri?” He’d asked.

The boy had been confused at the request. It had taken Az a few seconds to understand that it was due to never being asked for permission to be touched. He’d done his best to cloud the fury he’d felt in that moment, the last thing he wanted was to frighten the small child in front of him.

Azriel consulted with his shadows. The scars were countless, but mostly superficial, which was the preferred outcome he hoped for. 

He turned to Elain, whom his shadows had let him know was seated on a stool near the door, her attention solely on them, and gestured to her to come closer.

“It’s not going to take one day, or two, nor three. It’s going to take a while, a few weeks at the earliest. If we rush the healing, we could make things worse,” Az explained to the both of them. Elain nodded, Uri too young to fully understand what he was saying.

“One more thing,” he looked solely at Elain as he went on. “He can’t stay here. He needs a room only for himself, a bathroom with the things he needs, including his balm.”

“I won’t allow him to go back to his— to that place,” Elain growled.

It hurt looking at her, after yesterday’s revelation. The ferocity with which she defended a child that wasn’t her own, that she wasn’t related to… Cauldron damn him, it made him want her that much more.

Az quickly clarified, “That’s not what I’m saying. I think he should come home with you, El.”

The name slipped out, but she didn’t seem to notice. “What?”

He shrugged. “Well, it’s clear he feels safe around you, and I doubt he does with any of the other volunteers, does he?” At her shake of head, he nodded. “He needn’t feel crowded, and he might feel shame if the other kids, especially the older ones, witnessed his state” he added, lowering his voice so as not to be heard by Uri.

“I understand, I really do, but I just can’t bring a child to the river house! Nyx is only a few months old,” Elain explained, frustrated at the thought of failing Uri.

“What about the town house?” 

He watched as she contemplated his words. 

“I guess I could just tell Rhys that I need my space, that I need to figure some things out,” she bit her lip, deep in thought, and Azriel had to grind his jaw to stop the fantasies playing out in his head. 

“I will come by often, to heal him,” Azriel offered.

An emotion he couldn’t decipher – despite the years of spying and torturing information out of other people — crossed her face, but it was gone in the next blink of eyes. 

“That’s– That’s perfect,” replied Elain. Az didn’t need his shadows to know it was a lie. 

Uri agreed to go live with Elain when they sat him down and explained the situation to him. Az could have sworn he almost looked relieved at the thought of leaving the orphanage. Not that he could blame him. 

They began making arrangements, and a week later, Azriel dropped Elain and Uri in their new home. 

Something that wasn’t his shadows screamed at him that it was wrong to leave his— to leave Elain and Uri alone. That he belonged with them, that he was supposed to stand at their side, protecting them.

The urge was primal, and it left him breathless. It took all his training to not double over in pain.

He ignored it, though.

And so he went to that flimsy house he owned, alone, trying to force those traitorous thoughts out of his head.

-

Uri settled rather quickly, Elain reckoned. He’d been awed by the size of the house, the many rooms and all the comfort he could find in it. He loved spending time in front of the fire, or in the kitchen with Elain as she baked him his favorite desserts (blueberry anything).

But most of all, he loved his bedroom.

She and Azriel had spent a long while debating on how to decorate it, and in the end had settled on few things. The bed, appropriate for his age, had a dark oak bed frame, which went perfectly with the cobalt blue bedding Elain had insisted on getting, as it was similar to the one in the orphanage. The wardrobe matched the bed, like the bookshelves. Az had snuck in a rocking chair, too, blushing as he admitted to her that being cuddled by his mother in one had brought him a great deal of comfort when he was recovering. 

There were a few toys scattered on the floor, but they’d decided against buying him too many things. Elain planned on taking him shopping in the Rainbow of Velaris, giving him the choice to choose the things he liked— clothes, toys, shoes.

Uri had stared at her wide-eyed as she’d explained why he didn’t have many things as of yet, like it was too great a gift to even consider. 

Though he’d adjusted fairly well, he seemed to be always looking over his shoulders, as if he was expecting someone to be there. Shaking her head, Elain thought it was probably his father, the memory of him, of what he’d done, haunting him from so far away. 

They were baking a cake — lemon flavored this time, because Uri had shyly confessed he wanted to try it — when he broached the subject.

“When will Mr. Azriel come by?”

Elain paused. “I’m not sure. I guess soon,” was all she could offer.

Truth to be told, things between her and Az had been… strange. Ever since the day she’d come to his place, he’d acted oddly in her presence. She’d scrambled through her thoughts to see if she’d done anything to upset him, if perhaps she’d acted too familiar with him, but she’d come up empty. 

Maybe Rhys had telepathed upsetting news and that’s why he’d behaved that way. But it wouldn’t explain why that had persisted in the following days. It had been almost two weeks since that day, yet he still had trouble meeting her eyes.

The other option, the one that made her heart squeeze painfully, was that he’d still regretted that Solstice Night. 

Elain had been embarrassed for months on end by his rejection, barely being able to stay in a room with him, but now… Now, thanks to Nuala and Cerridwen’s help, she’d come to terms with the fact that he did not want her. At first, the words hurt her. She’d been sure her feelings were reciprocated, after all, but now she could say them almost painlessly. 

Perhaps Az hadn’t gotten over the embarrassment yet. All Elain cared was that his feelings for her — or the lack thereof — wouldn’t come in the way of Uri’s recovery. Deep down, she knew they wouldn’t, but his silence in the past days troubled her.

“Is he working?” Uri interrupted her thoughts.

“Umh?” Elain shook her head. “I’m not sure. Do you want me to ask?”

He looked confused at that. 

“What’s wrong?” 

It was his turn to shake his head. “Does he beat the bad guys and take them into the Prison?” He asked instead.

She smiled at that. “That’s Cassian’s job. But Az does help him at times, yes. He fought in the War,” she explained, piquing his interest. “Oh, yes. But Az mainly finds information about bad people, and forces them to confess their wrong doings.”

Uri clapped in youthful excitement. “I wanna be like him when I grow up.”

It was then that Elain noticed the tendrils of shadows coming in from the front door. 

A few moments later, Azriel appeared.

To people who didn’t know him, he looked perfectly impassive. But she had spent months looking at him, throwing him glances when she thought no one was looking, studying his perfect features, his silences — yes, there were different ones. She appreciated each one of them, loved the way his eyes tightened when he was worried about something, the way they brightened when he listened to Mor and Cassian’s bickering — his expressions. The one he was wearing now told her he’d heard Uri’s words. Told her they had moved something in him, their effect too great to be put into words.

“Az,” Elain breathed, and blindly saw Uri turn to him, too. 

“Good evening,” said Az, and even his voice betrayed the emotion he was trying his best to bury.

“Hi, Mr. Azriel.” Uri sounded timid. She smiled, well aware that it meant he looked up to the male, that he saw him as a role model.

“I already told you, little guy, just Azriel is fine,” said Az, ruffling the boy’s dark hair. The child blushed under the affectionate attention.

Right then, the Illyrian male looked straight at her. 

Her breath caught in her throat at the intensity with which he was looking at her. 

“Are you alright?” 

She nodded, confused at the question. The light in his eyes seemed to dim at her silent reply, leaving her even more puzzled.

But before she could mull his reaction over — which she totally added to the list of strange reactions she’d gathered from him in the past days — he announced, “I talked with the family’s healer, and we decided to add a salve to the regimen. That way, your wings will be able to heal without leaving any scars. What do you think, Uri?”

The boy looked at him, before his gaze slid down to the older male’s scarred hands. “Why didn’t you put it on your hands, too?”

Elain’s mouth hung open, and she shot Azriel a mortified look. But the shadowsinger’s attention was entirely on the Illyrian boy as he answered, “Because the people who hurt me made it so the scars could never be removed.” He seemed to notice Uri’s distress at that, because he bent to his eye level and added, “I got used to it. Plus, it scares the bad guys enough so that they will confess to everything rather quickly.”

Uri smiled. “So you can come by more often?”

Az paused. Then he nodded, slowly, as if his shadows had whispered something in his ears. 

Elain wondered at that, at the slightly surprised, soft expression on his face.

Yet it was gone in the next blink of eyes, his face turning impassive once again. 

She saw as he opened his mouth, about to make his leave, but Uri spoke up before he could. “Will you come by tomorrow, Mr. Azriel?”

Az hesitated. “I’m not sure.” He glanced at Elain, who shrugged. Uri needed a good male influence in his life. Azriel was one. “I– You see, I have to work–”

“You can come after. Right, Miss Elain?” He asked her.

She nodded. “We could go shopping. You’re in need of clothes, sweet boy.” 

Azriel sighed. He knew there was no arguing with the child who had him wrapped around his tiny finger.

Elain giggled a little, as if she could read the thought on his face. He glared at her, but there was no heat behind it. She smiled, and went back to the pie.

-

“I know, I know it hurts,” Elain murmured, fighting back her tears as Uri cried out for the fourth time.

One of the steps of the recovery included a salve to be applied on the scars on his little wings. It only needed to be applied three times, the tonic taking doing most of the work, yet it was painful. Az had warned them both, but nothing could have prepared Elain for the pure agony in Uri’s screams and cries. 

She wondered how his father could stand it as he hurt him, over and over again. It made the blood in her veins boil from the hot anger she felt.

Madja was applying the salve carefully, taking great care of his pain, while Elain and Azriel comforted him. Uri was clutching Az’s hand so tight, while his head was resting on Elain’s shoulders. She kept dropping kisses on it, but she knew nothing they did now would ease his pain.

Afterward, Elain gathered him in his arms and sat on the rocking chair Az had thoughtfully insisted they get. She was telling him a tale, one her father used to tell her when she was Uri’s age, all while drying his tears and murmuring soothing words.

Azriel sat on a nearby chair, listening raptly. His features were troubled with distress, for what had been done to the boy, for what he now had to go through. 

When Elain finally laid the child on his bed, who was fast asleep, her heart was heavy, and she knew Az’s was, top. She watched Uri, and she reached to smooth the furrows in his brows, pain still etched on his face even in sleep. Azriel dropped a kiss on his forehead, and left a stuffed toy next to him. A new present. He always left him something new after one of the healing sessions.

They got out of his room, and Elain managed a few steps before her legs failed.

She cried, silently, as she’d learned to when she was a girl. 

Strong arms wrapped around her, and she leaned her head back against the equally strong chest. She didn’t know how long they stayed in that position, as she tried her best to muffle her sobs and Az tried to calm her. At some point, she could have sworn she felt a tear drop on her hair.

It was the most vulnerable she had allowed herself to be.

-

 “Can I play with my toys?”

Elain looked at Uri. She was reading a gardening catalog, interested in finding new flowers to grow. 

Uri was supposed to study his letters, which was exactly what she told him.

“But I’m bored and tired, Elain. I’m hungry,” he complained.

One of the hardest things she’d had to learn, Elain found, was understanding when to give in to Uri’s requests, and when she needed to be firm. After almost a month, though, she thought she had the hang of it.

“No, but,” she added, when he started to make the face she knew meant he was ready to protest, “you can take a break from studying to have a healthy snack before Azriel comes for your flying lesson.”

Azriel had been clear from the start: his wings would never fully heal if he didn’t keep them in good condition, and that meant flying.

Today was going to be the first lesson, after more than two weeks since they last applied the salve and given him the tonic. 

Uri lowered his gaze to the ground, and didn’t say anything back. Elain furrowed her brows. When she’d first met Uri, his silences were common, his hesitation expected. But in the month and a half since he’d moved in with her, he’d started making his voice heard. He wasn’t scared of speaking his mind anymore, he’d throw tantrums as was expected for his age, he’d laugh so hard that tears came out from his eyes. 

So it was concerning to see him so… quiet, now. But what she learned above all was that he hated being pushed into talking. It usually brought a smile to her face, because he reminded her so much of Azriel. If she hadn’t met Cassian, she’d most likely think it was an Illyrian trait.

Elain watched him carefully as he ate, trying to gauge what was troubling him. 

He was still eating when Az appeared. Something akin to longing flashed in his eyes as he took them in, but it was gone in the next instant.

“Hi,” she greeted him with a smile, and he answered with one of his own. It brought a light flush to her cheeks. 

In the weeks they’d spent together, her infatuation for Azriel had grown stronger again. Well, it wasn’t like it had gone anywhere, but ever since his rejection a year ago, she’d tried to move on. She’d distanced herself from him, as he did the same, and she’d surrounded herself with her family and friends. But now, in this house, just the three of them… It was almost like he’d never broken her heart. Elain kept scolding herself, reminding herself that he did not want her that way. She tried to tell her heart how bad it hurt when he called their almost-kiss a mistake, but it wouldn’t listen. Azriel was the male she wanted, and she now knew that would never change.

“Hi, Azriel,” said Uri quietly. Az’s eyebrows raised at his gloomy tone, and he looked at Elain inquisitively. She raised her shoulders, silently telling him she didn’t know what happened. 

“Are you ready for our lesson?” He tried to cheer the Illyrian child up.

Uri burst into tears. 

It took both the adults by surprise, enough so that they didn’t react initially.

But then Azriel was by his side, holding the small boy to himself. “What’s wrong, baby?”

Uri wailed louder at that. 

Az kept rubbing his back, soothing him. Elain watched the two of them, her heart racing in her chest.

“I’m s-sorry,” Uri tried to say through his sobs.

“What are you sorry for?”

“I’m not good. I’m bad,” he kept crying.

“Why do you say that?” Az asked calmly, steadily.

“I can’t fly. I don’t know how to,” he whispered, ashamed.

The shadowsinger’s hands paused. He seemed frozen to the spot for a few beats, but in the next he said, almost growling, “You’re not bad for not knowing how to fly. It’s not your fault.”

Uri shuddered at that, though he stopped sobbing. A few tears kept rolling down his cheeks. 

“I was older than you when I learned how to fly,” Az confessed. “My step-mother wasn’t… nice, neither were my brothers. But my friends, my real brothers, they taught me how to fly. They were patient, and kind, and so I will be with you. And in a few centuries, when I’m old as withered and you young and fit, you’ll be a better flier than me. I promise,” he said solemnly.

Uri sniffled, but didn’t say anything for a long while.

“I wish you were my father,” he whispered, so low, that she knew she was able to hear him only thanks to her Fae hearing.

Azriel froze. He paled as he pulled back to stare at the little boy in his arms. Elain’s heart had soared in her throat at his words. She scrambled to find something to say, but Az beat her to it. “Me too, baby, me too.” Then, he hugged him back, and she was unsure who needed the hug more.

She left them to their sweet moment, and went back to her catalog. A while later, she heard the front door open and close. A quick glance at the window told her the two Illyrians had begun their lesson.

-

Though Elain had prepared dinner, Uri was too tired to even eat that night. Elain let it slide, as she had expected this and had given him substantial food before. She was about to ask him if he was ready for bed when he faced Azriel and asked him, “Will you read me my story tonight?”

Az froze. He glanced at Elain, a panicked, helpless look on his face.”I–”

“Maybe not tonight, sweet boy,” she intervened. Uri turned back to her, his brows furrowed. “Azriel is tired after training you all afternoon. He needs to rest,” she explained.

He seemed to hunch in on himself, mulling over her words. Then he straightened his spine, a clever glint in his eyes, his earlier tiredness seemingly vanished. “Then we’ll read to him!”

This time, both adults froze. They looked at each other, unsure of what to say. Elain lifted a shoulder. Azriel inclined his head. Her eyes widened slightly. His lips quivered. She gave a nod, his following shortly after.

Elain turned to Uri. “That’s a great idea. Let’s go get ready for bed, and tomorrow morning I’m making blueberry muffins.”

Both Illyrians looked at her with interest. She shook her head affectionately. She’d learned pretty quickly that they both loved blueberry muffins. Specifically, her muffins.

Uri clapped excitedly, and ran to his room. She grinned as her eyes followed him until he disappeared behind the corner. 

Az cleared his throat, bringing her attention back to him. “I’m sorry for intruding.”

She shook her head. “You’re not. Uri likes you, he’s made it pretty clear, he wants to be around you,” she laughed softly. “I’m sorry for keeping you here. I know you probably have somewhere else to be, and–”

“I don’t.” He stepped closer to her.

Elain met his gaze. “Oh.” She didn’t know what to say to that. Did that mean he wanted to be here? “Well, I’m glad then that we’re not…hindering any of your plans.” “You’re not.” He stepped even closer, until there was nothing but a breath between them.

“Good. That’s good.” She swallowed, her heart pulsing in her throat.

“It is. Good, I mean,” he said, his voice low, lower than she’d ever heard it. “Elain… I need to tell you something.”

Her heart started beating faster. “Oh?”

“Yes,” he murmured. “There’s something I should have told you a long ti–”

“Elain, Azriel, I’m ready,” Uri called out from his room.

They both turned to the sound, and that was when Elain noticed how closer they’d gotten. They jerked apart, and went to the Illryian child.

-

Az willed his thoughts away as he laid down on his bed.

He watched as Uri sat at his side, Elain at the foot of the bed. 

He couldn’t believe he was doing this. He thought he ought to be embarrassed, the Spymaster of the Night Court being read to sleep by a four-year-old, but… But he found he was willing to do whatever it took to put a smile on the boy’s face, and the female that was taking care of him. Because Elain was smiling, too, as she looked at Uri. The latter had a kid’s book open on his laps, and was staring at Az expectantly.

“I’m ready,” Azriel confirmed, and Uri nodded, satisfied.

And then he began to read.

It was an effort to keep his laughter in. A quick glance toward Elain told him that she, too, was struggling.

At four years old, Uri still didn’t know how to read — no doubt also thanks to his parents. The story he was telling tonight consisted of describing the pictures depicted in the book.

“Oh, and here’s a tall house. Wow, there’s a princess, too,” he gasped, excitedly. 

Az smiled at that, his heart content that Uri’s unease had slowly peeled away in the days he moved in with Elain. 

He lay there, and after a while he pretended to fall asleep.

“Elain, I think he’s sleeping,” Uri whisper-yelled.

“He sure is,” Elain agreed. “What do you think, shall we go to sleep, too?”

“Yes,” was the child’s answer.

A few seconds later, Az felt small lips press against his cheek. “Good night, Azriel. Sweet dreams,” said Uri against his skin.

Something warmed in Azriel’s chest at the words. His throat burned, and it took all the control he’d mastered over the years not to let that feeling spill.

“It’s your turn now, Elain,” Uri ordered.

“What?” He heard her ask, and Cauldron damn him, he needed to see the look on her face. 

“You need to kiss him goodnight.”

“I’m sure that’s not necessary, Uri,” she protested.

“But what if he gets a nightmare?”

He couldn’t see her, but he knew what she was thinking, what she was feeling. The knowledge came from a place inside him, somewhere he couldn’t touch, yet he knew was there.

So he braced himself for the touch of her lips as they pressed a kiss onto his cheek. 

It was a chaste kiss, yet Az nearly groaned out loud. His body tensed with the craving that overtook his body, the need of having her, in all the ways he’d thought of. And he’d spent a long while considering all the ways he wanted her.

“Have sweet dreams, Az,” she whispered, and then he felt them leave.

His name on her lips… It did things to him that he had never contemplated.

He got up, ever so silently made his way to the kitchen. While he waited for Elain, he began cleaning up the mess on the countertop.

A while later, Elain came into the room.

“You’re still here,” she breathed.

Azriel nodded, his gaze fixed on her. It was a damn effort to keep from reaching out and gathering her in his arms.

Az watched as she swallowed. Then she nodded, and asked him, “Do you have anything on his family?”

Azriel’s temper flared at her words, at the reminder. “Not yet. The Illyrian camps… There are many of them.”

She nodded. “I know.” Elain cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, for earlier. For the kiss,” she clarified, though there was no need.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” was all he said. 

“That’s good. I wanted to apologize in case it bothered you.”

He let out a low chuckle. “It didn’t.”

Her eyes flashed with resentment at his laugh. “It did last time.”

He stopped laughing.

-

Elain knew it was a low blow, but she hadn’t been able to hold the words in. She bit her lower lip as the silence between them stretched.

Azriel didn’t back down from her stare as he said, “El… It never bothered me. I wanted it. I wanted you.” He took a step toward her.

The truth in his words stunned her. Yet her heart crumpled in her chest. “Then why?” She fisted her hands, anger and confusion and hurt battling inside her. “Why did you say it was a mistake?”

He hesitated. She let out a hollow laugh. “Right.” She made to leave for her room, when a scarred hand stopped her.

“Rhys stopped me.” 

She whirled on him. “What.”

“Rhys stopped me,” he repeated, his hand still on her wrist. “There were too many things at play and I… I was a coward. I should have fought for you, and I didn’t. I’m a bastard.”

Her eyes burned. “So you let me believe you rejected me? That you didn’t want me? For a year?” She whispered, hurt clear in her voice.

He swallowed. “I’m a bastard,” he said again. “I don’t deserve you. I am nothing but a coward.”

Then, he did something she never would have expected him to do.

He went to his knees. “I am not worthy of your forgiveness, nor of your heart, Elain Archeron. But I’m selfish, and if you find it in yourself to give me both, I will greedily take them.” He grabbed her hands between his scarred ones. “I love you. Until I am nothing but ash scattered through the wind, I am yours.”

Her vision was blurry. “What changed,” she asked breathlessly.

Az was quiet for a few beats. Then, “I have always been in love with you. Please, never doubt that, I beg you. Even during all the months we’ve spent apart, my feelings for you never changed, never faltered.” He took a deep breath. “A month ago, when you barged into my house and you learned these scars came from my brothers… I felt it. I felt it snap.”

The air left her.

“I felt the mating bond between us snap.”

She thought about that day. She remembered how… feral she went as he told her what his brothers had done to him, his strange reaction as he all but kicked her out from his house. 

Ten months ago, Elain had rejected the mating bond with Lucien Vanserra. He’d done it, too, but they went beyond simple rejection. They’d cleaved it, just so that it would never haunt either of them again. 

Now, she was faced with another mating bond.

Azriel was still on his knees before her. “I don’t know how it’s possible, I’ve been trying to find answers, but it’s never happened before.” He took a deep breath. “I didn’t tell you,” he began. “Because we needed to get Uri settled in, heal him. And I needed to know where you stood, if you still believed I was a male worthy of you.”

He slowly got up. “But now… Now I find myself unable to stay away from you any longer. I love you, I want you, I need you. You fill my thoughts when I wake up, as I go on about my day, when I go to sleep. You’re in my dreams, too, where we and Uri are our own little family.”

Elain couldn’t breathe, her emotions choking her.

She brought her arms around his neck, her hands tugging on his hair, and whispered, “I love you. I tried to move one, but I couldn’t. I love you.”

Then, without breaking their eye contact, she offered him the mashed potatoes she’d cooked earlier.

She barely saw the blatant joy in his eyes before he sat down and began eating.

Elain watched him carefully as he ate all of it, not leaving one crumb. Then he got up and pressed his lips to her, like a starved animal.

He groaned in relief as she parted her mouth slightly. He brought her closer to him, until her small breasts were flush against his hard chest.

One of his arms was around her waist, his hand dangerously low, his other in her hair. She tried to get closer even still. She moaned when she felt his hardened length against her lower belly. 

He lifted her up and deposited her on the kitchen counter, one of his legs coming between hers and making space for itself. His knee brushed the spot between her legs, and she moaned again.

He fisted the dress she was wearing until it bunched up to her waist. His gaze turned even hotter as the sight of her undergarments came into view. He cursed.

“I need you. Now. I can’t wait,” he said, urgency in his voice, though an apology lay in his eyes.

“Yes, yes, please,” she agreed, bringing his body close to hers.

He undressed them, throwing their clothes to his shadows. His eyes turned molted gold as they fixed on her wetness. “Beautiful,” he whispered, before his lips kissed that sweet that gave her so much pleasure. He slid a finger in, and the sensation was too much. Stars exploded behind her eyes as she rode those waves of passion. 

He was inside her before her orgasm had even finished. He groaned as he settled all the way in, and the sound sent a shiver down her spine. She whimpered as he began thrusting, the sheer size of him knocking the breath out of her lungs. Az covered her body with his own, his quickened breaths beating against her neck.

He laid one of his hands on her breast, his mouth on the other, as he kept pumping deep inside her until she saw white, hot pleasure. He spilled inside her, bit the peak of her breast. The sting was almost enough to bring in a new orgasm.

“My love, my life,” he breathed against her neck.

They went four more times that night, exploring each other, claiming each other, until the first lights of dawn appeared in the sky. They lied on the bed, their bed now, and talked about everything and anything. He shared the years in his father’s cell, she her childhood years. They talked about the feelings they felt for each other, their plans for the future. 

They were strangers to sleep that day, but they didn’t mind. It was the happiest they’d ever been in their whole lives.

-

Rhys had been outraged when he'd heard of the orphanage, about all those kids who now didn’t have a family to take care of them, about the state of the building they were staying in. 

Elain was making a list of the things that needed fixing — the large sum provided by the High Lord was more than enough — when Azriel winnowed in the town house.

“I found him,” were the words he used to greet her.

Elain turned to him, a confused look on her face. She’d been in the middle of writing down a vision she’d just had when he barged in. “Found him? What– What do you–” Her eyes widened as a sense of clarity came over her. Uri’s father. “You– You did?”

“Yes.” His jaw ticked, fury overshadowing his eyes. “I notified Cassian. I believe he’s taking that piece of shit to the Prison as we’re speaking.”

“The Prison?” Not much was known about the terrible place, but Rhys had asked her if she could use her Cauldron-blessed powers to look into a creature inside a few months back. She shuddered as images of what she’d learned flashed in her mind. 

“It’s where he deserves to be.”

“What do you know,” she asked, though it was more of a statement. 

“You don’t want to know, trust me,” he growled.

Elain’s spine went ramrod straight. “I do, actually. I want to know what he did to my– to Uri.” She meant it. She also meant the words that almost slipped out. My son. She had come to think of him as such. 

Az studied her. After a few minutes, he nodded. “There was only one bed in the… hut they lived in. There were barely a few clothes fit for a child, most of them cut from an older male’s. There was no trace of his mother.” He went silent for a few seconds. “She died during childbirth, because her mate,” he spat out the word. “Refused to take her to a healer. What makes it even worse, he runs a business. A successful business. He had the means to provide for his mate and son, he just refused to.”

All the rage, all the icy fury she’d been brewing over the past weeks, increased tenfold when he finished speaking. But she managed to stifle it as she quietly demanded, “I want to speak to him.”

Azriel shook his head. “You can’t.”

Elain watched him defiantly. “I can. Bring me to him.”

“No, you can’t, and I won’t.” He repeated.

“He hurt my son. Our son. He beat him, burned him, starved him. I want to speak to him.” She raged. She meant it, the word that slipped out. Son. She had come to think of him as such in the past two months, his love and affection and trust something she longed to keep for eternity. She knew Az agreed with her every word.

Azriel’s eyes brightened with unshed tears. “I know, I know. Do you think I don’t want to do the same?” He shook his head. “Do you know what my shadows told me, that first night I came here?” He didn’t wait for her reply. “Uri thought we were mated, that he’d joined our family. And he was right, he’s our son. That’s why we can’t retaliate against his father. We need to think of Uri. Of what he wants. Maybe in the future, when’s a grown male, he wants to meet with him, to go back to him again. We can’t stop it, we can’t jeopardize it.”

“No! I don’t want to go back to him. I want to be with you!” 

They whirled around, not having heard Uri come in. Elain watched as Uri’s face turned bright red. “Don’t take me back to him. Dad, please,” he begged.

Az swayed on his feet at the word with which Uri called him. He rasped out, “Never, my baby. My son.” He lifted him in his arms and hugged him, holding him close to his chest.

Elain walked over to them. Azriel let her in their embrace, kissing his son and his mate.

“Mom,” Uri said quietly. “Stay here. I don’t want you near him, he’s mean.” Elain blinked back tears at that. But she nodded, and held them tighter. 

Her loves, her life.

[acourtofladydeath]

you've written SO much. 🥰 im in awe!!! some questions for you:

What's your favorite fic you've written so far?

What's your favorite ship you've written for so far?

What is a story that you want to write but haven't gotten around to it yet!?!

-- 🐶

Well HELLO THERE lovely anon!!! Thank you so much for your kind words!

You're making me make decisions here... and I'm... SO BAD AT THOSE. But I will try. For you.

Favorite fic I've written so far: I'm between two here, but only one of them is finished so I'm gonna choose that one.

All Things End is a fic that follows Eris through his struggles with dementia from a TBI that Beron gives him, and how Azriel handles everything that follows. This fic has a direct playlist accompaniment where each song lines up to specific parts of the fic, as well as an extended playlist that includes all of the direct songs + additional songs that didn't make the cut because of timing.

Favorite ship I've written for so far: I love writing for Azris, and they were the first ACOTAR ship that I ever wrote. But Nessriel has my entire heart as well. I struggle to choose between them, and right now I'm writing fics for Azris, Nessriel, and Azris X Nessian

Story that I want to write but haven't gotten around to yet: I'm going to give you the story that I was just telling my writing friends about: Formula 1 racing AU with Azriel and Cassian as Nikki Lauda and James Hunt. The real life rivalry is already an incredible story, and the boys parallel those drivers SO WELL to me. And then. Maybe I make it gay...because Cazriel just slaps. Anyway if you want more information on this AU PLEASE ASK BECAUSE I CAN AND WILL GO INTO HEAVY DETAIL.

There are also several whump fics in the background works and a few other AUs.

OK PROBABLY MORE THAN YOU BARGAINED FOR BUT IF YOU SEND ME AN ASK THAT'S WHAT YOU GET

LOVE YOU, HOPE YOU HAD A GREAT DAY, BYEE!!

[acourtofladydeath]

Thank you to @itsthedoodle and @ofduskanddreams for thinking of me and tagging me in this post!

Tag nine (9) people you’d like to know better

Last song: No Complaints by Noah Kahan, I’ve had Stick Season (We’ll All Be Here Forever) playing on repeat for weeks. 

Currently reading: We got a few things goin here! I’m listening to ACOSF for the first time (and cauldron bold me i’ve almost had to pull over a few times this shit is fire). I’m currently reading through the Ice Planet Barbarians books and just finished the Ice Planet Holiday novella. They are crack and such easy reads. I’m trying to decide between Twisted Games and Radiant Sin for my next physical book read, but I think I’m gonna read Radiant Sin because I have a preorder for the next Dark Olympus book that comes out in a few weeks!! I also have about 30+ Nessian and Azris fics open on my phone that I go to when i need a *wee break*

Currently watching: The most recent thing I watched was the Formula 1 Hungary Grand Prix, was so excited that Lewis got pole and then he lost it a bit at the start but it’s okay he’s still my fave driver. Was super happy to see Danny Ricc on the track again. As far as TV shows I’m currently working my way through the last season of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel and season 2 of Teen Wolf. I’ve never seen Teen Wolf and my friend has me watching it so that I can read her favorite fanfics, it’s slow going. I’m not so patiently waiting for Season 2 of Good Omens.

Current obsession: Stick Season, of course. I’m a bit obsessed with creating character playlists right now. I have a Nesta x Cassian playlist and a Nesta Archeron Lady Death playlist that I play on repeat. I’m creating an Azris one as well, but its slower going. I also have a Patroclus x Achilles one that I wrote my fic “All Things End” while listening to cuz its a sad boi. Other playlists I have are a Feyre x Tamlin (basically a breakup playlist), Feyre x Rhysand, Rhysand UTM, and the Bat Boys. I’m trying to be obsessed with my WIP’s, but I’m ending up more obsessed with new fic ideas that I’m trying to pull together for Nessian and Eris Vanserra week in September. 

tagging (but absolutely no pressure!): @the-moth-writes @krem-does-stuff @vanserra-enthusiast @icey--stars​ @theatrequeen​ @starfall-spirit​ @hpreading9 @lucienarcheron​ @thoughtfulsheperdmongerkid

I was tagged by @puddinginthemix 🤩

Tag nine (9) people you'd like to know better

Last song: Lothlorien by Enya! I was giving myself an Enya moment on my phone after seeing a Tumblr post about her living all alone in her castle. I listened to that album of hers that everyone had in the early 90s, and made my sister laugh by singing to Orinoco Flow AND THEN I played Lothlorien (another Enya song) which my child recognised from the LOTR movies, which pleased them 🥰

Currently reading: Possession by AS Byatt. I read it many years ago. It's the only book that's ever made me cry, and it's a joy to read it again as an adult. I understand a lot more of it now.

Currently watching: nothing right now! I'm in a place with no reliable internet and no TV. I want to watch The Sixth Commandment when I can because it sounds utterly harrowing.

Current obsession: thinking about a fic I've taken about 9 months off actually writing (it's called The Rosy Hours) which is hard because the relationship dynamics are difficult and sad and awful, but I still find them quite fascinating which is why I haven't given up on it...

Tagging absolutely zero pressure: @eriksdreamery @emotionalmotionsicknessxx @artaline @herbalpath63017 @pianomanblaine @apileofpans @rienerose @forestscribe4 @sadeyedlady-writes

[ivyines]

Cassian: I’m going to take you out Driver: great, it’s a date! Cassian: I meant that as a threat.

Driver, alredy walking away: See you at five!

[azsazz]

Dozen Roses & a Six Pack

Small Town!Cassian x Archeron!Sister Reader

Summary: More heartbreak for small town Cassian because I just can't stop. Based off of the song Dozen Roses & a Six Pack by Cole Swindell.

Warnings: Angst

Word Count: 1,300

_________________________________________

Cassian sighs when he hits the red light on the corner of Main Street. 

He stares up at the crimson sign staring at him, taunting him, laughing at him.

He wants to pound his fists against the fucking steering wheel. He doesn’t want to be anywhere near this fucking town right now, not on a Friday night, just getting off of work and waiting for all of the drunks of this shithole town to meander their way down here.

Especially not after last night.

His eyes are gritty with exhaustion, fingers blackened by the oil and dirt of his job, permanently embedded underneath his fingernails. His hair was pulled tightly from his face this morning, but now, after eight hours of hard labor, it’s greasy and messy, falling out from the hair tie barely holding it together. He’s so fucking tired. He hadn’t slept at all last night, stomach twisted with worry and his mind running rampant with thoughts of you. 

A pink neon light flickering on in a window to his right catches his attention, ripping his eyes from the stoplight. Flower Shop is written in curly letters, his mine perking up at the idea, calling his name.

When the light turns green he rolls his rusted Bronco through the intersection and pulls it into the ten minute parking spot out front. He cranks the driver’s window up and shuts the engine off, tipping his head back against the seat as the sting returns to his eyes.

This might be his worst idea yet.

It takes a lot more effort than he’d like to lug his body from the car. The streets are quiet for the moment, but they won’t be soon.

He rounds the front of the car, muttering to himself as he makes his way to the door of the shop. “Please don’t be here, please don’t be here—”

The bell jingles as he pulls the door open, stepping inside. The scent of the variety of colorful flowers surrounding him hits him like a truck, thick and heavy in the back of his throat. Pinks, purples, reds, greens…every color he can imagine in different shapes, lengths, and sizes are scattered everywhere. It’s nearly overwhelming. Would be if he didn't know what you liked.

His breath catches in his throat when the young woman working in the shop is called out of the back room by the chime of the bell on the door. His steps falter as he approaches the counter, heart squeezing in his chest in a repeat of the worst pain he’s ever felt in his entire life.

“Hey, Lanie,” he greets, forcing a small smile onto his lips. He wants to turn around and run right out of this fucking shop because looking at Elain Archeron reminds him too much of you.

She offers a gentle smile—one that he doesn’t feel like he deserves—in return. “Hey, Cassian. How are you doing?”

He shrugs a little, swallowing against the tightness of his throat. If he answers it will either be a lie or a beg, so he keeps quiet about that.

Elain offers a knowing look in return. Her big doe eyes are swimming with pity, and Cassian forces his gaze away.

“Can I please have a dozen red, long stemmed roses?” he asks, already reaching for his wallet.

“Sure. I’ll pick out the best ones that we’ve got,” Elain answers, already darting off to the refrigerator where the flowers are kept.

He waits, staring at a spot on the counter, wondering if this is a mistake. He could walk right out that door while Elain is distracted. The bell will alert her of his cowardly departure but he’d already be in his car by then, peeling down the street like hell is at his wheels.

His heart aches in his chest, and he waits.

“How do these look?” She asks when she comes back, holding out the bouquet she’s wrapped and ready to go. There’s a ribbon tied around the stems, holding them all together. It’s your favorite color, too. Of course, Elain would make them look perfect for you, and it’s not the first time she’s helped arrange a bouquet of flowers for you.

“Just perfect,” he answers, though it doesn’t sound as cheerful as he wants. He gives Elain an apologetic look and hands over his card, relieving her of the flowers. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Elain chirps. Always so happy, she is. Why weren’t you ever this content to be in this town? He flinches a little at the thought, biting the inside of his cheek as he returns his credit card to his pocket and signs the receipt. “Hey, Cassian,” she calls when he’s turned away to leave. Cassian looks over his shoulder, at Elain whose eyes have gone hard. He should run, probably. But instead of saying something similar to the way Nesta had chewed him out, she says, “I really think you still have a chance.”

There’s a rock in his throat as he stares her down. The nicest of the four Archeron sisters is rooting for him. Nesta has clearly chosen a side, going to bat for you when she heard the news and ran into Cassian at the grocery store. Feyre’s on the fence about all of it, not wanting to choose a side at all. He’s sure that if Rhysand came back from New York and had faith in him, she would agree.

Cassian nods gratefully at her. He really shouldn’t get his hopes up because he remembers the finality in your tone all too easily from last night. The way you’d had tears running down your face. Your words were shaking but honest and there was no amount of pleading or promises from him that could get you to stay.

The roses burn a hole in the side of his head as he pulls out of the parking spot and back into the street, steadily filling with cars from people getting off work.

Wrapped perfectly, they’re perched in his passenger seat, the seat belt fit snugly around them. That feeling creeps up Cassian’s throat again, the nervous one that has him tapping his fingers against the steering wheel in hopes of releasing the sudden energy his mind’s creating, thinking about you. 

He’s almost out of town and then maybe he can relax. He’ll hide up in his apartment, because no one ever comes around that part of town. It’s the perfect solitude.

He stops at the stop sign. On the corner is the local liquor store, sign pinned up in the window reading Coldest Beer in Town. Cassian swallows. He is thirsty, and the beer will only give him the confidence he needs when he inevitably chooses to make that phone call. 

Coward, his mind screams, as he pulls into the parking lot. Screaming at him as he picks up a six pack, screaming at him when he pays for it and the bottles clank together when he sets it on his seat and makes his way home.

His mind is still a mess when he sits at his table, staring at the roses and beer, how the roses won’t be enough if you pick up the phone, if you forgive him, and the beer might not be enough, if you don’t.

Finally, Cassian picks up his phone, pressing the only number he has favorited, that little star in the corner reminding him of the relationship that shined so bright before he fucked it all up. 

He presses your name, the contact picture updated to one of the most recent ones he can’t stop staring at when he’s alone in his bed at night and all he can think about is you.

Cassian holds his breath as the phone rings.

And rings.

And rings.

[acotarxreader]

Timing Part Two

Azriel x Reader

Synopsis: You and Azriel try to navigate the awkward air the kiss you shared has left between you but the reintroduction of one of your former flames spurs action

Original Synopsis: Timing works against you and Azriel as a series of unfortunate events lands the two of you alone for the night with a broken down car and a breaking down friendship

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, silliness, miscommunication, punching and light smut, Eris being silly.

A/N: Part two of my first dance with a modern Az fic, hope you all like it! Also there are now 400 of you lovely friends!!! Hehe thank you so much for joining my lil nonsense of ACOTAR ramblings! Love you all long time! - C

Part One

---------------------------------------------------------------

The car hummed along in its happy tune, finally glad to have gotten the maintenance it called out for for months, the rest of the truck was shrouded in silence. Even the 80’s blaring radio had its voice stolen. Azriel’s leg bounced on the sticky carpet from one end of the journey to the next as his fist white-knuckled the overhead handle, your driving putting the truck's tune-up to the test. Not even your close call with a deer had broken the steady run of awkward silence, leading you to your arrival at the camp. You drove down the winding road to your friends had picked their site where the deafening silence was broken for the first time since this morning- 

“YN…I think maybe we should talk about-” “-I don’t want to talk about it” You quickly nipped back to his soft tone.

“I think we should, I-” “-Oh there's Feyre!” You braked the truck so harshly that it cut across his words. The wheels had barely stopped before you leapt out and darted towards your best friend. 

“YN! You survived the driv-” “Yes, yes I’m a terrible driver, I need to talk to you” You caught her hand from outside her tent, pulling her away from the rest of your friends while she laughed. Azriel watched you from the passenger seat of the car before leaning over and turning off the engine you didn’t even give yourself time to switch off. 

“Az, you’re alive, Cass owes me money-” Rhysand beamed through the driver's side door, his face fading before continuing “-Hey? Are you okay?” 

“I have no idea” Azriel’s eyes locked forward on the stained caramel-brown dashboard.

“Tough trip up? No longer friends with one another?” he laughed to attempt to lighten the mood. “I have no idea” he tore his stare off the dashboard, looking over Rhysand’s shoulder to where you and Feyre had run off to in the distance.

“More than friends?” 

“I have no idea”

—---------------------------------------------------------------

Cassian and Rhysand watched from their deck chairs around the burnt-out fire pit as you and Azriel unloaded the back of the truck in complete silence, Feyre busy on the phone to Mor trying to help her with directions, the blind leading the blind Azriel had remarked to you, a small smile leaving you as you threw down your bags. Cassian watched the stacks of bags and supplies infiltrate their campsite, the disorganisation of it annoying his regimented brain. 

“What’s going on with them, they won’t even look directly at one another?” 

“Beats me Cass, I thought Az had decided to tell how he felt, now I think those plans have been abandoned” Rhysand whispered back, kicking a stray bit of tinder into the ashes of the firepit. A devilish smirk painted Cassian’s face, Rhysand’s eyebrow-raising as Cassian stood from his chair. Cassian waited until the two of you had circled back to the back of the truck to get the cooler, out of sightline of the stacks of bags. He whistled a tune as he ambled over, arms behind his back before he shot down to the pile, snatching the large bag of tent pegs and firing it to Rhysand who caught it and chucked it into his tent with fluidity. Cassian scurried back to his chair as the two of you carried the cooler, dropping it into the dust. 

“Are you guys planning on living here forever is it?” “Please Rhys, this is just Azriel’s hair care” you laughed, Azriel smiling at you before you both dropped the smile in the awkward air that hung around you. You hauled your bag to your chest, digging through to pull out the base sheet for your tent. Azriel threw his two friends cans of beer from the cooler before beginning to build his own tent. 

“Do you have the pegs YN?”

“No, they were in your bag?” You stood up from the skeleton of your tent, scanning the ground for the missing bag. 

“No you had them”

“No” the two of you squared up to one another on either side of the firepit. Cassian just tipped the top of his can off of Rhysands. 

“Fighting is still talking” Rhysand whispered, a small laugh leaving Cassian, causing the two of you to stare at him where he shrugged. 

“Hey, I have the pegs for my tent, don’t look at me, maybe you two can camp in the back of the truck again?” You scoffed in reply, tucking your arms across your chest to half stomp away from the canvas flooring. 

“Cass, what did you do?” Azriel half whispered to his brother, a devilish smirk painting his face. 

“Just having fun, have you and YN tried it?” Azriel scoffed, abandoning his tent for a can of beer. 

“I think she hates me right now” “Maybe remind her how much fun we can all have together?” Rhysand offered a new plan. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------

For the remainder of the day, you avoided Azriel like the plague, the rest of your friends who weren’t privy to previous events being left in confusion but decided on a whole to avoid bringing it up and risk being on the other end of your temper. You watched sitting from the small cliff of rocks above the sprawling lake as your friends soaked one another in the cooling spring waters, beaming at their uninhibited joy in one another's presence. You scanned the water, Azriel noticeably missing, jumping with the slight fright Cassian gave you as he ran past your side and off the rocks, diving into the clear water below, soaking you. 

“Asshole!” You shrieked with laughter.

“I knew I could make you wet YNN!” He teased back, your eyes nearly rolling from your head as you smiled down at him.  

“Come down and play with us Rapunzel” Rhysand called to you, threading the water effortlessly as your friends relaxed into their surroundings behind him, basking in the sinking sun.

“Rapunzel doesn’t want to get her hair wet!” You laughed back, standing to put your hands on hips to get a better look at your dear friend while he did handstands under the water. You weren’t sure if it was the feeling of the rocks gone from under you or the feeling of scarred hands meeting your waist that you felt first but the sudden whoosh of freezing spring water was definitely felt by every nerve in your body. 

“Azriel!” You squealed out as your head bobbed back to the top of the water, your frenemy howling laughter in the water alongside you and Cassian, who’d turned practically purple from laughing so hard. You splashed the water back towards him, your once furious face melting at the semblance of normalcy. 

The silty ground separated from your feet as you felt someone swim beneath your legs, pushing you up suddenly on strong tattooed shoulders as Rhysand gripped your thighs. Azriel fought off the feelings of conflict at the sight, deciding to make his own moves. Your arms shot out straight for balance as Feyre was quickly lifted onto Azriel’s shoulders across from you. The four of you coated the lake in bellowing laughter as you and Feyre tried to push you from the shoulders of your seat. 

“It's like wife swap” Cassian chuckled, your foot flicking to kick a wave his way accompanying Feyre throwing him a dirty look. 

“Shut up Cass” You stuck your tongue out to him and he quickly clipped the back of Rhysand’s bad knee with his foot beneath the water, sending you flying back to the water. 

“YNN! C’mon we’re gonna start cooking!” Mor called from the shoreline, her late arrival due to her forgetfulness in submitting assignments. You splashed Cassian again before swimming back to dry land, wringing out your hair as your feet met the rocks again, and Azriel’s eyes heated your back. Feyre was very quickly turning blue from the disappearing sun and so followed you, the promise of a fire to cook over also bringing warmth.

“Careful Az, you’re drooling” 

“Leave it” Another wave of water met Cassian’s face, his tone sharper than normal when defending himself from their teasing about you. 

“What happened to you guys?” 

“Nothing happened last night” Azriel moved to swim from his best friends.

“Why’d you specify last night Az?-” Cassian continued his teasing, swimming alongside him “-Tell us, you were like you’d seen a ghost when you arrived this morning and that’s the first time she’s looked at you all day” “Crushed by the crush Azzie?” Rhysand added to Cassian's request for information as the three reached for their towels. 

“She kinda- we kinda- I don’t know had this bizarre moment” “Most moments between you too are bizarre” Azriel whipped Cassian’s legs with the tail of his towel receiving a small yelp from the towering man. 

“Tell us about it” “Tell me where you two idiots hid the pegs for our tents-” he shot back, Cassian and Rhysand sharing a brief look “-I know you have them” “I want to speak to my lawyer”

“Well, Amren isn’t coming this weekend Cassy you’re on your own” Azriel laughed, throwing his bag over his still-damp shoulder. 

“Maybe you guys could figure it out at the party tonight? It's all about timing” Azriel shook his head at Rhysand’s words.

“I’ll ask Feyre what she knows” “She’s not gonna break confidence, the sisterhood of the travelling clowns” Cassian added.

“Does that make us the clowns?” the three looked amongst one another before saying no in unison with a laugh 

“Clowns have tents to live in” Azriel shoved Cassian playfully again before the three head back in the direction of the camp, laughter bouncing off the tall trees. 

—------------------------------------

You had managed to keep distance between yourself and Azriel at dinner and soon the campsite had become a conclave of students escaping the stress of their life for a weekend of chaos. You had all gathered around the large fire in the centre of the camp, people flowing from all directions, music dancing across every branch of the night air-soaked trees. You laughed along to the story Cassian told his dear friends about when he had signed Rhysand up for a salsa dancing elective and he had to go to get the college credits.

“You laugh but I make use of that skill all the time” Rhysand chuckled, spinning Feyre around, her drink splashing out of the cup she held, hitting Mors shoes where she shrieked. 

“Ugh Feyre!” she laughed, Feyre apologising.

“Remember when YNN’s cousin got sick on your shoes Rhysand?” Cassian chuckled at the sight, drinking deeply from his can, a slight chill crossing over your shoulders. 

“Oh yeah right after she slept with Az at YNN’s birthday, you must have made her sick Az” The group howled with laughter, Azriel shuffling slightly to cover his discomfort.

“I blocked that drunk night out, world's greatest misunderstanding, that was such an accident” “What did you slip and fall?” Mor shot, the group giggling along. 

“No, nothing hap- I came looking for-for…actually never mind” the group booed, your attention searched for anywhere else to be interested, a tall red-head fulfilling the need. You drifted from the edge of the group as Mor began her favourite story about your cousin’s last wild visit.  The group fixated on Mor as Azriel watched you walk away, forcing a smile into his beer as though he was listening to the wild story. 

“Hello stranger” “YN!” Lucien placed his drink down on the makeshift table, swaddling you in a hug. 

“How are you?” You smiled into his chest before separating again.

“He’s fantastic but as usual I’m better” You turned towards the equally tall male, rolling your eyes at Eris. 

“I thought you fell off the face of the earth Eris” “Any day now” Lucien quipped, crossing his fingers together and wrinkling his eyes closed, his brother shoving him gently, gaining a laugh from you.

“Azriel, it looks like you’re trying to blow Eris’s head up with your mind” Cassian whispered to his brother, noticing his intense watch across the clearing. Azriel finished off his drink with one glug before opening another. 

You spent an hour or so with the brothers, enjoying the company you hadn’t been around in years, your families being old friends. The music grew in volume like the crowd, people dancing freely around the fire and tree border. Eris took your hand, twirling you around as you laughed, your silky slip dress almost shimmering in the moonlight.

“I remember at my 16th birthday, dancing all night with you” He laughed in your ear, the feeling of heat meeting the side of your face, radiating from Azriel’s eyes. The simmering remained on you for the remainder of the night, the sun beginning to attempt to stretch its limbs over the mountain. 

“Allow me to walk you back YNN” Eris outstretched a hand to you as you contemplated the consequences of taking it. 

“YNN, c’mon we’re walking back” Azriel’s irritation joined your side, his hatred for Eris wrapping around the conversation. 

“She’s all good smokey” Eris gestured with his head to Azriel’s tattoo-coated arms that promptly folded across his chest. 

“Eris” you warned lightly.

“Sorry babe, c’mon let’s go” His arm slipped around you more harshly than he had met in his alcohol-infused state. You stood away from his grasp with a half-laugh, a sound Azriel knew you used to cover rising panic.

“It’s okay Eris, I’m gonna walk back with my friends but it was really lovely seeing you again” You reached to hug him, Eris turning his head slightly so you met his lips in the lightest of brief kisses, Azriel jolting back partially before completely lunging forward as you pulled back from Eris. You screamed with utter shock as Azriel rolled along the floor with Eris, the sound drawing attention to the pair. Cassian quickly hauled Azriel from above Eris where Lucien pulled him from the dusty ground. 

“Calm down you idiots!” You put a hand on each of their shoulders where the two of them shrugged you off, death glaring between the space. 

“Stay out of this YN” Eris bit out, eyes of pure fire towards your friend, shaking his own brother's grip loose again. Cassian released Azriel cautiously. 

“Don’t speak to her like that” Azriel shoved Eris into the chest again, instigating another flare-up of heated emotions. You moved to stop another clash, timing ever in your favour coupled with the two raging men in front of you. You weren’t sure who threw the first punch, only that it met your eye instead of the target, your body sailing to the ground in a crouch. 

“Fucking hell!” You cursed, pressing your hand to your face to try to stop the radiating pain. The two leapt with fright, both going to help you back to your feet, apologies rushing out like the pain rushed to your face. 

“Don’t touch me! Either of you!” You shot back to your feet, stomping away from the group and brushing away any of your friend's advances in an attempt to help you. 

You stormed your way back to the camp, feet almost splitting the soil as you bounced along in rage. The truck door was nearly separated from the hinges as you ripped the passenger side open. You sat in the still slightly sticky environment, pulling open the glove box to dig around for the first aid kit. You cracked the instant ice pack before sitting back into the chair, eyes closing as you exhaled your full lung capacity, your door closing in the gentle wind. A light tap came to the driver's window, a groan escaped your throat as you rolled your head along the headrest to look at Azriel.

“We flipped a coin to decide who got to speak to you first, the others are gonna stay at the party for a bit longer, they don’t want to witness my murder-” He admitted, sliding alongside you “-I’m really sor-”

“-Don't" You whisper sharply, dropping the ice pack to your lap, your sightline following it.

“But I am sorry, I just got a bit blindsided”

“Please don’t make blind jokes right now” You let a breathy laugh leave you before rolling to look back at your greatest frenemy. 

“Sorry, again-” He returned the laugh “-It was just when you kissed him I just…I have no idea”

“It was just a kiss, an accident” You offered, unsure of why you felt so compelled to defend it. The quiet air returned to the cabin of the truck, almost as thick as it was when you had arrived this morning, Azriel’s bouncing his foot separating from the sticky carpet the only sound. You sighed again, outstretching your arm to land on his knee to stop the infuriating tapping, Azriel’s eyes landing on the motion. 

“Was-Was when you kissed me just an accident?”

“Oh Gods, why wasn’t I just knocked out?” You groaned jokingly, sinking further in the seat, replacing the cold pack on your eye. 

“YNN”

“Az” you teased back, looking towards him again, your hand unmoving from his leg as he leaned across the space between you. His hand pulled the ice pack down from your eye, the light freckles of bruising beginning to form as he cautiously pressed his lips to yours. Unlike your first kiss, neither of you pulled away, only pushing in further, his hand releasing the ice back to meet either side of your face, both turning further into what was left of the little space between you. You tilted your head as his hand traced up your jaw, into your hair, his wrist bumping gently into your bruising eye separating the two of you as you winced. 

“I’m sorry about that, I have bad aim after I drink” he admitted in a whisper, your hand hovering over the mark.

“You, you’re the one who hit me!?” You found yourself laughing loudly at the absurdity as Azriel gave a guilty smile. 

“Oh fuck that, I’m going back to Eris” You smirked, faking an exit from the car as he caught your forearm, pulling you back to him grinning. 

“I’ll kiss you better” The hair on the back of your neck stood up at the sultry whisper.

“How drunk are you?” You managed between tender kisses, no longer capable of dismissing how the action made you feel. 

“Sober enough to know I want this, drunk enough to silence the anxiety trying to deny me this” You nodded in agreement, swinging a leg over to the lie flush with the driver's door to straddle your best frenemy. Azriel’s hands traced their way around your waist to steady you as yours wrapped around his throat delicately, your thumbs tipping his jaw back deepening what you had denied one another. Your mouth parted slightly causing him to eagerly take the invitation, his tongue conducting teasing strokes that you happily match. Your hands slid to clutch the material of his shirt, afraid to let go of him and the movement as the glass of the truck began to fog. You cautiously pulled back from him, slipping your arms from the straps of your dress for it to fall to your hips. Azriel’s eyes had a laser focus on yours, his hands tracing over your now bare sides, their warmth burning the chill in your skin with an addictive nature. 

“Have I ever said how much I love this truck?” You tilted back as you laughed at his words, his arms supporting your lower back as he began to nip down your chest. 

“Haven’t you had enough marking me?” You pointed playfully to your eye, Azriel reaching to kiss your purpling cheekbone softly. 

“I’ll forgive you for destroying the inside of this truck if you forgive me for that” “You’re the one who opened the coke!” you hit him playfully into his chest. “And you’re the one who made it a pressurised weapon with your driving!” “Shut up” You chuckled, his hand tracing up your spine to the nape of your neck.

“Gladly” he grinned into the smile he pulled you down into an electric kiss, chills tracing both of you until a sudden beating of the driver side window had you leaping back, your head sailing into the roof of the truck. Your arms slipped back into the straps of your dress, before sliding back to Azriels side in the truck. He cautiously opened the door to find Cassian staring in at him, for the second time that night Azriel contemplated murder. 

“Rhysand and I would just like to know which of us is winning money in our bet?” “And what do we get?” you laughed, replacing the ice pack to your face

“Emmm your tent pegs?” 

“Keep them” you both said in unison, Azriel closing the car door again before meeting you sweetly, all in perfect timing.

----------------------------------------------------

Whatcha think? hehe

Juat tagging ye because ye asked for part two @serxndipity-ipity-blog @novabeckersainz55 @happyt0exist

[lexxiie]

Hello! I hope that you’re fine and this is not much to ask but Hello! I hope you’re doing fine.. Could you write hc(head cannons) about Cassian Lee from villain to kill? Like where his s/o was a victim (not dead just a bit injured) from another villain? And like if he freaks out or not by the injury his s/o has? And like how he would act like? It’s quite a complicated request.. Also it’s totally fine if you can’t write it! :)

It's not complicated at all! Also, this is my first vtk request! How could I say no? I'm glad to see people are interested in content from this series.

Pairing: Cassian Lee x reader

Fandom: Villain To Kill

When You get Injured

Oh, fuck.

He had one job. One damn job.

How could he ever call himself a hero when he can't even protect the most important person in his life?

How pathetic.

He didn't know if it was his actual internal rage or if it was beacuse of the fact that villains can't control their emotions, but when he saw what happened, all he could think of was destroying that asshole.

In another time, he would've ran to you first, so a part of him couldn't understand why he was about to beat this villain to death before cheking on you.

And that part of him talked to him loud enough for him to snap out of it and head towards you.

The villain wouldn't be able to move anyways. The police would catch him.

He called out to you a few times, and when you didn't repond, he freaked out.

He really thought he had lost you, but you were still breathing.

His priority right now, was to get you to the nearest hospital.

He had never moved this fast in his entire life.

He assumes his human form so that he can stay in the hospital during your recovery, even if he knows it's risky.

When you finally wake up, he can't help the tears that are running down his face.

He's not one to cry, but he had never been more scared in his entire life. Not even when he literally died.

He holds you tightly in his arms while muttering little "sorrys."

You know it was not his fault, but he doesn't seem to agree no matter how many times you tell him.

From that day on, he is even more overprotective of you. It's a nightmare.

But you know he does it because he is afraid of losing you.

Never lets you go out alone. He goes with you everywhere.

And he never ever ever assumes his villain form when he is near you. He doesn't want anyone to think that you are realted to him in any sort of way.

He would never forgive himself if you were harmed because of him.

He truly believes that you deserve so much better than him, but he is too selfish to let you go.

He might be annoying at times but it's because he wants the best for you. He loves you after all and you are the only person he has in this new life.

He used to think that he would go back to being Cassian Lee if given the chance, but now that he met you, he wouldn't want it any other way.

[ai-megurine]

Oof he's so beautiful and badass I love Driver I need to see him going all out

Damn I can 100% predict that Driver is going to go feral and Cassian will have to stop him. I need this (yes I ship them)

[theladyofdeath]

Lady Death's Lover {12}

Lady Death's Lover Masterlist & Summary

19th Century Period AU Nesta x Cassian Secret Affair / Enemies to Lovers / Forbidden Romance Fanfiction / Characters from Sarah J Maas / ACOTAR Based on a prompt sent in by anonymous

A/N: NSFW... Thank you for reading, reblogging, liking, and commenting. I love to see it all! x

TW: marital abuse, sexual content, language, depression, alcohol abuse

This story is for readers 18+. Mature readers only. Content should not be read by anyone under 18.

My Loving Sisters,

If Tomas writes to you, please just tell him that I look forward to our reuniting. Do not worry — I am perfectly fine. I am simply taking a little trip to Adriata in his absence. I hear the fashion there is groundbreaking and I must see it for myself.

I love you both.

Nesta 

>.<.> Nesta <.>.<

The carriage arrives promptly at noon the next morning and the footmen load my trunk as I give the final instructions to the head butler. 

“I’ll only be gone for two weeks,” I repeat for the hundredth time. “I know the house will be in good hands in my absence.” 

“Do not worry, my lady,” he says, bowing his head. “Enjoy the time spent with your sisters. We have everything under control.” 

I give him my thanks before loading myself into the carriage that Cassian sent for me. There are no emblems on the side, nothing that marks this coach as his. Instead, the driver delivered a letter to me this morning, forged in my sisters’ names, stating that they need me to return home as soon as possible for Elain’s wedding in one week’s time. I was meant to pack quickly, load myself up in the carriage, and have it take me to the little village that I had once escaped from.

Which is exactly what I’m doing, except for the last part. Instead of going to my childhood village, I’ll be going two hours north to a little cottage in the woods. 

The coach starts on the cobblestone path through Velaris and with every bump, I feel my chest growing lighter and lighter. 

This feels too easy, too good to be true. Yet, I feel no anxiety, only excitement and a newfound sense of adventure. It’s been less than twenty four hours since I’ve been in his arms, in his bed, and I already miss him. I stayed with him well into the night, drowning in him, again and again until I was sure that I was utterly alive and not dreaming. After sneaking back into my bedroom, I only got two hours of sleep before the sun came up. 

I have no regrets.

Once we leave the city proper, my excitement only grows. Time goes slower; each second that passes feels like an hour and I hate it. Time must move faster or I’ll go mad.

Attempting to read to pass the time only gets me so far. I cannot focus on the pages. All the words blur together and I forget what I’m reading the second I turn the page. After a while, I give up and stare out the window. 

Homes become scarce and I soon am only staring at trees and hillsides. 

“How much longer?” I call to the driver.

His response comes right away. “We’re almost there, my lady.” 

Twenty minutes pass before we’re pulling off the main road. The cottage that we pull up to is bigger than I thought it would be, and it’s gorgeous. The two story house is sitting in a clearing surrounded by trees. I see a lake out back and a stable off to the side. 

Before we come to a complete stop, the front door is opening and Cassian is coming outside. I freeze at the sight of him and take him in. His feet are bare, the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up, his collar loose. His hair is down, hanging around his shoulders. 

He’s perfect.

When I open the door of the coach, he’s there, holding out his hand. 

I take it with no hesitation. Neither of us says a word but the second my feet are on the ground, he kisses the back of my hand. The feeling sends a shock through my body. 

My trunk is carried inside and the driver is sent back to Velaris with instructions to return in a fortnight. Cassian and I go into the cottage and it hits me.

We are completely alone.

I do not know why I grow so nervous, but I do. Suddenly I feel like I’ve made a decision based on impulse and deceitful panic courses throughout my body.

But no, this was no impulsive decision. 

This was a decision made to benefit me, to make me happy, to make me feel free and wanted and loved. I deserve this, even if this is all it will ever be between the two of us. And if this is all it will ever be, I may as well make it last, make it worthwhile. 

“I feel like it took you forever to get here,” he says, and he shuts the front door behind me and I begin to look around.

“I know the feeling,” I agree. I feel like I haven’t seen him in ages, although it was only last night that I snuck into his bedroom. 

The cottage is far more casually decorated than any house of the ton but it is still clear that he has money, even if he is walking around barefoot and dressed like a stable boy. 

Which I find utterly charming. 

There are paintings on the walls, all landscapes, and simple furniture strung throughout the room. To the right is a staircase that brings you to the second floor landing.

“Do you prefer the tour of the inside or the grounds first?” he asks, looking at me with a glint of mischief in his eyes that forces me to grin. 

“Let us tour the grounds,” I say, stepping closer to him and pressing my palms against his chest, feeling his warmth and the steady beating of his heart. “If we tour the house, I fear we will not make it past the bedroom.”

Cassian lifts a brow, suggesting that is not such a bad idea, but then he’s pulling me back into the mid afternoon sun and around the cottage. We first stop at the stables and say hello to his horse before finding a trail through the woods. I want to ask if his feet hurt, still bare, but I assume they do not based on how he walks jauntily along. After an hour or so of walking through the tree lined hills, we find ourselves back behind the cottage, by the lake that resides there.

I am not certain if it's considered a small lake or a large pond, for I have never been properly educated on how the size of water is classified, but I do know that it’s beautiful as it reflects the trees and the sun and the rolling hills beyond. The water is blue, clean, and welcoming. To Cassian’s surprise, I lean down and unlace my boots before lifting my skirts and walking into the shoreline. 

I yelp as the cool water hits my toes, but keep wandering in as Cassian laughs behind me.

“Did you expect it to be warm?” 

“I’m not sure what I expected, to be honest,” I say, finding comfort in the water, “but it does feel nice.” I lift up my face and I close my eyes, dwelling in the warmth of the sun. I cannot remember the last time I let my hair down, the last time I was able to just…relax. 

Life with Tomas is tense. I am always having to watch exactly what I do or say, but not with Cassian. Never with Cassian. With Cassian, I can be whoever I want. I can be exactly who I am. 

Behind me, I hear Cassian wading into the water, and when I turn around, my eyes widen and he grins.

In the past sixty seconds, while I’ve been in my own little world, Cassian has completely stripped down and is now passing me, walking backwards so that I get the full view. 

“Feels better when you actually get in,” he says, winking before he falls back into the water, fully submerged. When he comes back up, his hair is wet and slicked back, beads of water are dripping down his skin into the water that starts at his waist. 

I am frozen in awe, then I snap back to reality as I look around.

“No one’s around,” he promises, amused at the blush that’s spreading across my cheeks. “There’s not another residence for miles, and we’re stuck in the back of the woods. We are completely alone, I promise.”

Completely alone.

I find my way back to the grass before starting on my layers. Cassian’s eyes are on me, and I’m sure to give him a show as I strip off my dress, then my skirts, my corset. As I make my way towards him in the water, feeling half confident and half exposed, he doesn’t breathe. His eyes scan my body, taking in every bare inch, sending goosebumps across my skin. 

I feel beautiful beneath his unwavering gaze. 

Once I make it to him, I run my hands up his chest and wrap my arms around his neck. He wastes no time drawing me to him and I feel every thick, hardened inch of him against me as he kisses me. 

The kiss is deep, languid, slow. His tongue meets mine in a tender embrace and I find it difficult to think about anything else, anything but this moment, anything but him. 

He picks me up and my legs wrap around his waist as we sink further down into the water, nothing but our heads bobbing above the smooth surface. My fingers burrow into his hair and he groans softly against my lips. 

I will never grow tired of kissing him. The idea of it is impossible. 

Our kiss breaks and our foreheads touch as our heavy breaths mix together between us. His hands slide up and down my back, his fingers too rough and calloused for a gentleman, before finding my ass and repositioning me. The head of his cock nudges my entrance and I release an anticipated breath, our eyes meeting. 

Our lips find each other once more as he carries me to the shoreline and sits. In one fluid motion, as soon as his ass hits the grass, I’m sinking onto his length, filling myself up with him. He curses and I moan, the only sounds in the otherwise silence of the great outdoors, as I pull myself up and sink back down, again and again. I ride him, wickedly, and there is nothing gentle in the way our bodies are writhing, our hands are moving, our mouths are meeting. We cling to one another, fuck each other, as if no time can be wasted. And it cannot, for we must spend every moment lost in this passion, this attraction, this lust, this love that is between us before our time runs out. 

He’s sucking that tender spot at the base of my neck and rolling my nipple between pinched fingers when my knees begin to shake, and he’s thrusting into me with a force that I’ll surely feel soreness from when I come. The sound that comes out of him is primal, and it is a sound that I immediately store in my memory. 

When he finds his release, I lean back to watch, captivated by his loss of control. His lips part and his brows furrow as his chest heaves. The fingers on my lower back grip me so hard that I hope to have their imprints embedded on my skin. He swears, and groans, both sounds quiet, deep, and low in his throat, setting every inch of me on fire. He breathes my name and his eyes meet mine, and when his body relaxes, he kisses me.

Sweet, gentle, a promise spoken between us with no words. 

“Is this what I am to expect in these next two weeks?” I ask, teasingly, running my fingers through his hair. 

He smiles, his hands still wandering. “There are no expectations. We may do whatever you’d like, at every given moment.” 

Emotion swells in my chest, emotion that is new and foreign and overwhelming. “Whatever I’d like?”

“I am at your beck and call, my lady.” 

I bite my lip to keep from smiling too widely, and I kiss him once more. “Well, in that case, wash me off, feed me, then allow me to worship your body yet again.”

His eyes light up as his grip on me tightens, he stands, and he runs us into the water. I laugh wildly as the cool water envelopes us, and when he pulls me under, I remain locked around his body until we are upright once more.

He pushes my wet hair back and the look in his eyes as they meet mine strips me bare.

This is what it is like to be in love, to be perfectly happy and have everything I ever wanted, ever needed.

And I will only have it for two weeks.