#Emery N. Brown

[myfictionaldreams]

request: nyx x female reader where they’re matted but don’t know it and reader visits him at the illyrian camps and she gets hurt and nyx loses it

Don't Touch // Adult!Nyx (ACoTaR) x Fem!Reader

A/N: I can't even thank you enough, anon, for this request! I've been desperate to write something like this (especially including my sweet love Nyx; I have an entire headcanon/long-form story of him already, oops). Thank you for requesting! To you or anything else, please request more SJM fics, I am adoring writing them.

Warning: there is a description of visibly seeing the colour of bruising on the skin. Also, intense emotions and responses to situations due to the mating bond.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, angst, minor injuries, possessive behaviour/sex, obsessive behaviour, over-the-top reaction (or just right depends how you like your partners), threats of violence, aggression, rough sex, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, creampie, size kink, intense emotions/sex, sex until passing out :)

Words: 6.3k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

"I've never seen you like this before, Mor" You observe your friend closely as the beautiful blonde woman checks her reflection in the glass of a passing shop.

Morrigan paused, where she was currently trying to perfect her already stunning hair. Trying not to baulk from the intense, fiery stare that turned your way as she raised a single well-groomed eyebrow and attempted to sound as unconcerned as possible, "I don't know what you're referring to. I'm acting completely and utterly sane".

Linking an arm with your friend, you both continued to walk as you sarcastically agreed, "Oh yes, of course. Except that was the tenth time you've stopped to stare at your reflection and tried to fix your already pristine hair, Morrigan".

Mor rolled her brown eyes playfully, moving closer as a brisk wind brushed over the two of you. "You already know I'm vain; why is it such an issue if I want to stare at myself?" she asked, leading in the direction the two of you were walking.

"I didn't say there was an issue. I'm just pointing out that we're heading towards a certain someone's shop, and she's going to love how you look no matter what". Mor hid her face for once, but you could still see the rosy colour deepening in her cheeks.

She quickly recovered by lifting her head and flicking the blonde strands behind her shoulders. "You're one to talk. I've seen you searching over your shoulder 50 times now. Wouldn't it be because of a certain family member of mine, would it?"

There was no hiding the grin that spread across your face as your pulse quickened ever so slightly. "Nyx doesn't even know that I'm in Windhaven. I might not even see him; I'm not here for him."

"Who says I was talking about Nyx? I'm pretty sure Feyre and Rhys are here too", she laughs as you shove your shoulder into hers playfully. As you both calm down, Mor's expression turns more serious. She glances at you, "I'm surprised he hasn't sensed you're here yet. I also don't necessarily think he'll welcome you with open arms; he's attempted to shield you from this side of his life. As hard as we are trying to change the cultures and traditions of the Illyrians, most of them are still unpleasant to be around, especially if you happen to be a female, wings or not."

"You didn't have to bring me here, you know".

"Yes, well, don't make me regret it. Stay nice and close to me, and anyway", Mor paused as she paused outside Emeries shop. "I needed an excuse to come here", she admitted with as much sheepishness as Morrigan would ever allow another person to see.

You couldn't help but grin as you squealed, "Ha! I knew it!"

The bell dinged above the shop door as you followed the blonde through the door. The answer, welcomed by Emerie by the counter, "There you both are! Welcome to Windhaven, stay away from the males, and please have a lovely time", she beams, walking around the counter towards Mor.

Glancing around to give both women a private moment, you admired her shop and eyed some of the winter clothing that would be perfect for the cold weather approaching Velaris in a few months. As you ran your fingers over the lining of a beautiful coat and casually suggested over your shoulder, "If you want, I can watch the shop if you two happen to find your way upstairs. Didn't you say you have some new socks in the back room?"

"Oh yes, thank you for the reminder!" Emerie played with your antics and took Mor's hand, dragging her into the back. Smiling at seeing their happiness, you couldn't help but let your mind wander to the man whom you'd been searching for from the second of landing in Windhaven.

You and Nyx had been friends since childhood. You'd spotted a young boy flying over the Sidra, mesmerised by the freeness of his movements, not watching where you were walking, tripped and scratched your knee on the pavement. Having watched it all from the sky, Nyx landed beside you and helped you home. He hadn't laughed like the other children; he'd shown compassion and kindness.

The son of the High Lord and Lady quickly became one of your closest friends, spending every waking hour possible together when you weren't in lessons or he was in training. Along the way, lines became blurred, and you were infatuated with one another. The relationship was intense, to say the least, and the two of you often joked about being mates, but no sign of the bond had occurred yet.

Not that this mattered to you. You were thoroughly and obsessively in love with Nyx, and he was with you. In fact, his obsession and possessive behaviour were renowned throughout Velaris. Every occupant knew that you were Nyx's; if a single hair on your head was out of place, he would bring all of the power of the Night Court down on them. It was extreme at first, but in truth, you were not much of a fighter, so being able to walk around Velaris with the reputation of belonging to Nyx was a relief.

Now, however, it had been weeks since you saw him as he'd been training with the other Illyrians, and even though he used his daemati skills to talk mind to mind with you or he left intimate little notes throughout your home, it couldn't ease the ache in your chest. So when Mor mentioned visiting Emerie's shop in Windhaven, you jumped at the opportunity to see, hoping you'd run into him, even if he didn't want you near the camps.

Lost in your thoughts of black hair and vibrant blue eyes, you'd not noticed that someone had entered the shop until a male growled from behind you, "Where is she?"

Jumping and turning on the spot, you looked the Illyrian over from the golden-brown skin covered in the darkest black tattoos that stretched up his neck and over the sides of his shaved head, leaving a tuft of hair down the centre. His membranous wings were widely spread as he stood in a defensive stance, fists tightly clenched at his side and armour creased from lack of care.

"Who?" you asked innocently, facing him fully and trying not to let his anger intimidate you even though you could already smell the sourness of your anxiety and fear in the air. The stranger walks forward, the tips of his wings knocking into a collection of hats, all toppled to the floor. "Watch where you're walking!"

The male stops a step away, tilting his head and frowning with even more vigour, "What did you just say to me?" As he took another step forward, you matched his step with one backwards until you were pressed against the wall with him towering over you.

"Just - Just watch it, ok? You're knocking over the display" You pointed to the knocked-over items, but he didn't take his eyes off of you, searching over your body until your skin crawled with discomfort.

"Wherever that thief is, give her this", he shoves the letter that had been screwed up in his meaty hands into your chest. You gasp out loud at the pain that rips through your shoulder, knowing it is going to bruise, and you have to look away to hide the tears that had formed as you grasp the letter and watch him leave.

It was only as the bell rang as the male exited that Emerie and Mor rushed into the room with a dagger in hand as they rushed to your side. If it wasn't for the shock and pain in your shoulder, you would have commented and jested how they both looked flustered with dishevelled hair and swollen lips, but this was the last thing on your mind now.

"Who was just here? Why do you smell of fear?" Mor asked as she rested a hand on your arm, looking at you furiously with concern.

"I don't know his name, but he gave me this for you, Emerie." You held out the letter, ignoring how your fingers trembled as she accepted it with a roll of her eyes.

"His name is Prumlos. He works closely with my uncle, and they believe they have rights to my shop. No matter how often I tell them, they keep coming back. Unlucky for me, he trains here in Windhaven and often brings new threatening letters from my extended family. He's a really brute", she pauses as she eyes you closely, "are you ok? Did he harm you in any way?"

Swallowing the thick lump formed in your throat, you attempt to compose yourself, not wishing to seem weak in front of these two strong females. Maybe you'd been sheltered too much throughout your life, but you didn't want to be emotionally broken just because one arrogant male was rude to you, even if your shoulder throbbed terribly.

"He just gave me the letter", you managed to spit out, not looking either female in the eye.

"Bullshit. I can still smell your fear; what did he do?" Mor demanded, stepping closer.

"Nothing! I mean, he was just an arrogant male and just wanted to scare me. I'm fine, really. But could we go, please? Sorry, I know we've only just arrived. Maybe I can wait for you in the High Lord's mother's home, Mor? I just need to be shown the way". You held your breath, waiting for Mor to answer, hoping she didn't try to question you further, but thankfully, she agreed.

"I'm sorry you've been shaken up; I hope it hasn't deterred you from coming to visit me every so often," Emerie smiled gently while holding your hand.

Thanking her, you and Mor left the store and began walking down the street. "Are you sure you're ok? I can see you're still shaken up; talk to me, Little star", Mor asks a couple of silent minutes later and hearing the nickname the inner circle had named you from a child finally brought a smile to your face.

But then Mor tried to link her arm through yours, and you couldn't help but flinch as the movement caused the pain in your shoulder to worsen. Mor noticed and stopped abruptly, turning you towards her, "He did hurt you, didn't he? Tell me so I can go and deal with him".

"No! Please, Mor, can we just go? You know I hate violence".

"Do you want me to go and find Nyx?" she asked, lowering her voice.

"No!" you say urgently, looking up at her with wide eyes, "Please don't, you know how he'd react. I just want to go to Rhys' mother's home and forget about the day. I'll speak to Nyx another time".

With great reluctance, Mor nods, and the two of you continue the walk back to the home. Once inside and next to the fire, you could finally stop and relax, especially as Mor offered you a hefty glass of wine to help your nerves.

After half an hour of sipping away at the absurdly expensive win, shoes off and feet tucked beneath you, Mor suddenly sat up further in her seat with a smile, informing you, "You're about to be a very happy female".

You're confused by her statement, but then you feel it: the connection in your heart is strengthening, like the missing piece to you was suddenly warming and filling in. The front door opened, and Feyre and Rhys walked in first, followed by Cassian and Nyx.

You're half aware of Cassian's joyful greeting: "Ah, Little star! You've finally come to join the camps. We'll have you trained in no time".

You stand quickly, eyes only on Nyx as he stands in the doorway, not breathing as he stares only at you. One second, you're near the table, and the next, you're running full speed towards him, sliding across the wooden floor with your socks, not that you care as you're suddenly in his arms.

The pain had diminished the second you were reunited with him. All you cared about was breathing him in, the relaxing scents of spice and lavender, the strength of his arms as they wrapped around your waist, keeping you up off of your feet that had tucked around his hips. Your fingers clenched into curling hair at the nape of his neck, not caring that it was sweaty from where he'd been training. He could be covered in mud, and you would have jumped into his arms with as much enthusiasm.

The others in the room pretended to look busy as he continued to hold you, his face moving into the nape of his neck, and he took a deep breath, breathing in your scents. Nyx's voice was like dark silk, wrapping around you entirely as he said, "I knew you were here. I mean, I thought I was losing my mind; an hour ago, the tightness in my chest eased".

You couldn't help but giggle, kissing his cheek, "That was me; I arrived about an hour ago". Pulling back in his arms, the back of your fingers caressed against his cheek, admiring the light stubble that had grown since you'd last seen him. "I like this", you admire.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his thumbs stroking circles from where he still held up your body.

"I came to see my best friend, of course", you claimed, watching his handsome features as his smile grew to a grin, the dimple in his cheek deepening beneath your thumb. "Yes, I came to see my best friend Emerie", you joked as Nyx rolled his crystal blue eyes before moving his face back to nuzzle against your jaw.

"I've missed you", he mumbles, not caring that you both had an audience and your heart clenched tighter at the need in his voice.

"I've missed you too, more than you could ever know".

"If you two aren't mates, I'll eat my trousers", Cassian quips sarcastically over the rim of his glass of wine. Mor slaps his arm for interrupting as you're lowered back to the floor by Nyx, but you still lean on the tip of your toes, pushing your chest against his to remain close.

Admiring the passionate way Nyx is searching your face, you turn to grin as Cass is over your shoulder when the sudden deathly shift in the air has you freezing. The faelights casting a golden glow across the house dimmed as the room became cold, the fire extinguishing in a single breath.

Your head spins as you turn back to Nyx, who is staring at the opening of your shirt beneath your neck.

"What's that mark?" Nyx asked, his voice a terrifying tone you'd only heard on a handful of occasions. Instinctively, you were stepping back, but his gentle hand grabbed yours, keeping you close. You can sense his family moving closer, and Nyx doesn't wait for you to answer his question. He carefully releases your hand and pushes aside the material of your blouse until your shoulder is exposed.

Glancing down, you could see now that where Prumlos had shoved the letter into your shoulder earlier had now formed a deep purple bruise. Nyx leans forward, sniffs your skin, and his spine instantly stiffens.

"Who did that to you?" he asks, voice thick with venom and anger.

You're unable to give him an answer as Mor is suddenly by your side, holding open your shirt to stare at the injury as she gasps, "I asked if he hurt you!"

"He?!" Nyx growls, looking between Mor and you.

Attempting to take a step away from both of them, you try and calm the energy, sensing it is escalating to a level that could not be returned from. It wasn't that Nyx was scaring you; it was quite the opposite, as his protection made you feel safe; you were just frightened that he would do something he couldn't undo and start a war within the camps.

"I'm fine; it doesn't even hurt anymore" you tried to reason, but that only made Nyx breathe heavily out of his nose as he turned to Mor.

"Who did this? Give me his name. Tell me right now, Morrigan!"

Thankfully, Mor didn't answer immediately and glanced at you from the corner of your eye, knowing that you didn't want to cause a fuss, so she didn't respond immediately, which only frustrated Nyx more in his crusade for revenge. "This is why you shouldn't have bought her here! I told you on multiple occasions that it wasn't safe!"

"Nyx, you need to take a breath; maybe you and your father should go outside and release some of that energy" Feyre tried to reason with him, stepping closer, but it was useless; Nyx was like a boiling pot of deathly anger. Shadows pulsed and darkened around him, travelling up the length of his muscular arms and around his neck. Rhys and Cassian finally began to step forward, moving into a warrior stance between Mor, Feyre and Nyx, even attempting to urge you behind them, but there was no way you were being forced away from Nyx.

Stepping toe to toe with him, your fingers moved back to cradling his face, forcing his now icey eyes onto you, and for a fraction of a second, he seemed calmer. "Nyx, please listen to me, I'm fine. Everything is ok, it was just-"

You were unable to finish your sentence because his knees buckled, and he audibly gulped down air as all signs of anger and pain disappeared from his eyes and tears lined the edges. "Nyx?"

"Mate", he whispers in awe, leaning his forehead against yours as his arms come around your waist, holding you delicately.

You could feel it, too, like an elastic band was tied around your heart, strengthening with each passing second. "I can feel it too"," you confirmed with glee, tears beginning to fill your eyes with the sudden realisation of what was happening. You and Nyx were mates. The Cauldron had blessed you both; even after waiting what felt like a lifeline for the bond to confirm itself, you both knew it had only been a matter of time. The relief was unlike anything you'd ever experienced before.

"Finally!" Cassian cheered, loosening his warrior stance to return to his glass of wine, raising it towards where you and Nyx stood in the entryway. "Welcome to the family, Little Star!"

You grin up tearfully towards Nyx, who in turn returns the joy, but that all disappears as the anger and rage return full force as he growls, "Someone hurt my mate". Moving away from you, he faces Mor and demands, "Tell me his name, Mor, I know you know it. Don't make me find it out".

Morrigan shifts, rolling her shoulders back as she looks down at Nyx, which is an incredible feat considering the fact that he is considerably taller than her. "Are you threatening me, Nyx??

"He hurt my mate!" he bellows at her, but she doesn't so much as flinch as she shifts her gaze to you, looking like she's contemplating a hundred thoughts at once. Then, without looking away, she confirms the man's name.

"Prumlos".

Nyx vanishes before you have time to stop him, and seconds pass before the ground trembles and shakes the home's foundation. 

"No! I didn't want violence! Why did you tell him, Mor?!" you gawped at the blond, who didn't look remotely sorry.

As Rhysand grabs Cassian and winnows away, Mor steps closer with Feyre at her side. "I told him because we protect our own. Not only has he hurt you, but he's also threatening Emerie; he deserves what's coming to him. In fact, I shouldn't have faltered with telling Nyx, that is my only regret".

You feel defeated and stare at your feet with a thousand thoughts dizzying your mind. Was Nyx ok? Was he hurt? When would he come back? He was your mate. Nyx was YOUR mate.

A pair of brown leather boots entered your vision as Feyre stepped close, wrapping an arm carefully over your not-injured shoulder as she directed you towards the table, kissing your cheek as she moved, "Welcome to the family, properly that is. You've always been one of us, Little Star. Now, why don't you take a seat and I'll see if we have any healing ointments remaining in the cupboards".

Thankfully, Feyre had found a purple ointment that had already worked enough that the pain in your shoulder was considerably less, and the colour of the bruising was now a subtle yellow. Nibbling nervously on the corner of your thumb as you awaited your mate's return, it finally dawned on you. "Wait, how am I supposed to do this? Aren't mates supposed to have a ceremony or something?"

"There can be a ceremony where you offer Nyx some food; we can organise it once we return to Velaris if you'd like? Or if you'd rather not wait, you could offer him food whenever you'd like", Feyre explained warmly with a gentle smile that matched Nyx's.

"I don't think I want to wait. We've all known we would be mates, and waiting for this bond has been slow, so I don't want to wait to accept his bond.

"Why don't you go and have a look in the kitchen? There might be something here", Mor encouraged with a nod towards the back of the house.

You scoured the kitchen cupboards for any sort of food, but with the house having not been in proper use for years, there was nothing except some stale bread on the kitchen table with suspicious-looking green mould on the edges. Even after ripping away the discoloured sections of the bread, you still eyed it with uncertainty.

Stepping out of the kitchen and returning to the dining area, you were surprised to find that Mor and Feyre had gone, and Nyx now stood calmly in the centre of the room, his eyes watching your every breath.

"Where did everyone go?" you ask, trying to fill the thick tension with some noise.

Nyx smiled, not enough to show his dimple but enough to have your shoulders dropping with ease as he stated, "I don't care where they've gone, as long as you remain". Those blazing eyes lowered to your hands as he sucked in a powerful breath as he looked at the stale bread that you were still holding.

As he took several steps forward, you couldn't help but ask, "What did you do to him?"

"What he deserved". There wasn't a speck of blood on his leathery uniform. "What are you doing with that bread?" he asked in a low voice.

You're unsure why you're so nervous when you answer, "Oh, um. It was meant to be for you. I can't find anything else for the mating bond, but it's stale and has mould over it. Maybe I can find a little shop here to find some proper food and serve that to you- NYX!"

Closing the gap between you, he takes the bread out of your hands and, without taking his eyes off of yours, begins to chew the bread that was so clearly dry and stale as he chewed for considerably longer than he should have.

As he finally swallows, you're reaching up for him, resting your hands on his chest and feeling the racing of his heart beneath your palms. "You're my mate", you breathe in awe, forgetting everything that had happened that day and only focusing on the man before you.

"I am. I'm yours, and you're mine", he states with as much wonderment as you felt in your soul.

Grinning up at him, you remind him, "Forever. You're mine forever". The tension beneath your fingers eases as he takes a steadying breath, and then his eyes lower to the edges of your blouse.

You watch with bated breath as he checks the mostly healed bruise. "I'm sorry if I frightened you earlier".

"Nyx, you could never frighten me, " you reassure and tip a finger beneath his chin so that he has to look at your face, not the injury.

"I've always wanted to keep you safe. Seeing that bruise on you today, I was ready to destroy the world to find out who harmed you".

"I know". You watch as he nuzzles into your palm, kissing the centre as you try to lighten the mood, "You're very intense, you know that, right" you say with a light laugh.

Nyx grins, that precious dimple capturing your attention. "I'm more than intense; I'm obsessed. I've been obsessed for years, and now, there's no escaping me" he chuckles as his hand cups around the backs of your thighs and lifts you up, your arms and legs wrapping around his firm body.

"I thought it was just me with the obsession", you retort whilst curling your fingers into his hair once more. Leaning your forehead against him, you both just breathe the other in, eyes closed and hearing the hearts beating as one.

"There hasn't been a second since you entered my life where I haven't wanted you to be by my side. I think I always knew, even when we were children. And now, you're mine".

"Officially", you joke with a giggle, squeezing your arms and legs more firmly around him.

"Officially, my mate", he agrees and then sighs, balancing your weight on one arm so that he could move aside your blouse and kiss the lightening bruise. "I don't want you to come back here again if you can help it. I don't trust these males".

"That's fine with me. I don't particularly want to return, no matter how lovely Emerie's shop is. I don't know how you can stand to be here, let alone train with them", you agreed wholeheartedly.

"You deserve to be in nice and happy places like Velaris, and I can deal with dreadful places like this. It's in my blood, after all". Nyx took a moment to admire your beauty before he stepped forward and winnowed the two of you into his bedroom in the River House in Velaris. "Finally back where we both belong. Now, you're wearing too many clothing articles".

"Wait, don't you have training?" you ask in confusion.

"Not anymore. They'll have to come here and fight me to drag me back to that shit hole tonight. I have other plans now anyway". As he finished talking, he gently eased you onto the navy silk sheets of his bed, resting his arm next to your head as he looked down at you.

You giggle as his hair falls into his face. Reaching up, you pushed the dark curls back to see him grinning at you with just as much glee. "Mmm, I love that sound", he admires before lowering his face to the junction of your neck, his lips pressing against the sensitive area, causing a shiver to burst over your skin.

"What sound?" you ask in a daze.

"You laughing. Your happiness. It's the best sound in the world", he groans as his lips travel up the slope of your neck before teasing your earlobe.

"You're being extra soppy today, Nyx", you say halfheartedly, secretly loving how open he was with his emotions.

However, the man above you freezes, his mouth next to your ear as he asks, "Say that again".

You know exactly which word he wanted you to repeat as you sigh happily, close your eyes and say, "Nyx".

He moans deeply, his hips rutting into the bed with a thrust as a shiver shakes his large frame. "Again," he asks as he lowers his hands to palm your breasts through your blouse.

It was your turn to sigh before whispering, "Nyx".

He lowers his body, kissing down your sternum as he unbuttons the material, exposing your bra and soft skin to him. Your fingers continue to weave through his hair, subtly scratching against his scalp as he doesn't stop on his journey lower. Next, he removes your jeans and socks until all that remains is your underwear.

He appeared to be a man possessed as he stared at you beneath him, biting your lip in need. With an easy snap of his fingers, he tore through the centre of your bra and pushed the useless straps off of your shoulders and down your arms and then repeated the tearing with your underwear.

Nyx utterly admired every inch of your body, his eyes full of emotions and desires. He seemed conflicted, though, unsure whether to spend his sweet time kissing and tasting every inch of your body. Still, as you spread your legs and directed him where you truly wanted him, he growled lowly, lowering his body until he kneeled next to the bed, arms wrapped around your thighs and feasted between your legs.

"Nyx!" you cried out, eyes closing and back arching from the stimulation.

The two of you had been intimate for years, both losing your virginities together and exploring each other's bodies; you knew one another better than yourselves. Nyx liked to show this off as he perfectly flicked his tongue and held you firmly with his hands; you were begging in a matter of seconds. The man bringing you closer and closer to the edge chuckled as he felt you tremble with restraint, knowing he was only doing enough to keep you on the very brink, loving the desperate little cries you released until it was all too much, and you cried out, "Please! Nyx!"

Sucking on your clit was all that he needed to do to have you spiralling into euphoric bliss. Your thighs trembled as they squeezed around his head, but he would happily be suffocated between your legs, so let the warmth of the press into his cheeks until you'd calmed down enough to relax the muscles.

Breathlessly, you looked down your body to where he was grinning, kissing the top of your pubis before licking his shiny lips.

"You're wearing too many clothes". The armour he was wearing vanished in a flicker of magic. Sitting up on the bed, your hands wound around his toned shoulders,  feeling the muscle ripple and move beneath as you tugged him closer and kissed him with all the desperation you could muster.

Both of you were moving with such urgency that your emotions were overwhelmed, tears spilling down your cheeks as you cried out the words, "Mine!" repeatedly. You'd heard of the frenzy after a mating bond is accepted, but you never anticipated it to feel this chaotic. You needed every single inch of him, wanted to taste his body, feel the warmth of his skin, and hear the moans from between his lips. There was too much to do, and your brain was engulfed with the need to do everything simultaneously.

Gripping onto his arms, you pulled Nyx so that he was now the one lying in the centre of the bed as you moved to straddle over his waist. With your lips still desperately moving together, tongue caressing and deepening into each other's mouths, your hands finally grasped around the thick, veiny length of your mate.

During any other intimate moment, you would have admired the sheer size of him or the beautiful sensation of him throbbing between your fingers, but right now, all you were desperate to do was give him pleasure.

Squeezing your fingers more firmly around the shaft, you moved up and down, using your thumb to smear the precum over the head. He shivered at the touch, his abs tightening and flexing as he groaned in pleasure.

"Need to be inside of you", he pleaded against your lips. You didn't need to tell twice as you roused high on your knees and direct the tip of his cock towards your drenched hole. You only gave yourself a second to adjust to the sheer size of him before you were rotating your hips and beginning to rock back and forth with increasing speed.

Nyx's arms wrapped around your spine, reaching to grasp onto the back of your shoulder so he had a good foundation to hold and fuck his hips up in time to meet yours. The firmness of his strokes had you seeing stars with how deep he felt. You were utterly consumed by Nyx.

The two of you were fucking each other with such a bruising pace that all you could do was dig your nails into his chest and ride him like your life depended on it. It was only a matter of minutes until you were coming, squeezing your walls tightly around his cock until he, too, was tipping his head back and grunting your name with his own pleasure.

You all but collapsed on top of his chest, greedily sucking in air that smelled entirely of him, and you couldn't get enough. It seemed he couldn't for you either as you continued to feel his hardness within you, not softening even after his orgasm.

Before long, with your face still plastered to his sweaty chest, your hips began to roll, his cock nudging deep inside of you.

"I can't fucking get enough of you", you gasp as he throbbed within you.

Nyx rolled the two of you over, so now he was on top, your legs repositioned so that they were against his shoulders, and you were all but bent in half, the angle meaning he could fuck even deeper.

"Yes! Nyx, please don't stop!" you scream, reaching over his shoulders and stroking the sensitive membrane of his wings, watching them flare behind his back.

"Say it", he begs, his eyes glazed whilst looking down at you.

"Nyx!"

"Yes! Say you're mine!"

"I'm yours!" Nyx moves harder, his hand slipping down your legs until his thumb could circle your clit.

"That's right", he grunts between thrusts, "And I'm yours. Forever".

You orgasm so hard you're sure you black out for a couple of seconds because, in the next breath, Nyx is beside you, spooning himself around you, kissing along your collarbones and stroking his palm down your stomach.

"I didn't go too hard on you, did I?" he asks with a rough voice.

You smile softly whilst reaching up to scratch your nails behind his ear, tucking the curls behind his pointed ears, careful not to snag the strands on the multiple silver hoops in his ear. "Not at all, I loved every second".

Nyx grinned, and the starlight that usually glowed in his eyes returned for the first time that day, and he was finally at ease.

"I can't believe you ate that stale bread", you say, laughing at the memory.

"I would have eaten the mould too if you'd given it to me. Whatever food you gave me, I would have accepted it with need in my heart". Those perfect lips of his began to kiss across your cheek and down your throat; however, now that the madness of needing to have sex with him had calmed for a moment, you could actually look him over properly, and that's when you noticed the doting of bruises over his arms and chest, all in different stages of healing.

You tense and ask urgently, "Were these from him? Earlier in the day, I mean?"

Nyx moves away from kissing your throat to look at what you're referring to, shaking his head and casually explaining, "No, they're from training. That asshole didn't have time to make a move against me before I-". You'd lost the ability to hear anything further as a fire burned so thoroughly throughout your soul that it momentarily stole your breath. Red burning anger pulsed in your soul, unlike anything you'd ever experienced.

Before a coherent thought could drift through your mind, you're pushing away from Nyx and climbing out of bed on unsteady legs. Needing to half crawl on the floor before righting your posture, you marched towards his bedroom door.

"Woah, Little Star", Nyx is suddenly in front of you, blocking your exit as he holds his hands up.

You try and push past him, but he just carefully eases you away from the door, "Let me past!" you shout in frustration, trying to wiggle past him.

"I don't think so", he responds gently and calmly.

"Nyx, let me out of this house!" You don't get far through as he moves to press your body against the wooden door.

"And what exactly do you think you're going to do?"

Baring your teeth at him over your shoulder, you continued trying to get out of his hold. "I'll kill everyone who harmed you!"

"Oh really?" Nnyx says lightheartedly and with a slight chortle. "You'll kill them? Miss' I despise violence'?"

You turn around so that you're chest to chest with Nyx, looking up at his with eyes so full of fury he actually bulked and softened his laughter. "Whoever hurt you doesn't deserve to live! They hurt you. My mate. MY MATE. They won't live to see the night!"

Nyx wasn't sure how to calm you down, having never seen you with such anger pulsing through your veins before, but he did what he thought was best: distract you. His fingers clutched desperately into your hair as his mouth pressed against yours firmly enough to cause bruises.

You fight and push against him at first, but then thoughts of anger and pain dissolve into lust and need as you're once more desperately grabbing him. Tearing your mouth away, you kiss down his throat, tasting the salty spice of his natural scent.

"These feelings, they will pass", Nyx reassures as he closes his eyes, thoughts entirely on your mouth as you close your lips around his nipple, biting the sensitive bud.

"So you get to have revenge on someone that wrong me, but I don't get to do the same for you?" you ask whilst looking up at him through your lashes, your nails scratching down his abs before grabbing his once more hardening cock.

He releases another long breath, trying to keep his composure as he thrusts into your palm. "I'm saying that I've had a lifetime of training, and taking care of one pathetic asshole was light work. The mating bond is the intense anger you're feeling, protecting my pride. Everything is so new and fresh, but it will pass Little Star. You'll understand that these bruises were all part of my training in a couple of hours. Everyone has similar marks, making the training brutal and volatile. So this feeling, it will pass. Anyway, you are not leaving this room naked with my cum still dripping down my thighs".

You're finally beginning to relax as your harsh touches soften until you're gently cupping his shaft and looking up at him sheepishly, "I thought you would have liked it if everyone got to see who I belonged to?"

Turning on the spot, you rested your hot cheek against the cool wood of the door and began to grind your arse against his cock, "Mmm, don't tempt me", he growls against the side of your face as he moves closer, bending his knees so he could position his cock into your cunt.

Nyx proceeds to fuck you so hard against the door that it begins to crack down the centre. But neither of you stopped for hours. Not until you were both thoroughly exhausted that neither could stand.

"I love you," he whispers against your lips as you teeter on unconsciousness's edge.

"I love you too", you tiredly say back, eyes drooping, and the darkness of sleep welcomed you into its abyss.

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Ten

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Mentions of cannon-typical violence. Azriel and Y/n have a late night conversation. Fluff and other stuff.

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

“Gwyn says hi by the way.” 

Azriel choked on his coffee, bitter flavor rising in his throat. Nesta sauntered into the kitchen, cool eyes glaring at the back of his head. Your familiar silhouette was nowhere to be found. 

Not here. His shadows whispered. With Rhys.

“Calm down you idiot.” Nesta’s voice dripped with unrestrained contempt as she poured herself a cup and sat. His tan skin glistened with sweat after his morning training session, inky tattoos splashing across his bare chest and trailing over his shoulders, down his back, and up to his neck. In the cloudy afternoon light it was difficult to tell where his shadows ended and where his tattoos began. 

“Y/n’s not here. You’ll have to walk around half-naked some other time.” 

Azriel winced. “That isn’t what—”

Nesta brushed him off with a wave of her hand, eyes narrowing over her mug. Azriel felt like a bug pinned down under a microscope. A crushed butterfly about to hang.

“How is Gwyn doing?” he asked gingerly, casually. 

“She’s fine. Believe it or not, the world did not end when you broke up with her.”

Again he flinched. “I’m sorry, Nes,” he whispered rather pathetically. 

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to. But you already know that.” 

There seemed to be no shortage of people he needed to apologize to: Elain, Mor, Emerie, Gwyn, even Lucien — especially Lucien. His cheeks burned to think of the absolute mess of things he’d made. Feyre had been the quickest to forgive him for the debacle with Elain and Gwyn. But as Cassian had mentioned at dinner, there was a reason everyone was staying away from the River House, and the reason was him. 

Two years ago he’d challenged Lucien Vanserra to a blood duel for Elain’s hand. It had felt so right at the time, so obvious: three sisters for three brothers. But it was only when their deaths had loomed over her head with shocking reality that Elain realized what a horrible mistake she’d made. The mistake they’d made together. 

“Call it off,” she’d commanded him, blocking Lucien’s bloody, heaving body. The son of Autumn’s sword had been kicked away, scraping across the rock with an eerie scream and disappearing over the cliff edge. But Elain had stayed, soft brown eyes begging, “Do this and I will never forgive you. What we did… it wasn’t right. It was a mistake.”

A mistake, she’d called it. Years of silent longing and bare bone brushes of their hands in dark hallways. All a mistake. Those words had haunted him. They’d chased him into Gwyn’s kind arms where he once again mistook the friendship he felt towards her as love and broke her heart in the process. Add that to his lackluster response to Mor’s coming out and… well he had a lot of work ahead of him. 

He hoped he would be forgiven in time, but that didn’t mean he’d twiddle his thumbs until that day came. He scoured Prythian’s publishers for new releases of adventure, mystery, and romance books — the raunchier the better — and they showed up every month at Cagniv Library like clockwork. The priestesses still thought it was part of a trade bargain with the Day Court. He’d sent Elain and Lucien plenty of letters and gifts, but either they weren’t being opened or they weren’t bothering to respond. He wouldn’t blame them either way. As for Mor and Emerie, they were gone with the wind, too busy infiltrating lands and enjoying an extended honeymoon on the continent to bother with him. 

That cold stillness in Nesta’s eyes transformed into pity. It was hard not to be reminded of her own failures when she looked at him. Seeing him angry. Watching him crawl into the darkest corners of himself and burn every bridge he crossed had been a shock to Nesta’s system. A plunge into freezing waters that brought pain and clarity. 

She sighed, rubbing her temples. “Just give them time, Az. They’ll come around. If they did it for me, they’ll do it for you.” “I think our situations are rather different.” 

“I don’t.” 

“You didn’t try to kill anyone.”

She grimaced. “I came close.”  

He stayed silent for a long while. He washed his cup. He dried it. He put it in the cupboard. 

“Can you—can you please not tell Y/n?” he begged. His voice was small and quiet. He’d been a fool in the past and made terrible decisions in the name of love. Mor, Elain, and Gwyn. They’d all lived more in his mind than in his heart — people he could never fully grasp, and therefore never lose. They’d been safe. Easy. 

It didn’t feel that way with you. You felt solid and warm, even if he’d only touched you once. You felt more real to him than anyone else. You felt like someone he could actually have. Which meant he could lose you before you’d even become his to lose. 

“You can’t keep her in the dark forever. Not about your history, not about the bond. If you’re going to learn anything from your brothers, learn that.”  

“I know,” he whispered. “I just want to get it right this time.” He had to get it right this time. “I want her to fall in love with me because she wants me, not out of some sense of obligation. I want…” I want to be worthy of her.  

Nesta shook her head, a laugh escaping despite her best attempts to stifle it. Azriel looked at her like she’d gone mad.

She giggled again. “It’s funny. For a male as handsome and desirable as you, you have the worst fucking luck with women. The Mother must have a twisted sense of humor.” 

Maybe she did. But Azriel was still enough of a romantic to hope that he had learned from his mistakes, and that his bad luck would end with you. 

You shoved the notebook off Rhysand’s desk, loose papers flying out like uncoordinated doves. 

“I told you notetaking was a futile effort.” The High Lord didn’t even look at you, too busy searching for invisible dirt beneath his manicured fingernails.

You groaned and dropped your head against the book he’d handed you two hours before. 

Rhysand had to smile at your frustration. It was a wholly different experience teaching you magic compared to teaching Feyre. With Feyre, her greatest barrier had been her lack of knowledge (and her hatred of him at the time). She’d been thrust into the world of fae without preparation, but it had left her malleable and adaptable. It was like teaching a newborn how to walk — a mind that could absorb more because it knew so little.

But you knew too much. You could spout off magical theory at the drop of a hat. You were a pedagogical master with a thousand mnemonics to your name. You were the first to wake in all of Velaris, making your way to the Library before bodies could fill the streets, and you only returned when the crowds had either turned in for the night or gone out to drink until daybreak. You swallowed every history book on the Night Court, Clairvoyants, daemati, and death gods until you felt untethered from the earth — until your mind began to float outside your body, buzzing with thoughts that never went away. 

But none of that mattered. Your power was an immovable object that couldn’t be controlled by logic or studying. 

You shoved against that power now.

“Good,” Rhysand nodded, leaning against the window, “You’re getting better at it.” 

He lingered in your mind, hovering over the depths of your emotions and memories like a bird ready to break water. It had taken some time before you felt comfortable with the intrusion. Your first lesson together, Rhysand’s presence in your mind had made it impossible to focus. Panic had seized your mind and your body until you could do nothing more than brace your hands and feet against the chair’s leather upholstery. You could have sworn you saw a head of silver hair to your left. The gentle pitter patter of rain had sounded like dripping blood. 

It wasn’t like that anymore. Henna had left you with a useful skill — you could wind your consciousness around Rhysand and keep him there, suspended in that indescribable space where your thoughts lay so he could do no more damage than you permitted him. 

Through your mind he felt the narrowing of your power. You imagined it like a blanket wrapped around your body, suffocating but familiar. It was this power that laced your skin and made contact with others so hard. You imagined the fabric shortening, creeping up your arms and legs, curling around your torso and squeezing like a snake. Inch by inch you tightened it around you, burying it within your chest instead of carrying it openly like a wound. 

You held a music book between your hands — Nyx’s to be exact. The little Lordling showcased a certain aptitude for the piano his father could only dream of, and being as young and protected as he was, the worst kind of emotion imbued within its pages was agitation. You could hear one of the ballads written within it as clearly as if Nyx was sitting beside you plucking out the melody. 

Tighter. Tighter. Tighter. You swallowed your power. Pulled what was outside inwards. Slowly but surely the music faded away until the book was as all books should be — silent. 

Sweat beaded your brow. This was the most difficult part — not tuning out the music, but keeping the volume at zero. 

Rhysand checked his watch. Waited. Checked it again. 

You lasted thirty minutes before your power burst out along your skin once more like a thousand prickling needles. You shuddered, half-disappointed, half-grateful that you could hear the melody again.

Rhysand clapped his hands, slow and proud. The grandfather clock in the corner of the room was dangerously close to five bells. Rhysand nodded. 

“Perfect timing. We’re done for today.” 

“I can go for longer,” you pleaded. 

“I know you can.” Rhysand pushed off the wall, polished leather boots gleaming. He was wearing his Illyrian leathers this time, the scent of wind still clinging to his skin after a visit to the northern war camps.

Old Illyria lasted thousands of years. The clans used to flow up and down the Steppes, following the tundrabeast that lay claim to those mountainous regions and were said to speak for their god Ramiel — Starbreaker, Night Herder — after whom the mountain is named. They don’t move with the cold winds anymore, even if they’ve kept their names: Ironcrest, Bloodborn, Windhaven, Seawhip, Hawkseed, Timberbane, and a dozen others. And they don’t make sacrifices, although the Blood Rite might be a close—

Rhysand rapped his knuckles on the desk to grab your attention and splayed his fingers wide. “I also know that the moment I dismiss you, you’ll scamper off to the Library to work until you can’t see straight.” 

You shifted in your seat. “I like it there.”

“That’s besides the point. If you keep going at this pace you’ll burn out. Then you won’t be able to help anyone. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” 

Your eyes widened ever so slightly. You hadn’t thought he’d noticed. “I know what it feels like to burn out and it’s not going to happen anytime soon. I promise.” 

Rhysand suppressed the urgent need to roll his eyes as you gathered your things and walked out the door. “And here I thought I worked too much,” he muttered beneath his breath. 

You carried Henna’s journal tucked within your new Librarian robes — black with ivory detailing and wide sleeves that narrowed at the wrists. You kept a hand on it during late nights at the Library. You ate with it propped open, black splotches swimming across the page like worms. You slept with it beneath your pillow. 

But alas, it would seem the book was going to make you work to wring meaning out of every odd symbol.

You were muttering to yourself as you walked back and forth in front of the fireplace. You’d effectively commandeered one of the reading rooms on the seventh floor, leaving the library only when required for Rhysand’s lessons. Helion’s most recent letter lay open on the table with Cherp’s resting just beneath it. A map hung crooked on the wall, four athenaeums circled in bleeding red ink alongside a list of books that had gone missing — the ones that people knew about at least. 

The Alcove, Ares House, Folkmen’s Bard, and most recently, Argot’s.

 Three Librarians dead. Their throats slit. Blood dribbling down their burgundy robes as they’d sat hunched over their desks. The week before it had been two from Ares House caught swaying from the third floor balcony. 

No one has any idea how it happened. The wards were never set off. Nothing in the Library was disrupted. I tell you this only because you deserve to know what’s happened to your people. Continue your training. Continue your research. Do whatever you need to do. But leave the court business to me, dear. I’ll write to you again when I can.

~ Helion 

“It doesn’t make sense,” you mumbled, drumming your fingers against your hip where the book remained silent. “None of this makes sense.” 

You’d used every ounce of Rhysand’s training on the book. You’d imagined your power sliding over it like water, fire, needles shooting through cowhide, a hammerstrike, every metaphor imaginable. You’d glared at it with an intensity that would have disintegrated a lesser object. 

When that failed, you had moved onto solving the murders and thefts at your father’s court. You couldn’t content yourself with sitting in one of the cushy, high-backed chairs in Rhysand’s office sipping imported tea in porcelain cups while athenaeums were on lockdown. 

The pattern was shockingly simple — Koschei was going after books that could be traced back to him. Books that might give his enemies the upper hand: folktales alluding to him and his siblings, translated texts from old Bauldish that might have proved useful in deciphering Henna’s book, secondary accounts of the age before High Lords ruled. 

If you were Koschei you’d go after Godswoods next — the collection of athenaeums dedicated to religion. Then on to The Gallows — the athenaeum on death and dying. The two were intricately tied to one another, but people tended to write books on dying before coming up with explanations for what comes after. You’d spent a great deal of time there following your mother’s death, and you could picture it now — solemn black bookshelves looping around a circular room that tapered up into a point like a blade pointed to the sky. 

You finished writing your letter to Helion, along with the list of books you wanted pulled from the archives. Cagniv Library may have been a glowing beacon in the Night Court, and a place of sanctuary for the priestesses, but it was nothing like you were used to.

You held the paper out in front of you, Helion’s glimmering pen tucked behind your sharp ears, and blew. The black letters lifted off the page and faded away like a breath in cold air. The message was already writing itself back into existence in Helion’s office.

“It doesn’t make sense.” 

You scribbled out another note, this one for yourself with another pen. You ripped it to pieces and fed it to the fire. 

What was Koschei looking for now? Was he still looking for the book that now rested against your hip, or had he turned to some other prize? And why kill the Librarians and set all of Day Court on high alert? 

Henna had been careful. She’d stayed hidden until she was forced to tear down the Alcove to get the book. Whoever was causing the killings now was either a showman or a fool. They left bodies hanging from rafters. They carved smiles into throats. They let the Librarians know what they were stealing whether they meant to or not. They left patterns scattered among wreckage for someone like you to figure out. 

It all felt… juvenile for lack of a better word. Someone young. Someone who wanted to prove themselves in a loud way. Someone whose ego hadn’t been tested yet and wasn’t listening to Koschei’s commands in their entirety. 

Azriel. 

You couldn’t help but think of him. 

Azriel was nothing like that. 

He wasn’t loud. He didn’t vy for attention. He didn’t seek the light in a room. His confidence was quiet and true. His kindness took the shape of the shadows that lingered by your ankles. It took the shape of the robes you wore now. He was the only one who’d seen them at The Alcove. He was the only one who could have requested the court seamstress to make a copy and leave it hanging in your closet.

No. Azriel was nothing like that.

Azriel’s eyes lit up like embers when you slid through the front door, weary but bright-eyed and cradling your journals against your chest. The shadows he’d left behind with you slithered across the floor like mist. 

She’s been in the Library all day. Working. The shadows whispered in his ear. She thought about you. 

Azriel smiled. He’d thought about you as well. “I was wondering where you’d gone.” 

You gasped, closing the door louder than you intended. You’d developed a talent for sneaking in and out of the River House unnoticed to the point where Cassian considered hiding bells in your pockets. Nyx had tried to do it as a joke, but you’d caught him giggling too loudly in your bedroom. 

You brightened immediately, a broad smile appearing on your face. Azriel felt his heart leap, then quiet as he caught the scent of parchment paper. 

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow?” You whispered, tip-toeing through the dimly lit hallway to where Azriel was in the sitting room. You sank into the couch with a groan. The hardwood desks at the Library had not been kind to you. 

He shrugged and brushed back his wind-thickened hair, shifting to face you better. A crumb-coated plate lay on the table and he still wore his leathers. He must have just arrived home. 

“I flew as quick as I could. I wanted to be home.” With you. 

He’d gotten so used to the feeling of you sleeping across the hallway that he’d flown the last three days without sleep. It was worth it to see you again. From the looks of it, you’d not fared well in his absence either. Your eyes had that glassy, half-there sheen: a perfect mixture of exhaustion and mind-crackling clarity. 

“And how were the Mortal Lands?” You tucked your knees beneath you and leaned against your hand, fighting the sleep that seemed to grapple for you now that Azriel was home. His wings were spread wide and you resisted the urge to close the last few inches between you and the talon that glimmered in the faelight like obsidian glass.

You’d never been that far south. You’d never had reason to. But Azriel flew far and wide. The Continent was now Mor’s domain, but the secret goings of Prythian and the Mortal Lands belonged to him and him alone. The Spymaster of the Night Court. The Shadowsinger.

Azriel shook his head. “Quiet. Koschei hasn’t touched them yet as far as I can tell, and the Mortal Queens don’t care. They seem to think that they can handle Koschei because he’s agreed to bargains with them in the past.” 

You made a noise of disapproval. “Like they handled Hybern? The only reason they’re still standing is because fae fought their war.” 

The scattering of human armies that had arrived on that battlefield had belonged to no crown. They’d either fought for the bloodlust or the money. You could respect them for that. 

Azriel tipped his head to the side, following the curling of his shadows around his shoulders. “But they are still standing. They don’t know what we sacrificed to keep them safe. That’s the problem with humans. They forget too quickly and get complacent” 

“It would seem we have the opposite problem. We can’t help but remember everything,” you said, with no small amount of bitterness. 

He wanted to keep you talking. He wanted your thoughts. Wanted to fall asleep to the sound of your voice after three weeks of silence. You weren’t aware of it, but the bond had felt thin the further he’d traveled away from you. Like a tightrope stretched to its snapping point. Now that he was back, and you were here, his heart didn’t feel like such a strenuous burden.

He smiled. “I think that’s just you. I know plenty of fae who are forgetful and empty-minded.” He leaned back, stretching his wings out to the side, and winced. They were whipped raw and tender from the flight. 

Without thinking you got up and moved to the fireplace, feeding wood to the flames until it crackled happily. There was a reason Cassian and Azriel loved to bath their wings in sunlight every chance they got. The heat helped the soreness and eased the wind’s rough edge. 

It also drove color into your cheeks and set your hair alight in a soft golden haze. You were a marvel. An angel with a halo to match and Azriel drank in the sight. 

“Like who?”

“Cassian.” 

You smirked and chucked the last of the wood into the flame’s gaping mouth. 

Cass was far from empty-minded, but after decades of being feared as the Lord of Bloodshed he was grateful that people loved him enough to be just a little mean. He gave and received friendly blows like kisses on the cheek and smiled all the wider for it. To threaten his life was the same as saying I love you. It must be why the Mother had made Nesta his mate. She said I love you to him all hours of the day. 

Azriel asked you what you were thinking, and when you told him he felt some of that pain slide off his shoulders like rain. He threw his head back and laughed until his chest started to hurt again and you thought about how rare that sound must be, and how much you loved it. 

“How are the others? Rhysand told me Feyre’s sister is down there along with your friends.” 

Azriel sobered up quickly and cleared his throat. “Yes. Elain, Lucien, Jurian, and Vassa.”

His voice caught on two names: Elain and Lucien, and it didn't escape your notice. He sounded... nervous.

“And? Are they alright?”

He rolled his shoulders and looked out the window to the inky black sky. Vassa would be sleeping now in her human form, and if she was lucky, she’d wake up in the morning still within the manor’s grey stone walls. Safe. Home. 

He shook his head gravely. “They’re nothing short of terrified. Koschei has Vassa under a spell that would normally keep her tied to his lake. He let her go during the war against Hybern and he’s been allowing her to stay, but… everyone’s just holding their breath and trying to prepare for the day he’ll take her back.”

You shivered and wrapped one of the spare blankets around your shoulders. You couldn’t imagine a life where every waking moment held the risk of being torn away from everything you held dear. The anticipation would have broken you more than the act itself. 

“I’ve heard of her. The firebird.” You murmured softly. You imagined a creature with glowing eyes, blue-red feathers streaking behind like ribbons set on fire. Azriel narrowed his eyes in confusion, and you explained, “Ares House records all wartime information. I read the reports. We’re very thorough.”

Azriel smiled. “I would expect nothing less.”

Silence passed in comfort, and you couldn’t stop thinking about Vassa.

“Do you think they’d be able to stop it if Koschei did make her go back?” 

“I don’t know, Y/n.” And it was driving him mad to have Koschei hanging around like a forgotten word at the end of his tongue.

“I hate this,” you spat out, “The not knowing. I hate it.” 

Azriel stared at you, hazel eyes silently begging you to continue. Shadows curled around your body, gently tugging you closer to him until your knees were a whisper away from touching. 

You both sighed softly into the quiet air. Even the River House seemed to be at rest for the night. The usual background hum of cooking and cleaning were absent. It was just you and the Shadowsinger. 

“How are things going? With the book?” 

You slipped your hand through the slit in your robes and pulled it out. The gold chain rustled, glowing faintly from your touch. 

“It’s going.” You shoved the book back out of sight. You couldn’t even stand to look at it after the hours you’d spent agonizing over its pages. “Rhysand’s been teaching me to contain my power better. I can actually touch some things now.” 

But not him. Still not him. And it was killing you. 

Azriel gave another one of his small smiles. The ones that never failed to make the world a smaller, more manageable place. “That’s good.”

“I just… this may sound silly but, I’m not used to things being this hard. With my powers a lot of things just sort of came naturally for me. But now people are dying and I’m just sitting here on this very expensive couch and I can’t do the thing I was brought here to do and I… I don’t like feeling this useless.” 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Azriel murmured. He closed the space between you even more, shadows hovering over your face in silent permission. When you didn’t pull away they brushed back the strands of hair that had fallen over your face with a cool, silky touch. 

Azriel was all calm darkness and you imagined that if you reached out to touch his chest your hand might just slip through him like he wasn’t there at all. He seemed too good to be real. 

But he was real, and he was sitting close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath fan your cheeks. 

“You’re not useless. Never believe that. Not even for a second. And even if you were useless, it wouldn’t matter. You’re worth more than the things you can do, remember?”

“I remember.” Your voice was quiet and thick. 

You rested your cheek in the crook of your arm as you gazed at him wearily. 

Azriel kept his hands out in the open, one hand reaching across the couch cushions before stopping mere inches away from yours. His shadows closed the remaining distance, slipping in between your fingers to mimic Azriel’s touch. 

“Did you uncover any more secrets of mine while I was gone?” Azriel asked as your eyelids began to droop. 

“I confess I forgot to look. But maybe now that you’re here, I’ll start again,” you mumbled into the encroaching dark.

“I look forward to it,” were the last words that filtered through your ears before you fell asleep to the untranslatable whispers of shadows. 

Nyx bounded down the stairs, leaping the last six steps before landing soundlessly on the floor with a soft bend of his knees — just like Azriel had taught him. Feyre gave a proud nod before ruffling his ebony hair and Rhysand beamed. 

Let me. Feyre adjusted the wrappings around Rhys’s chest that kept Velaria’s plump body swaddled and comfortable. Her pink lips opened in a yawn that had both mates sighing. 

“Uncle Az!” Nyx raced forward towards the sitting room and then froze, mouth opened in a surprised oh.

Azriel slept like the dead on the floor, chest rising and falling with the beat of his gentle breath. You lay stretched out on the couch, one arm propped beneath your head and the other dangling over your waist and off the cushions. Your fingers swayed an inch above Azriel’s chest, shadows swimming over his torso and creeping up your arms so that even in sleep you were connected to one another. 

Feyre gasped softly at the picture. The sunlight blanketing the both of you in peach fuzz. The faint uptick of Azriel’s lips and the smoothness of his brow. The way you looked like you were bleeding into him. The black of his shadows and your robes. 

Rhysand rubbed Nyx’s shoulder and kissed Feyre’s cheek.

Let them sleep, Nyx. We’ll get breakfast at Huth’s today.

Nyx let his parents lead him towards the door without protest. He’d never seen Uncle Az sleep so soundly in his life. 

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

Yeah... this slow burn is burning... but I just love it so much and I love writing all the sweet little moments they have and their conversations with one another and I hope you're enjoying it as well.

[parkerslatte]

Finding Home || Part One

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: loneliness.

Summary: Azriel never thought he would find someone who loves him. Everyone around him has their own life and family and he feels like he is floating between them with no real purpose. When he meets someone in the rain, everything might begin to change.

Finding Home Masterlist

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

A/N: I might make this into a series if people enjoy it…because I have many ideas.

•••

In his whole life, Azriel just wanted to be loved by someone. Over his five centuries of existence, he has taken plenty of lovers, both females and males. Though to each and every one of the people he had lain with, he never felt any sort of attachment to them. They had never spent the night with him, when he awoke in the morning, the other side of the bed was empty and cold, a clear indication that they had left hours before. Some left a small note thanking him for a good night but most left with no word never to be seen again. 

At the beginning, this did not affect Azriel. He was simply young and looking for a bit of fun. But as time has gone on, the more Azriel longed to wake up next to someone. To have the side of the bed warm and the sound of his love walking about the house. To feel the soft caress of their skin as they fell asleep with each other's arms. Whispers of loving words exchanged before they both drifted to that relaxing, unconscious space only dreaming of one another. 

Azriel longed for that. He longed for a home. He longed for his own family. 

Nyx was nearly ten years old and Feyre was again pregnant with her and Rhys’s second child. Cassian had recently told Azriel that he and Nesta were trying for a child. Azriel was happy for them, elated even. But there was a small stinging pain in his heart. The pain of knowing that his family was moving on with their own lives without him. They each had their own families to care for and worry about. He was no one's priority. 

At Solstice, Azriel was always the one standing on the sidelines. Rhys had Feyre. Cassian and Nesta. Lucien had Elain. Mor had Emerie. Amren had Varien. Every single member of his family had someone that they cared for and would die to protect. Azriel could only wish he had that type of love. 

There was once a time where he thought he and Elain could work out. Three sisters for three brothers, it all made sense in Azriel’s mind. But after that initial lust faded away, Azriel realised how incompatible they were. Their conversations turned stale and awkward and Azriel would always catch her sneaking glances at Lucien. It wasn’t long before Elain began to pursue the youngest Vanserra– leaving Azriel alone once again. 

Currently, Azriel swirled his whisky around in his glass. He hadn’t taken a sip from it as he stood near the door. It was Solstice and all the presents had been exchanged and now everyone was happily sitting and talking, lounging around on the couches and chairs. Azriel was the only one not sitting. His shadows swirled around the room, as they usually did whenever everyone was together. If anything were to attack, Azriel would be the first line of defence. Everyone else had a family or were going to have a family, they had everything to lose– he didn’t. 

There was a pull at the bottom of Azriel’s trouser leg and he glanced down. Elain and Lucien’s one year old daughter sat there smiling up at him. Azriel offered her a smile as one of his shadows caressed her cheek and she let out a delighted giggle. Using his pant leg, she heaved herself from the floor and demanded to be picked up. Azriel’s face clouded over in amusement as he bent down and took the young fae into his arms. 

The girl simply looked around, not used to being up so high. Azriel watched her look of amusement with fondness. Her red hair bright in the dim lighting of the room, and her deep brown eyes wide in wonder. 

“Hycinth?” Elain said as she looked around for her daughter before relaxing once she found her in Azriel’s arms. 

As soon as the young girl heard her mother, she struggled to get out of Azriel’s arms and he let her down without a fuss. She crawled over to her mother and up onto her lap while Lucien watched his daughter fondly. Azriel folded his arms across his chest, his heart feeling like it was being poked by a million pins. Nyx was sleeping with his head resting on Rhys’s. Nesta was sitting in Cassian’s lap, looking so in love with each other that it made Azriel stop breathing. The same went for all of the couples, they had so much love for each other that they could only focus within their small circle. 

None of them even noticed when Azriel slipped out of the house and into the night. 

It was raining when Azriel got outside, his clothes immediately soaked through and his hair was plastered to his forehead. Though he didn’t care in the slightest, he continued to walk through the torrential downpour until he made it to a bench by the park. 

He should have stayed at the house, it would only bring to the surface more questions as to why Azriel was distancing himself from his family. Seeing them altogether was always bittersweet for Azriel. Of course he loved his family, he always would, but seeing them together with their own families and their own lives. Azriel was not sure where he slotted in amongst them anymore. He didn’t have anyone to love. He didn’t have his own family. He was alone. 

The rain continued around him and Azriel didn’t move. The chill of the wind and his soaked clothes only made him colder but he didn’t care. He would stay here all night if he had to, for the rain to wash away everything he had been feeling tonight. Tomorrow he would start with a clean slate, maybe he would feel better about everything tomorrow. Azriel hoped when he woke up everyday that this was the answer. He hoped that he woke up one day and did not care. But Azriel knew that the cycle was always doomed to repeat itself. 

As Azriel was deep within his own thoughts, he failed to notice the rain no longer falling upon him. It fell around him but never on him. He wasn’t broken from his continuous strain of thoughts until he felt a soft tap on his shoulder. 

Azriel’s head snapped in the direction the touch came from, his shadows swirled around his shoulders like snakes preparing to strike. What Azriel didn’t expect was a female holding an umbrella over his head, staging at him with concern. 

“Are you okay?” she asked. “It’s just…you’ve been sitting here for an hour. I walked past earlier to buy some bread and you were here and I’m on my way home now and you are still here. I just wanted to know if you were okay.”

Azriel was at a loss for words. Anything that he could say was lost on the tip of his tongue. Articulating his feelings was never his strong point. 

“It’s raining a lot,” the female said, trying to have a conversation. “It seems to be raining a lot more recently. Have you noticed?”

“I have noticed,” Azriel muttered.

“So he does speak,” the female said, a small smile gracing her features. 

Azriel met her eyes, and for some reason, he felt himself smiling back. It was probably barely noticeable to her but to him, the feeling felt foreign. 

“So,” the female said, taking a seat on the bench next to Azriel. “Are you okay?”

With a heavy sigh, Azriel answered, “No, actually. I’m not. It’s Solstice, I should be spending it with my family but I’m sitting out here in the rain alone.” Azriel couldn’t stop the words freely flowing from his mouth. “I tried to enjoy myself, I really did. But all of them each have someone they love to celebrate with. They each have someone to go home with and have their own celebration. They have children or are going to have children and I’m just there by myself. I just constantly feel so–”

“Alone?” the female cut in.

Azriel’s gaze met hers and she held a sympathetic expression on her face. “Yes. I feel alone. And I don’t even know why I am telling you this. I don’t even know you.”

The female shrugged. “Sometimes it's good to get things off your chest, even if it's someone you don’t know. It can sometimes be bad to keep everything bottled up.”

Azriel relaxed his shoulders the smallest amount. “I do feel slightly better after getting that off my chest.”

The female smiled brightly. It somehow lit up the darkness around them. “I’m glad I could help you relieve some tension you are holding in those shoulders. I’m Y/N by the way.”

“Y/N,” Azriel repeated her name. It felt right coming from his mouth. “I’m Azriel.”

Y/N looked away sheepishly. “I did have an idea of who you are.”

“Oh,” Azriel replied, feeling slightly disappointed. 

“I didn’t know when I first walked over here,” Y/N said. “I only realised when one of your shadows did this.”

Y/N held up her arm and one of Azriel’s shadows lightly caressed her wrist. Azriel’s eyes widened. 

“I’m so sorry,” Azriel replied, reeling in all of his shadows. “They don’t normally do that.”

Y/N chuckled slightly and it was a melodic sound that cut through the air. “It’s okay.”

Azriel nodded before he looked down at the ground. “So, why are you out on Solstice?”

Y/N offered him a tight lipped smile. “Well, my friends all have their own large families to spend Solstice with. I was invited to a few of their houses but decided to stay home and have a night to myself. I’m only out because I needed to pick up some bread because I wanted to make a sandwich.”

“Are you not lonely?” Azriel asked the question before he could even stop himself.

Y/N shook her head. “Not anymore. At first I was, I mean when your friends start moving on without you, everything seems to change so fast. All of their time was taken up by their children and partner. But as time went on, I began to get used to it and realise that I’m not lonely as I have people around me that love me and support me. I am simply choosing to be alone right now,” Y/N said. “And I’m glad I did, because I wouldn’t have bumped into you. Mr Tall, Dark and Handsome.”

Azriel flushed and looked down at his feet, not expecting the compliment. Y/N simply laughed. That melodic tone once again cutting through the air.

“Do you want to come back to mine?” Y/N asked. “I can make us sandwiches?”

Azriel knew his answer immediately but took a moment to answer as if he was contemplating the decision. He didn’t want to look too eager. “I would like that.”

Y/N smiled brightly. “Come on then! The sooner we get there, the sooner I can change into some dry clothes.”

Azriel looked at her and his eyes nearly bulged out of his head. While she had been shielding him with her umbrella, she hadn’t held it above herself, causing her clothes to soak through, much like Azriel’s.

“Take the umbrella back,” Azriel said, pushing her hand away that was clutching the umbrella.

“No,” Y/N said stubbornly and grabbed Azriel’s arm and forced the umbrella into his hand and folded her arms across her chest. “You take it and keep hold of it until we get to my apartment. Now come on.”

Azriel followed her and fell into pace next to her. Even though she was putting on a determined face, Azriel could see through the facade as she shivered as the cold rain poured down upon her. Stretching one of his wings, Azriel lifted it until it shielded her from the rain the best he could. Y/N looked up at him in surprise, her shivering ceasing the smallest amount as his wing blocked out the wind. 

Y/N smiled at him as she hesitantly wrapped her hand around his arm. “You are getting my most amazing sandwich for that.”

A full smile bloomed on Azriel’s face as he walked with Y/N to her apartment. Maybe he didn’t need to be so alone after all.

[scorpioriesling]

Too Hot To Handle - Episode 1

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Characters featured: Reader, Feyre, Morrigan, Gwyn, Elain, Emerie, Amren, Cassian, Lucien, Eris, Tarquin, Rhysand, Helion, & Tamlin

Warning(s): None

SR's Note: Okay, so I know this show was runner up for the most votes on the poll. However! I liked this idea so much that I am writing series for both Too Hot To Handle and Love Island if this one does well. So... please like, comment, reblog, and don't forget to vote! You literally control the outcome of this story -- every vote counts. xo

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

The summer sun cast a warm glow across the chrystalline water in the bay, the reflections like little silver fractures along the surface. The smell of salt in the air only surges you forward, the clicking of your wedges against the wood of the dock a contrast to the swishing of the boats in the water.

The large, white, pristine yacht comes into view, tied directly at the end of the dock, practically calling your name louder and louder with every step closer you take. You raise a hand to shade the sun from your vision, and can make out a few figures on the deck. Your heart rate picks up, a small smile spreading across your face as another adrenaline wave courses through you again.

This was it -- you'd finally made it to the retreat you'd been so anxious to attend. This could finally be your chance at finding not just another partner for the evening, but a real, true partner for life.

All you had to do was step onto the Love Boat.

"Y/N?" The captain greets you politely as you step up to the ramp leading to the boat's main deck. You meet his eyes, and he extends his hand. You take it, and he shakes as though you're equals, his gaze never leaving your eyes as he nods politely. You smile appreciatively, knowing in that moment, under his direction, you would be in good hands.

"It seems you're the last to board, dear. Please -- step aboard whenever you are ready." He nods once more.

"Thank you!" You say with a little too much enthusiasm. He only smiles politely, his face turning to peer out at the ocean beyond once more. You take a hesitant step onto the path toward the main deck, the soles of your shoes clicking differently on the metal than they did the wood. You continue your stride, up and up and up the path...

When you can see the opening onto the main deck, you halt, ruffling your fingers through your blown-out hair and adjusting the strings of your bikini. If you're really about to walk onto a deck full of males (and females, for that matter) who were all here for the same reason you were, you had to make sure what needed to be covered -- and what needed not to -- was or wasn't... right?

With a satisfied sigh, you took one calming breath before taking the final step past the interior walls of the boat, and heading toward the crowd of other bikinied females and half-naked males before you. You could have sworn your mouth dropped open at the sheer amount of options you had -- and not one of them was a bad one! Everywhere your eyes darted, all you could see was muscle, toned abs, defined legs, and amid the whistles and cheers, a very loud:

"Oooh! Who have we got here?"

✧･ﾟ:

All you can do is laugh nervously as every eye on the boat seems to be on you. You haven't felt self-conscious in ages, but with everyone staring at you like this you feel so... exposed. Nonetheless, you're grateful when a pretty girl walks right up to you and holds out a flute of champagne to you with a smile.

"A glass of champagne for you?" She asks. You graciously take it from her, and your eyes meet her caramel brown ones.

"Thank you, yes, absolutely," you chuckle. "God, I'm so nervous, I feel like everyone's-"

"Drinking you up?" She says, her brow raising. You shrug, chuckling as she looks around at the guys waiting to come over and talk to you. "It's because everyone is. You're the freshest glass of water on this boat, and every guy wants a taste." She winks, and your cheeks heat at her words. She laughs and tosses her hair over her shoulder, the sun shining on the radiant golden locks as though they are made of the metal itself. "My name is Morrigan -- uh, Mor, I mean. Everyone just calls me Mor." She sips her bubbly champagne, and you take note. The bubbly one is Mor -- like the champagne on the boat.

"Well, I'm happy to meet you Mor," you say. "I'm Y/N." She glances over her shoulder, her eyes only briefly meeting yours once more before she leans in close.

"Between you and me," she says lowly. "I have my eyes set on that one over there," she glances toward a very tall, dark-skinned male with short black locks. He is laughing at something the brunette beside him says, his smile adding to the glowing aura around him.

"You should move in now then," you suggest, and Mor shoulder bumps you.

"Heyyy you're just saying what I was already thinking," she smiles. Her aura shines just as brightly as she wades through the crowd, making her way toward the joyous male. It's only a matter of minutes before you're approached once more, this time by a much taller, much more handsome person.

"Well hello there darling," the raven-haired male's deep tone sends a flutter about in your stomach. You smile up at him, your eyes dragging across the sculpted panes of his tanned skin.

"Hello," you politely greet. He smiles coyly, taking your free hand in his.

"And who do I have the pleasure of meeting today?" He drawls. You shyly introduce yourself, and he nods as if your name is quite suitable.

"Y/N," he affirms. He places a featherlight kiss to the top of your hand and you blush, noticing his subtle glance toward your bikini top as he does so. "You're quite beautiful, Y/N," he says.

"And you're quite charming...?" You raise your eyebrows in question.

"Rhysand," he finished. Ahh, Rhysand. "However, "Charming" would do just fine, if it is a Prince you are looking for." He chuckles, a small dimple forming in his cheek. You giggle along with him, and he raises his whiskey glass to you.

"Cheers to finding your Prince Charming, hmm?" He winks, and heads off toward where a few other ladies have congregated near the railing. It isn't long before he says something and they all laugh, surely all fawning over him already.

Rhysand the Charmer. Got it. Boy, whoever goes for that one will have quite a few ladies in waiting to battle it out with to get to him-

The loud blaring of the ship's horn has everyone flinching in suprise, so much so that you almost spill your champagne. You manage to keep it all in your glass, that is until the ship disembarks from the dock, the sudden motion causing you to sway a bit in your wedges and loose your balance.

"Woah-"

Two hands brace your arms, catching you mid-wobble before you could topple over. Your upper back brushes across warm, hard skin and you shudder at the contact, feeling alight with energy and embarassment at your sudden sea legs.

"Are you alright, miss?"

You turn, peering over your shoulder as your helped upright onto your platforms once more. Only a bit of champagne has slipped from your glass, but not enough to warrant a scene. Nonetheless, you can't help but feel ashamed in front of yet another beautiful man before you.

"Oh, I'm alright -- just quite embarassed really. I can't believe... I mean I'm usually not so clum...s...y..." You trail off, your eyes meeting a pair of the most beautiful ones you'd ever seen. The heterochromia was instantly attractive, the deep amber on the left such a contrast to the burnt golden on the right; Gods you couldn't stop staring.

"Well, it seems your slight misstep has maybe affected your ability to talk then?" He jokes, his red hair flowing behind his shoulderblades with the slight breeze off of the ocean. Your cheeks flare, and you chuckle nervously.

"No! No not at all, I... maybe my wit just isn't quite as good as yours?" You arch an eyebrow at him, earning you a delighted laugh in return. You quickly scan him when he tosses his head back -- all the way down to his burnt orange swim trunks-

"Lucien," he says, holding out his hand. You take it, and immediately cringe when you remember the champagne you'd sloshed over it moments ago. He lets out a breathy laugh.

"What is it, now you don't like the way my hand feels either? Moments ago you didn't mind..." He teases. You let go, and playfully shove his shoulder, which earns you another grin.

"Nooo, I just spilled some of my drink when I slipped earlier and I realized it got on you too," you explain.

"Ohhh, I see I see," He says, inspecting his hand palm up. He shrugs.

"Well, now I'll just remember that you've put something sticky all over my fingers," he wiggles his brows, and you gasp.

"Lucien!" You can't help but laugh. He only smiles at you, glancing around before taking a step past you toward the stairs.

"You didn't tell me your name yet, love," he says looking back.

"Y/N," You say. He nods, glancing at his palm once more.

"Got it... Y/N, the pretty girl who got my hand sticky and wet. I'll remember you for sure," he says with a wink.

Add Lucien sticky fingers to the list.

✧･ﾟ: *

Over the next hour or so, you'd walked around the boat, admiring the views of the ocean, exploring what wasn't locked off from retreat attendees, and meeting a few more guests. You hadn't had any other males approach you yet, but you did meet another girl while watching the waves.

"What's brought you to the retreat?" She asked kindly. You smiles softly, thinking about the few males you'd already met today.

"Honestly, I haven't had much luck in relationships in my past," you explained, looking over at the freckled female beside you. Feyre was her name, she'd said. Feyre with freckles.

"Oh, I can understand that. Honestly, I've been through some shit myself." She says, peering out at the vast expanse solemnly.

"I just feel like maybe this is a way to finally meet someone looking for the same thing I am, you know?" You continue. She nods, her long golden braid swaying behind her and ending just above the waistband of her midnight blue bikini.

"Oh, absolutely." She agrees, her eyes meeting yours. "Let's just hope these guys we're forced to share this yacht with for a month aren't total dogs, hm?" Her crystalline blue eyes crinkle at the sides as she cracks a smile, and you chuckle in agreement. Just a few moments later, Mor approaches once more from across the deck, her ruby red bikini unmissible from a mile away.

"Ladies!" She exclaims. You and Feyre both turn, taking her in fully as she approaches happily with two margaritas in her hands.

"I see you've found the bar?" Feyre muses. Mor hands her a margarita, and then thrusts one into your hands.

"Oh I've found something better than the bar girls -- I found the hot tub!" She squeals in delight, hopping from foot to foot and somehow maintaining her balance in her very high heels. You and Feyre exchange a glance, but ultimately shrug as Mor links arms with you and pulls you toward the main stairs to the top deck.

"...Oh! And after I talked to Helion, there was this other guy Eris who was like, mega hot but I don't really know if he's my type? Oh, and I almost forgot about Gwyn too, she is such a sweetheart, oh gosh..." Mor keeps rambling on as you and Feyre follow her to the hot tub, your eyes trained on yet two more delicious males already seated inside, engaged in conversation. You and Feyre quietly remove your shoes, and as you bend over to undo the straps, you can feel the blonde one staring directly at you, as though peering right through the thin fabric of your bikini. When you stand again, Mor has already gotten in, the bubbles swirling around her and Feyre's ankles as she wades in as well, banalcing her margarita in her hand. You nervously step in, the slipery stair below only providing deja vu from your earlier embarassment.

"I can hold that, if you'd like," the very muscular, tan, tattoed male with the short brown hair offers a kind smile and a hand to you. You smile back, and hand him your drink.

"Aww, how sweet of you!" You chirp. His smile only grows as you slowly sink deeper into the water, the bubbles foaming just below the strings of your bikini top. You sit next to him, getting a better look at him. He hands you back your drink, and his perfect teeth grin down at you before he says;

"I meant your hand, but I'll help however I can I suppose." You blush, and he only chuckles at you.

"Oh gosh," Mor loudly exclaims. "I forgot! These are my new friends too." She hiccups, clearly intoxicated, and gestures around the hot tub to each individual. You pull your eyes from the handsome male beside you to the blonde, mysterious one across the way who's been staring at you since he'd first seen you. You only meet his piercing emerald eyes for a moment before looking away shyly.

"Feyre... then me, obviously," Mor gestures to herself. "Then we have Y/N, and then Cassian..." Cassian. Hmm... the cutie, you supposed. He glances to you again, a small smirk on his lips as hishand under the water slightly brushes against your thigh. It's enough to cause your breath to hitch.

"...then lastly is Tamlin!" You're immediately pulled from your daze upon hearing the quiet stranger's name. You'd need to be sure to get him alone later, something in his gaze was quite... hungry. It was almost like a need, perhaps one he came to satiate just as you had. It was like you were his prey, he was a hunter out for you in the forest...

Tamlin's target. That'd do.

Conversation buzzed around you as more people joined, left, rejoined, and drank in the hot tub while the sun began to set in the distance. Another kind male, (Tarquin with the Tequila, you'd deemed fit as he kept grabbing you fresh margaritas) a strikingly dark one with white locks offerred to refill your drink -- a few times, actually -- but with each passing hour, you only felt as though you wanted to at least talk to Tamlin. Alone.

"Yeah, there are only half the beds on board, so we have to share," your fuzzy attention clears as you re-engage in the conversation before you. Rhysand furrows his brows, taking in what Cassian had just said. You can't help but do the same.

"Wait, what do you mean half the beds?" Feyre asks. Cassian shrugs, looking around the tub at each person, his eyes drifting over you for only a moment.

"That's what I heard before I got on -- the rules of the Love Boat is that we have to couple up every night to sleep," he explains, then his face contorts in confusion. "Wait, were you guys not told this before you boarded? Or..."

"If it was in the contract, then I probably just skimmed over it," a pretty, fair skinned brunette girl admits. You nod in agreement, you definately didn't read every single word in that thing. But if that's the case...

"Well, if that's the case," Feyre says, rising from the bubbling water and making her way toward the stairs. "I've got some decision making to do then." She says in finality, descending upon them one by one. You sigh, your head fuzzy from the drinks and judgement clouded on what to do. You'd already met so many fine men today, sure, but you hadn't met them all -- but, even so, the sun was setting, and you needed someone to share a bed with tonight.

You rise as well, your hunter tracking your every move. Sure, did you pull your bikini up a little higher for the viewing pleasure? Maybe. Did you sway your hips when getting out of the hot tub? Also... maybe. You knew he was looking, and you quite liked it as such.

As you descended the stairs, you found most of the girls lounging on the beach beds on the main dock, all chatting away. You slipped in, sitting on a corner between Feyre and another gorgeous female with stunning chocolate skin and a long brown fishtail braid.

"Well, I'm planning to bed with Helion," Mor says confidently. She looks to a pale girl with stunning blue eyes that match the ocean's surface, her wispy red hair blowing beautifully behind her. "Gwyn, who are you thinking?"

Gwyn -- the mermaid, with those oceanic eyes -- perks up, her hand rubbing over the skin of her arm. "I haven't really met many males today, so I'm not really sure... Tarquin was nice, but I met Tamlin too and he was very interesting." Her lilting voice is so sweet, you didn't doubt any male in here would find that endearing about her.

"Personally, I'm feeling Rhysand a little bit," Feyre admits. You raise your eyebrows at her, and a few other ladies in the bunch nod in agreement.

"I met him today too -- he was really sweet," the girl with the fishtail nods. Mor giggles at her.

"Emerie, I feel like you've always liked tan guys," she says. Emerie chuckles.

"I mean, I have a type anddd... he fits the bill," she admits. Emerie who likes tans.

You glance to Feyre, who only sits quietly beside you, seeming to be thinking a million things at once in her head before her focus lands on the fair-skinned brunette from earlier.

"Elain? Have anyone in mind?" She asks. Elain's cheeks turn as red as a rose, but she smiles and covers her cheeks with her hands. She reminds you of a flower in a garden.

"I... oh, I just don't know yet, Fey." She admits. The smaller female next to her only shakes her head, her pin-straight short black hair swishing as she does.

"Better figure it out soon... these men will be pouncing like cats soon enough." Her blood red lipstick gleams in the evening sun, and Feyre glances to you again.

"Were you thinking of anyone yet?" She asks quietly. You slowly shake your head.

"No... I mean, yes... I mean, maybe? I don't know, I've only met a few guys, and I don't know... making the first move usually isn't my style." You bite the inside of your cheek. Feyre rests a hand on yours and her blue eyes peer at you.

"Y/N, you don't have to worry... I'm sure you'll have a few males asking for you tonight." She says, a soft smile curving her lips. You only chuckle, giving her hand a light squeeze.

"Oh please -- you're a total catch! Rhysand is yours if you go for him first." You glance quickly at Emerie, who is still listening in on whatever Mor is drawling on about now. Feyre takes a deep breath, and nods in agreement.

"You're right -- I should make my move first." She rises quickly, her sudden motion drawing all eyes to her.

"Okay... ladies uh... nice chat... um..." She stutters. You rise next to her, swinging your arm over her shoulders.

"Let's move in on these silly boys before they mess any of our plans up, shall we?" You declare. A chorus of cheers in agreement ring out as the group disbands, making their way about the yacht as the guys seem to be doing the same.

You take your time, slowly walking the floors and trying to avoid contact with the other males before you're able to at least converse with Tamlin. You ascend the stairs, hoping he'll be in the hot tub still...

Sure enough, he is.

He turns as you walk up to him and you say a silent prayer in thanks that you're the only two up here. His swirling green eyes meet yours, and you sensually make your way into the hot tub once more, the steam a warm greeting against the ever approaching evening air.

"I see you've made your way back." He says, his deep voice sending a thrill down your spine. You sit a few feet from him, leaning against the edge of the tub and gazing into his eyes. His stare that seems to eat you alive.

"I wanted to at least talk before..." you trail off. He raises an eyebrow slightly, and you chew on your bottom lip.

"Before..." he repeats your words.

"Before... we had to... you know-"

"Choose someone to sleep with tonight?" He finishes. You nod silently, and he sighs, his arms dipping below the water's surface. His gaze flickers toward the evening sunset for a moment, and you study his face before his eyes settle back on you once more.

"And you... only came up here... to talk?" He rasps, and you stare wide-eyed as his long fingers gently find purchase on your thigh, running up and down softly. You'd be lying if you said it didn't set your core on fire; your sex drive was already high as-is.

"I... uh, well I mean..." You suck in a sharp breath when his hands find your knees, lightly tugging you closer to him. The water swirls around you, the steam adding to your flushed complexion as he pulls you mere inches from him. He leans in close, practically hovering over you as a small smile spreads across his deliciously kiss-able lips.

"What was that you were saying, Y/N?" He whispers. The way your name rolls off of his tongue is mouth-watering... as though he's the freshest glass of water in the room, and you simply...

Wanted a taste.

You push off the hot tub bench, the water lapping at your waist as you smush your lips onto his. You were right -- they are quite kiss-able. The instant attraction is very apparently two-sided as his hands rest on the esposed skin of your waist, your hands caressing his sharp jawline and lightly threading through his bleach-blonde locks. He parts his lips, allowing you in and you take it, your tongue dancing with his in a tango of passion and instant attraction.

He guides you onto his lap, pulling you to sit atop him and continue to makeout. Every soft groan from him sends wave after wave of arousal to your core, and you couldn't help but feel excited to share a bed later. Oh, the things you had planned...

He pulls back, his half-lidded eyes searching yours as his puffy pink lips curve into a small smile, revealing his (of course) perfect smile.

"This means we're sharing a bed tonight, hm?"

✧･ﾟ: *

When the announcement came over the speakers that the passengers would be disembarking for a luxury dinner, everyone was quite thrilled! You'd found Mor again, who was happy to report that Helion confirmed he'd share her bed for the night (you hadn't yet told her about Tamlin) and a few of the other males you'd met that day fell in line beside you as you filed off the yacht, one by one toward a very expansive, very theatrical scene.

Fire dancers, bongo players, hula skirts all around -- this was a party! Everyone whooped and cheered as the group made their way toward the building, the festivities only creating more excitement as we ventured on.

"Love Boat passengers!" The Captain called from the back of the group. Everyone halted, turning to look to him as he removed his hat and gazed over the crowd.

"I have been asked to inform you that... unfortunately, you will not be re-entering the yacht," he explains. A wave of confused mutterings overtakes the group, but the Captain continues.

"Nevertheless -- you'll ride out the remainder of your retreat in a luxury villa!" The confused murmurs switch to excited chants, suprise overtaking the group.

"Lastly, I will not be in charge of you any longer. You'll be monitored via cameras, and by Lana." He announces, and begins retreating toward the yacht.

Many people call after him, asking who Lana is and looking around for another host among the entertainers on the beach. Instead, a robotic box emerges from the end of the path with a white cone-shaped device atop it, glowing with light as sound eminates from it.

"Greetings guests. I am Lana, and I am your host."

Many people look around, groaning in confusion over your new cone-shaped hostess. Lights flicker on behind the cone, illuminating the vast expanse of the luxury villa the Captain had mentioned earlier. Cue another round of excited whoops and hollers.

"Welcome to my retreat, Too Hot To Handle. The villa behind me is where you'll reside for the next four weeks while you explore the meanings behind forming deeper connections with others, bonding with people on a personal level, and forming connections that go beyond the physical standpoint." The cheering dies down, and many of the entertainers lessen their movements as Lana's spiel draws to a close.

"I hope you're ready for the journey -- because you'll be completing this retreat adhearing to my rules. And my biggest rule is that you'll complete this retreat... without the use of any physical intimacy."

✧･ﾟ: *

[jerzwriter]

This series tells the story of how Tobias and Casey's second child, Brooke Vivian Carrick, came to be. In this third part, the first trimester is behind them, and the happy couple spreads the news—first to their two-year-old daughter, Samantha, and then to their friends.

Book: Open Heart (Post Series) Pairing: Tobias x Casey Carrick (F!MC) Characters: Samantha Carrick (F!OC), Ethan Ramsey, Jackie Varma, Sienna Trinh, Aurora Emery, Bryce Lahella, Jordan Carrick (M!OC) Rating: Teen Words: Part 1: 685 / Part 2: 1,009 Summary: See above. A/N: I have artwork for this series, and I hoped to have it posted by yesterday (August 30th is Brooke Vivian Carrick's birthday in my little world). But my real life world interfered, so it's coming, but a little later. lol Participating in @choicesaugustchallenge Day 7 (Sunshine) and Day 11 Barbeque.

Series Masterlist Tobias x Casey Masterlist Full Masterlist

“We’ve got to tell her,” Casey insisted. Her second pregnancy was not at all like her first. The first time, she couldn't wait for her 'bump' to show, and it seemed to take forever. This time, she swore it appeared just after the two little lines formed on the pregnancy test. Her two-year-old daughter, Samantha, had already announced, “Mommy is big now,” to everyone they knew.

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” Tobias agreed. “I think my Mom has been trying to hold back her excitement a little since Sammy doesn’t know yet."

Casey’s eyes went wide. “Wait a second. You think that your Mom... your over the top Mom... your I’m sending an interior decorator over to design the new nursery, even though you just ended your first trimester, and the party planner wants to talk to you about the baby’s first birthday party Mom... has been holding back?  If that’s the case, we may want to reconsider telling Sammy... ever."

“Come on,” Tobias smiled. “You know she’s only going to get worse regardless. Let’s let Sammy in on the news. Then we have six months to help her prepare for her little sister coming home.”

“Sister or brother,” Casey reminded.

But Tobias just shrugged. “Yeah, whatever." He had no doubt they were having another little girl.

It was a quiet afternoon at home, sunshine pouring in their living room window when they decided to share the news with Samantha. All of Sammy’s favorite stuffed toys were arranged on the living room floor, and the toddler’s curls bounced as she played and danced with them. Her contagious giggle echoed throughout the house when Daddy made her teddy bear break dance.

Casey’s heart warmed at the sight of them. Their lives had changed drastically over the past few years, but they wouldn’t have had it any other way. She looked at Tobias, and he nodded. It was time.

"Sammy," she said gently. "Mommy and Daddy have something exciting to tell you."

Sammy looked up with wide eyes, her little hands clutching her teddy bear. "What, Mommy?"

Tobias reached out and took the little one’s hand. "You're going to be a big sister, sweetheart.”

“Yep,” Casey smiled, cuddling close to Tobias. “Mommy’s growing a new baby in her belly.”

Sammy blinked, her expression pensive as she took in the news. She looked between her parents, then pointed to Casey’s belly. “In there?” she asked.

“Yep. That’s why Mommy's getting bigger,” Casey smiled. “It’s the baby growing in me.”

“Oh,” Sammy said, turning back to her teddy bear. "That's nice.”

Tobias and Casey shot each other an amused look. Sammy was more excited than this when they told her they were ordering pizza.  

“Sammy,” Casey chuckled softly. "Do you know what this means, sweetie?"

Sammy looked up again, her big brown eyes curious. "More toys?"

Tobias laughed, pulling her into his lap. "It means you'll have a little sister to play with all the time."

Casey playfully elbowed Tobias. “A brother or a sister!” She corrected. “We don’t know yet.”

Casey held back a laugh as Tobias once again muttered, “Whatever,” under his breath.

"Does Pietro know?" Sammy asked.

Tobias pulled the precocious child onto his lap and smiled. "We'll tell him as soon as he's done with his nap," he said.

"Okay. We play now, Daddy?”

Casey leaned in to kiss Tobias on the cheek, both amused with their daughter’s nonchalant reaction.

"Of course we can, sweetheart," Tobias replied. “And what do you think about ordering pizza to celebrate?”

“PIZZA!” Sammy screeched, jumping to her feet. Her little body began dancing to music no one else could hear. “Yes! Yes! Pizza! Daddy, we order pizza now!"

“Right now," Casey laughed, pulling out her phone to order. As she waited for them to answer, she turned to Tobias with a smile. "Well, now we know what to do when we bring the baby home."

“What's that? Order pizza,” he smiled.

“Nope, dress her up as a slice of pepperoni.” Casey grinned.

Tobias's eyes crinkled as his grin widened; all the joy he was feeling sparkled in his eyes. “You said her,” he whispered with a satisfied grin.

Casey placed a hand on her little bump, “Well, see," she chuckled. "But for now, let’s order the pizza!”

Telling their friends:

The following Saturday found Tobias in his happy place, telling stories and holding court as he worked the grill in their cozy Boston backyard. Tobias and Casey’s barbeques had become a staple in their friends’ lives, but they hadn’t hosted many in the past couple of months, making this one feel even more special.  

Casey sat at the table with her friends, Jackie, Sienna, and Aurora, pouring each of them a glass of delicious virgin Sangria, but Jackie appeared to take offense.

“Virgin? In this house?” she teased.

Tobias glanced at Casey over his shoulder with a grin. “I told you," he winked at his wife. "Jackie! There's wine in the cellar; feel free to spice it up."

With a playful huff, Jackie fetched a bottle of Pinot Noir and liberally topped off everyone’s glasses. When she reached Casey, however, Casey placed a hand over her glass.

“I’m good,” Casey smiled as her friends exchanged curious glances.

Tobias turned the last steak over, pleased with how perfectly they were coming along. He loved having the grill to himself today. The mere mention of Ethan's goddaughter, Sammy, bonding more with her uncles Jordan and Bryce had Ethan scurrying over to join the trio on a blanket on the lawn. It was a rare victory for Tobias in their ongoing rivalry over who was the true king of the grill.

After the food had been served and everyone’s bellies were full. Bryce mentioned something about dessert, which was met with groans and a napkin tossed his way.

“I think we should let the food settle before we move on to that,” Casey smiled. “I need to make some room to properly enjoy Sienna’s brownies.”

Tobias caught Casey’s eye, and they shared a conspiratorial smile. Taking her hand, he cleared his throat to capture their friend's attention. “Casey and I actually have a way to pass the time. We have an announcement to make."

“I’m pregnant,” Casey beamed. “We’re having another baby.”

Jackie smirked, recalling a conversation from a few months back. “Well, it didn’t take you long, did it, Carrick?”

Tobias turned to her with a grin. “Was there ever any doubt?”

As the guys shook Tobias’s hand and bro-hugs were had, Casey could barely peel Sienna off of her while Aurora rolled her eyes and shooed Sienna away to give everyone a turn.

“So, baby number two,” Aurora giggled. “Looks like you’re well on your way.”

“On my way?” Casey asked, laughing. “On my way to what?”

“Oh, don’t pretend you don’t remember,” Aurora said with a grin. “That day when we first met Tobias at the deli. You don’t remember what you said on the walk home?”

Casey blushed, hiding her face as Tobias jumped in. “Oh, she remembers.”

“Do we really have to revisit that?” Casey pleaded.

“Sure do!” Aurora grinned, turning to face the others. “If you think trying to save a man from dying was enough to keep these two from falling into lust at first sight, you’d be wrong! They were all but salivating over each other. It was just so... them! Then, on the walk home, Casey's going on and on about how hot he was and how she was going to have his first six children - or something like that."

“Casey!” Sienna chuckled.

“What?” Casey blushed. “He’s hot. But to make things worse, I said that just as Mr. Big Ego over here rolled up in his Jaguar. I prayed he didn’t hear, but on one of our first dates, I told him I always wondered if he had…”

“And I was all too happy to let her know I did,” Tobias finished, chuckling. “I just wasn’t sure who the lucky bastard was. I'm sure I don't need to tell you that I was more than pleased to know it was me.”

Ethan groaned, dragging a hand over his face as everyone laughed. “A classic Carrick beginning.”

“So, apparently, Casey was prophetic,” Jordan laughed.

“Not quite,” she corrected. “Because, as Aurora said on that day, there’s no way I’m having anyone’s six kids. Two will be just fine."

“Honey,” Tobias whined playfully. “Come on, you know I always said we should make our own softball team.”

“Keep dreaming, babe.”

“Yeah,” Jordan winked. “Practice makes perfect, big bro, but maybe stick to the practice part.”

“Please, I think he knows that," Jackie teased. "If not, the world would have already been overrun with little Carrick spawns before Casey even came along."

“Yeah, and then these two would be adding dozens more,” Sienna chuckled.

“Guys!” Ethan said, exasperated. “They just announced they’re having a baby. Do we really have to go there?”

“What’s wrong, Ramsey?” Bryce laughed. “Does the world-renowned doctor need a refresher on where babies come from?”

Ethan pulled a twenty-dollar bill out from his pocket and threw it on the table with a sigh.

Tobias raised an eyebrow. “What’s that for?”

“Baby Carrick #2’s therapy fund. I’ve already put a decent amount in Sammy’s account, but with you two as parents, this little one is going to need it, too.”

The yard was filled with the hum of friends laughing in agreement, reaching for their wallets and purses to add to the growing pile.

“You guys are too much,” Casey laughed. “Our little ones are very lucky to have us as parents – and all of you as their family, too.”

“You got that right,” Bryce said, giving Casey a congratulatory kiss on the cheek. “Everyone, raise your glasses! To Tobias and Casey - congratulations on your first planned pregnancy. We wish you all the best.”

“Bryce!” Casey laughed, giving him a playful shove.

As night fell and the fairy lights flickered on, casting a warm glow over their little urban oasis, the backyard buzzed with well wishes and joy. Sammy had dozed off in her playpen, with her protective cat Pietro by her side. For now, the little one had no idea what all the excitement was about, but for everyone else, it was the perfect end to a perfect day.

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

[svearehnn]

black violets and baby's breath | modern!azriel x bridesmaid!reader

summary: feyre and rhys are finally getting married! the tension between you and azriel is palpable.

a/n: part two will be coming soon! once i get my essay done lmao. i hope you enjoy! (i didn’t edit this apologies)

Cobalt blue hugged your form in a silky sheen, falling just above your white ankle heels. You let out a shuttering breath as you smoothed the fabric down, fiddling with the sparkling jewelry that adorned your ears, wrists, and neck. 

You were nervous. Feyre was getting married, your best friend. It was so thrilling to be apart of her wedding party, but you couldn’t help the racing of your heart at the thought of being escorted down the aisle by none other than Azriel, your long term crush and childhood friend. You eyed yourself in the mirror. It was obvious that you looked stunning–cobalt was your color, and a polished look seemed to compliment your angelic fae-like features.

However, you couldn’t find it within yourself to step out of the room. You chuckled sardonically to yourself, fluffing your hair, reapplying your lip gloss, doing anything to delay your inevitable exit. You weren’t even the bride, yet it felt as though you had pre-wedding jitters.

A knock sounded on the door, and you closed your eyes. One deep breath in, out through your mouth, and you opened the oak door. Mor stood on the other side, her brown eyes dazzling.

“You ready?” She squealed, excitement palpable in her buzzing form. You nodded hesitantly and took her hand. She squeezed it, a comforting gesture that helped soothe your rampant nerves.

“It’ll be okay. Az is going to think you’re beautiful. I mean, he always does, but goddamn do you look like a goddess right now.” That forced a giggle from your throat, prompting a smile to form on Mor’s striking features.

“There’s that gorgeous smile! Now come on.” Your blonde friend dragged you down the stairs, causing you to stumble in your heels. Once you got to the wooden staircase, you descended hand in hand. Nerves encased your soul, bees buzzing and stinging in your stomach. 

Yet, once you rounded the curve of the stairs and your eyes locked on Azriel’s hazel ones, all the nerves seemed to fade away. His eyes widened, brows raising, lips turning upward in an imperceptible smile that only you could catch. You bowed your head, cheeks aflame as you continued your decline. 

Mor had disappeared, arms wrapped around Emerie, leaving you alone with the railing gripped between bone white fingertips. Azriel outstretched his hand and you took it gingerly, letting him guide you down the last few steps and onto the natural wooden floors of Feyre and Rhys’ River House.

The two of you stood like that for a moment, no words exchanged, just drinking each other in. Azriel wore a black tux, a cobalt tie adorning his neck, accentuating the tattoos that peeked through the black collar of his shirt. His ears held their signature silver hoops and secondary studs, his fingers adorned with bands of silver and stone. He had slicked back his dark hair and it looked nice, yet all you wanted to do was muss it up to its usual messy demeanor.

Azriel spoke first, licking his lips and smacking them before he spoke. “You look…wow. Just phenomenal, Little Star.” He hummed, appreciation coating his tone. He raised your hand, twirling you around in a slow circle, eyeing the slit that went up to your hip and the low V that showed off your collarbones. The blush that filled your features warmed your skin to a feverish glow from his compliments.

“You look wonderful yourself, Azriel.” You murmured, looking him up and down slowly, drinking in every aspect, every detail of the godly male in front of you. He smirked, biceps flexing ever so slightly beneath the fabric of his tux. He held out the crook of his arm as the music began to filter in through the hallway, signaling the start of the ceremony.

“Are you ready, my beautiful bridesmaid?” You accepted his arm gratefully, unusually quiet within this newfound adoration that he was throwing at you.

“Lead the way, my handsome groomsman.” You replied, swallowing thickly. His arm was rock hard beneath your touch, an obvious indication of his and Cassian’s daily gym ventures.

The two of you walked arm in arm to the french doors that lead to the backyard wedding that Feyre and the rest of the wedding party had set up beautifully.

Cassian and Nesta led the line, the oldest Archeron dressed in a stunning dark red dress that matched Cassian’s tie. Then came Elain and Lucian in sparkling gold akin to the setting sun. Mor and Emerie followed, adorned in midnight purple. Behind them trailed Amren and Varian in their signature North Sea blue.

At the strike of the piano, Azriel gave you a small smile and stepped forward, leading you through the glass doors. The sun was blinding, but even through your squinted eyes you could see the flower arch at the alter filled with calla lilies and black violets, baby’s breath dotted in between. You and Azriel floated on a walkway of white peony petals, eyes hardly leaving each other’s, unable to stop drinking each other in.

It was as if a tension had electrified the air between the two of you the second he had set his sights on you when you meandered down the staircase. Your heart was a doldrum in your chest, begging to break through your ribs, taut and strained. As if Azriel could sense your trepidation, he squeezed your arm in a comforting touch.

He leaned down, breath against your ear, the smell of cedar encompassing your senses. “Breathe, Little Star.” You did as told, lungs expanding, nerves unfolding into the atmosphere and disappearing on the wind. Azriel’s thumb traced patterns into the skin of your forearm, soothing you further.

Your eyes left his, landing on Rhys at the altar. His eyes were alight, a slight smirk on his lips. He glanced between you and Azriel with a raised brow. A blush rose on your cheeks. His smirk widened, shoulders peacocking as though he knew he was right. Which, he usually was, you thought. You wouldn’t dwell on it–at least, not now. It was Feyre’s day, not yours.

The song came to an end as you and Azriel reached the dais, parting to reach your respected positions with you on the left and him on the right. As you turned, he grabbed your hand, extending your arm and bringing it up to press a kiss to the soft skin. Without another word he turned, leaving you stunned. Mor had to pull you to her side, her excitement palpable.

“Oh my gods!” She exclaimed, but you hardly heard her as the music started back up and the doors opened. Feyre stepped out, her black dress sparkling in the sun. Sheer fabric covered her arms and her her chest, flowing down into an intrinsic pattern of swirls similar to that of hers and Rhys’ tattoos. It was skin tight down to her knees, the skirt billowing out below, covering her black heels. She looked exquisite. It was impossible for you to take your eyes off of her, and if you were able to look around, you would notice that it was the same for everyone else.

When she reached the altar, Rhys took her hands, helping her up the marble steps with tears lining his waterline. They lined yours, as well.

Gwyn stood behind the couple, hands clasped in front of her, a smile etched onto her face. Words flowed out of her lips, Feyre and Rhys repeating every syllable as salty water flowed freely down their cheeks until the final I do.

Rhys dipped his wife in a passionate kiss, oblivious to the ovation happening around them from their closest friends. When they rose, Feyre raised her bouquet in the air, pride hanging heavy around her, a glow emanating from her skin.

Everyone rose in unison as if in prayer.

“To the new Mrs. and Mr. Carynthian!” Mor called out next to you, her voice carrying through the garden. Voices echoed after her, singing reverants to the newlyweds. As she walked back down the aisle, hand in hand with Rhys, bouquet in hand, everyone cheered as they passed. They congregated behind them, tears flowing, applause echoing through the space as if it were an ancient cathedral. 

Feyre stopped before she entered the house. She turned towards everyone, a grin plastered on her lips, a wink highlighting her stormy eyes. She threw her bouquet high up in the air. Hands reached up toward the Mother, itching to be the one to catch the bundle of violets. 

They fell gingerly into your waiting palms as if there was some kind of divine interference. You blinked slowly, locking eyes with Feyre. They sparked with mischief before her and Rhys disappeared behind the French doors. 

Your heart pulled taut again as you fiddled with the black petals, their touch akin to a feather within your fingertips. Lost in thought, you didn’t notice the shadow towering over you until a hand landed on your chin, tilting your head so your eyes met Azriel’s. 

“How was that for a ceremony?” He asked, breathless, eyes wide, pupils dilated. You swallowed, chest fluttering.

“It was beautiful.” Your voice came out within less than a whisper. He smiled, one only reserved for you, as he tucked a strand of your hair behind an ear. His hand stayed there for a moment before pulling back, as if he were debating about running his fingers along the length of your cheek.

“You caught the bouquet, too.” You glanced down at the flowers in question, their fragrant smell filtering through your lungs every time you inhaled. 

“I did. I don’t know why the universe gave it to me though, I’m not even close to getting married.” The words fell out of your mouth haphazardly before you could stop them. Azriel chuckled, hands shoved into his pockets, tensing within the linen slacks.

“Have you ever thought about getting married?” Heat rose from your neck to your cheeks. You hadn’t, honestly. The only person you could dream of marrying was him, yet you knew that was far fetched. Even with the energy buzzing around the two of you, the idea would fade within a week. It was just the presence of a wedding, you thought. Nothing would change. Azriel’s hazel eyes were intense, gazing directly into your soul for what seemed like eternity until Mor bumped your arm.

“Come on! We have to get ready for the reception.” You smiled at him as Mor dragged you away by the arm, your eyes never leaving his even as you disappeared behind the same doors that Feyre did. As you and your blonde friend climbed the same steps you had descended only an hour ago, the thought of marrying Azriel swirled through your mind like a tornado, wreaking havoc on any other thought that was there. Maybe it was possible. Maybe Azriel was interested in you. Only time would tell, and maybe, at the reception, the tension between the two of you would lift and reveal the secrets that were hidden beneath hardened hearts.

tags: @kayjaywrites

[sunsetsandsunshine]

If me and my mutual’s were the Spider-gang…

❤️EMERY AS MILES MORALES🖤 @sunsetsandsunshine

Y’ALL ALREADY KNOOOOWWWW 💘💞💖💕💗💓

Artist of the group

My Dad is a police officer AND detective sooooooo…

He has done the “You gotta say I love you back” thing to me multiple times…

Fucking loves having friends and talking to people

COMIC BOOKS ARE LIFE‼️ COMIC BOOKS ARE LOVE‼️

Keeping the collectibles I N S I D E of the box!!! IT STAYS NICE AND FRESH THAT WAY— LIKE PRODUCE YK???!!!

Tries to be quote on quote “cooler” in front of others…

Newsflash? It never works

💝 Family lover all the way 💝

Music is LIFE 🎶🎤🎵🎼…idfk what we’d do without it…

A collector of many random things— rocks, toys, bracelets you NAME it

Hyperactive as HELL

Has a hard time accepting loss

“NAH” “🫠” “UHM…” “AAAAAAAAHHHHH”

A sketchbook for literally every season

When it comes to friendships, I will try everything in my power to maintain it and try to keep it going but once I’m done? I’m done 🫶🏾

A singer 😩🤚🏾

Physical affection 🫣💕💓

Apologies WAAAAAAY too fucking much

H A P P Y. S T I M S.

Suppressed anger issues

Knows way too many people both online and irl

Becomes a whole different person when angry 🥸👍🏾

Beatboxes and raps horribly

Basically Miles is me and I’m Miles ❤️🖤

🤍JOJO AS GWEN STACY🩵 @shut-up-jo

Cool af legit why the hell are you friends with me man—

Musician of the group 🪗🎷🎻🎺🎹🥁🎸

Shows up to your house without warning like you owe her money

In a band (most def)

Says the most DIABOLICAL and out of pocket shit known to MAN

🔥 Would burn down the kitchen if she ever cooked 🔥

Listens to Billy Joel 😌

POPULAR AF

Short af too 🤪🫶🏼

BAD PICK-UP LINES…

Would be cancelled if any of her texts got leaked

“DIE” “KYS” “CHOKE” “STFU”

Had the WORST 2020 phase (I’m sorry ilysm please don’t kill me 🙏🏼)

AOT lover (as you fucking should )

Honesty is the best policy 💋

Changes her voice depending on who she’s talking to

Has the most fucking unhinged and cursed FYP page

Doesn’t matter what social media app…it’s just straight up CURSED

Gives the best advice like oml

Could host a TED-talk but would there’s a 99.9% she would get cancelled

Needs to take a flipping BREAK 💕

Could make a TV show with her life (with like a million specials and crossovers)

Licks the powder off the Doritos and/or Taki’s and puts them back in the bag 😶…

Has burned Barbie’s before

Unironically sings 'Dance Monkey' just because

Your so so silly I love you so much 🤍🩵

💛SANA AS PAVITIR🩷 @itzsana-kiddingmenow

If sunshine were a person 🌞

Has a really toxic fanbase…

✨Anxiety✨

The best cook out of all 4 of us probably

“🥺” “GRRRRRRR” “🙈” “NAUUUR”

Calls people adorable, cute etc but can’t handle when people say that to her 🥹💓

Your adorable btw ☺️

When she’s mad she doesn’t cuss that much but most def just says big words

#TOXICFRIENDSGANG

Takes selfies like every single second 📱

Has Snapchat probably

Has listened to JoJo Siwa’s Karma WAAAAY too many times…

Would fold like a lawn chair if poked in the side 💕

FANGIRL

✨ Bilingual queen ✨

Sobbed for DAYS when MatPat dropped his departure video…

Is way too fucking smart 😉

Has the Ultimate Alpha Sigma Gyatt Rizz but doesn’t know it quite yet 👁️🫦👁️

A tea lover ☕️🍵

Would go to antique stores with people to just look at things and then end up buying the whole ass store

Does cartwheels for funsies

Overthinker ☹️

Could solo Bakugou and win

Is going to be a menace one she learns how to drive

Needs more sleep frfr

My lil sugar cream puff over here you guys 💛🩷

💙ZEEZIE AS HOBIE BROWN❤️ @ziipzeepzop-eez

101% effort in E V E R Y T H I N G

Side-eyes 🤨

Has more rizz than the whole Earth population combined

“FW” “THAT’S RACIST” “TWWINNNN” “YUUURR”

EMOJIS EMOJIS EMOJIS EMOJIS EMOJIS EMOJIS

Did I say emojis?

Comes up with the most cutest freaking nicknames for people 🥹💕🩷☹️💓✨

TAKE A BREAK 😡😡😡

Can most definitely win a dance battle against anyone but acts like she can’t

Dad jokes 🫶🏽

Uses finger guns unironically (through text and in person) 👉🏽👉🏽

Could make a diss-track about so many people 🫢…

Would have a million cats if she could

Probably had a Gacha Life phase

Would go to a movie theater just to watch cat videos on the big screen

Popular af 💕

Friends with legit everyone 🙏🏽

Would actually murder a man if they hurt one of her friends

Has watched Coraline and The Nightmare Before Christmas soooooo many damn times

Guillmero Del Toro’s Pinocchio made her ugly cry (Same here 🫠)

Could solo everyone here on Tumblr easily 👁️👄👁️

Hates Twitter/X but only has it for the ✨drama✨

FAIRY LIIIGHTS

Is most def someone’s opp ☺️

Can multi-task like crazy

So cool and dazzling and aahhhfhfhds 💙❤️

(If any of this makes any of you guys uncomfy just DM me and I can erase it 🫶🏾)

[vodika-vibes]

Here Comes The General

Summary: Scorch is not having a good time. Sev is missing and presumed dead. Boss is on Coruscant. Fixer is on Naboo. And he’s here, playing flying monkey for a man he’s been planning on killing since the day they met. Unfortunately for Scorch, Hemlock has well and truly bound his hands.

Pairing: Clone Commando Scorch x General Rynn (OFC), mentions of Delta Squad x OFC

Word Count: 1218

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly @kimiheartblade @mire-draws-things

A/N: I have Rynn on the mind, so you get a Rynn and Scorch story. Wherein I fix what happened to Scorch at the end of TBB. Yes, I have requests, but I need a break from requests for a little bit. Sorry.

Scorch slams his fist against the panel next to the stark metal door separating him from Rynn. He only gets an hour each week to spend time with her, and he knows he should be grateful, but he’s not.

Every time he comes to see his Rynn, he leaves angrier.

The door slides open, and she looks up, a small smile crossing her pretty face, though it does little to draw his attention away from the stark bruises marring her face and arms.

“Scorch,” She still smiles when she sees him, and his heart swoops affectionately. 

“Rynn,” He steps into the room, and the door slams shut behind him, not that he minds in the slightest. Scorch tugs off his gloves and tosses them to the side, along with his helmet, as Rynn stands and steps towards him.

His hands immediately move to cup her face, gently tilting her head so that he’s able to examine the dark brown bruises better, “I’m okay,” She reassures.

“They hit you.”

“Hemlock hit me,” She corrects, her own hands coming up to press against his cheeks, “You’ve lost weight.”

“Yeah, well—” Scorch scoffs, “It’s not like anyone here cares about the health of a clone.”

“Oh, Scorch,” She sounds so heartbroken that Scorch wants to cry.

He smiles at her, and leans in to press his forehead against hers, “There’s no need to say my name like that.”

“You deserve better,”

“We both deserve better,” He corrects quietly. Scorch moves his hand so that it’s brushing through her short hair, “I tried to talk Emerie into letting you have a headscarf, cyare. But they won’t allow it.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” He brushes his lips against a bruise, gently enough that she doesn’t even flinch, “Your religion is a huge part of who you are.”

“My religion is more than a headscarf, Scorch.” Her voice is soft, “My religion is just as strong here in prison as it was on the Nightwing. Stronger, even.”

He sighs softly, “I know that. I do. It just feels wrong.”

“Well, they don’t exactly have the moral high ground here, no.” She replies with a small smile.

Scorch’s fingers move to the collar around her neck, thick and clunky, with a flashing red light on the front, indicating that the bomb is active. “I wish…”

“I know, Scorch. It’s going to be okay.”

“How do you know?”

“Because,” She stands on her toes and glides her lips against his, “I have faith. Faith enough for the both of us.”

“But…Sev—”

“Is alive. I know. And Boss and Fixer are just playing by the rules until we can be together again. This bomb,” She taps the collar with a short fingernail, “ensures the cooperation not only of you, my love.”

Scorch makes a face, “When we reunite, I’m not going to be allowed to touch you for days.” He bitches quietly, “I can already hear Fixer saying ‘Well, you had her all to yourself for months, so deal with it’.”

She laughs softly and presses her forehead against his chest.

Slowly, he smoothes his hand down her back, but before he can say anything, the cell door slams open, and he sighs quietly, “Times up.”

“Just for now, Scorch.” She lightly pulls herself from his embrace, and she walks over to pick up his gloves and helmet, “Back to work.”

“Back to slavery, you mean.” Still, Scorch slowly pulls his gear back on, until he’s fully kitted out again. 

Rynn smiles at him. Soft, warm, and loving, and he rolls his shoulders. It’s all for her. He will do anything to keep her safe and alive, even if it means working with the enemy. 

“Love you, Rynn.”

“Love you too, Scorch. I’ll see you in a week.”

He turns on his heel and heads out the open cell door. “Yeah.” It’s not enough. It will never be enough. But he’ll make do. He has to.

Scorch watches, amused, as his younger brothers from Clone Force 99 raid Mount Taniss. He watches as Hemlock confronts them, and he watches the oldest of them…Hunter, he believes his name is, punches Hemlock.

And then something interesting happens.

A small device, roughly the size of his palm, falls out of Hemlock’s pocket and slides across the floor.

Hemlock scrambles for the device, but Scorch gets there first. He picks up the device and examines it, uncaring of the blasters aimed at him from his younger brothers.

“Scorch!” Hemlock shouts, “Return that at once!”

He knows what this device is. This is the device that controls the bomb around Rynn’s neck. He’s seen it enough times to recognize it on sight.

Scorch meets Hemlock’s gaze, and quickly destroys the device before dropping the pieces on the floor.

“You—”

Scorch doesn’t allow him to finish as he curls his hand into a fist and slams all of his weight into the punch. Hemlock staggers back, his hand flying to his face. Scorch doesn’t think twice before shooting Hemlock twice in the head.

Execution style, Rynn used to call it.

His younger brothers hesitate and lower their weapons, “I thought you were working with him,” One of them, the one with goggles, says accusingly.

“Believe it or not, vod’ika, there are many ways to force someone to do something,” Scorch absently examines his blaster, “ways that have nothing to do with the damn chip they put in our heads.”

“So nothing has forced you to work for him?” The biggest member of the squad demands.

“Did I say that?” Scorch turns his head when there’s a rumble and the ground splits open on the other side of the room. He straightens and pulls his helmet off, hooking it to his belt, as Rynn lifts herself out of the hole she made.

She lowers herself to the ground and looks around for a moment, a bright smile crossing her face as she sees Scorch, “Have you seen my lightsaber?”

“Fraid they destroyed it, cyare.”

“Well, that’s rude of them. I guess I’ll have to make do with my spare.” She steps around some broken pieces of metal and allows Scorch to swing her into his arms, and press a light kiss against her lips.

“The Empire and rudeness go hand in hand, cyare. You should do something about that.”

Her smile is vibrant, “Oh, I intend to. As soon as I have all of my boys back. I assume the Nightwing is here somewhere?”

“Hidden. Safe and sound. Just like you ordered.”

She beams at him and presses her hands against his cheeks, “You follow my orders so well!”

“When I want to.”

“Of course.” Her smile softens, “Let’s get out of here, hm? We need to get to Sev.”

“Yes ma’am,” Scorch sets her down and motions towards the exit, allowing Rynn to take the lead. He pauses before he leaves and sends a comm code to Tech, “Here. It’ll connect you to the Nightwing. If you should need it for any reason.”

And then he’s gone too, following Rynn out the hanger door.

Scorch has no idea what comes next. Though, based on the small smile on Rynn’s face, she not only has an idea, she even knows how to pull it off. They just need the rest of their family back.

[thecjwelford]

≈ rise ‘n’ shine. with @damianesco

Was there a better meal than breakfast? CJ supposed lunch and dinner were top contenders, and brunch, and the not-as-popular ‘linner’ he and Emery tried to get off the ground a few years ago, much to Wren’s chagrin. ‘It’s just a pre-dinner snack, you morons’ she often said, before proceeding to tell them off for snacking before dinner time anyway.

But breakfast had pancakes. And waffles. And those hash brown potato tater tot things. 

The best place to have breakfast in Blue Harbor was, hands down, Rise ‘n’ Dine. It was probably the whole exclusivity of it all; limited tables and limited opening hours meant it was more often than not running on a ‘first come first serve’ basis and, though not necessarily competitive, CJ relished in nabbing a table before others.

He had just managed to snag the crème de la crème of seats — the singular corner booth in the small space — stretching out across it to give the impression he was waiting for other breakfast diners to join him. Seb wouldn’t be up at this time, and Lainey was like, busy girl bossing and shit, and his siblings were busy with their jobs and kids and lives, so he had to just pretend. He could maybe claim that the six people this table could seat were all having the exact same breakfast, in the exact same way CJ preferred, right?

However, it didn’t take long for the waitress to crack onto what was going on, claiming he had ten minutes to prove at least one other diner would be joining him that morning before he got kicked out. In a scramble, he noticed a guy waiting patiently to be told if a seat was available, whistling at them to grab their attention, beckoning them over. “Yo, dude. Wanna be my best friend for like, two minutes to get the waitress off my back?”

[readychilledwine]

What Else Can I Do?

Elain Archeron Week - Day 7 - Growth

Summary - Elain's gentleness may have been her biggest hang up, and one moment of anger may prove to be the turning point in which Sister is the strongest.

Warnings - A little of both ships, a little mystery

A/n - Alas, @elainarcheronweek has come to an end. I think Elain's growth is going to happen outside of the Night Court. I think Lucien will be part of it no matter where her story goes. And while I have an idea of how I'd like ir to go, and Elain losing her mind over necklace-gate should ABSOLUTELY be the catalyst.

🌸Elain Masterlist🌸Master Masterlist🌸

Rhysand moved from his spot where he had protected Nyx and Feyre from whatever had just happened.

Trees moved from their place, the ground shaking, animals just gone. Elain was trembling where she stood, a blue shield protecting not her, but Gwyn, Emerie, and Azriel. A similar red one guarding Nesta and Cassian.

She had learned of the necklace. The stupid necklace Azriel had lifted her, or, well, Gwyn it would seem. Azriel had been taking the lecture from Elain and Gwyn silently, nodding to confirm he had messed this up. The soft apologies he gave had not soothed the ache Elain felt in her heart, it hadn't been the balm for her that it had for Gwyn.

In a flash, her powers had come back to life, answering the question of if she had lost them once the Cauldron was nullified in the most dangerous way possible. Rhysand had heard rumors of seers capable of shaping the very world around them, of the ways that the few before Elain Archeron had moved the very foundations of courts, but he had thought it was myths. Old tales parents used to put their faelings to sleep.

Yet there Elain stood, her hands quivering, lip trembling as she looked to Rhysand for help.

He put on hand to her, silently commanding Feyre to leave with Nyx, to protect their son before approaching Elain slowly, “Breathe,” it wasn't a suggestion. It was a command. A command she had no choice but to follow. “Leave,” he told everyone else. “Now.”

It was a question of their safety, of his courts safety as he grabbed Elain, winnowing her before she could fight, and brought her to a heavily warded field before stepping out of the barrier himself. “Let it out.”

Brown eyes met deep blue one, “What?”

“Let. It. Out.” Rhysand shielded himself, “This clearly is about more than a necklace. Your body has pent up the magic inside of you. Let it out before I banish you to protect my son.”

This was the Rhysand Bryce had witnessed. The Rhysand who ruthlessly went after Nesta. Elain knew what that meant and she couldn't stop the choked sob.

He thought she was dangerous.

A potential risk to his court, his family. To Nyx.

The very grass around her seemed to wilt as she fell to her knees, the plants all around her in the shield responding in kind.

Her powers were more than just seeing. That much was becoming very clear.

And perhaps it always had been.

Rhysand's staff had never gotten gardens to grow the way Elain could. Flowers and life itself seemed to respond to her. Aching to be with her. To have her see their beauty.

And what a match that made her to her sister. A seer, blessed with the ability to bring life. Sister to a potential witch with the ability to control death.

Rhysand stood back as her magic spiraled as she had the breakdown she was needing. He noted every change, every tremor in her shoulders. He watched like she was an experiment.

He watched so closely he didn't notice as Lucien appeared, seemingly from nowhere.

Lucien walked into the circle, not caring if she attacked him, not caring that he was endangering himself, and he knelt beside her, “You're killing the trees,” he whispered gently.

Her eyes went up, noticing the damage she had caused, eyes watering again. “I didn’t- I wasn't.”

“I remember a cocky high lord who once accidentally misted an entire building. Lucky it was unoccupied,” Rhysand began as he walked in. “And another who shifted uncontrollably for close to a month.”

Lucien chuckled at the memory Rhysand conjured. “When my spell cleaving magic first showed up, I broke every ward in the Forest House Beron had set. I also watched our dear Feyre Darling, High Lady of the Night Court, accidentally set a dress on fire then flood a room to out it out as she panicked and assumed I had done it.”

Elain seemed to relax, “So this is normal?” Rhysand nodded as Azriel and Cassian landed, joining in comforting Elain. “When our powers are coped up, either with or without our knowledge, they tend to come out at the worst times.”

Elain could only nod and Azriel took her other side, his hand joining Lucien's on her back. “I'm so sorry,” she began to repeat the phrase over and over until Lucien tugged the mating bond and Azriel her hair.

“We have her,” Azriel told his brothers. “Go.”

“I want all of you,” she said it firmly. “I want you all to stay until I calm down.”

Cassian and Rhys both sat in front of her.

As she began to breathe, to feel their own heartbeats consistent in their chests, Elain began to calm down.

And with her relaxed state, green began to repop up, flowers blooming in place of the death surrounding them. It made Rhysand nod again, eyes locked on the middle sister.

“This is beyond my paygrade,” Cassian muttered. “I- we need help with her.”

Rhysand glanced his way, then Azriel's, then tried to glance to where Lucien and Elain were staring at each other.

“What does she need,” Rhysand's voice was thick, emotion setting in as he knew the answer.

“Adventure.” Lucien gave the answer without hesitation, “She wants to feel less cooped up. She wants to see the world outside of the Night Court. Meet and explore new places. And hope her powers grow on the way.”

“You will be with her the entire time,” Rhysand watched as Cassian and Azriel grew stiff at the question. “And bring her home in one piece at her or my command.”

Lucien only nodded as he kept his eyes on Elain, “She will be safe. No matter where we go. I will put my life down for her without hesitation.”

“I am holding you to that,” Rhysand's hand went out, “Swear it.”

Lucien looked at his hand, then the female in desperate need of escape to reach her full potential. Different High Lords assisting her. Different beings to weigh in on her powers, to research what she needed. The bargain burned as he took Rhysand's hand. It seared into his skin, marking his lower left arm in the same swirls and Illyrian runes that graced his skin. “I will free you from it once Elain tells me to,” Rhysand stood, backing away. “Take her on her adventure. Help her grow.”

That moment would turn to months of occasional letter.

Months a year.

Elain adventured to corners of the world only Lucien had seen. Meeting fae older than the trees themselves who taught her balance, peace, trust within herself.

Elain's arrival back in the Night Court was unexpected. She came into the new Riverhouse, kicking off her shoes and jacket like she always had.

She seemed to glow now, her hair loose, her muscles relaxed. She carried the scent of magic and herbs with her wherever she went, “Hi,” she sat casually on the couch, the very world axis seeming to shift with her power as she did. She could rival Rhysand. It was clear in the way it came off of her in waves. “What did I miss?”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites @littlest-w01f

[liaromancewriter]

And There Was This Cat

Premise: Ethan reminisces with Harper, and Cassie isn’t sure what to make of it.

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine); feat. Harper Emery Rating/Category: Teen. Fluff. Words: 1,030

A/N: This fic was requested by @kyra75 from the 2-character drabbles: Ethan, Cassie and Cat. Not quite a drabble, but it's the thought that counts. lol Submission for @choicesoctober prompt 'pet', and I'm using @choicesflashfics week 53, prompt 2

Ethan Ramsey sipped coffee on his short walk back to Edenbrook, taking in the moment. The gray skies and sharp bite in the air were typical of Fall in New England, as were the leaves that were starting to turn orange and red before carpeting the pavement.

“I love fall,” Cassie beamed beside him. She deliberately stepped on fallen leaves, giggling at the crunching sound under her feet. “Hear that?”

“It’s depressing weather,” he said, scanning Edenbrook’s glass façade ahead of them, reflecting the dark skies.

“Perfect for cuddling by the fireplace with pumpkin spice hot chocolate,” Cassie continued, ignoring his dampening tone.

He threw her a shifty-eyed look. “If I find pumpkin spice anything in my coffee, I will not be responsible for my actions.”

Ethan grinned when Cassie stuck her tongue out mischievously. He drew her in for a quick kiss, ignoring the protests of a pedestrian who had to swerve around them.

“Back to the grind, I suppose,” he said, sighing against her lips. “I wish I could say it gets easier. It doesn’t.”

“You’re such a philosopher,” Cassie teased, kissing the corner of his mouth.

They started walking again, turning toward the atrium entrance instead of the staff entrance at the back.

“There’s Jackie,” Cassie said. “I need to talk to her about a patient. See you inside?”

Ethan nodded, releasing their intertwined hands. He entered through the revolving doors, and the first person he saw was Harper Emery. He hadn’t seen her in weeks, but he supposed that wasn’t unusual anymore.

While they were dating, they had an excuse to meet up often. When Harper became his boss, their interactions were still frequent but of a different nature. Now she was back in the surgical suite, and he hadn’t needed a neuro consult. So, their paths rarely crossed except at department head meetings.

Still, they had known each other for almost a decade, and it would be strange to pass by her without at least acknowledging her presence.

“What’s got you smiling like a Cheshire Cat?” Ethan drawled, strolling to where she stood, laughing at something on her phone.

Harper looked up, practically giddy, and turned the screen to show him. His amusement turned to exasperation at the sight of a cat video on her phone.

“Not you too,” he groaned dramatically, making Harper throw her head back in laughter. “I don’t understand the obsession with cat videos.”

“We all need something lighthearted to brighten our day, Ethan,” Harper chastised in that grating tone he remembered from whenever they were on opposite ends of an issue.

He started to roll his eyes but narrowed them instead when he recognized the feline on the screen was, in fact, Harper’s calico cat, Penelope.

“Is that the demon cat?” he asked, aghast.

“Penelope’s a darling,” Harper scoffed, pocketing her phone.

“She’s a menace, Harper,” Ethan argued. “All she did was hiss and scratch whenever I went near her.”

“Maybe she sensed you didn’t like her,” Harper replied, her brown eyes tightening in annoyance before she chuckled. “Remember when she thought you were attacking me?”

Ethan closed his eyes in dismay. “Don’t remind me. It’s not a night I will soon forget. She scarred me for life.”

“Who scarred you for life?” Cassie commented, coming to stand beside him. She smiled at Harper. “Hi, Dr. Emery.”

“Valentine,” Harper nodded and smiled briefly. “My cat. She’s not a fan of Ethan.”

“That’s an understatement,” Ethan muttered under his breath. “I can still feel its sharp claws on my back.”

“I don’t understand.” Cassie stared at them in confusion, and he flushed at his careless words.

The incident Harper referenced was hardly fit to discuss with his current girlfriend. What was he supposed to say? His dick had been about to enter another woman when a fiendish cat jumped on his naked back and dug in her claws, effectively killing the mood?

Ethan glanced furtively at Harper, hoping she understood his predicament.

“It’s nothing consequential,” Harper said, coming to his rescue. She glanced at her wristwatch. “I have to get ready for my afternoon consults.”

Harper slipped away, leaving an awkwardness in her wake. Ethan slowly lifted the coffee cup to his mouth, using the brief respite to reorient his brain.

“That was weird, right?” Cassie mused, watching Harper retreat before turning to face him, a considering look in her green eyes.

“Was it?” Ethan commented for lack of anything useful to say, glancing at a spot beyond her shoulder.

Cassie snorted. “You know it was. There was something…” She shrugged the rest of the words away. “Besides, I know when you’re embarrassed. Your cheeks get flushed, and the tips of your ears turn red.”

She took a step back. “You also can’t seem to meet my eyes, so whatever the two of you were talking about had nothing to do with a cat.”

Ethan could feel the flush spreading across his face. “It was about a ca—”

He broke off when Cassie raised an eyebrow skeptically. He sighed. “It started out about her cat, but no, it wasn’t just about the cat.”

Cassie pursed her lips, not saying anything, and he wished he had kept his mouth shut.

“Thank you for being honest with me,” Cassie said a few tense seconds later and turned away. “I have patients to check on. See you later.”

Ethan hated leaving things like this and rushed after her.

“Want to grab dinner tonight?” he said, reaching for her hand as she entered the stairwell. He covered the distance between them, letting the door shut behind him. “Or I can make us something at home?”

Cassie tilted her head and peered intently at him. “I’m not angry or upset. So, you don’t have to take me out or feed me to assuage your guilt.”

“Good to know,” he mumbled before speaking in a measured tone. “Can I take you out because I want to?”

“Sure.” She stretched on her toes, circled her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply until he forgot where they were. “But I expect to be wined and dined in style, Dr. Ramsey. So, bring your black card.”

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

All Fics & Edits: @bluebelle08 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @genevievemd @headoverheelsforramsey @lucy-268 @jamespotterthefirst @jerzwriter @lady-calypso @mainstreetreader @peonierose @potionsprefect @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @rookiemartin @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction

Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Ethan & Cassie only: @cariantha @custaroonie @hopelessromantic1352 @mrs-ramsey @youlookappropriate

[velarisbynight]

Ten Minutes

Emerie x Gwyn

Day 2 for @acotar-omegaverse-week — Turning Up The Heat: You seem a little flushed, darling… is everything alright?

a/n: Sapphics + cooking and now I’m craving ciabatta

Warnings: sexual themesss

word count: 1.3k~

~~~~~~~~

“You have turmeric on your nose.” 

Ginger eyelashes flutter, teal eyes crossing over as they attempt to spot the stray spice. Gwyn swipes the pad of her middle finger across the rounded tip of her nose twice before glancing back to the Illyrian female, dough and flour stuck to her palms. “Gone?” Gwyn asks, inclining her chin for better lighting. Emerie’s lips curve at their corners, irises softening at their edges. “Gone,” she reports, landing a brief kiss to the clean skin—tasting slightly of turmeric. 

“I’m not even using turmeric,” Gwyn mumbles under her breath, turning back to the chopping board, dicing up the sun-dried peppers, and onions before tossing them into a miniature cauldron that’s being heated atop a fire-fuelled stove. Emerie watches her omega through her periphery, lips twitching at the furrowed set of Gwyn’s brow as she moves onto chopping the cabbage, quartering it smoothly before removing its base, “Turmeric’s lid is a bit loose. It probably spilled on something you touched.” Steel effortlessly slices the leaves, rustling as it cuts through the tightly packed vegetable. 

“Oh.” Gwyn holds up the narrow glass jar of ginger. “Found the turmeric.” 

Sure enough, the distinct powdery spice is dusting the glass, colouring the handwritten label a chalky orange, smudging across Gwyn’s neat script. “We should probably clean the cupboard out…” Gwyn murmurs to herself, glancing across the kitchen to their spice shelf. “You think so? I’m sure we’re fine for now. Wait until everything’s messier before starting a big clean.” Teal eyes shoot a playful glare toward the Illyrian, met with a faint smile before brown eyes are returning to the dough, laying it into a baking tray. “Pass the oil?” 

“Only if I can pour it.” 

A huff of laughter. “Sure.” 

Gwyn holds the bottle of oil aloft, supporting the neck as she drizzles the lipid-like liquid swiftly up and down the rectangular expanse. “And do you want to do the next part also?” Emerie muses from her omega’s side, a faint saltiness colouring Gwyn’s usually crisp scent: a mixture of rosemary and herbs with traces of dust and parchment. The priestess’ nose wrinkles with faux appal despite the twinkle in her teal eyes. “I’d rather not get oil all over my hands.” 

“Mhmm.” Emeries pushes her fingers into the dough, the chopped olives and sliced tomatoes peeking out in places with a scattering of rosemary atop the surface. 

“Smells good,” Gwyn comments, returning to her own station besides cauldron, grating cloves of garlic into the wrought iron bowl. “Yours or mine?” 

“Both, really. Though particularly yours. The hallways always used to smell of baking yeast in the early mornings.” Back at the temple, she leaves unsaid. Gwyn’s eyes no longer shutter as they used to, but there’s a sadness to her face. 

Emerie presses a silent kiss to her temple, causing teal eyes to flicker upwards. “I’m glad you still like it,” Emerie murmurs, enraptured by the dilation of black pupil through such clear, rippling blue. Creamy cheeks warm with colour, fiery hair curling around damp temples as Gwyn manages a smile. “They’re good memories. Even if it…” Her throat rolls, eyes flitting away once before returning to Emerie’s. “Well, I don’t want to talk about that now.” 

“No? You don’t want a dose of emotional vulnerability while cabbage vapour infuses into your skin?” 

Rosey lips stretch in a closed smile, a huff of laugher exhaling from the priestess’ nose. “You’re the one who doesn’t like it. I think it smells lovely.” 

“Mhmm.” 

“Don’t mhmm me.” Gwyn levels her mate with a look, lips still curved at their corners, arms folding across an aproned-chest. “You’re the one who does’t mind the smell of sweat.” 

Emerie releases a long-suffering sigh. “I said I don’t mind the smell of your sweat. It’s different.” 

“Mhmm.” 

Emerie glares, but it’s clearly fake, mirth rolling in her gorgeous dark eyes. “You’ll want to take that off the boil now,” she reminds, the drawl laced with low amusement. 

“I know what I’m doing,” Gwyn huffs, slipping her hands into the thick mittens and lifting the cauldron from the fire-magic stove, hauling it onto the side closer to the spice shelf. From having her back turned to her alpha, Emerie can make out the dainty hairs curling at the nape of Gwyn’s neck, creamy skin damp and dewy from the humidity of the kitchen. She chooses to sidle up beside her omega, splashing her hands with soap and water, bubbles frothing up from the sink. “Want to bathe later?” 

The question’s phrased innocently enough, but Gwyn shoots a glare nonetheless. “To clean, right?” 

“Cleaning would be involved,” Emerie agrees, eyes twinkling though they remain on the thick lather she’s working up between her hands as the fragranced bar slips and slides. “I’m sure working in a kitchen all day is enough to earn a long soak.” That look of suspicion remains in Gwyn’s features, eyes narrowed and lips pursed, chin inclined as she carefully observes her mate. Though she can’t deny that the idea of slipping into a large tub of pleasantly heated water, misty from soap and fragrances, steam beading on the cool, pale-tiled walls of their bathroom…working suds through her her hair, running her fingers through the strands to relieve any knots…it’s little short of heavenly. Gwyn’s tongue flicks out over hot and dry lips. 

“Is that a yes?” Emerie muses, the smile obvious from her tone alone. 

Gwyn’s teeth prod at the interior of her lower lip, considering. It would be nice. Especially after training and then having spent the rest of the morning in the damp heat of the kitchen, then getting out, drying off and being clean and fresh…she’d probably still have a while to wait though, until the food would be done… Time to fill…in a bath…with… “A separate bath each…?” 

Emeries’s expression turns pained, thick brows curving upward. “If that’s what you’d like,” she concedes, tone hyperbolically strained. “You’re suggesting we bathe together?” Gwyn deadpans. Emerie’s expression changes, dark eyes gleaming as her lips curve smugly, “It’s happened before.” A slight flush colours pale cheeks but Gwyn holds her gaze. Emerie leans closer, noses almost touching, “And I know you rather enjoyed it.” 

The flush deepens magnificently, making it difficult to pick out the pale gold of Gwyn’s eyebrows, having her appear rather startled. Emerie’s lips curve further into a self-satisfied smirk, the priestess huffing indignantly, “not as much as you, apparently.” 

“I can’t help how beautiful you look when you—”

“Do not.” The flush is bright red now, teal eyes breathtakingly beautiful against the vivid colour of the Priestess’ hot skin. Her alpha hums, a glimmer in her eyes but she keeps quiet. Gwyn raises her chin, daring Emerie to say something, but instead Emerie turns the tap, reaching for the hand towel. “Would you like to go first, then?” 

Gwyn narrows her eyes at her mate, observing her for more than a few moments, before undoing the ties of her apron, folding it neatly and setting it on the side. “I’m going to run my bath,” Gwyn declares matter-of-factly, fingers straying over the linen as she steps slowly back. “Give me ten minutes to myself.” 

Emerie swallows. “And then…?” Gwyn shrugs but her eyes glint, still stepping away, marking the grip her mate has on the hand towel. “I want to clean myself up a little first, before…” There’s a note in her voice. Feigned innocence—Gwyn knows exactly what she’s doing. Smart Valkyrie. 

Emerie’s throat is dry. “Before…?” 

The priestess shrugs. “Company, perhaps.” 

“Company.” Emerie repeats, voice soft; strained, “And this…company…” Gwyn hums absently, as if Emerie can’t pick out the sweetened scent. “Cleaning?” The Illyrian female clarifies, voice rasping. Scratchy. 

Rosey lips curve invitingly, “Cleaning would be involved.” 

Oh, she knows exactly— 

Gwyn sends a grin over her shoulder, before vanishing from the kitchen, leaving a trail of rosemary and herbs, and the sweetest trace of buttery almonds. Ten minutes. 

Emeries inhales tightly before blowing it out, glancing down to the hand towel she’s gripping. 

Ten minutes. 

[c-e-d-dreamer]

May I Have This Dance?

A/N: So apparently when the latest Magic Mike movie was doing press work, they hosted these Magic Mike dance classes. It led to this particular TikTok which then led to @dustjacketmusings enabling my love of TikTok inspired fics which led to me deciding this is absolutely Cassian and Nesta, so here we are! Happy Day Five of @nestaarcheronweek! Celebrate the birthday girl and enjoy :)

Link to AO3

“Okay, watch your step, and now keep coming forward, keep coming forward, and stop.”

Nesta lets out a soft sigh, finally dropping her hands back to her sides. “Can I take the blindfold off now?”

“Yes,” Gwyn declares, the excitement in her voice bubbling over until it bursts into a giggle.

Nesta tugs at the fabric covering her face, pulling it up and off. She blinks a few times against the sudden brightness of the lights overhead. It takes a few moments, but her eyes adjust again and the wide grins on her two best friends’ faces swim into view. Gwyn’s eyes are wide and bright, but it’s the all too familiar mischief dancing in Emerie’s brown ones that has warning bells beginning to blare in the back of Nesta’s mind. Ever since college, that look has spelled trouble, and uneasiness starts to crawl up Nesta’s spine seeing it now.

Slowly, Nesta turns her head away from her friends, finally taking in their surroundings. They seem to be in one of the dance studios downtown, tall, floor to ceiling mirrors lining the wall to their right, large cursive letters declaring the studio's name painted along the white brick wall directly in front of them. It certainly explains why she was instructed to wear workout clothes for this surprise. Although, Nesta still isn’t quite sure what’s so exciting or surprising about a dance class. She already attends one weekly.

It also doesn’t explain Emerie’s expression.

Nesta looks to the left next, taking in the table that’s been neatly placed along the back wall of the studio. Complementary waters, a fruit tray, and a platter of cookies are displayed on the table, but it’s what’s beside the table that draws Nesta’s attention. A large poster sits on an easel, a photo of a shirtless man’s chest and abs taking up most of the frame. Just below the photo, large black and purple block letters answer all of Nesta’s questions.

Magic Mike Dance Class

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Nesta mutters, barely holding back an eye roll.

“Happy birthday,” Emerie announces, holding out her hands and wiggling her fingers in a semblance of jazz hands. “I hope you know that since this is the class with the live show’s dancers, everyone wanted tickets to it, and I got them for you for your birthday.”

“I thought Cresseida got us these tickets?” Gwyn cuts in to ask.

“Okay, Cresseida was able to get us the tickets to this,” Emerie concedes with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Her cousin is one of the dancers.”

“Is that why she’s not here with us?” Nesta asks, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

“I mean yeah, she said it would be too weird seeing him like that, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is we’re going to spend the afternoon learning a bunch of sexy dance moves for your birthday, and afterwards, you’re going to ask one of the sexy men for his number to keep the birthday celebration going.”

Nesta can do nothing but gape at Emerie’s declaration. “I am not doing that.”

“You are picking a man, Nesta Archeron,” Emerie repeats, her tone firm and leaving no room for argument.

Nesta opens her mouth, prepared to continue arguing, potentially to demand they leave, but before she can utter a word, the door to the studio opens again. Five men step inside with a blonde woman that Nesta assumes must be the instructor for the studio or even just the class, the small group stepping toward the front of the room and stopping in front of the mirrors to chat. All five men are dressed similarly in joggers and tank tops, some form fitting and others loose bro-tanks. It draws emphasis to the muscular arms of each of them.

Nesta spots who must be Cresseida’s cousin, his hair the same white shade as hers and braided down along his back. But it’s the man standing to the right of Cresseida’s cousin that really draws Nesta’s focus. He’s certainly the largest of the group, a wide set of shoulders on full display thanks to the tight, black tank he’s wearing. It also gives Nesta the perfect view of his golden brown skin and the dark swirling ink of tattoos that twist around his shoulders and down his biceps like vines, the lines continuing along his collarbones before vanishing beneath the cut of his tank.

His dark hair is pulled back and away from his face, gathered in a bun at the top of his head. Normally, Nesta isn’t a fan of a man-bun, finds that most of the men who wear the style are just pretentious, but somehow it works for this particular man, highlighting the cut of his jaw and the dusting of stubble along the skin there.

He has his arm slung casually across the shoulders of another of the men, his hair a dark shade that almost seems to reflect blue in the lights overhead. Whatever Man-Bun is saying, it has the left corner of his lips ticking up in a cocksure smirk before he tilts his head back and laughs. The sound is booming, seeming to fill the entire space of the studio, but it’s warm and easy, curling around Nesta’s limbs until goosebumps pebble across her skin.

As if he can feel Nesta’s gaze on him, Man-Bun turns and looks right at her across the studio. Nesta catches a flash of hazel before she quickly looks away, desperately swallowing the heat she can feel threatening to scatter across her cheeks. She schools her features back into cool neutrality and turns back to face her friends.

“So?” Gwyn asks, waggling her eyebrows suggestively. “Any of them catch your eye?”

Nesta scoffs and lies through her teeth, “none of them are my type.”

With everyone present, the class finally begins. They start by introducing all of the male dancers, and Nesta learns that the one who caught her staring before is named Cassian. The blonde instructor—Mor she introduced herself as—starts to walk them through the steps of the routine they’re learning today. It involves a lot of floor work and a lot of hair flipping, but Nesta picks up the different eight-counts fairly quickly.

“You’re quite good,” the dark haired dancer, Rhysand, comments from where he and the other dancers have been walking around offering pointers where they can.

“That’s because I’m an actual trained dancer,” Nesta quips back, purposefully raking her eyes over him and raising a pointed, unimpressed eyebrow.

The blow hits its mark, Rhysand scoffing in offense. “Are you saying we’re not trained dancers?”

“Sorry, I must have missed the day we learnt dry-humping the floor in my ballet class,” Nesta remarks dryly, earning a deep chuckle of amusement from someone behind her.

“It takes a lot of core strength to be able to do that night after night up on that stage, you know.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it does when that’s the only action you’re used to seeing.”

Rhysand’s face shifts from mild offense to full blown annoyance at that, eyes narrowing and a sneer starting to curl his lip. He spins on his heel and walks away, Nesta unable to bite back her satisfied smirk when she hears him mutter to the other dancers about her being a fucking bitch.

“Alright, everyone,” Mor calls out to the class after they’ve learnt all the steps and run through the full routine twice for practice. “Time to do the routine for real. If you want it filmed, you can hand your phone to one of the dancers now.”

Gwyn is quick to rush over to her bag and dig her phone out, handing it to Tarquin happily before returning to her spot beside Nesta and Emerie. “I can’t wait to post this on Instagram later.”

Nesta rolls her eyes fondly, but doesn’t say anything, taking the time to shake out her arms and roll her shoulders. There’s a moment of silence, the anticipation bubbling in the studio, then Mor starts the music and counts everyone in. Nesta makes sure she throws her all into the routine, hitting every pose and move of the choreography with everything she’s got. By the time the music ends, her chest is heaving slightly, hair a bit of a mess around her face, but she finds herself smiling regardless, feels the warmth of pride swelling between her ribs.

“That was so fun,” Gwyn declares, wrapping an arm around Nesta’s and Emerie’s shoulders and tugging them both into side hugs. “We should do this more often.”

“Maybe a proper dance class next time,” Nesta suggests.

“Spoil sport,” Emerie teases with an unimpressed look aimed toward Nesta. “Admit you had fun.”

Nesta sighs softly. “Fine. It wasn’t terrible.”

“Good,” Emerie tells her smugly, unable to hide the smirk tugging across her face. “Now keep the fun going. Which dancer did you decide you’re asking for their number?”

“I’m still not doing that.”

“Yes, you are,” Gwyn sing-songs over her shoulder while she goes to retrieve her phone.

“That was really great, everyone,” Mor announces to the whole class, effectively cutting off Nesta’s argument to her friends. “Now, we have a bit of a surprise to end the class. Our amazing dancers are going to perform for you! Unfortunately, though, if you came in a group, you will have to pick one person since we only have our five amazing dancers.”

“Well, that’s an easy choice for us,” Gwyn snickers quietly.

“Don’t you dare,” Nesta warns lowly, turning her head to glare at each of her friends in turn.

“The birthday girl will be the volunteer for our group,” Emerie declares loudly, all but shoving Nesta forward.

Five chairs are placed in two rows across the studio, and begrudgingly, Nesta settles into the one closest to her. She can still hear Gwyn and Emerie giggling behind her, and she’s sure that Gwyn already has her phone recording to memorialize the moment. The one silver lining to Nesta’s growing annoyance at this turn of events is that Rhysand is her assigned partner it seems, and judging by his face, he’s as unimpressed as she is.

“Are you going to show off more of your core strength?” Nesta asks innocently.

Rhysand rolls his eyes, but before he can make any sort of remark back to her, Cassian sidles up beside him, grinning widely. “Hey, Rhys. I thought we’d switch it up this time with you in the middle. What do you say?”

“Oh, thank the Cauldron,” Rhysand mutters before Cassian even finishes speaking, moving away to the chair placed in the middle of the group, offering the brunette sitting there a friendly smile.

“How’s it going?” Cassian asks Nesta now that it’s just the two of them. “I’m Cassian by the way.”

“I know. Did you forget that they introduced you all at the start of the class?” Nesta shoots back, tilting her head slightly. “Maybe all that Axe body spray has gone to your head.”

“Actually, I prefer Armani. You’re welcome to take a whiff,” Cassian offers, his grin wide and cocky, as he gestures down his body suggestively.

Nesta scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Hard pass.”

The dismissal somehow has his grin growing even more. “Are you going to tell me your name, birthday girl?”

“It’s Nesta, and it’s not technically my birthday until Tuesday.”

“An early birthday present then. Or if you’d prefer, I can wait until Tuesday and wrap myself up in a bow for you.”

“I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I would actually,” Cassian answers, a fire sparking in his hazel eyes that has Nesta unsure if he’s still just teasing or not. “I bet you would too. I saw you staring earlier.”

Nesta’s eyes widen at being so blatantly called out. She tries desperately to swallow down her blush, but already she can feel it creeping up her neck and pooling across her cheeks. She grasps at a clever remark to fire back, the sharp retort that will finally cut this man down where he stands, but she feels so out of her element. She’s not used to playing this game. Not used to someone meeting her every barb stroke for stroke. To someone who not only doesn’t balk from her bite, but seems to relish and excite in it.

“Okay, our five lucky ladies,” Mor cuts in loudly, pressing play on the music. “Let’s have some fun, shall we?”

That smirk still firmly in place on his face, Cassian settles his large hands on Nesta’s shoulders, sliding down her arms to her wrists. She can feel the calluses on his palms, and she pointedly ignores the way the feel of them against her skin, the warmth of his hands, has goosebumps skittering in their wake.

Cassian leans down to press his lips against Nesta’s ear, breathing quietly, “I hope you’re ready, Nes.”

He drops down to one knee in front of her, taking her right hand in both of his and bringing it up to his mouth. He presses a kiss to the knuckles all while not breaking eye contact, and Nesta tries to subtly swallow hard, staring into the maze of greens and golds. He leans in close again, making as if he’s going to press a kiss to her cheek, but instead, his face presses down toward her lap. As if that’s not startling enough, his head slowly rises until he and Nesta are practically nose to nose, and he fucking winks at her.

The next move of the dance has Cassian standing to his full height, legs straddled either side of Nesta’s lap. He reaches down and grabs her wrists again, placing her hands right on his ass. Nesta hates that she can feel how firm it is beneath her hands, hates that she’s sure her face is flaming red by now. Cassian starts to move his hips to the beat of the music, and it takes everything in Nesta to taper down the startled, uncomfortable laughter from tearing free from her throat.

Cassian steps back from her, and Nesta lets out a soft, relieved sigh, glad she’s finally able to breathe again, but then, Cassian is reaching down to the hem of his tank, pulling it off. It gives Nesta an eyeful of the remaining swirls and lines of his tattoos, of the endless expanse of golden skin covering a hard set of abs and the deep v leading to the waistband of his joggers.

“My eyes are up here, sweetheart,” Cassian teases, a hand under Nesta’s chin lifting her head slightly as he walks around the back of the chair she’s in.

Cassian drops back down to a knee beside her chair, twisting until his shoulders are pressing into her knees while he continues to thrust his hips. Nesta dares to slide her hands down his shoulders and over his chest, feeling the heat of his skin, the muscles there. He twists again and stands up, this time pulling Nesta to her feet as well. He twirls her around once and pulls her back against his chest, arms secure around her waist while they sway to the final notes of the music.

The other four partners are quick to separate, everyone else in the studio applauding and cheering, but Cassian seems content not to let Nesta go. Nesta clears her throat awkwardly and extricates herself from his arms, keeping her back to him so he won’t be able to read anything on her expression. Already, her heart has started thundering away, and she’s sure he could probably feel it where they were pressed together.

“So, am I asking for your number or are you asking for mine?” Cassian asks, those teasing undertones to his voice letting Nesta know he’s definitely still smirking.

Nesta whips around at the question, her jaw slackening. “If you think that—”

“She’s asking for yours,” Emerie cuts in before Nesta can finish the retort.

Nesta snaps her head toward her friend, glaring daggers at her, but Emerie is unperturbed by the reaction. She merely raises her eyebrows and smirks herself, daring Nesta to do something about it. With an annoyed huff of breath, Nesta goes over to her bag, digging her phone out of the front pocket and walking back, holding it out for Cassian.

She knows the wide grin that tugs across Cassian’s face should further fan the flames of her annoyance, but instead the sight just has her heart skipping a beat while he types his number into her phone. He holds the phone back out to her, the screen displaying where he’s texted himself. When Nesta takes it, he makes sure their fingers brush together, her breath hitching at the sparks that flare through her nerve endings just at that small contact.

Nesta is quick to keep her features schooled. She goes back over to her bag, shoving her phone back in the pocket and shouldering her bag. She turns expectant looks toward Emerie and Gwyn, and thankfully, her friends have finished having their fun and don’t dawdle, each grabbing their own bags and shouting thank you’s to the other dancers and instructor.

“I look forward to our date,” Cassian calls after Nesta as she heads for the studio door.

Nesta can’t help her snort at that. “In your dreams, Magic Mike.”

“Pick you up Tuesday, then.”

—

Updated Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog​ @lifeisntafantasy​ @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl​ @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld​ @isterofimias @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust​ @a-trifling-matter​ @blueunoias​ @kookskoocie​ @cassiansbigwingspan​ @unlikelypersonalknight1​ @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard

[icey--stars]

Stories To Be Told: PART 18

Series Index

A shadowsinger, a warrior, an Illyrian, that's what she was. Trained by one of the most formidable female warriors. Escaped the Illyrian camps and her clipping when she was barely sixteen and is now the holder of 6 siphons. What happens when she tries to sneak into the City of Starlight? And starts down a whole new road of chaos?

a/n: ya’ll just gonna have to deal as i make y/n more of an oc without a name lmAO, im enjoying this characterization. bit longer part too! enjoy <3

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

“Alright! First order of business,” Mor announced to everyone. “We’ve got to find a dress–or something else–and jewelry!”

I smiled faintly. I didn’t know Mor very well, but it seemed someone must’ve told her that I didn’t really like dresses too much. Luckily, I did also have some money I could use to splurge a bit like this. I never did spend too much of my earnings from the docks. The House was luxurious, and all I’d had to do was find some clothing, and someone willing to put wing slits into it, or do it myself haphazardly.

Mor pulled Emerie to her side by her waist, and I saw a small blush creep onto the Illyrian female’s face. I shot a cheeky grin in her direction. Her blush only deepened when she caught my eye.

We walked through the streets of Velaris, heading for the Palace of Thread and Jewels. I’d foregone my leathers today, instead in a simple undershirt and leggings. But I did still carry a weapon.

“Alright, this is my personal favorite boutique,” Mor said, stopping in front of a window that had a beautiful navy blue dress on show. “I’m sure we can all find something here of interest.”

The bell rang as Mor barged in, startling a few of the people already inside. A brown-haired female came walking toward us with a huge smile on her face. “Mor! It’s so great to see you again! Here for Starfall?”

“You know me so well Isa,” Mor replied, grinning from ear to ear. “I have a couple friends.”

“Ah yes,” Isa focused her gaze on us. “Nesta, it’s great to see you again. Gwyn and Emerie! I’m so happy to have you here…” When her gaze fell on me, her gaze scrunched up in confusion. “You’re new… What's your name?”

“Y/N,” I answered, shoulders folding in. I felt so out of place with all the finery in this place. It made me feel as if I had to be small. I pulled my wings in tighter as Isa came walking over, holding out a hand.

I took it, shaking gently. “I’m Isa!”

I smiled. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Great. Mor, straight to the red section. Nesta, how would you feel about navy blue? Emerie… you follow Mor. An orange might look good… or cream? Yes… Gwyn, straight to the blue section. Pick out a couple things and I’ll help you out. But first I plan to assist the absolutely stunning Y/N pick something out,” Isa directed, pointing in the direction of each color. I saw Nesta wink at me before wandering off in the direction of what I assumed to be the blue section.

“So! Y/N,” Isa regarded. “Tell me what you’ve looked good in in the past. Colors?”

I winced. “I don’t like wearing dresses,” I said plainly. “Makes me feel trapped.”

Isa’s smile didn’t falter. “That’s fine sweetheart. We’ve got loads of other options! Are you not too experienced with clothing?”

“Not really,” I admitted. A life full of running and only training to fight would do that to you.

“Great, that means I get to have more fun with you. How about we… hmm. Actually, I might have the perfect thing already. I designed it personally… yes. Yes, follow me,” Isa ordered, turning to walk farther back into the store. I passed Mor who was looking at two different styled red dresses. One with an off shoulder neckline and the other sweetheart. She was holding them up for Emerie, probably asking which looked better. Emerie’s blush had not gone away in the slightest, and for some reason, that filled me with a giddy sort of joy.

I quickly followed after Isa, not willing to fall behind too far. Isa took me into a back corner, covered by a velvet curtain.

“So, I’m not one-hundred percent sure you’ll like it or it’ll look good… but here it is,” Isa said, side-stepping to reveal a manikin covered in a dark gray fabric.

“I’ve been looking into stylish non-dress options,” Isa explained, letting me observe the clothing.

It was a near-skin-tight polyester long-sleeved shirt with a high collar and swirling silver embroidery covering the upper part, before swirling down the sides of the shirt, ending just above your hip bones. At the shoulders, two separate capes came down to about what would probably be mid-calf, that were made of a tightly-woven, clear, gray lace. It was paired with equally gray high waist leggings where the silver embroidery followed down the sides of the legs.

“I could probably put in some wing slits in easily. Might need to find someone who’s made wing slits before… but what do you think?” Isa asked, looking at me hopefully when I met her beautiful amber eyes.

I looked back to it for a moment before a grin broke out on my face. “I think I’d love it. It’s beautiful,” I complimented.

Isa grinned wide immediately at my approval. “Oh! I’m so glad, I was worried! I was searching for someone with slightly darker skin to wear it, if anyone at all… and you’re an Illyrian so it just worked out so well! It’ll match you so well.”

“Emerie might be able to help you with wing slits,” I offered. “If not, I can certainly try.”

She nodded, listening intently. “I’ll definitely ask her. She makes sense to ask, since she has wings!”

“How much do you think it’ll cost me?” I asked curiously.

She listed a price that was surely too low for something that seemed so beautiful. Way below what I was expecting to spend to be honest.

A squeal sounded from the other room and I pivoted immediately, shoving my head out of the curtain to look around, heart rate picking up.

I saw Mor holding Emerie in a hug and I raised a brow, seeing no danger. I walked toward them, hearing footsteps telling me Isa had followed me out. 

“Mor? Emerie? Everything okay?” I asked. I saw Nesta and Gwyn also walking over, probably equally as startled as I was.

Mor turned to me, a huge grin on her face. “Oh nothing,” she lied. “Emerie just agreed to be my date for Starfall.”

My eyebrows shot up, eyes widening. Emerie squealed again, and I recognized the tone as excited. “Mor! You could’ve asked me months ago and I still would’ve gone with you!” Emerie exclaimed, dragging the female into another hug.

I smiled warmly. “I wasn’t aware…” I trailed off, not sure how to put it.

“Oh yeah,” Mor sighed, shoulders falling. “I prefer females. I’ve been meaning to tell everyone… but I was worried.”

“Don’t be-” Gwyn immediately protested. “I certainly don't care. I have numerous friends who enjoy the company of females and males or one or the other!”

I nodded in agreement. “I haven’t exactly… explored anything, but I always did find both appealing,” I admitted.

“You and me both, sister,” Emerie said, grinning wildly. “What did Isa show you?”

I smirked. “Come see,” I prompted, waving her over toward the curtained area.

Emerie gasped when she saw it, turning back to me. “That’s perfect!” She shrieked, running forward to run her hands along the fabric and embroidery. “Oh it’s so pretty…” she cooed. “Is that a cape!?”

Isa was clearly also enjoying this as she chuckled and moved forward, lifting the right cape to show Emerie. “I was hoping you might be able to help me make wing slits.”

Emerie nodded. “I can do that quickly and show you where to sew in clasps real quick.”

“Nonsense!” Isa exclaimed. “Go pick yourself a dress first.”

I wandered back over to where Nesta was scanning two different styled dresses, one a dark navy blue and the other being a sky blue. Gwyn was staring at a peach and sky blue as well, in a different style than the one Nesta had chosen out.

“Need help deciding?” I asked, walking up to Nesta’s side.

Nesta nodded, “Please, I can’t tell which one will look better. I look good in all blues! It’s an issue.”

“What’s Cassian’s favorite color?” I asked curiously.

“He doesn’t give a fuck. Red maybe? I don’t know, he likes the night sky and that’s all I know about his favorite color,” Nesta said. “He doesn’t realize how hard he makes this for me.”

I chuckled in amusement at her frustration, and took the sky blue one from Nesta, holding it to her torso. Nesta wordlessly handed me the navy blue one when I held out a hand.

“Navy one, or find something silver,” I said. “But I definitely think the navy one would match you better. But you’d better try them both on.”

Nesta nodded, holding both the dresses close when I handed them back. “You’re a lifesaver Y/N. Now go sit over there near the mirrors while I try these on. You’re now officially the person I’m asking the opinion of.”

I scoffed. “Nesta, I don’t know dresses that well. Gwyn-”

“Too bad,” Nesta snickered. “You’ve been chosen.”

I rolled my eyes, smiling. “Fine.”

Nesta tried them both on, and the navy one still ended up looking a lot better on her. Gwyn picked her sky blue one, and Mor returned with the off-shoulder red dress, and Emerie ended up picking out a beautiful rusted orange dress with criss-crossing straps going up to a collar around the neck.

“Now!” Emerie said, setting down her dress beside the others’. “Wing slits, come on Y/N, I might need your measurements.”

I followed after her, jogging slightly toward Isa who’d moved the manakin out of the curtains and into plain view.

“Now, this fabric is quite stretchy, so it’ll fit most body styles. So we don’t need to worry about that,” Isa explained. “The leggings are the same. The issue is, I have no idea how wing slits work.”

I turned around, spreading my wings out a bit to let her view the slits I had in the shirt I had on right now. “I did these myself,” I explained. “It’s just mostly an oval around the wings cut out, with a line per oval down to the end where clasps can clamp it together.”

“Zippers sometimes work too, but it has to be a small one where it won’t chafe the wings,” Emerie added. “Say, Y/N,” She said. “What if we got one of your other shirts? And used it for measurements?”

“That’d work,” I replied. “I can go grab that… like 15 minutes? Maybe longer?”

Isa nodded. “Yes, yes, that’d be so helpful. Emerie, could you also show me your shirt? Just to see how they look against the skin.”

Emerie nodded, turning.

“Spread your wings a bit?” Isa requested.

I saw Mor pop up out of nowhere. “I’ll help,” she said, whispering something in Emerie’s ear before I saw her grabbing onto the claws at the apex of Emerie’s wings. I tried to keep my eyes from widening in shock. Isa examined the shirt before turning away. When Mor let go of Emerie’s wings, I saw the female Illyrian let out a swift breath.

-----

After bringing back one of my more… well stitched shirts, Isa promised to have it done tonight, so I can pick it up tomorrow morning. My sisters eagerly ushered me into the jewelry store next.

“Come on! Y/N! You have piercings, we’re getting you earrings!” Mor dragged me into the nearest store, with Nesta cackling delightfully behind me, shoving my thighs with her knee.

As soon as I was in, I had no choice but to stay when the store owner greeted us all gleefully.

“Welcome! I’m Meri, how can I help you gals today?” The owner introduced themselves, walking out from behind the cabinet and smoothly darting past all  the little displays of different types of jewelry.

Mor grinned. “Mer, we have a friend here who has no idea how pretty jewelry will make her and we definitely need to get her something.”

Meri’s face lit up in pure joy. And set her sights on me immediately. “I can definitely help with that. I’m assuming this is for Starfall?”

Emerie nodded.

Meri smirked. “Come here,” she ordered. “I trust you all are more experienced?”

“Oh yes,” Nesta replied. “We’ve got it covered. Y/N, you go with Meri, and find something pretty.”

I blushed, and followed after Meri immediately, pulling in my wings tightly and trying to be conscious of where my back ended up.

“Now, I see you have 4 loops, how about we find some earrings first?” Meri asked, leading me through the small corner store easily.

“Sure,” I said, trying to hold back my shaky voice.

“How do you feel about chains hanging in between?”

“Uhm…” I hesitated. “Maybe?”

“Good enough,” Meri chuckled. “How about you take out those loops and start browsing this section? I’ve got to find one particular piece I have that I think will be perfect for you.”

I nodded, obediently pulling out the loops and sliding them into a small pocket on my pants. The earrings Meri had set me in front of were little crystals with chains in between, meant to hang between two different piercings.

I picked up the first one that looked interesting. A sapphire decorated one with a dark metal holding it in place and a similarly colored chain in between. It looked like a similar color to Azriel’s siphons.

My thoughts paused. Why did I care if it matched the color of his siphons? And yet I still kept a hold of the earring. I tried to convince myself it was because it would easily match the gray and silver of my outfit for Starfall.

“Alright!” Meri announced herself. “I found it.”

She held out her palm, revealing an ear cuff with Illyrian wings. One piercing went through one of my lower ear ones, and then a piece of metal looped around the back of my ear to create a second wing just over the crest of my ear.

I picked it up, staring at it with interest.

“Oh, and that sapphire…” she hummed, noticing the other earring I had a hold of. “That’s perfect.”

I smiled at her approval.

“I agree, get them both.” Nesta’s voice made me jump as I turned around to look at her. “The blue matches the gray well and the Illyrian ear cuff is just so you.”

I smiled. “Alright, fine,” I conceded.

“Try it on!” Meri urged. “I can clean it off if you don’t want it.”

I nodded, popping open the package the sapphire one was in and easily sliding it into the hole in my ear. One went in my lowest piercing, the other in my second to highest. The dark chain hung just below the end of my ear. 

“Yes,” Gwyn said, staring at me from where she’d walked into the aisle. “Yes. Y/N, that is perfect.”

I smiled, blushing a bit at the compliment. I slid the ear cuff in next and got the same praise from Emerie and Mor. I had a feeling they’d all been curiously watching or listening in on me. I popped in the loops into the remaining piercings I had open and looked up again, almost flinching when the chain came back to hit my ear. I’d have to get used to that, I thought to myself.

“Want anything else?” Meri asked. “I could find some smaller things to fit in the other places.”

I shook my head. “I think this will satisfy me for now.”

Meri nodded in understanding. Nesta handed me a necklace with an amethyst sphere with metal swirls going around it.

Once everyone had everything they wanted and we’d paid, they also forced me to get some small navy blue heels with little support, and I’d almost stumbled in them in the store, but Nesta promised to help me get used to them before Starfall with all the dancing.

Returning to the House was a step-by-step process, with Cassian and Azriel busy with something apparently, I had to take turns carrying everyone into the House.

“Right, tomorrow morning everyone,” Nesta ordered. “We all meet and help each other get ready, got it? Y/N, you’re with me for dancing practice in those heels.”

I almost groaned. Almost.

-----

“Never thought I’d see you in heels,” Azriel’s taunting voice echoed in the hallway. Nesta had just left, and as I was about to lean down and take off the torture devices, Azriel had appeared.

I rolled my eyes. “Nesta insisted,” I reasoned. “I blame her. These things are dangerous.”

“Hmm, and new earrings,” he noted. “They look good.”

I pressed my back against the wall, lifting a foot to peel off the heel and stand barefoot. I sighed as my feet were allowed to stop suffering.

“How was shopping with everyone?” Azriel asked, leaning a shoulder against the wall casually. “Find what you were looking for?”

“I did,” I answered. “Shoes, jewelry and an outfit.”

“Oh?” Azriel asked. “What’s the outfit look like?”

“You’ll have to see like you will any of them,” I chuckled. “Is patience a quality you lack, spymaster?”

I didn’t know where the sudden confidence boost to taunt Azriel had come from, but I was definitely enjoying it.

“Oh I can be as patient as I want,” He replied, smirking. For some reason, I felt like that had a very particular hidden meaning. “Especially with someone as beautiful as you.”

I blushed. I hadn’t heard him compliment me before like that. So openly. “Shut up,” was the best response I could come up with.

His chuckle was deep, reverating throughout his chest before it came out of his throat. “Very well, see you tomorrow.”

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

TAGLIST (see post for getting added)

@mis-lil-red, @bunnymallowo, @judig92, @biblophilefox82, @azzydaddy, @thegirlintheshadows101, @whatupmydudes01, @feyres-fireheart, @elizarikaallen, @xenlynn, @panzees-bizarre-adventures, @starswholistenanddreamsanswered, @baebeepeach, @nyctophiliiiiaaa, @brekkershadowsinger, @officiallyunofficialperson, @bookslut420, @margssstuff, @bluephoenix908, @goldentournesol, @rebloggiest-reblogger, @inpraizeof,

[asnowfern]

Why Do My Gods Look Just Like You?

Summary: Turns out, the statue that Mor has been confiding to isn’t just a statue. Emorie. Modern AU.

Read on AO3

A/N: This has been bouncing around my head for a while and June seems like a good time to finally write it🌈🌈🌈

The night was quiet as Mor sneaked a final glance at the distracted guard, slipping past the counter. She easily navigated through the familiar layout of the exhibition entrenched in darkness, breathing out a shaky sigh of relief as she exited out of the building's back exit. Her lips automatically pulled up into a smile as she spied the white stone statues peeking through the gardens behind the pasty yellow Victorian buildings. 

Her head swivelled left and right to look out for any patrolling museum personnel as she quietly ran towards the trees, reaching her destination without any hiccups. 

She looked up at the three statues, identified via the small rusty gold plaques at the bottom. The Valkyries from ancient Pyrthian myth. 

Gwyn of Song

Nesta of Flame

Emerie of Flight

She passed the first two statues, silently admiring the beauty carved out of stone. She eventually landed on Emerie. Because it was always Emerie that Mor was drawn to, like a moth to a flame. 

Emerie of Flight. Her face was turned away to look in the distance as her wings spread, ready to take flight. Mor would stare longingly, wishing for her own set of wings that could lift her up and out of her life. Away from her family's impossible expectations and controlling nature. Being the daughter of the governor meant that she was constantly scrutinised. From her grades and after school club activities to trivial nonsense like her appearance and her dating life. 

It was the thought of the latter of the two that had Mor sighing once more as she crumbled downwards and hugged her knees on the ground. 

"I told him," she said in the barest of whispers, "I told him I'm not marrying Vanserra."

She looked up into the fierce determined face of the winged warrior, willing the courage of the famed Valkyries to flow into her as she confessed the words that she never dared to voice out, not even to herself, "Because… I like girls and it might crush me to marry him." 

The words seemingly bounced around the statues and settled into the leaves and branches of the nearby trees. 

Because there it was. The truth she denied herself for so long. 

"I like girls," she whispered again, slightly louder this time, relishing in her newfound honesty. 

She breathed in deeply, a small incredulous laugh bubbled out in the exhale. 

It was like she could breathe.

She felt free.

"Is that so?" Asked a teasing voice that was so angelic, so lilting. 

Mor snapped her eyes open. When did she even close them?

"Wha-" the word remained incomplete, stuck in her throat as she registered the ethereal belle before her. 

Her brown skin glowed gently in the moonlight as luscious ebony locks swept into a simple braid rested against her chest. Her wings flexed outwards before tucking in behind her, drawing attention to the leathered armour that hugged every dip and curve of her body. Mor wondered dimly if they were comfortable.

"So is that so?" She questioned again as playful brown eyes twinkled at her. 

"So what?" Mor felt her face flushed slightly as the words escaped her. 

Emerie tilted her head slightly, "That you like girls"

"Yes," she breathed, still amazed at how natural it felt.

A smile enveloped the Valkyrie's face and Mor thought she had never seen a more beautiful vision in her life, "Good."

Mor stood up numbly, slightly trembling hands reached out on their own accord, pausing a mere inch before the brunette's face. 

Are you real?

A soft warm hand covered hers and closed the narrow gap between them. The blonde gasped softly, relishing the feel of the soft skin. Even in the dim light of the night, she could see the specks of gold dancing within the deep brown pupils of Emerie's eyes. 

"Have you been listening the entire time?" She whispered, afraid that anything louder would break the spell cast over them, "All those nights too?" 

Emerie's playful expression melted into a softer, tender one, "I've been here the whole time." 

Mor's face lit up. Somehow, the knowledge that she was never alone with her struggles lightened a weight inside. She impulsively tugged Emerie's hand downwards, holding it in a firm clasp by the side of her waist.

"Let's go!" She exclaimed and pulled her Illyrian angel with her, jogging towards the museum.

Emerie snorted but let herself get dragged away, "Where are we going?" 

"Anywhere!" Mor shouted, her face still split in a white smile. 

She froze as Emerie circled one arm around her waist, holding her tightly. Mor looked back with wide eyes, her heart hammering away wildly.

"I have a better idea," Emerie told her, her eyes glittering with mischief, "Fancy a flight?" 

Brown eyes met brown eyes as the agreement slipped out of her lips. Without another second, Emerie's grip on Mor tightened and they took off into the sky. 

Mor opened her mouth but no sound escaped, cut off as she got lost in a myriad of sensations. The wind in her hair, the cool air against her face, the light mist that gathered at her fingertips as she ran them through the clouds. Beneath them, Hewn City got smaller and smaller, dissolving into nothing more than dots of lights. 

Mor giggled as the exhilaration built up, turning the giggle into a joyful laugh. Beside her, Emerie grinned widely, "Let's take it up a notch."

The blonde yelped as the Illyrian dived them into a near freefall before launching into a series of loops. The shock quickly turned into elation. 

Eventually, Emerie landed them on top of the Moonstone Manor, the both of them perched precariously on the sloped roof. Just above the window of Mor's room.

"Thank you," Mor said breathlessly, her chest still heaving from the thrill of the flight. 

Emerie replied with a smile so tender that her heart skipped a beat. She leaned in, her eyes asking the question her mouth wasn't ready to voice. 

With a soft puff of air, Emerie closed the gap between them, pressing soft lips together in a kiss so light and gentle. Mor sighed, sucking on the bottom lip and swiping a tentative tongue. She felt the brunette's smile before hands entangled in blonde tresses and pulled her in closer. Lips parted in an exchange of tongue and teeth. 

If Mor had accidentally found herself in heaven, she knew that she never wanted to leave. 

When they broke apart for air, their foreheads pressed together, chest rising and falling in unison. Behind them, a sliver of gold peeked over the horizon, announcing the arrival of dawn.

"Get yourself out of here," Emerie said somberly, the words seemingly breaking the magical spell they've been under. 

Mor shook her head as the world swayed beneath, her body swaying with it. "No," she protested weakly, "What's happening?" 

"Velaris, Mor" 

Emerie's voice bubbled from a distance as an unimaginable weight bore down on her eyelids, forcing them shut. "Go to Velaris."

The next time Mor opened her eyes, she was back in her bed. She rolled back on her back, faded visions of flying and kissing literally the woman of her dreams flashed across her mind. 

She held onto them as she grabbed for her phone and dialled a familiar number, "Rhys, it's Mor. Wake up. I need a favour." 

***

Mor stepped out of the train and onto the crowded platform. Almost immediately, a rushing commuter rammed into her causing her to fall back a few steps. Horror streaked through her as she felt her back roughly hit a soft surface. Warm fingers wrapped around her shoulders to steady her. Mor turned, her apology poised and ready. 

"I'm sor-"

The words died at her lips as her breath hitched. The ambient noise of the train station faded to the background, overtaken by thundering heartbeats. 

The wings might be gone, the leathered armour replaced with a black leather jacket, graphic tee and jeans. But there was no mistaking the Cupid's lip, the high cheekbones and glowing brown eyes. 

"Hello, Mor. You made it."

[jerzwriter]

Reckoning

Book: Open Heart (Book 2 Timeline) Characters: Tobias Carrick & Casey, Aurora Emery Rating: Teen Words: 2,000 Series Summary: Found here Chapter Summary: A few months after the chemical attack, a friend at Mass Kenmore gives Tobias a good-natured ribbing, and then Aurora offers him some advice. A/N: I'm getting there, y'all! I'm close to sharing exactly how these crazy kids finally get together! It's only been three years in the making! lol I'm not sure how much interest there is in this anymore, but I can tell you this, I'm elated that I'm finally getting it done! 😊

The timing of this story is just after Christmas Through Your Eyes: Part One - A Proposition (I'll be working on their masterlist to make it more understandable this weekend. 😊)

With Warning Masterlist Tobias x Casey Masterlist || My Full Masterlist

Inside, it was a typical morning at Mass Kenmore, but the thunderstorm raging just outside the window made the stark white walls and fluorescent lighting feel more like a refuge. The familiar sounds of staff chatting and announcements over the PA were almost soothing, and Tobias couldn't have felt more at home behind his desk. Aurora sat before him, and while she was a relative newcomer to Kenmore, she, too, was at ease as the two doctors met to review morning rounds. They were discussing their final case when a knock interrupted them.

"Come in," Tobias yelled, and in bopped Amanda, a nursing supervisor whose tenure equaled Dr. Carricks. Her bouncing chestnut brown curls and glossy-lipped smile elevated the room's mood even before she held up two cups of Tradesman coffee.

"Hey, there!" she beamed. "I haven't seen you in forever, so I thought I'd bring you some..."

She stopped short when Aurora looked up from her seat, politely nodding before turning back to her laptop.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't realize you were having a meeting. I'll just leave this for you." She placed the coffee on Tobias's desk. "We'll catch up another time."

"Tradesman," Tobias grinned. "Now that's my coffee. Why don't you wait, Mandy? We're wrapping up. I should be free in fifteen minutes."

"In fifteen minutes, I'll be starting my rounds with two interns in tow. Maybe after work? Will you be at the Puddingstone tonight?”  

The week had been busy, and one day melded into another. Peeking at his calendar, Tobias confirmed it was Wednesday - Casey's therapy night. He always drove her there, and on weeks when fate smiled on him, he’d share dinner with her, too.

"No can do," he frowned. "Tomorrow?"

"I’m off Thursdays. Maybe sometime this weekend?”

But he and Casey had plans. “Maybe Sunday night if I’m not exhausted.”

“Dear God, Carrick,” Amanda laughed. “When did you become such a hot commodity!”

Aurora tried to stifle a giggle but still caught Tobias’s attention.

“Yes,” he droned. “Are there comments from the peanut gallery?”

Aurora shrugged indifferently, her expression unreadable. “It’s just that rumor around here is that you were always a hot commodity.”

“Very funny,” he grumbled as Amanda broke into laughter.

“He was!” She jumped in. “Which is why I don’t understand why it’s suddenly so hard to see him.”

“I’ve just had a lot going on,” he replied nervously. “But things should settle down soon, and then I’m sure that....”

Ignoring Tobias, Amanda peered at Aurora. “Word on the street is he has a girlfriend! Can you believe that?”

“Amanda!” He barked. “Stop. That’s not true.”

“Well, how would I know?” she teased. “I never see you anymore, so it’s not like I’m privy to what’s going on in your life.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he mumbled. “It’s just...”

“You don’t have to explain,” the nurse interrupted. I don’t care —no one does. We’re all just glad that the grumpy period you had a few months back is over. It was so uncharacteristic! I’m happy to see you smiling again. I’d like to see that smile over drinks at the Puddingstone on occasion, but I digress.”

Tobias turned to an amused Aurora. “Go back to Edenbrook, Emery. It seems working here comes with a side of abuse.”

“Abuse?” Amanda chortled. “Dear God, Carrick. You don’t know what abuse is.” With a shake of her head, she turned toward the door, looking back over her shoulder before leaving the room.

“Lunch soon?”

“Sure,” Tobias nodded, eager for her to leave.

“Bye, Aurora,” Amanda winked. “Maybe you can get the truth out of him.”

The door shut, and Aurora dutifully returned to work, doing her best to conceal her cryptic smile. But Tobias wasn't letting it go.

 “What?” Tobias grumbled.

She raised her eyes inquisitively but ensured her face gave nothing away. “What... what? I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to. You’re thinking something... what is it?”  

“You really want to know?” she deadpanned.

“I asked.”

She closed her laptop and placed it to her side, crossing her hands atop her lap before she began.

“Before I begin. Is this conversation between Dr. Emery and her boss, Dr. Carrick? Or Aurora and her friend, Tobias?”

“You consider me a friend?” he smirked.

“That might depend on the outcome of this conversation, but for now... yes, I do.”

“Then, sit back and relax,” he grinned. “Because I’m asking you as a friend.”

“All right... what's the deal with you and Casey?”

“Oh, right to the point, I see!”

“Yep,” Aurora nodded. “And I’d appreciate you being just as direct... so? What’s the deal?”

“Deal? There is no deal.”

“Uh-huh,” she responded, picking up her laptop again. “If you’re going to bullshit me, I’m going back to work.”

Aurora had no problem with doing that, but Tobias couldn't get his mind back on work if he tried.

“I mean it. We’re friends—just friends," he continued. I don’t know why this is so difficult for everyone to accept.”

She closed her laptop again, this time with a deliberately smug gaze.

“She’s my friend, too, Tobias. Just my friend... but I don’t have to go around making that declaration. Normally, you don’t... when you're just friends, that is.”

Tobias ran a hand down his weary face and began swiveling in his chair. “It’s just getting old...that’s all.”

“What is?”

“No one believing me.... people threatening me about what will happen if I mess with her... I suppose that’s the next thing you’ll be doing, too.”

“Nope,” Aurora shrugged. The last time I checked, you were both consenting adults. What you choose to do together is not my concern.”

“Really,” he said with a raised brow. “Wow! That’s refreshing. I mean... nothing is going on between us... but, theoretically, if there were... you’d be OK with it.”

“I am OK with it.”

“That’s good to... hey, wait. What do you mean you are OK with it... there’s nothing to be OK with!”

Aurora crossed her arms and judgementally shook her head as she assessed him.

“You’re friends?”

“Yes!”

“Do you enjoy spending time with her?”

“Obviously.”

“Do you find her unattractive?”

“What? No! Casey’s beautiful,” he replied without hesitation, and Aurora rewarded him with a know-it-all grin.

“Do you think I’m stupid, Tobias?”

“Of course not!”

“Then it would do you good to remember that I was there. I was with you the day of the attack, from the moment you learned of it until I found you trembling in the chapel when it was over.”

“That’s not fair,” he countered. “That was an extremely difficult day for all of us. As I recall,  we were all pretty emotional.”

“Mmm-hmm. But I was also with the two of you when you first met. I had to bear witness to that disgusting animal magnetism you shared from its inception. Kind of gross, actually.”

He chuckled softly, but Aurora was shocked by his reaction. Was the Dr. Carrick... embarrassed?

“Nothing wrong with animal magnetism,” he replied. “But that was... it was a long time ago.”

“IT WAS FIVE MONTHS AGO!” she yelled. “Five months!”

“Yeah,” he replied softly. “But an awful lot has happened in that time... it feels much longer, doesn't it?”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “I’ll give you that. Look, I’m not here to give you grief, but I have eyes. I see you two together, and from where I stand, you make each other happy. I don’t know why you both get so wound up if someone suggests there’s something there. Would it be so horrible if there was?”

“I hurt her. Badly, and not all that long ago.”

“Ah,” she smiled. “But a lot has happened since you met.”

“She’s not interested in me in that way, Aurora. She made that clear, and I... I respect that. I’m not going to violate her boundaries.”  

“Mmm-hmm. She told me you’re taking her away this weekend. To show her your hometown. Is that how you're not violating boundaries?”

“I... I just want to see DC at Christmas again. I was going to go alone anyway. I just asked Casey to come along... as a friend. It might be good for her to get away. It's not like we're sharing a room or anything! Ask her! I got a suite because she’s still afraid to be alone at night, but we’re not sharing a room! I’ll be there if she needs me, but I’m not....”

Aurora leaned forward and silenced him with a gentle touch to his wrist. “You know, you say far too many words for someone trying so hard to deny the obvious. You may want to work on that if you want others to believe you.”

Tobias’s face softened, and his composure settled. Aurora could see his defenses coming down.  

“This stays here?” He asked pointedly.

Aurora raised three fingers. “Scouts honor. What happens in Carrick’s office stays in Carrick’s office.”

“Casey... she’s incredible,” he sighed. “I knew that from the start, but I still had to go and fuck everything up between us. When she let me back into her life, she made it clear that she only wanted friendship from me. While it may not be easy, I’m honoring that. You should be proud of me... this is growth, Emery.”

“Growth is good,” she smiled. “Honoring boundaries is the right thing, but did it ever occur to you that she may have changed her mind? Did you ever consider she might feel the same way about you?”

 “No,” he shook his head. “No, she doesn’t. And even if she did, she’s not in a place to make that kind of decision right now. So...no.”

“You’re right, she’s not. And I am proud of you for realizing that. But that’s today, Tobias, and she’s getting stronger every day. I can see that. I know you do, too. Can you be patient?”

 “Historically?” He snorted. “No. Not at all. But now...I am trying.”

Aurora looked at her watch. “I hate to leave you, but I’m supposed to be at a consult with Dr. Ferrera in five minutes. But if you want to continue this talk, I can come by as soon as I’m done.”

“Nah,” he waved. “I’m good... but thank you.”

“Anytime,” she said, gathering her things. But Tobias called for her just before she got to the door.

“Aurora. Why don’t you have reservations about me... you know... aren’t you worried about Casey and... my past?”

“I have reservations about everyone,” she grinned. “But I know you’re not as bad as people make you out to be. As to your past, well, we all have one of those, including those who are threatening you. But, if I don’t want to be judged by my past, so I shouldn’t judge you by yours. Besides, Casey’s a big girl. She’s going through some stuff right now, but she still has a good head on her shoulders. If you guys decide to make a go of it, I’m in your corner.”

Tobias let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “I appreciate that. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome... but none of this matters,” she teased. “After all, the two of you are ‘just friends’.”

“Get out of my office,” he joked. “But promise... this stays between us?”

 “I’ll take it to my grave... and not only because I want no part of the drama.”

She stepped out of the door, leaving Tobias alone with his thoughts. He closed his eyes, wondering how it was possible to feel so much lighter yet emotionally depleted at the same time. Did he really just admit he had feelings for Casey... to Aurora... and himself? Did he actually say the words out loud?

He stood up with a deep sigh and made his way to the window, pushing the blinds aside to watch the torrential rains pour down on the streets of Boston below. It was a baptism of sorts, the water washing away all impurities, absolving every sin, and when the sun returned, it would be a fresh start. Perhaps it wasn't too much to ask that he might have one, too.

When he returned to his desk, he mindlessly circled the days of their trip on his calendar. Patience. They'd be visiting his hometown... hers, too... surrounded by the magic of the holiday season... and he’d have to do his best to conceal his feelings. Patience. He had to do this... now if he could just figure out how.

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics