#azriel and elain play chess

[mirrorballpages]

A chain reaction of countermoves

The door hadn’t even fully closed behind him when Elain asked, her voice soft but steady, “Would you like some tea?”

Azriel paused, momentarily startled. It wasn’t just the question itself—it was the ease with which she asked it, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. As though seeing him here wasn’t an intrusion but something expected, welcome. A far cry from when he was greeted by Nesta who often spent the time with her arms crossed, her mouth clenched, and her patience thin.

“I…” He blinked, searching for an answer. “That would be nice. Thank you.”

Her smile deepened ever so slightly, and she gestured toward the sitting room. “Why don’t you sit? I’ll bring it out in a moment.”

He nodded, crossing the room and taking his usual place near the fire. His shadows, as they often did in her presence, quieted but didn’t fully retreat. They lingered around the edges of the room, gliding along the walls and curling near the hearth.

By the time Elain returned, a small tray balanced in her hands, he was fully engrossed in their movements. Her voice drew his attention back.

“They always arrive before you,” she said, setting the tray down carefully. “Your shadows.”

Azriel stilled, his scarred hands resting lightly on his knees. “I can have them leave.”

She hesitated, glancing down at her hands, then back up at him. “I hope you don’t mind me asking,” she began softly, her voice careful, “but… do they have a will of their own? Or are they always… yours?”

Azriel blinked, the question catching him off guard. Most people—when they dared to speak of his shadows at all—only mentioned how unsettling they were, how unnatural they seemed. Her question, though, was not laced with fear or judgment. Only curiosity.

“They’re mine,” he said slowly, watching her for a reaction. “But they… interpret things in their own way. They’re not separate from me, but they act as an extension of my instincts. My thoughts.”

Elain nodded, her gaze never wavering. “So, they’re like a part of you. Almost like an extra sense?”

Azriel tilted his head slightly. “Yes. That’s a good way of putting it. They see and hear things that I might not notice otherwise. They warn me of danger, help me gather information.”

Her lips twitched into a small, thoughtful smile. “Like little messengers.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, the sound surprising even himself. “I suppose you could call them that.”

Elain’s smile grew. “But they also seem… alive in a way. Do they feel what you feel? Or think what you think?”

Azriel paused, considering her question. No one had ever asked him this before, and he wasn’t entirely sure how to explain it. “They’re tied to my emotions,” he admitted after a moment. “If I’m calm, they’re calm. If I’m angry or… unsettled, they react. They’re very good at reading opponents, even without words. They see things I can’t.”

Elain’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “That explains a lot.”

Azriel tilted his head, intrigued. “Does it?”

She nodded, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. “About why you always seem to know exactly what move I’m about to make on the chessboard. I thought I might actually be improving, but maybe it’s just your shadows giving you the advantage.”

His lips twitched, a rare smile threatening to break through. “Perhaps,” he said, his tone light, though there was no mistaking the glint of amusement in his hazel eyes. “Or perhaps you’re better than you think.”

Her laugh was soft, warm. “I doubt that. You’ve yet to lose a single game.”

“Maybe I’m just too stubborn to let you win,” he offered, leaning back slightly.

Elain’s smile widened, and she raised a teasing brow. “Or maybe you’re too afraid to admit you might actually lose.”

Read The Rest On A03

[viktoriaashleyyx]

My personal favorite thing about ACOWAR was Tamlins ingenuity. Like holy shit.

He started with weakened forces due to Amaranthas deal killing off his men. Then Feyres *~* boss bitch*~* plan to turn the rest of his court against him. By the time the war comes around he does not have an army and he still pulled more than his weight.

Tamlin obtained a STACK of information on Hyberns plans down to where exactly they were keeping the feybane. How, when, where, what, all of that shit and shared it with all of the High Lords. Didn't keep it a secret (like RhySAnd does with most shit) cause that would've been dumb. He got actual useful information on how to bring down Hybern in half a year, RhySAnd didn't get any information standing by Amaranthas side for 50.

He blew his cover and saved Feyre, Elain, Briar and Azriel using his wind magic to get them airborn and his brute strength to fight off the hounds. They would be dead without Tamlins help. All of them.

And THEN HE SHOWS UP DRAGGING BARON BY THE SCRUFF OF HIS NECK. He commands BARONS SONS (who fucking listen to him) where and how to destroy the feybane caches. And commanding BARONS ARMY.

This man will figure. it. out.

While most of RhySAnds plans end up only barely working out by sheer luck, Tamlins just fucking work. Like hate him all you want, but without him yall would've gone into that war relying on nothing more than RhySAnds inflated sense of self worth. Tamlin delivers results, every single time.

ACOWAR was Tamlins redemption arc from MAF. And everything else forward is just a testament to RhySAnds insecurity.

The NC was out here playing checkers, while Tamlins playing chess. Do you realize how bad you have to be when you have a full board and the guy you're playing against starts off missing his rooks and bishops and you still lose?

[yourlittlebunnyy]

fawn -tamlin x reader

masterlist

summary: Y/n is the youngest Archeron sister. The Cauldon trasforms her into a fairy, and there's only one certain thing in her life: she doesn't belong in the Night Court.

warnings: slightly suggestive, Tamlin (haters step back🙏🤺)

wc: 5,5k

enjoy😉

The Cauldron made you a fairy. A fairy. You scoff at the thought. Nesta has become death itself, Elain a seer. You a stupid, little, useless fairy.

That day, when Fae warriors came into your and your sisters' home and forced you into that place, you never thought you would end up with pearl-colored wings and be able to talk to flowers.

You've always been shy, you've always made yourself small in front of others, and when they threw you into that pile of magic, the Cauldron was generous, in the telling of your sister's lover.

"You went in last. It could have given you nothing, as it could have killed you, but it gave you wings. And flowers, plants, and everything a fairy possesses. You shouldn't pout." But you never asked for that.

When they pulled you out everyone's eyes were on you. How could they not? They had never seen such a thing. Sure, the Cauldron could turn a mortal into a Fae, but a fairy?

You didn't look anyone in the face that day, or the weeks that followed.

"I would like to learn to fly," you once said to Azriel. He replied that he could not teach you, that the fairies belonged to the Court of Spring and that even there they were so rare and secretive that no one knew anything about them.

"But you have wings, too. You just need to teach me how to move them. Please."

Azriel shook his head, a neutral expression on his face.

"I can't. Besides helping you support its weight, your wings are shaped differently from mine, they are smaller and more fragile. I cannot put your life in danger." The authoritative tone makes it clear that the conversation is over. You would have hoped to find a friend in him. Instead, every time you try to talk to him, his gaze has only coldness to offer. Perhaps all his warmth-which doesn't seem much to you at this point-is reserved for Elain.

So, for you, the days go on with no clear meaning. You are not allowed to leave the house, and you can only afford to observe Velaris, such a beautiful city and full of life, from the balcony of the house.

When Feyre returns, you thought for a moment that things would finally change. That she would convince someone to help you get to know your new form, your new being. But you were okay, sure, you were a little confused, but you were living. Elain was much sicker, and all your sisters' priorities belonged to her.

You found comfort in Lucien instead. A charming, red-haired Fae who had lived in the Spring Court for years. That's how you became friends: no one would take you into consideration, and you were desperate for some information, some help. And Lucien fortunately seemed to have answers to your questions.

"I remember you. That day, I mean." You and Lucien are playing chess. It is rare that you talk about that day, but sometimes it happens. You don't care much, talking about it with him has helped you in the past, "Actually, I don't remember much. I remember what Tamlin reminded me of."

Now that's new. Never once had the Fae told her about his High Lord turning his back on her sister. She knew something about it, but she didn't know the whole story.

"Did Tamlin recall to you about that day?" She asks a little incredulously. Lucien nods and tightens his lips, makes a move with a chessman, and a feline smile lights up his face.

"I think...," he freezes for a moment, as if to think carefully about his next words, "he's playing some kind of double game, with Hybern. To get information. He's a good male, only sometimes he struggles to show it."

You feel a twinge in your heart. You don't know why, you should be furious with the man who took your life to give you this. The man who hurt Feyre so deeply. But the way Lucien talks about it, with so much regret....

You are sitting on the armchair in your room, already wearing your nightwear. You have a book in your hands and are completely immersed in reading, so much that you don't hear someone's footsteps outside your door. You gasp when they knock. You place the book in the small coffee table, and you don't bother to fix yourself: Lucien had told you he would come by and deliver a few things before he leaves Velaris for good. You get sad at the thought.

When you open the door you find not the familiar face, but Feyre's.

"Hey." She greets you. You return the greeting and wait for her to tell you why she is here. Although your new life started off on the wrong foot, feeling ignored by your family and useless, everything healed over time. Now the relationship between you and Feyre is closer than ever, Nesta is doing well, Elain is working on it. You have also learned to accept your sister's Fae friends. You even talk to them from time to time.

"I'm sad that Lucien is leaving. Especially for you" You nod, you know there is something else she is not telling you, "You know how much I told you about the High Lords meeting? I'd like you to come too, if you feel like it." You don't hesitate when you say yes. Your sister told you that not everyone had confirmed their attendance, of whom Tamlin. And she did not tell you about what happened with him. But something inside you urges you to go and meet him. It's for my being, you think, I just want answers, that's why I'm so impatient.

That night you struggle to sleep. At dawn you stop tossing and turning in bed and start getting ready, by now you give up: you won't rest that night anyway.

"You look wonderful" Feyre's words make you smile. She takes Azriel's hand, and in the blink of an eye they transmute into the palace of the Court of Dawn.

After greeting the others politely, you realize that Tamlin is not coming. You do not understand the reason for the disappointment you feel. Perhaps it is even better, so you avoid any awkward situation that might arise with your sister and Rhysand.

The meeting begins, and it is just as you start to disassociate yourself from the High Lords' boring talk that Tamlin appears.

He is alone. You don't remember him from that day in the Cauldron. But he is as you always imagined him. His blond hair reaches a little below his shoulders, clearly unkempt. His green eyes remind you of the blossoming plains. His skin tone is a rosy tint, his facial features delicate, almost princely. He is the very definition of spring, you think. He is a beautiful man, and you understand why his sister was once in love with him.

The silence in the air is tense. Tamlin looks at each person and takes his time with each one. And when he gets to you -- you feel his gaze run through your body, but you ignore him. You make a mistake, though. You look up too soon and meet his eyes. And now the thing is clear as day to you, what you feel in the center of your chest.

A bond.

Tamlin is your mate.

His expression turns surprised, his lips tight and his jaw contracted. He doesn't say anything. He moves on to the next person as if he hadn't heard it himself. But you can't contain yourself, and before you can stop it, a gasp escapes your mouth and tears cloud your eyes. You back away, stumbling back in your chair.

"Are you all right?" Feyre asks you, visibly concerned. You do not answer, but it is Beron, High Lord of the Court of Autumn, Tamlin's friend, who answers for you.

"A bond." He says simply, his tone both haughty and amused. Feyre sniffs the air, looks at you. Then she looks at Tamlin. And then back at you again. The look in his eyes... Rhysand says something, but everything around you is a blur.

First the Cauldron made you a useless fairy. Next the Mother punished you by tying you to Tamlin.

You listen to no one, with hurried steps you leave the room. No one follows you. Good, you think, I don't have to explain myself to anyone for a while.

With one exception, someone has followed you. Your body recognizes him before you do, your heart beats wildly, and you could cry from how wrong this all simply is. Your sister was going to marry this man. And she didn't, she ran away because he did something terrible to her, and now it was going to be your turn.

You stop in the middle of the hallway, and Tamlin grabs your arm gently, leading you into a small room. You try to ignore how such a soft touch puts a pleasant twinge in your stomach. No, you would never do that to your sister.

When you enter, no one says anything for a while and you feel his gaze on you, making you blush. He doesn't even know your name, probably.

As if he hears your thoughts, the Fae speaks to you. "Y/n." His serious tone makes you set your eyes on his. This is so wrong, yet looking at your mate feels like the right thing to do.

"How-how do you know my name?"

Tamlin smiles at your words. An expression so different from the one you saw on his face when he first walked in. It fits him, you think, and fear invades your senses because of the things you realize you would do, because of that smile...

"I remember it ... from that day, with the Cauldron..." Your body stiffens, as if remembering who the male in front of you really is. What he did to you. What he has done to your family.

It doesn't matter that he is your mate, you think. Your body may react to his look and touch, but you will not be betrayed by it.

Tamlin probably feels your emotions through the bond, and with a step forward he grabs your arm gently. He needs to touch you, and you don't realize how much you needed him to touch you, too. You welcome his warmth without fighting back.

"I'm so sorry, Y/n. I'm not just saying this because you are my mate, " Both of you seem to feel satisfaction when he says such words, the bond in your chest seems to glow and sing "I... had to do terrible things to protect my court. To protect Prythian. It was not in the plan to do such a thing to you."

You think about his words, his eyes shining with sincerity. Lucien has told you things that would explain Tamlin's words, that actually make him a good male.

"Tamlin." To the sound of his name on your lips, the man suppresses a growl. "I... Lucien has been telling me things. And I believe you, and I believe you are good male. But the thing with my sister..."

The look in the Fae's eyes becomes embarrassed, and the emotions you feel through the bond are a mixture of shame and remorse. You don't know what happened between the two, but it must have been really difficult if it causes him such a reaction.

"I regret how I behaved. What I did. I was broken, as was she, and I didn't know what to do. I just wanted to protect her, and to this day I realize my mistakes."

You study his face. You find nothing but honesty and pure feelings, and he is really putting your instincts to the test. He's so handsome that you want to jump on him, but on the other side of the coin-you still don't know if you can trust him. But he's your mate, and he deserves at least a chance. There's such a battle inside your head.

"I forgive you. For the Cauldron, I mean. I don't know if she has forgiven you, or will but..." Your hand moves to his where he still holds your arm, both of you smiling. "I think you deserve a second chance, Tamlin. And I -- I'd like to try."

The smile he gives you, so genuine that it makes his eyes sparkle with brightness, makes you realize deep down that you made the right choice.

You have not made the right choice.

Neither you nor Tamlin ever returned to the meeting.

When you see your sister and the Inner Circle again, they are all furious with you. As if you chose the bond. You scoff at their looks.

"You disappeared all day with Tamlin. Do you realize that? What was I supposed to think you were doing with your mate, huh? Do you realize who we're talking about?" Rhysand yells at you. Feyre, who does not look angry but grieved, lays a hand on his arm, and after what seems like a brief mental conversation, the High Lord comes out with one last murderous look directed at you. Tears sting your eyes.

"Y/n, he didn't mean to be so mean, it's just that they have so many unfinished business..."

"What about you? What unfinished business do you have with him? Why do you all hate him here? And I'm not talking about the alliance with Hybern."

"None, Y/n. I have none. I have had my revenge. In all sincerity I wish him the best. And I want the best for you, too. So if you-if you've talked to him and he seems to-you seem to like him I won't have anything against you, or him, if you accept the bond." Saying these words seems like a great effort for her, but you appreciate it very much. Mor grimaces.

"No one? That male locked you up - no, he let you drown locked up inside his house. Don't you remember what condition I found you in? Well, in case you don't remember, I'll remind you, Y/n. That male after she was turned into a Fae locked her up in a room, denied her every single space of freedom until she went crazy and we rescued her. So don't-"

"Enough, Mor." Feyre says annoyed.

"You want the best for your sister, and you send her into Tamlin's arms without warning her what he would do to her?"

You are speechless. Tears wet your cheeks.

"But he told me-he told me he regretted it. That he was just as broken as you and that he just wanted to protect you..."

"Those are just words, Y/n. But in actions--what do you think is keeping him from doing the same thing to you? We will have no right to rescue you and bring you back here, because you are in fact his. Think carefully about what you want to do with such an individual." And with these words, Mor leaves the room, leaving you whimpering and afraid. Feyre approaches you and wraps you in a hug.

"Everything will be all right. I know you are afraid, honey. You just try, never stop trying, okay? You don't have to accept the bond right away. Even when you move in with him, if you decide to, you can wait and see if it's worth it. And in case it's not worth it, you can always come back as a free woman."

"I thought you hated him."

"No. Everyone deserves happiness, honey."

Before you can even consider your sister's words, war breaks out. Tamlin takes Hybern's side, but as you expected, it actually turns out to be all a double-cross.

You can feel his emotions through the bond, and you know he can feel yours, too. Sometimes your dreams come together and you are able to talk. If you were uncertain about trying before, now you are convinced.

Once you even woke up in the middle of the night. The bond in your chest overflowing with emotion - lust. Excitement. Pleasure. It didn't take long to realize that your mate was pleasuring himself. Just the thought of it was able to make you damp between your legs, and you discreetly slipped a hand under the sheets and touched yourself fantasizing Tamlin in front of you, rubbing his hard cock with one hand, while his eyes were fixed on yours. You reached your climax in the same moment he did, and you could have sworn you heard his laughter on the other side of the bond.

It was also the first time you tried to touch that bond, pulling on that sort of golden thread that connects the two of you. Tamlin responded by doing the same, and when you went back to sleep, you fell asleep with a smile. That night you dreamed about how your mate taught you how to fly.

The next day you were not able to look anyone in the face, though.

But that was a long time ago.

Now you are not in the comforting warmth of your bed. You are in a tent in a war camp and you are freezing. Your body shakes as you try to rub your hands together. Your wings are sore and have taken on a worrying purple tint, you are almost tempted to go to some healer's tent and ask for an extra blanket, but surely they would be full of injured people, and they would need it much more than you do.

A wave of warmth through the bond radiates through you, and you are grateful to have Tamlin right now, but it doesn't stop there. He touches the bond, like he did all those nights ago, and you find yourself out of your sleeping bag, but not to go to the healers. You meet no one as you head to the Spring Court camps. Your heart pounds - you haven't seen Tamlin since that day at the High Lords meeting. A slight blush covers your cheeks. How will you look that charming male in the face after what you did that night?

You don't know which tent is his, but your body seems to know. The bond takes you straight to him. You can smell him - citrus and spice - even before you see him. You enter without even knocking or warning of your presence, aware that he is able to feel your closeness just as you are able to feel his.

"I've been waiting for you." The male offers you a mesmerizing smile. He is different from how you had seen him. He has cut his hair, and it now reaches just below his ears. He no longer has such dark circles under his eyes and looks decades younger. He is now the living definition of spring more than ever. The mere sight of the man could bring you to your knees.

"Hey." You greet him softly, still a little embarrassed. He notices, because his smile now turns feline. You're my little prey and I want to play with you, he seems to say. Only now do you notice a pungent note in his scent - blood. Your worry fills the bond. Yet you have felt no pain through it lately.

He seems to sense the direction of your thoughts, because he shifts his gaze from your figure to his chest. That's where he bleeds. He has been wounded in the chest.

"Tamlin... You're bleeding." He nods, then offers you a reassuring look.

"Oh, don't worry, it's just a little scratch. You, on the other hand, looked very cold earlier." He cannot hide his concern.

"It's already better here, much warmer." You still feel the tips of your wings sore, though.

"To get to such a situation you must have been freezing for a long time, Y/n. Didn't they teach you how to take care of your wings in this situation?"

"Not really-I tried to ask, but I never got an answer." The anger on his face is impossible to mask. He takes a couple of deep breaths before speaking again.

"'Brute bastards." He hisses through his teeth. You feel in awe at his words; they are still your sisters' family.

"Tamlin..."

"No, Y/n. I'm fine, but you...fairy wings are different from Illyrian wings. They should have done some fucking research. You could have lost them, and do you know how painful that is? You could still be losing them." He finally realizes, and jerks around to get his blanket from his sleeping bag. It's thick and woolen, and as he wraps it around you, it smells of him in the best way.

"You're taking care of me." He looks at you surprised.

"Of course I'm taking care of you, Y/n."

"I want to take care of you, too. These days I've treated the cuts of the wounded, I can help you." Tamlin lets out a low growl, then shakes his head. He sits you down on his sleeping bag and positions himself next to you. Shoulder to shoulder. Even this small contact, divided by several layers of fabric, is capable of making your heart race.

"Please, mate. Let me take care of you." Tamlin sighs, then murmurs an unenthusiastic consent. You get up with the blanket still tangled around you, leave the tent without a word, and return a few minutes later with gauze, alcohol, and a clean bandage. You freeze in the doorway when you realize the man has taken off his shirt.

A shirtless male body was no stranger to you. You had often accompanied your sisters to see their males working out. You had gotten to appreciate the muscles. But Tamlin... seeing your semi-nude mate activates something in you, something similar to that night when you came with his name on your lips. You blush and approach slowly, he still has his back to you, as if he didn't hear you come in.

"Didn't they tell you it's rude to stare?" You know he's only joking, yet you still get embarrassed. Yes, you are used to a shirtless male. But to a shirtless male flirting with you? Absolutely not.

You take a deep breath to calm yourself, but the thing that cools your blood is the wound you see ripping through his chest as he turns around. You look at him surprised, anguish and disquiet flow freely through the bond.

"It's nothing, Y/n. I'll live." You find it ironic how he is the injured one, yet you are the one being comforted. You approach in silence, your eyes fixed on the injury, and let him rest his back on the sleeping bag. You kneel beside him, the blanket now forgotten on the ground, and soak the gauze with alcohol.

"Put the blanket back on, Y/n. It's cold." You ignore him, focused on wetting every last millimeter of the fabric. Tamlin is about to get up, but you place a hand on his chest, blocking him. The contact with his warm skin makes your cheeks warm, but the blood on his chest freezes them.

"What is it?"

"The blanket. Put it on."

"No, I'll be uncomfortable while I medicate you." Tamlin growls when you answer him. You snort a laugh, protective males. "Do you find my worry funny, fawn?"

"Fawn?" You startle at the nickname.

"Don't change the subject, put it on."

"But I'm uncomfortable, Tam."

"Then sit on my lap and wrap it around both of us." You don't let him tell you twice. You do as he says and start dressing his wound, which reeks of Faebane. That's why it didn't heal. You notice Tamlin clenching his teeth from the burning and as if on instinct, you reach down to kiss his chest above the wound. At the level of his heart. You both smile, but do not utter a word. When you finish bandaging his cut, you give him another gentle kiss, this time over the bandage.

"So you heal sooner and feel better." You smile at him.

"You are such a little fairy."

"Is that an insult?"

"No, fawn, how could I ever."

You don't converse much longer, the fatigue of battle preventing you from doing so. You get off his lap and lie down beside him on top of the sleeping bag. You remove the blanket and he seems to inspect your wings. A satisfied expression appears on his face and without needing a word, you remove the blanket and use it to cover yourselves. Just five minutes, you think, then I go back to my tent or I'll risk worrying my sisters.

Five minutes turns into the whole night.

When you wake up, Tamlin is not there. You are under the sleeping bag, though. You smile at the thought. His side is cold, and you wonder how long you slept for. You get up and stretch, and take some time to poke around his tent, something you didn't do the night before. There isn't much there, but you were expecting it. You find a blanket with a note.

Take care of your wings.

You smile like a little girl under her Christmas tree. You leave the blanket there, but take his instead. It smells like him.

A little alarm bell rings in your head. Oh, God. Your sisters must be worried sick. You quickly grab your new blanket and run through the camps until you get to your tent. God, why did they put the Night Court and the Spring Court at opposite ends? It's an almost 10-minute walk.

You enter your tent panting where you find a very, very worried Feyre.

"Are you crazy! Where have you been!" She shouts without even looking at you. But then she does. She smells Tamlin's familiar scent on you. His blanket in your hands.

"Feyre...I can explain, I swear-" She turns a mocking smile on you.

"Ooookay. Maybe next time you warn before you leave. You gave us a scare!" She says without even time for you to respond, leaving you standing in the middle of your tent like a fool.

You and Tamlin have a kind of unwritten agreement. In the evening he pulls the bond slightly and you join him in his tent. The Inner Circle knows this, but says nothing about it. It's better that way. Once Nesta even came to call you, making Tamlin chuckle and you die of embarrassment.

He never tried to do anything more than cuddle you. And you are fine with that. You don't want your first time with your mate to be in a war camp, on a sleeping bag, with the screams of the wounded in the background. One time he even took you to the top of a hill and you stayed and watched the stars until dawn, then he had to go back to fighting, and you had to go back to helping the healers.

You are afraid to admit it to yourself, but you are falling in love with that wonderful man. And you are afraid of not knowing what will happen once the war is over.

The fear of not knowing doesn't last long, though. Because the war is over. Hybern has died by the hands of your sisters, and Rhys has even died and risen again. You meet Tamlin as the camps are being shown.

"Hey, fawn." He says, smiling at you.

"Hey, Tam." You return his smile, but a motion of sadness contorts your lips into a grimace. Tears are quick to stream down your face. You don't want to cry in front of everyone. Tamlin seems to understand this, because he grabs your arm and within moments you are on the hill where he took you to see the stars a few nights ago.

"It's nothing, it's just ... I don't want us to be apart." Tamlin can swear he feels his heart break and recompose itself at the same time at your words, at your tone. At the emotions you are sharing with him.

"Neither do I, y/n. Neither do I."

Tamlin kisses you. It's sudden and unexpected. It is not a real kiss: he simply lays his lips on yours. His hands caress your face gently. After a few moments, you relax and respond to the kiss with just as much sweetness. Just as much love.

"Come home with me, Y/n. Come stay with me at the Spring Court." You think about his words. The words of the male you are in love with, your mate. Your heart tightens with happiness at those words. You will think of your sisters later: for now you just want to be in Tamlin's arms.

"Yes."

Communicating this to Feyre was easier than expected, and since you had nothing significant in Velaris, you went straight home with Tamlin.

The Spring Court is... beautiful, breath-taking even. You can't hide the warmth in your chest, the feeling of home it communicates. And seeing your mate in the place where he belongs enhances the experience.

It is warmer than the dry cold of the camps, and you begin to sweat under the layers of heavy clothing. Tamlin notices, and invites you to follow him inside his palace until you reach a bedroom.

You take time to look around. The house seems full of life, smells of flowers and nature, and glows with gold. It is different from what you expected: Rhysand had mentioned, years ago, that he had paid a visit to the High Lord of the Spring Court, and found him in a miserable condition. And like him, so was his house. But to you that sounds like a far definition from reality.

The room he takes you to is beautiful. It is very different from the typical ones in the Night Court. There the wood is dark, the floors are rough, and everything looks like it's been through a battle. They're not ugly, they're just - gloomy.

While the Court of Spring is full of light and warm colors. The bed frame is made of a light, delicate wood and is carved with flowers and leaves. The room does not have much besides the well-prepared bed. There is a closet that echoes the pattern of the headboard, and Tamlin heads straight there.

He opens it, revealing a surprising amount of clothing.

"You can choose whatever you like, I'll wait outside." He smiles at you and you smile back.

You leave the room wearing a new dress. It is the one you liked most. It makes you feel like a fairy, but positively. It is definitely better than what you wear in the Court of Night. The fabric is softer, the pinkish white of the skirt is a color you've never seen before but already love. Tamlin's face lights up as soon as he sees you.

"You look beautiful in my Court clothes, Y/n." Your cheeks take on a rosy hue as you whisper a vague thanks. He holds out his hand to you and you immediately take it. Without a word, he begins to drag you through the corridors you admire all the way to outside. Into the gardens.

As soon as your eyes meet such beauty ... your breath catches in your throat. Your mind immediately wanders to your sister, Elain. How she would love it.

Your mate looks at you smugly.

"Do you like it?" You can do nothing but nod. Tears well up in your eyes at the relief you feel, and you realize you have lifted a burden, the opression of the Night Court.

The words come out of your mouth before you can even think them, let alone stop them, "I want to accept the bond."

Tamlin looks surprised. "What?"

"I-obviously if you want to. But-"

Your mate interrupts by kissing you. You are surprised the first few moments, but you quickly recover, responding to the kiss. The bond in the center of your chest seems to sing with joy.

"Now?" He asks when he pulls away from your lips, a gentle blush covers his cheeks and he is short of breath. He has never looked so good. You nod.

"A little further on there are some fruit trees. If you want we can go there."

You nod, and he takes you by the hand, fingers interlocked with yours, and once again leads you to some fruit trees. You take the opportunity to admire the beauty of his court again. Which will now become yours as well.

You stop in front of a loquat tree. In a comforting silence you turn to pick a fruit. You have nothing with you, and you struggle a little to peel it. You split it in half and offer it directly in front of his lips. He bites into the loquat with his eyes on yours. He finishes the whole fruit.

The bond seems to rejoice and shine and seems to unite your two souls even more than before. His gaze communicates to you that you have a long day ahead. A long night, too.

He kisses you fervently, his hands gripping your hips making you moan in the kiss. You didn't expect to feel this way. Sure, your sisters told you something about the frenzy ... but experiencing it firsthand is something else entirely. The intensity of what you feel is almost overwhelming.

You pull away from the kiss with a heavy breath. Tamlin's predatory gaze, the lust in the look, is impossible to mask.

"Fawn... tell me no now, or I won't be able to stop later." You don't even think about saying no. You desire him as you have never desired anyone. You want to feel him all over.

"Please, Tamlin. I want to be yours."

You spend all afternoon making love on the fields, careless of who might see you. You return only when it begins to get dark. A huge smile on your face.

You made the right choice.

@rcarbo1

[berryz-writes]

It's always going to be you

Summary: You and Azriel spend less time with each other and soon it seems he spends more time with Elain- apologising and fluff

Azriel x reader

I watched, holding my breath as Elain let out a small laugh at something Azriel said, her hand coming up to rest on his arm. Did she need to do that? No, she probably didn't. But I let it go because she was getting better now. Her smiles were more frequent and if she found my mate funny then fine. I wouldn't be jealous about it.

Another week later and Elain and Azriel were walking the streets of Velaris. I had paused in my tracks to watch them, their heads bent together talking about something important it seemed. It felt like I hadn't gone shopping with Az in so long let alone have a nice conversation that lasted longer than a minute. They seemed comfortable together. Fine. As long as they were both happy there was no reason for me to jump to conclusions.

It was game night and Elain and Azriel had paired up. Yes, they were playing chess against each other but they chose each other and left me on the side lines, merely part of the audience. I wasn't even give a second glance. "Y/n? Aren't you going to play?" Cassian asked from where he was sat on the sofa, one arm around Nesta the other holding a glass of wine.

I shook my head "I'm tired. Maybe next time" I turned to look back at Azriel because like usual I was drawn to him. It seemed he was unaffected by our bond now because he hadn't even looked at me once throughout the entire day. The longer I stared the harder it was to fight back tears. I stood up and mumbled an excuse to leave, Nesta being the only one who listened to my made up excuse. I walked out the house and rubbed my hands together, my feet taking me to the bench I had sat on so many times. Luckily I was smart enough to grab hold of a thick shawl before leaving. The Sidra was as beautiful as always, lights glowing around the area, Fae spilling out of different bars across the street.

I pulled the shawl closer to me and tried to enjoy the sight in front of me rather than my mind going back to things I didn't want to think about.

Where are you?

Y/n? Are you okay? Where are you? Tell me where you are.

Sweetheart please. Are you allright?

Azriel's voice, panicked and full of fear in my mind. The spiteful thing to do would be to ignore him and build a barrier between the both of us but because I was never able to see or hear Azriel worry for so long I replied with

I'm fine

I went home for the night, enjoy yourself

I blocked him out. I didn't want to think about anything right now. I wasn't in the mood to talk to him.

Of course if someone asked if I still loved him I would have replied with a "yes" in a heartbeat. Maybe we just needed space. Or maybe I was being dramatic. It's not as if I had walked in on them kissing or something.

"Fancy seeing you here, y/n" Someone said. I had to blink away my sleepiness and try and find the source of the voice. It was Keller. A friend who I usually had lunch with when I was in town or needed someone to help me translate a piece of text.

I gave him a warm smile, his blonde almost silver hair shining in the street lamps.

"Is there a seat free?" He gestured next to me at the empty bench but before I could answer a loud thud was heard behind me and without having to turn around I could tell who it was. He must have hidden his scent because otherwise I would have known he was coming this way earlier.

"Apologies, but the seats taken. You should get going now" Azriel's voice was tight and full of anger, one wrong answer from Keller would result in things that were too gruesome too think of.

Still, he hesitated, looking between me and Azriel who was behind me and probably sending daggers at him.

"I'll see you tomorrow. Have a nice night" I gave him an awkward smile, trying to reassure him.

"Right. Enjoy your time." And with a nod "Shadowsinger" He walked away soon disappearing behind a corner. I didn't bother turning around and instead waited for Azriel to show himself. His footsteps were light as his form came into view, blocking the scene of the Sidra. He stood there for a good minute or so evaluating every inch of me with his piercing eyes. His shadows moved away from him, coming to brush against me as if they were checking if I was ok as well.

"Are you all right? Your not hurt are you?" His voice was soft, a great contrast to the tone he was using with Keller a second ago.

I sighed "Physically, yes"

He took this as a chance to sit down next to me, making sure there was a small distance between us. As if he wasn't sure what I wanted. I wasn't sure either. I wanted space but I also wanted him to wrap his arms around me and tell me everything would be alright.

"I didn't know what happened to you. I thought you had been taken. I thought I wouldn't see you again" Azriel's voice was quiet and almost broken in a way. I turned to look at him, to see if he was the same Azriel as a few weeks ago.

"What's happened to us?" I asked. I didn't know either but there was one thing I knew and that was something had changed.

As soon as the words escaped me, Azriel froze. His breathing coming to a stop and his eyes focused completely on me and my breathing. For the first time in my life I heard him stumble over his words "what...what do you mean?" He asked, his voice so quiet and full of worry. His shadows paused their constant movement around me and froze as well, their touch now cold.

I wrapped my arms around me, the shawl suddenly not doing much to block the cold out properly "Don't you feel as if we've grown apart? Like...maybe we aren't as close as we used to be?"

I couldn't look at him while saying that. Instead I let my head fall back so I could look at the comforting sight of the stars. Something that was always there. I felt a slight shift to my right where Azriel moved closer to me, his wings coming to wrap around me.

I looked at him, opening my mouth to thank him for the warmth but before I could say anything his shaky voice interrupted me "I love you. I will always love you. I am so sorry you felt as if I wasn't giving you enough time. I know you deserve more than I could ever-"

I put my hand up to stop him "It's not about that. It's about you always being with Elain. Tell me, Azriel. How long has it been since we've been shopping together? How long has it been since you've come home when I'm not asleep because it's the middle of the night? How long will this go on? This back and forth of me waiting for you while you go off with Elain doing who knows what"

I felt his heart beat increase with every word I said and as I let it all out I felt full of guilt. I was being irrational and dramatic. And Azriel didn't deserve it. We had been through so much and I was complaining about him not spending time with me

"sorry. I didn't mean that. I just...got carried away" I looked away from him. He looked heartbroken and I had done that to him.

A silent minute passed before Azriel broke it by picking me up and winnowing us to his room

"what? what are you doing?" I asked, disoriented from the winnowing. I sat on his bed, trying to get used to the soft lighting in his room.

He sat next to me and held my hands in his, warmth seeping through me "I could never cheat on you, sweetheart. I'd rather shred my wings than hurt you. You understand that...don't you? There is nothing between me and Elain and there never will be. I'm sorry you felt that way" He pressed a kiss to my hand, his eyes golden in the light. The way he looked at me made me think, how could I have doubted him?

"I know you aren't cheating. Of course I know that but why does it feel like you spend more time with her than me?" I ask quietly, afraid of the answer. Maybe it's because I've become boring now after all these years.

"My love, your the one who told me to help her. You told me spend time with her because she seemed to like my company. I did it for you, sweetheart. Don't you think I'd rather spend my time with my beautiful mate?"

His hand moved up to cup my cheek, brushing away a tear that had escaped. "It's always going to be you."

I leaned into his comforting warmth and let my doubts and fears wash away. "I'm sorry for doubting you, Az"

"you had every right to" He mumbled back, his arms now encircling me completely. I felt safe and wanted in his arms, like nothing could ever go wrong.

(KEEP IN MIND I LOVE ELAIN EVERYONE. my personal opinion is she should end up with lucien)- as usual not proof read

MASTERLIST

[acourtofmishapandmistakes]

Characters of ACOTAR playing chess

Azriel: Beats everyone because he knows how to play.

Nesta: Doesn't know the rules but wins anyway.

Elain: Doesn't know the rules and loses.

Feyre: Knows the rules, but still loses to those who don't.

Rhysand: Actually, you can't do that because I said so.

Cassian: They named a board game after cheese?

[roseadleyn]

play by play || feyre and rhysand

tw/: brief but explicit description of blood and gore, this is very anti rhys so if that's going to piss you off don't read. inspired by @feyres-divorce-lawyer's widow feyre because she's amazing.

this took me way too long, i didn't proofread very well either... word count is 3.6k even though it was supposed to be small... anyways enjoy

Feyre stood by the balcony railing, wind in her hair, gazing down at the bustling streets of Velaris — her beautiful city, alive and awake even in the sweltering summer heat. Somewhere down there, Elain would be at her busy little tea shop, Mor would be at Rita's, Cassian had gone for a swim to get away from the heat and Nesta and Azriel were immersed in their weekly chess match.

She sighed, a strange longing in her heart. She wanted to go join them. She wanted to put on her coat and slip away to her art studio. She wanted... What did it matter, what she wanted? She couldn't go anywhere, not with Nyx suckling at her breast, his little face red with tears. Feyre looked down at him, her precious boy, but instead of the usual warm love in her heart, an unexpected feeling of loathing overcame her. This is... boring, she thought. This is really boring! I've had battles more exciting than this! Suddenly repulsed — her, cursebreaker, high lady, standing there with a baby in her arms like some housewife! — she ripped the child away from her sore nipple, disgusted and angry at her own helplessness. He began to wail again, furiously kicking at the air with tiny legs.

'Shut up,' she said roughly, storming inside to lay him in his cot, her voice sounding a lot like her mother's. He looked up at her in heartbroken betrayal, crying and yelling, his fists clenching with his childish anger. It irritated her — why did no one seem to listen to her anymore?

'Shut up, I said!' She hissed, a burst of her own mad fury overtaking her. 'Stop your whining!'

Her shout echoed through the room, and the boy quietened in fear, whimpering slightly.

In the ensuing silence, Feyre felt a sickening rush of realization running through her veins. She looked around the room, really looked at it — warded from every corner, tight knit spells keeping everything out, and her in.

Rhys came rushing into the room, his handsome face woven with worry. 'Feyre, darling, what happened? I heard Nyx crying.' He was clearly in the middle of getting dressed, his shirt hanging unbuttoned around his shoulders, pants pulled on haphazardly.

She stared at him, her voice raw and hoarse, ‘Where are you going?’

He looked a little wary at the change of topic, heading over to Nyx’s cot and cradling him in his arms. Nyx quietened, whimpering slightly. ‘The Illyrian territories. Cassian didn't go tonight, remember? And the warlords are getting out of control.’

‘Oh.’ Finally, a problem. A problem that she could solve; a conflict to fight. Something to do. ‘I can come with you, just let me change.’

Rhysand narrowed his eyes at her, rocking Nyx. ‘Who will watch Nyx?’

‘Rhys, it's just for a few hours, and we have servants —’ Frustration welled up in her heart. For some reason, she felt desperate to get out of the river house, run as far as she could. ‘Besides, we could leave him with Nesta and Azriel, ask them to watch him for a while.’

He frowned in return, placing Nyx down and finishing up the buttons of his shirt. ‘With Nesta… I don't know, my love, I just think you should stay with him instead.’

Feyre didn't think she was imagining the contempt in his tone when he had said Nesta. ‘Rhysand, I've been cooped up inside for far too long —’ it had been weeks, months, since she had done anything more than painting and having sex and taking care of Nyx — ‘I'd just like to get out of the house for a while.’

‘It doesn't have to be tonight.’ He stepped behind her, and his lips brushed against the nape of her neck. His voice lowered, husky and gentle. ‘We can go out tomorrow, just the two of us, hm?’

No, no, no. He didn't get it. He just didn't get it.

‘Rhys.’ She sighed, shrugging him off. ‘I really want to go, please.’

He drew back, frowning. The look in those purple eyes was hard, calculating. He'd never looked at her like that… well, he had. Under the Mountain, he had: those gleaming eyes fixed on her as she spun like a marionette in his arms. She swallowed, chest constricting at the sudden memory.

Rhysand took a deep breath, sauntering towards the door, voice light, ‘Feyre, come on. Why this sudden restlessness? Nyx needs you. Of course, you could leave him with Nesta — but he's so young, and…’

For fuck’s sake, he always did this. He always gave her choices, but of those choices he always emphasized which one he wanted her to choose and the consequences if she didn't. She ground her teeth, fists clenching. Her voice shook with irritation, ‘Rhysand — I need to take on a more active role as High Lady.’ She tried to keep herself calm, diplomatic. ‘I want to go. You can't make me stay.’

His eyes twinkled with harsh amusement. ‘Of course I can.’ Her heart turned to ice, dread coiling in her stomach. He went on, oblivious to the storm raging in her gut, her power pulling against its leash. ‘See, Feyre… Stay for tonight, okay? And —’

‘I want to leave.’ She was shaking all over, desperation making her mad. She couldn't be locked up again. She just couldn't. ‘Rhys, let me go.’

‘Feyre, darling,’ he said placatingly, in that soothing tone. But she didn't seem to process it, scared and angry and barely able to contain herself.

Feyre stormed up to the door where he stood, her legs shaky. ‘Move,’ she demanded. She had to leave now. She could come back later, apologize, say she didn't know what came over her; but she couldn't stay right now. Her magic howled and writhed, begging to be let out.

His hands gripped her arms, tight and unrelenting. ‘And if I said you couldn't leave?’

‘I'd leave anyways,’ she retorted.

Rhysand smiled darkly like he was hoping she'd say that, and then she felt it — that dark, silky touch at her mind. This time, her walls were no challenge for him. He broke through easily, his voice invasive and loud as he rummaged through her head and gripped her hair to keep her from screaming and ripping herself away. He kept trying to mess with her feelings, and it was like being 19 in Tamlin’s dining hall, being made to kneel with her fantasies declared to the world. He'd been the culprit then, too.

Let me out, that strange fire in her heart demanded. Let me out. Let me at him.

And well, she's never been good at controlling herself.

When Feyre tried to remember how she killed her husband hours later, her memory was blank. She remembered screaming, but she didn't think he was the one yelling, she was. She remembered how she'd reached inside her chest, where she could feel their death pact, and had wished it would break. She remembered fire at one hand and ice in the other, and she remembered his wild expression as he had brought forth his own shadows. But she never remembered how she dealt the final blow, whether it had been the fire burning his face or the shard of ice she'd stabbed repeatedly into his heart. Or if it had been something altogether different.

It's a gruesome sight, the aftermath. The broken windows, the sound of Nyx wailing in the background. His slackened hands on her arms, his face in the crook of her neck, eyes glazed. Her breaths came in heavy, blood on her cheeks and her neck and her abdomen. His body collapsed in her arms, her own hands still holding the ice shard that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

The sudden silence is deafening. She whimpered, terrified of herself, trying to shift him off of her, winced at the sound of his body hitting the floorboards. She stepped away from the puddle of blood, standing there staring at him — mop of black hair, bruised and burnt face, the ice still sticking out of his heart. He'd been so malicious, so cunning and manipulative, just a few minutes ago; and she'd brought an end to that, hadn't she?

Nyx. She approached her son’s cradle, tentative and scared. He was quieter, now, staring up at her with wide violet eyes, whimpering. Before that madness could overtake her again, she scooped him up in her arms, nudged Rhysand's limp arm out of the way with her foot, and ran.

⋆.୨୧.⋆

Lucien was not having a good day. First, he'd overslept and had to skip his daily morning sparring session with Jurian, then the leader of the human village he was trying to maintain relations with kept threatening war all throughout the meeting, and to top it all off; he arrived home to an elegant cream colored envelope on his bedside table with the Night Court’s seal stamped on it.

It was a letter from his mate, he found, eyes scanning rapidly through it. It was a formal, awkward, plain letter; but Elain wanted him in Velaris — ‘I think something is going to go wrong — I don't know what. I suppose it's just a hunch, silly as it is,’ she'd written. ‘So I do think it'd be better if you dropped by today. If you're too busy, then it isn't an issue.’

Not an issue, his ass. It was vaguely worded, enough so to worry him, and besides; he knew that Elain had prophetic visions from time to time. This wasn't a hunch, if she said something was going to happen tonight, he'd bet his other eye she was right.

So, even though he was grumpy, tired, and hungry; he'd packed a small bag, left the empty manor ( Vassa being away on a rare diplomatic trip to another city, Jurian having sauntered to some tavern ), and winnowed to Velaris. Lucien hated Velaris. Too pretentious, too suffocating, too full of stupid people busy pretending everything was perfect in the world; like their precious High Lord didn't keep an entire city in an underground prison.

He trudged up the hill to his apartment. He rarely ever lived there, it was simply a temporary lodging for whenever he needed to be in Velaris, because he'd rather share a bed with Koschei than rely on Rhysand's hospitality again.

He'd barely arrived and arranged his few belongings around the apartment when someone started banging frantically on his door. Lucien paused, wary and suspicious. None of the inner circle would know he'd arrived, unless Elain had told them; and even then, who'd knock so desperately on his door?

One hand on the sheath of his dagger, he slowly inched the door open — only to find Feyre standing on his threshold, wild eyed and splattered with blood in her nightgown, her son on her hip. The last time he'd seen her this… disheveled was when they'd left the Spring Court together.

‘... Feyre.’ This blood covered woman reminded him of the human girl Under the Mountain. The little girl he'd failed to save. Unease stirred in his heart. ‘What happened?’

‘Lucien,’ She said desperately, tears in her eyes. ‘I need your help — I — can I come in?’ Seeing the wariness in his eyes, she added, ‘Please, Lucien. ‘

No shit, he wanted to say, but he bit his tongue. He opened the door wide enough for her to slip through and then closed and locked it. He had an inkling that this conversation was best kept private. You know, since she was covered with blood. Small detail.

Nyx glanced at him from his mother's arms, big purple eyes narrowed suspiciously, chubby fist in his mouth. Feyre didn't seem to notice, gingerly standing in the middle of the hallway, holding her son like she wished someone would take him from her very soon. She seemed at a loss for words.

‘Feyre,’ Lucien began, trying to keep his voice placating, gentle. ‘I can only help you if I know what happened.’ And, after a second, ‘... Let me hold him, if it's alright.’

She shook her head, mouth pressed into a line, tears dripping down her cheeks. Even Nyx was quiet, his curious eyes fixed on his mother. Then she unwrapped her arms and let Lucien take the little boy into his arms. Nyx didn't cry, surprisingly, only tried to poke at Lucien’s face with a tiny fist. The silence between them stretched.

Eventually, Feyre said softly, voice low, ‘I did something really bad.’

Lucien frowned. This didn't seem to be Feyre Cursebreaker, the girl who'd captured the Suriel, defied Amarantha. Then again, Lucien hadn't seen that girl in a long time. ‘... What did you do?’

‘I killed Rhy—’ She lifted her chin, blue-gray eyes red rimmed and full of tears, her jaw set. ‘I killed my husband .’

What? For a second, Lucien was sure he hadn't heard her properly. Feyre, kill Rhysand? What a joke. She was besotted with that man, wasn't she? Even after all he'd done to her, the way he'd treated her, she sang his praises day and night. It had always been distressing for him, to see this formerly proud, clever girl simper over that tyrant High Lord; but then he'd just accepted it. It had been clear that she was not going to listen.

And now? This was a disaster. Velaris wasn't going to take to this kindly. Feyre and Nyx's very lives were in danger, and he didn't think it was safe for them anymore, in their own city.

His shock must have shown on his face, because Feyre immediately barrelled into an explanation. ‘I didn't — I didn't mean to, I swear,’ She began, stumbling over her words. ‘I just — he was so loud, Lucien. And then he tried to get inside your head —’

‘Wait,’ Lucien interrupted, holding up his palms. Something sickening curled in his gut. ‘Give me a proper play by play. I can't make head nor tail of this.’

By some miracle, Nyx had curled up on his chest and fallen asleep, chubby cheek pressed against his shoulder. He listened attentively to Feyre's story, fury and grim satisfaction welling in his heart. He wasn't surprised. He didn't really put this sort of behavior past Rhysand, but he knew Feyre… and he knew Feyre had never expected this from her dearest. Or if she had, she had ignored it.

The room rang with tension. Lucien tried to formulate his thoughts into words. ‘Did it pass to you?’ At Feyre's hollow, confused stare, he clarified, ‘The… The Court. The rulership.’

That made Feyre pause. She gave a dry, sardonic laugh. ‘No. You were right, Nesta was right… He only gave me that title in name. Wasn't I stupid?’

Lucien’s heart ached. ‘I'll help you run, I'll help you with the body.’ He gently placed the sleeping baby in his arms down on the couch, and then took Feyre's calloused hand in his. ‘Where is it? His body? Was the rest of his family home?’

She took a shuddering breath. ‘No… His body's at home, I just ran. No one else was there, a-and the servants had already retired for the night, I th-think.’

‘Why was he going to a camp meeting at this time?’

‘He was the High Lord of the Night Court, Lucien,’ Feyre muttered.

They lapsed back into silence, but not for long. Another insistent knock sounded at his door, followed by the impatient click of someone's shoes against the ground. Feyre sat up straight, white as a sheet.

Cautiously, Lucien undid the latch and peered out, only to receive his second shock of the night: his mate and her sister, both standing them surveying him with unease and impatience, respectively.

‘El-Elain,’ He forced her name past his lips. Behind him, Feyre made a small noise of shock. ‘And Nesta. What a… surprise.’

‘Is Feyre here?’ Nesta cut straight to the point, her voice tense.

‘She is, Nesta,’ Elain cut in, brown eyes bright and unflinching. ‘I can sense it. I saw this all play out weeks ago… but we all have explanations to give. Will you let us in, Lucien?’

⋆.୨୧.⋆

Nesta drew in a sharp breath at the sight of her sister. Bloody, haggard and tearstained; she looked such a far cry from how Nesta had gotten used to seeing her, all pampered and proud. Her heart broke for her poor, naive little sister and she sat down next to her, taking her hand in hers as Lucien quietly caught them up on what had happened.

‘Did he hurt you?’ The words came out clipped and icy. Feyre glanced at her with those eyes — Nesta’s eyes, their mother's eyes.

‘No,’ She muttered, stiff and tense, but she didn't pull her hand away. ‘I killed… I killed him, Nesta.’

‘It wasn't anything he didn't deserve.’ Nesta despised Rhysand, but she didn't think he'd be so blatantly awful — and to his mate, no less; this oh so glorious mating bond that Cassian kept yapping about.

Feyre leaned back on the couch and closed her eyes, tired and weary.

‘How did you break it?’ Nesta asked quietly. ‘The death pact?’

That got everyone's attention. Feyre sat up straight, hands shaking. ‘I don't know. I wanted to break it, but I didn't really think about it too much. I don't know.’ She swallowed. ‘What am I going to do? What am I going to tell Cass and Azriel an-and Mor and —’

Elain cut in, brushing away some hair from Feyre's eyes gently. ‘That you were with us,’ she murmured. ‘That I needed some help in the shop, so I asked Nesta and that's why she was there — and you just happened to drop by.’

Feyre shook her head, voice low and rough. ‘They're going to ask where Nyx was.’

‘You brought Nyx with you, of course,’ Nesta added, the ruse sounding believable enough. Feyre gave a small nod, and then all three sisters turned to look at Lucien.

He raised a brow. ‘What?’

‘You'll back this up,’ Nesta said; the tone of her voice making the words not an ask, but an order. ‘Say that you were visiting Velaris because Feyre had asked you to because she wanted to check on the progress of the Koschei situation. Very serious. But before you went to her, you'd decided to just take a walk, and happened to come across the teashop, where you clearly saw Elain, Feyre and me. Simple?’

‘... You're scary, Nesta.’ He let out a breathy laugh. ‘Alright, I can do that. It adds up. But for now, Feyre, you need to go wash yourself up and brush up on your acting skills.’

‘My acting skills?’

‘Widows are pathetic and miserable, so you'll need to cry,’ Elain nodded, in agreement with Lucien.

Nesta cast an appraising glance at her little sister. ‘You… You're not miserable about his death, are you?’

‘I — I am,’ Feyre began, but then corrected herself, ‘actually, I think it's more shock than anything. But I can cry.’

‘Great, so that's a plan. Come, we'll help you wash. Lucien, where is the —’

‘Down the hall, second door to the left.’ He muttered distractedly. Nyx was beginning to stir, whimpering.

Elain smiled prettily. ‘The baby's all yours, for now. Come now, Feyre.’

⋆.୨୧.⋆

Feyre felt like a little girl again, the way her sisters carefully washed the blood from her hair and palms and — well, it was everywhere, actually. She'd tried to say she could do it herself, but Elain had insisted, and Feyre was too tired to argue.

Nesta’s hands were gentle as she rinsed her hair. ‘Are you okay?’

The words sounded foreign coming from Nesta. Like an older sister's words, and Feyre usually felt like she didn't even have sisters. All three of them lived their lives like the others didn't exist.

She swallowed, throat dry. ‘... No. Not really.’

But she was going to be. Cursebreaker, they called her. And it seemed that she'd broken the death pact tonight, without even meaning to. She could leave the Night Court now, couldn't she? Go somewhere else, take Nyx with her, somewhere full of cheerful sunlight and sea — the Summer Court, maybe.

Her heart clenched. The other Courts definitely didn't think favorably of her. How had she gone from being Prythian’s savior to… to having the public image of a harlot?

Elain ran a hand across her forehead, her voice gentle. ‘Feyre, quit it. Figure things out one at a time.’

‘... Can you read minds or something?’

‘No, but it's clear as day you're fretting over the future. You should never worry about the future. Let it come to you.’

‘That's wonderful advice,’ Nesta cut in, voice dry. ‘You should start a help centre for the people of Velaris, you'll be booked.’

Elain laughed, helping Feyre out of the bathtub like she was a toddler again. ‘See? My advice works so well, Nesta actually laughs ever since she took it.’

Feyre rolled her eyes. ‘Stop trying to make me laugh, I'm supposed to cry.’

⋆.୨୧.⋆

Mor opened the door to the River House, finding it unlocked. Odd, but maybe they'd forgotten? It was deathly silent in the house, too…

She crept up the staircase quietly, even though she didn't know why she felt the need to be silent. All the way up the stairs, through the hallway… Feyre and Rhysand's bedroom.

Her heart turned to ice. Shocked and horrified, she knelt in front of her cousin’s corpse, only to find little ice shards sticking out of his chest, his face bloody and mauled, the sides of his neck burnt. Gently, she took his head on her lap, tears falling from her eyes.

There was only one person she knew with a multitude of those powers.

Mor clenched her teeth. It was Feyre Archeron's last night in Prythian, she was going to make sure of it.

Sandf⋆.୨୧.⋆

[thelovelyfawnsworld]

I can’t help but think about Elain when I listen to Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?

I can’t help but be reminded of the things she endured and the nasty things this fandom has said about her while I listen to this song. So here are some lyrics from the song that is just so Elain coded:

You don't get to tell me about sad… I'm always drunk on my own tears, isn't that what they all said?

Most people often disregard Elain’s trauma. I’ve read people defend Nesta’s nasty behavior towards other people, they always say that it was because of her trauma. But they would tear Elain to shreds because she spent months in her room, withering away after they had been turned into Faes. That she should’ve just told her sisters what she was seeing instead of babbling poetic nonsense to them and wasting away.

If you could understand Nesta’s response to trauma, why couldn’t you understand Elain? Nesta wasn’t the only one who went through tons of trauma. In fact, it is explicitly stated in the book that Elain was the one who had so much to lose. She was engaged to a human, she was supposed to marry and have a future with that man even if he was a fae-hating human. She wanted that future with him and was looking forward to it. But suddenly she’s kidnapped, dunked into a massive tub, turned into a fae after who knows what she experienced inside that tub, and then she suddenly kept seeing things she couldn’t comprehend.

Of course, Elain would grieve for her human life. She did not only grieve the death of her humanity but also the death of her future family that she was looking forward to create. She grieved silently and she was miserable.

The scandal was contained… At all costs, keep your good name. You don't get to tell me you feel bad.

Now, this might be a little bit of a head cannon. But in my mind the scandal in this line would be that fateful night with Azriel which Rhysand stopped when he caught them. It would have been a scandal, an issue if they were caught by Elain’s supposed mate. There would have been repercussions that may lead to another conflict or war. But thankfully, Rhysand had contained that scandal by ordering Azriel from ever pursuing whatever they had.

Now, Elain must keep her good name, be the good little girl she is, and play as a pawn in this little political chess game that Rhysand and the other high lords are playing. But in my head, they don’t get to tell Elain that they feel bad for her if they ever see her act negatively, or even act sad because of what happened between her and Azriel. They don’t get to tell her they feel bad when they had caused it. (I’m looking at you, Rhysand.)

You wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me

In this line, I am reminded of the people who always complain about Elain’s character, how boring she is because she’s not the typical strong warrior-like female protagonist like her sisters. But really, you wouldn’t last an hour in the asylum where they raised her. You wouldn’t last an hour in Mama Archeron’s grooming. You wouldn’t survive being controlled all your life like Elain.

'Cause you lured me

This reminds me of that dream Feyre had in ACOWAR where Elain had been lured by this image of Graysen, only to be captured by Hybern. Yup, that’s the only thought I have here.

You caged me and then you called me crazy

“You caged me,” everyone caged Elain to be this sweet, soft, kind, and gentle woman. She was caged by the expectations of other people. She is expected to follow the image that was set upon her at a younger age. She was often stifled by the people around her.

And then, when she acted differently, when she started babbling nonsense and just staring with a glazed look, the same people thought she was going crazy.

I am what I am 'cause you trained me

Again, readers may find Elain boring and so bland. But she is this sweet, gentle, and soft lady because she was trained to be like this. She is like this because she was groomed. How would she break free from this mold if all her life, she’s been taught to be like this? If she was never given a chance?

I’m sorry that Elain was a victim of grooming, that she couldn’t fit the standard you created for a female protagonist. I’m sorry that she doesn’t fit the mold that you created for an exciting protagonist.

this is what happens when your two hyperfixation is taylor swift and elriel

[greenleaf777]

I was reading theories on tiktok and just had this epiphany where it comes to Elains seer abilities and lucien.

I think Elain is so awkward and has been avoiding Lucien because she has Seen him with another person romantically (I think vassa)whether in the present or future, so she feels weird playing the role of mate even just being courteous, and also I think that though she knows he loves someone else, as she also does with Azriel, she has also Seen a scenario where their bond comes into play in the future in a very important (not romantic) way so thats why she hasn’t rejected it yet. I definitely think shes had a lot more visions and has worked on her abilities a lot more than anyone else knows.

Everyone else is playing go-fish and shes playing chess 😂

What are your thoughts on that???

[deathsweetblossoms]

a Pro-Elriel Theory For Upcoming Books

Disclaimer: This is FOR FUN, I repeat, FOR FUN. Theories. Conjecture. No character bashing below the cut, no ship wars -- I want no part in it, and if I get some trash in the DMs or in the comments, I am deleting it. But, it is a pro-Elriel theory, so if that bothers you, then, respectfully, keep it moving <3

Here me out -- two of the most popular theories for the upcoming books are 1) the mating bond is fake 2) there will be a blood duel.

Upon trying to mind my business eating dinner, listening to the owls outside my window, I was hit with the following theory. I'm not sure how to present the information, so please bear with me.

Koschei is the Big Bad. He has been pulling the strings for awhile, and there was that quote in ACOSF which seemed to be directed to Azriel; "I've been preparing for you for awhile". Something to that effect.

Additionally, Koschei wants Vassa, who at the moment is tied to him via her firebird curse.

We know Beron is connected to Koschei now - either by proxy or they confirmed it (I actually can't remember). It only makes sense that with Briallyn out of the way, and with Beron & Briallyn having a working alliance, that he would step in as Koschei's next partner to Do Bad Things and Claim Power. So, for this theory, Beron and Koschei are working together.

This is where the Blood Duel comes in -- the only way I can see L*cien initiating the Blood Duel at this point is if he's being puppeted by Koschei. Puppeting L*cien can maneuver two things to his advantage: direct access to Azriel via the Blood Duel, direct access to Vassa by simply being close to L*cien. How would this happen? I wouldn't put it past Beron to somehow make L*cien and Koschei cross paths, especially if everyone still believes L*cien is his son.

This would also bring up an opportunity for Lady Autumn to speak up about L*cien's true parentage, in a bid to save his life from having to unwillingly participate in a Blood Duel. I can see this going two ways 1) Helion finds a way to break L*cien's bond to Koschei 2) Helion claims that Blood Duels are outlawed in Day and L*cien lawfully cannot particpate, thus saving everyones life. Perhaps he sacrifices himself in the process - which I fucking hope not.

This is where Pro-Elriel discourse comes into play via Elain rejecting her mating bond. With either a true mating bond or a fake one, the rejection of that bond would be the catalyst to start this entire war. For a fake mating bond - if Koschei is the mastermind I think he is, it's totally plausible for him to have manipulated the mating bond to be able to move the chess pieces around in such a way that it would give him access to Azriel, via puppeting L*cien. Especially if he's been preparing for Azriel FOR AWHILE, and Azriel's fondness for Elain has been going on FOR AWHILE. If Briallyn could see that Nesta and Cassian had feelings for each other, then there is definitely a way for the information about Azriel's feelings for Elain to get back to Koschei. (Plus I have that theory about what Azriel whispered in Eris's ear...but it's all conjecture at this point, and won't include it here). But a Blood Duel between L*cien and Azriel gives Koschei literally a front row seat to Azriel. If Koschei is as ancient and all-powerful as I think he is, so much so he had to be bound to a lake, so much so that his siblings were hiding from him, then it's entirely plausible for him to maneuver something like this.

I, PERSONALLY, don't know if it's a fake bond anymore, and I think it would give so much more weight and significance to Elain's story if it was a true bond that she still chose to reject. But, again, it could work either way.

Why not just go directly for Azriel, you ask? Without all of this complicated mess of a political problem and bonds and puppetting? Good question. It seems he can't actually do that, since he had to pull so many strings just to get Azriel to him via Eris's rescue. Also, there wouldn't really be a story if he could just ZOINK Azriel into his clutches. Plus, werent the Valk*ries whisked into the Blood Rite purely for Briallyn and Koschei’s machinations? He isn’t above using people, or creating a completely convoluted problem, to reach his end goal. That entire plan actually demonstrates how far he will go just to get what he wants.

All of these strings just fit together TOO conveniently for me to ignore, and the one piece I was missing was motivation for L*cien to start the Blood Duel. Because I don't think SJM is writing a love triangle where Elain is going to play both of them against each other. L*cien is very much at the center of two things Koschei wants, though, so ...it all just seems... a little too convenient a ploy. Like, if I thought of it, I'm sure Koschei also thought of it.

EDIT: ALSO, Azriel isn't f*cking watching L*cien because it's an invasion of Elain's privacy! It could easily slip through the cracks that he would be under Koschei's control. Aughh the more I think about it, I swear!! The fact that this was made clear in ACOFS, the book that planted seeds for future books, is such a big key. I never thought L*cien would betray anyone, but including this tidbit was too juicy for it not to lead somewhere.

[nikethestatue]

Important things that the ACOTAR world is desperately missing:

Cute magical pets.

Where is Syrinx? Fleetfoot? Abraxos?

Cool, funny sidekicks, with zippy comebacks and good comedic timing.

Where is Lehabah? Where is Ithan, when left alone with Starsword? Where is Fenrys?

Irreverent, adorable insights into the world that these people occupy.

Where is Fang n' Bangs? Jelly Jubilee?

Can someone be obsessed with something frivolous?

Can they do something sweetly domestic? Can there actually be some ROMANCE in these books?

We've got SIX main characters, not to mention a slew of others, and do we know anything about them? Beyond just basic hobbies? Elain gardens, Feyre paints and Nesta reads. Yay.....Nothing about the guys. What's Rhys's favourite food? Where does Azriel go on vacation? What does Cassian like to drink? Does he only consume bland oatmeal? What does Cassian give Nesta for her birthday? What do these people do for fun other than go to ONE bar? for 500 years? What do newspapers look like in Velaris? Is anyone gossiping? Are there celebrities? What do kids learn in schools? Does anyone teach magic? Are there embarrassing magical accidents that people witness? If someone's bond snaps suddenly on the street, do they just tear off their clothes and do it right then and there? how do Illyrians swim? What do diapers look like in Prythian? Are they just cloth, or is there any magical anti-pooping, anti-smelling, self-changing diaper? Why is no one playing chess? Why is Feyre crying in her eggs? How do people feel about 'baby rich' smells? How do these people not pay attention to extreme bodily smells? What do they wear? Aladdin outfits or 13th century England dresses or Marchesa style gowns? How do they support their boobs? Bras? Corsets? Binds? Why does everyone have a braid? Are there haircuts in Prythian? Could you request a bob?

So. Many. Questions.

[fantasymindpalace]

elriel is cute as a ship and i def do see it, but i feel like 3 brothers 3 sisters is just tooooooo tropey and i feel like sjm probably knows that. like it would kind of just be corny at that point. like cmon that shit is so predictable and miss sarah loves a plot twist. i just don’t see it happening. elain and azriel have more chemistry as a sexy fling i think. i shamelessly ship both elucien and elriel and i see the appeal of both, but i think id be disappointed if elain and az actually ended up together. plus sjm was probably betting on ppl shipping them together to create more hype and discourse about who is actually endgame. stirring the pot, if you will. she’s playing chess and yall are playing checkers. yall are arguing online about fictional characters and she’s laughing all the way to the bank, knowing who’s gonna end up with who and not giving a fuck about fan ship theories

[mirrorballpages]

Checkmate, I couldn't lose.

***the one we have all been waiting on is here***

Most people filled silences with chatter, but not Elain. She was quiet, contemplative, her focus entirely on the game. Azriel found himself studying her as much as the board, his shadows oddly still, as though they too were at ease in her presence.

When she finally spoke, it caught him off guard.

“What do you want, Azriel?” she asked softly, her gaze lifting to meet his. “Out of your eternal life?”

He blinked, the question rooting him to the spot. No one had ever asked him that before. His life had always been about duty, about serving others. What he wanted had never mattered. It had never even been an option.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly, his voice quieter than usual.

The truth of it settled in his chest like a stone. He didn’t know what he wanted because he’d never allowed himself the luxury of wanting. Desires were dangerous, especially for someone like him—someone who lived in shadows, whose life had been carved by darkness and necessity.

Elain’s lips curved into a soft smile, her fingers resting lightly on the queen she’d just moved. “I don’t have an eternity,” she said. “But I want to fill the one I have with beauty and light.”

Her words pierced through him, sharp and sure. Beauty and light. Azriel had never dared to think of such things as his. His world was blood and secrets, the endless burden of protecting those who would never know his name. But as she looked at him, her eyes soft and steady, he wondered what it might feel like to reach for something more. To let himself want.

His grip tightened on the chess piece he held, the smooth wood pressing into his scarred fingers. For a moment, he wanted to sweep the chessboard aside and kneel before her. To bow his head and ask—no, beg—her to grace his life with her light.

To let her warmth seep into the cold corners of his existence. To share even the smallest piece of her radiance with someone who had lived too long in darkness.

The urge hit him like a crashing wave, raw and unbidden. A tug in his ribs, sharp and insistent, like something within him recognized her. Claimed her. It wasn’t the first time he had felt that pull—he remembered it from centuries ago, with Morrigan. But this… this was different.

Back then, with Mor, it had been a slow burn, a deep ache born of admiration and longing. A desire born of love and respect, though tinged with the comfort of knowing she would never be his. It had been safe, in its way. But with Elain, the feeling came swift and blinding, like sunlight piercing through a storm cloud. It stole the breath from his lungs, leaving him exposed and vulnerable in a way he hadn’t felt in centuries.

It was dangerous.

His shadows stirred faintly at the thought, brushing against her wrist where her hand rested near the board. She didn’t flinch. She never did.

Azriel swallowed hard, forcing the words back. He didn’t deserve to ask for her light—not when his life was the antithesis of everything she dreamed of. Not when his hands were stained with blood, his very existence a weapon forged in pain and death. He was to be in Hewn City this evening, his evening to be filled with the screams of those who had wronged the court.

But he wanted it. Gods, he wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything.

Instead, he moved his knight, his voice carefully steady as he said, “To protect those I love.”

Her gaze lingered on him, searching, as if she could see past the walls he so carefully kept in place. Then she smiled, soft and radiant, and the ache in his chest grew sharper.

“I like that,” she replied. Her voice was gentle, but there was a certainty to it, as though she truly believed in what he said. “The world needs those who protect others.”

Azriel’s lips twitched into a faint smile of his own. “The world needs beauty and light.”

Her fingers moved toward the board again, her touch precise and deliberate, but Azriel didn’t see the next move she made. He was too busy watching the way her hair gleamed in the firelight, the way her cheeks flushed faintly as she studied the game.

It wasn’t the game that mattered, not really. It was the way she sat across from him, unafraid of the shadows that had haunted him for centuries. The way she made the silence feel like a gift instead of a burden.

It was the way she looked at him, not as a weapon or a spymaster, but as a man.

And it terrified him.

As they continued to play, Azriel forced himself to focus on the board, on the familiar strategy and calculation that had always been his strength. But beneath it all, the yearning grew—quiet and insistent, like the first stirrings of dawn breaking through the night.

And for the first time in a long, long while, he let himself imagine a world where life, beauty and light might be his to keep.

Read The Rest on AO3

[casuallivi]

Livi, queen, writer, and mutual✨

Could you please sometime share a wee snippet(s) of the next chapter(s) of The Midnight Kiss when you can? I truly didn’t think I’d love an enemies to convenient friends to (hopefully) lovers as much as I love your Az x Elain dynamic🫶

I have a couple questions 👀 that you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to reveal your cards 🃏:

Is Az falling in love with Elain?

Will we get more info on Elain’s past and exes? Maybe get some jealous Az

Will Cass try and make a move and play some chess with Elriel?👀✍️

Anyway, hope you’re having a lovely day/night and you’re sleeping well🥺

hey Casio, lovely goddess ✨wee snippet for pretty the lady coming in hot:

"Marino.” “…” “Marino,” she tried again, being met with silence. “I know you are awake, I can hear that annoyed little sound that you do.” "Go to sleep, Elain." "It's important, Azriel." His deep sigh moves the comforter above his chest. In the dark, Azriel pinches the bridge of his nose. His bedtime routine has gone to shit by now, maybe, just maybe, he can get a good hour of deep sleep if he sends her to slumber land first. "What is it?" "May I kiss you?" His body goes rigid beside her, tension radiating to her beneath the covers. "Just a goodnight kiss. I won't ravish you or anything." She turned to her side, trying to discern his expression in the dark, adding a “yet,” under her breath. "I heard that."

you got me all sily now 😫💖🥰❤️😚 I'm so happy that people are enjoying The Midnight Kiss 🤩 the hc was not letting me sleep! I keept toying with the "Elain likes Cass, Cass will date Mor, Mor was with Az, Az will date Elain," creating that scenario from part 1 and 2, and the rest will come to me (i hope) 'cause improv is the soul of the bussiness 😅🤣🤡 There's a brazilian poem called Quadrilha by Drummond that gives you this chasing after love feeling. It goes like:

João loved Teresa who loved Raimundo who loved Maria who loved Joaquim who loved Lili who loved no one.

Quadrilha is a dance, (i think is your equivalent of square dancing), where you keep changing partners during the song, so TMK fits right in! 🤭🤭🤭

Okay, your questions!

Part 5 will let you know that ;)

Yes and yes! jealAzz is a must! 😜

Cass is a complicated fella. Elain had everything to be his goofy-half, the problem is he has that “I don’t get attached” fuckboyman mentality. You know what they say, you only give value when you lose it. Well, that’s happening to Cass...😏😌🤫

[animezinglife]

I don't think Elain thought any harder about Azriel in that bonus chapter than Azriel did Elain. I think it was more to do with the gentleman upstairs and she was trying to deter herself more than anything.

I think their bond is really, really strong and she's terrified of it (understandably, especially given she doesn't know Lucien yet). There's probably going to be a point when I feel sorry for everyone around them.

I don't think it's coincidence at all that both Elain and Lucien were engaged before, had what they believed would be their happily-ever-afters with the people they considered the loves of their lives, and both had that ripped away from them. Elain isn't as...free with her love as her sisters. Not by a long shot. Lucien's not either (especially by Fae standards and the fact the man can't breathe for five minutes without somebody commenting on how attractive he is). At least at this point in the series, they seem to care a lot more and I hope that never changes. It'd be beautiful for them to find that understanding towards each other's pain and learn how to love again together.

It's not so much of a headcanon, but I'd love to see them travel across all different courts and go to the tulip fields. I have a weird feeling Papa Archeron and knew that if Elain and Lucien did get together, he'd never have to worry about her wellbeing. I think she's far more capable of taking care of herself than she lets on. I also think it wouldn't hurt to have Lucien at her side.

They'll push each other to grow, but into ways that already align with who they are.

They have the potential to be the diplomatic couple who's simultaneously playing 4D chess, is staying about fifteen steps ahead of everyone, and doesn't need to put on some bs act to do it. Their more peaceful natures doesn't mean they don't have teeth.

I want them to be the couple who has as much wholesome fun together as they do less wholesome. I want Elain to be able to enjoy as many waltzes and gavottes as she likes, stroll the gardens with him, go horseback riding, and just be together. I can't think of anyone better than Lucien to show her the ropes on the different courts through fun, firsthand experience. He'll know the dances, the best cuisines, and he's a fast learner. He has connections everywhere.

I fully believe they're also going to be the couple that bridges the Fae and the human worlds together. There is entirely too much that's been set up for that not to happen (and I also think it's going to result in them being High King and Queen, not to mention their blood connections and alliances they already have).

I miss Elucien 😭

Drop your favorite Elucien moments and/or headcanons!!!

[separatist-apologist]

We Never Go Out Of Style

Could end in burning flames or paradise

Summary: When Gwyn breaks up with her boyfriend on the eve of Nesta's destination wedding, Nesta Archeron has only one objective: set Gwyn up with her high school crush.

Note: Based on this tweet from @heathermcwrites: "One of my bridesmaids just broke up with her bf who was supposed to come to my wedding & I was sad for her for about 3 seconds until I remembered that her crush will also be at the wedding (single) and I'm now more committed to this 2nd chance romance than to my own marriage."

"I should also note that this is a destination wedding so there are EVEN MORE opportunities for uh…shenanigans"

PROLOGUE- ten years earlier:

Gwyneth Bedara stepped beneath the overhead lights of the stadium, one hand raised over her eyes. The roar of the crowd was only dimmed by the unintelligible boom of the marching band sitting in the middle of the bleachers. Cheerleaders waved pom poms from the sidelines of the football field, drawing Gwyns attention to the boys in blue and gold uniforms, tensed as they waited for that whistle. 

Beside her, Nesta Archeron’s silvery blue eyes scanned the football players for the person she’d come to see—Cassian Windhaven. Star quarterback with a full ride to some D1 school that Nesta almost certainly wasn’t attending. Not that Gwyn would ever mention that, of course. She understood what it was like to have a crush. 

Her eyes slid over the crowd, looking for him. This game was important—it was homecoming and against a rival school. Senior year saw even the most apathetic of seniors show up for school spirit and events, and in the case of Azriel Valdez, he was hardly an exception. She found him lounging with Rhysand Darcel. They didn’t know her outside of Nesta, who had been dodging Cassian’s advances since the fifth grade.

This year was different, though Gwyn didn’t know how exactly. In the past, Nesta would have rather eaten dirt than come and watch Cassian play and she certainly wouldn’t have picked a seat close enough that both Rhys and Azriel could see. And they did, eyes drifting towards her with a smirk on their faces. 

“Scoot!” a masculine voice interrupted Gwyn’s thoughts. Lucien Vanserra had come to join, pushing between Gwyn and Emerie.

“Did you bring alcohol?” Emerie whispered, looking at the thermos in his hand. Lucien, their schools best soccer player, snorted a laugh.

“I wish. I can’t risk my spot up at Yale. This is water, you lush.”

Nesta wrinkled her nose, eyes sliding back to the field. For a moment, the four of them were quiet, trying to decide if they were going to pretend football was interesting and Nesta was there for the game and not the man currently streaking across the field, ball tucked beneath his arm.

“So,” Lucien said with a shit eating grin. “Cassian, huh?”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed. Leave it to a Vanserra to just come right out and say it. “How’s Elain?”

He scowled. Nesta wasn’t the only one with a crush. Gwyn couldn’t help but look back at Azriel, sitting to the left and six rows beneath her. He didn’t notice her at all, too busy staring at something on the field. She noticed him, though. She’d been noticing him since middle school when he’d transferred in and immediately made friends with Rhys and Cassian. Azriel was tall, all dark hair pushed off his face and warm brown skin. He’d been lanky back then but not anymore. He looked like a man at just eighteen, muscular and broad, his chiseled jaw always graced with a five o’clock shadow. Dressed in a black t-shirt and well fitted jeans, Gwyn couldn’t help but stare at his bulging bicep, already tattooed even though she’d heard he’d gotten in trouble with the school for it. 

He’d never noticed her and Gwyn didn’t blame him. Azriel was hot, he was popular, he was all the things Gwyn was not. While he played soccer with Lucien, Gwyn played chess and was in all the school musicals. The only reason he acknowledged her at all was Nesta, who was so stunning it was impossible not to, even if his best friend wasn’t stupidly infatuated with her. 

Still, in Gwyn’s fantasies—the ones she’d only ever dared to tell Nesta and Emerie—he saw her and he liked what he saw. Beneath the lanky frame and the freckles, he could see her instead of the outward dork everyone else saw. 

She realized too late he was looking at Elain Archeron. Fuck me, Gwyn thought miserably. Him and everyone else. He could get in line right behind Lucien, who was in a line behind her actual boyfriend, Graysen Nolan. And behind Azriel was the rest of the school, save for Cassian and maybe Rhys, who was too busy fucking anything and everything that moved to notice one solitary girl. 

Gwyn sighed, looking away before it soured her mood. At least he couldn’t have Elain. That made her feel a little better, but just barely. Gwyn threw herself into the conversation, forcing herself not to think of Azriel at all. He didn’t matter—he was just a stupid boy, always thinking with his stupid penis.  

The game ended in a win and as the crowd pushed outward, Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie moved down, holding hands until they were standing at the railing. Cassian was jogging forwards, helmet tucked beneath his arm. He was grinning at Nesta, who was watching him with an unreadable expression. Long, dark hair was plastered on his ruggedly handsome face and without word or warning, Cassian surged upwards, practically throwing himself over the railing so he could grab Nesta and press a kiss to her mouth. Both Gwyn and Emerie slapped a hand over their own to keep from giggling. Behind Cassian, Rhys and Azriel were frozen, eyes wide with surprise. 

“When did this happen?” Azriel asked, his deep voice making Gwyn shudder.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Emerie replied easily, unmoved by his good looks. Nesta pushed, her face flushed but Cassian was undeterred.

“You came. I knew there was something lucky about this game,” he breathed. Sweat rolled off his forehead, dripping against his uniform. Nesta had her fingertips pressed to her lips and Gwyn knew, in that moment, Cassian had her. Her and Emerie reached for Nesta, curling their hands around Nesta’s arm and pulling her back.

It was at that exact moment that Azriel’s eyes slid to Gwyn, pinning her in place for only a moment. His mouth quirked into a smile, lips forming the words, “Hey,” to which Gwyn immediately responded, “Hey,” back.

Only for Elain Archeron to bounce into view. He wasn’t looking at Gwyn at all. Just Elain, in her tiny blue and gold skirt and her tanned legs. Golden brown hair, pulled off her face with a gold scrunchy swayed almost hypnotically, drawing Azriel’s gaze. Gwyn wanted to melt into the floor.

Elain, utterly unaware of how he watched her, smacked Cassian in the chest. “What is wrong with you?”

“She wanted it,” was Cassian’s absurd response. 

“Gross,” Elain replied, eyes sweeping over the three of them. “All of you are gross.”

Azriel’s smile immediately faded and Gwyn decided, in that moment, she liked the cheerleader, if only for making Azriel feel as badly as she currently felt. 

“It’s fine,” Nesta breathed, ending things before Rhys could jump in with his loud, unnecessary opinion. “Really. I uh…I’ll talk to you later, Cass.”

Rhys and Azriel’s faces lit up and the use of the nickname.

“Cass?” Rhys all but choked. “Should we be writing a wedding speech?”

“Shut up,” Cassian retorted, elbowing his friend hard in the ribs. “I’ll catch you around, Nes.”

“Oh my God,” Emerie whispered. 

They pulled Nesta back, Elain bouncing on their heels. Everyone wanted to know what was going on, though they were smart enough to say nothing as they thundered over the metal bleachers and down the steps to the pavement. Behind them, Rhys and Azriel were giving Cassian a very hard, very loud time. Nesta’s cheeks burned, either from humiliation or embarrassment. 

The very first thing Nesta said, once they reached the parking lot, was, “Don’t tell dad.” Elain scoffed but Emerie cut her off.

“What’s going on with you and Cassian?”

Nesta mumbled something hiding her face in her long, golden brown hair. 

“What was that?” Gwyn demanded, a grin stealing over her face. She had absolutely heard everything Nesta said.

“I said, he took me on a date the other night,” Nesta managed, her whole face the color of Gwyn’s hair. 

“And you don’t tell us?!” Emerie demanded, tossing her long, chestnut colored braid off her shoulder. 

“It didn’t mean anything,” Nesta, the liar, said.

“It clearly meant something to Cassian,” Elain interrupted with a sly smile. “If he’s calling you good luck.”

Nesta wrenched open the door to her car, letting Emerie take shotgun while Gwyn awkwardly climbed in the back beside Elain. 

“It’s not a big deal–”

“Does Cassian know that?” Gwyn teased. Nesta glanced in the rearview mirror at her, eyes sharp.

“Does Az know?” Nesta retorted.

“Oh hey, come on,” Emerie interjected as Elain sat forward, looking at Gwyn.

“You like Az?” she asked curiously. Gwyn was staring daggers at Nesta. The last thing she needed was Nesta’s busybody sister telling everyone that she liked Azriel.

Emerie smacked Nesta in the arm. “Way to be a bitch.”

“Elain isn’t going to say anything,” Nesta protested while Elain nodded, hand over her heart.

“I swear. I’m just surprised…he doesn’t seem like your type.”

“What does that mean?” Gwyn replied a touch too defensive.

“He’s—”

“An ass,” Nesta interrupted firmly. “And you’re not.”

“Huge ass,” Elain agreed solemnly. “Multiple girls at once—”

“One night stands only,” Nesta added.

“How do you know this?” Emerie demanded, arms crossed over her chest. Nesta pulled onto the road that would take them back to her house where they would sleep for the night.

“Cassian told me—”

“Oh Cassian?” Gwyn demanded, grateful for the conversation to fall off her. “What else did Cassain say?”

The three gleefully piled on Nesta, letting Gwyn’s humiliation with beautiful Azriel fall by the wayside. As long as he didn’t know, Gwyn didn’t care.

After all. The heart wanted what the heart wanted.

PRESENT DAY- 10 years later

Azriel felt a hand on his shoe, gripping before he was ripped from beneath the car he was working on. He grumbled, staring up into the face of his best friend. Cassian grinned, practically dripping with sweat.

“C’mon,” Cassian complained as Azriel sat up. “You’re gonna miss your fucking flight.”

Azriel wiped an equally sweaty forehead on his grease stained arm. 

“One more quick job,” he said, as if that had ever been true. He owned a string of repair shops around the city and on top of managing his business, he still liked to work on cars. Azriel had never stopped liking that, though he spent more time than he preferred sitting in an office pouring over paperwork. There was something cathartic about fixing a problem.

“Leave it for someone else,” Cassian ordered. He was allowed to be bossy—Cassian was getting married. After ten long years of trying to lock Nesta Archeron down, Cassian had finally managed it. He’d had her their senior year of high school and a semester of college before she broke up with him, citing the long distance. Cassian had never quit, though. While Rhys and Azriel had chased anything that moved on two legs, Cassian had been fixated on his studies and his athletics, determined that when Nesta finished law school, he’d be the kind of man she wanted.

And fuck if it hadn’t paid off. Four years apart had made adults of them both. They dated four years, were engaged for two and now Nesta was getting her two week destination wedding on some beachy little island off Italy courtesy of her younger sister's husband. The whole thing was paid for by Vanserra money so long as they kept it relatively small. It was practically a high school reunion. One Azriel wanted to attend, anyway. He knew Nesta’s old high school friends would be there and obviously Cassian had never grown out of him and Rhys. 

More Vanserra’s, which Azriel could live without, and a few others he ought to have known but didn’t. 

Azriel was also the only person without a plus one, at least in the immediate wedding party. Nesta had all but begged him to bring someone. How did he explain there was no one? Some people were destined for marriage, like Cassian and others were destined for sloppy one nights that ended awkwardly. He fell into the latter camp. 

Azriel slid beneath the car before Cassian could stop him, tightening everything up before he emerged, still filthy on the oil splattered cement floor.

“This place will live two weeks without you,” Cassian informed him, like Cassian had the first inkling of what it took to run his shops. Still, Azriel had agreed and wanted to support Cassian and Nesta, who were practically like a brother and sister to him now. 

“I need to shower,” Azriel told him, offering no more acknowledgement than that. “And get my shit. What time does the flight leave?”

“Six hours, but you know Nes is already freaking out. Shit is already messed up–”

“What happened?” Azriel asked, climbing into the passenger seat of Cassian’s SUV. He coached football for the local community college and was always hauling his gear around. Cassian could have gone pro and Azriel wondered if Nesta knew he’d given that up for her. 

“Gwyn’s boyfriend broke up with her–”

“Who is Gwyn?” Azriel interrupted, trying to keep all Nesta’s friends straight in his head. Cassian glanced over, pulling out onto the street.

“You remember Gwyn. From highschool? She’s got the reddish brown hair, the blue eyes—”

“Oh fuck, the girl in all those musicals. I remember her,” he agreed, though he remembered her just barely. Cute as fuck and so quiet Azriel had never been able to figure out what to say to her. She was overshadowed by Nesta, always half a step behind just watching. Azriel could appreciate that, given how loud Rhys and Cassian had been. 

“Why’d he dump her?”

Cassian shrugged. “She dodged a fucking bullet if you ask me. That dude was pretentious as fuck, thought he was so goddamn smart. Imagine lecturing Lucien goddamn Vanserra on American soccer. Because he did last Christmas. He thought he knew everything.”

Azriel could imagine it, though he wouldn’t have. There had always been a weird rivalry between him and Vanserra in high school over Elain Archeron, as if she’d ever looked at either of them twice. Still, they’d tried, and Vanserra had won in college. Azriel didn’t begrudge him his wife or his nice life but that didn’t mean he liked him, either.

The feeling was mutual. 

“Nesta’s freaking out,” Cassian continued. “She had it all planned on even numbers with her and the girls.”

“Huh,” was all Azriel could think to say. It seemed like Nesta had been freaking out about everything since Cassian asked her to marry him. Azriel wasn’t sure what the big fuss was. How difficult was planning a wedding, in the scheme of things? It seemed like Nesta made it more complicated when, at its more barest essentials, was supposed to be about her and Cassian confirming they wanted to spend the rest of their lives together. 

While Cassian unloaded his frustrations about the wedding, Azriel very quickly showered and grabbed his suitcase and passport. Time was ticking and the closer they got to their flights departure, the antsier Cassian became. Four hours. That was the window Nesta wanted them all to be at the airport. To do what, who knew? Azriel wanted to die by the time they got there, rolled out of the uber, and into the modern airport. Cassian had a bag he needed to check but Azriel only had his rolling suitcase and a backpack—more than enough for two weeks. He figured he could iron out his suit when he arrived. He sure as fuck wasn’t risking an airline losing his bag just so it showed up a little nicer. 

By the time they got through security, it was clear he and Cassian were the last ones to arrive. Nesta was pacing, arms crossed over her dark sweatshirt. She relaxed her body, though her eyes stayed tight and to avoid a fight, Azriel held up both hands.

“Blame me,” he told her as she hugged Cassian. “I had to take a shower.”

She exhaled. “No, it’s fine. We’re early.”

Cassian looked over Nesta’s head at Azriel, eyes wide as if to say obviously. 

“Is everyone here?” Cassian asked. Azriel drifted, dropping into an ugly gray chair close to the window. He set his bag just beneath his feet and fished out his phone from his pocket, checking his messages for the first time that day. The girl from last weekend was still texting, so obviously hopeful something was going to come out of it. Azriel didn’t know how much more clear he could be without just hurting her feelings. He’d said he didn’t want a relationship and he’d meant it. She, like too many others, was convinced she could change his mind, if the half naked picture staring him in the face was any indication. 

Azriel’s eyes drifted towards the terminal he was sitting in. Cassian was holding Nesta, her chin on his chest while she rapid fire spoke to him. Not far was Elain Vanserra, head on Lucien Vanserra’s shoulder staring down at her phone while he dozed. How long had they been here, Azriel wondered. 

He recognized Emerie from instagram—he’d been following her since she opened a clothing boutique not far from one of his auto bodies. She had her fingers laced with Rhys’s cousin Mor, knuckles to her lips while she spoke quietly. Feyre Archeron was on the other side of Mor making polite conversation with Rhys, who looked so utterly bored Azriel wondered what Feyre could possibly be saying. 

A few seats away from him, sitting diagonally, was Gwyn. He recognized her, though might not have known her name if Cassian hadn’t told him in the car. Coppery brown hair was pulled off her face in twin plaits. Tight leggings encased slim legs and an equally athletic top gave Azriel the general shape of her. Had she been this hot in high school? He genuinely could not remember. 

Head buds in her ears, Gwyn didn’t notice he was staring but Azriel did. Her teal eyes were glazed over, framed by dark lashes. Her full lips were shiny, her nose covered in the softest dusting of freckles. This was the newly single friend of Nestas? 

She blew out a breath, eyes snagging on his. He raised a hand to say hey, as if they’d ever been that sort of friend, embarrassed she’d caught him. Gwyn pulled her headphones out, surprising lighting over her features.

“Oh hey,” she said, her voice soft and pretty. Could voices even be pretty? Hers was. Azriel stretched out his legs, feeling strangely tight. 

“Hey,” he replied, suddenly unsure what he should even say. “You’re coming too?”

“Gangs all here,” she agreed cheerfully, tucking her own legs beneath her body. Gwyn tapped her fingers against her thighs and Azriel noted they weren’t painted. He didn’t know why, but he liked that. Every girl he spent time with made such a fuss over their nails, but Azriel worked in oil. Was covered in it. Maybe he liked the thought of someone who didn’t seem to mind if she wasn’t done up all the time. Someone he could put his grease stained hands on.

What the fuck was wrong with him? He didn’t know this woman.

“Wish we didn’t have to get here so early, though,” Gwyn added conspiratorially. “I’m more of a running through the airport kind of girl myself.”

Azriel snorted. “Nesta is particular.”

“You don’t have to tell me that,” she smiled and Azriel felt stupid in the light of it. “She deserves it, though, so I’ll be on time.”

Azriel nodded. “Cassian doesn’t. He’s still a bastard.”

She smiled again. “Best man?”

“Yup.”

Gwyn grinned. “Maid of honor. I guess we’ll be spending more time together.”

Hell yes.

“Lucky me, Gwyn,” he replied smoothly, privately delighted when she grinned ear to ear. 

“And here I was thinking you didn’t remember my name.”

“I saw Guys and Dolls,” he told her. That was true—Cassian had dragged both him and Rhys because Nesta had some small part and he had just started dating her. “You were Lola.”

Gwyn beamed, an absurd thing given that had been ten years ago.

“What do you do now?”

“Teach,” she replied easily. “College history. What about you?”

“Mechanic,” he replied, wondering if that made him look dumb. “I’ve got a bunch of shops.”

“Oh yeah! Emerie mentioned that, I totally forgot. How cool,” she said without an ounce of smug superiority. Azriel relaxed. Sometimes women liked to act like he was beneath them or they were doing him a favor just because he’d skipped out on college.

“Do you have a good seat?” she asked him. Azriel shook his head.

“I procrastinated. I’m in a middle seat.”

“Sit with me,” she offered. “It’ll make me feel like less of a loser and, as a bonus, you can have an aisle seat.”

Azriel pressed his lips together, eyebrows raised. “Awfully generous of you.”

“You can pay me back later by getting shit face drunk with me when we’re up in the air. We’ll need it given we’re across from Nesta and Cassian. They’re trying to join the mile high club.”

“Jesus Christ,” Azriel swore with a chuckle. “He doesn’t fit in one of those bathrooms.”

Gwyn nodded. “You’d be doing me a huge favor. No one will ask me about Jonathon.”

Jonathan. “Am I allowed to ask?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Maybe a little vodka will change your mind.”

She laughed. “I’ll take that wager.”

Competitive. He liked that. Azriel’s eyes swept over the terminal, catching on Nesta’s for just a moment. She was watching him, some unreadable expression on her face. Did she think he was up to something? Gwyn was nice and he was bored. He could make a friend, surely.

He shot Nesta a look back, one he hoped communicated he wasn’t up to anything nefarious, before turning back to Gwyn.

“If you get shitfaced, don’t ask me to carry your bags for you.”

“It’s gonna be you that’s shitfaced,” she shot back. “This is a nine hour flight. I’ve got nothing but time to drink you stupid.”

“Too late, Gwyn. I’m already stupid.”

She laughed, head thrown back, face filled with amusement. Fuck, but Azriel would have given anything to hear her laugh like that again. It was just a little pre-vacation magic, that was all. 

And Azriel desperately needed a little fun. 

GWYN:

True to her word, Nesta and Cassian were making out before everyone was even on board. Azriel was beside her, shoving his bag overhead since Nesta and Cassian’s things had to join their overhead bin. It was two spacious seats—big enough she could have curled her legs against Jonathon’s if she wanted to. 

She didn’t dare look at Azriel’s, stretched impossibly long into the seat in front of them. He was in basketball shorts and a plain white t-shirt. It ought to have looked sloppy at best but with a face like his, he made it look like runway. He ran a broad hand through his thick, dark hair before turning to look at her with exasperation.

“Told you,” she said, pleased to be right. 

“Trade me,” he replied, as if Gwyn would ever give up a window seat. If the plane was going to crash, Gwyn needed to be able to watch the entire time. She could be a control freak that way.

Shaking her head, Gwyn pushed closer to her open window, looking down at the people in neon yellow vests loading up the luggage. She caught sight of her buttery yellow bag moments before it vanished. Good. This was a non-stop flight and she didn’t want to lose her bag. 

She relaxed into her seat. 

“Nope.”

“Tell me about Jonathon.”

She almost choked. As if she was going to tell Azriel, a literal Greek God come to life, anything about Jonathon. Everyone was dying to know and Gwyn had told a little white lie to keep her friends off her back. He dumped me meant everyone offered sympathy and generally didn’t bring him up.

I dumped him because he wanted to get married sounded a lot worse. It made her sound like a bitch even to her own ears. It was just…Jonathon was so pretentious, thought he was better than everyone because he had a PhD in literature, of all fucking things. He couldn’t write to save his life, despite talking about being a writer all the time. And Gwyn was tired of listening to self-aggrandizing lectures, his endless philosophizing, his moralizing. 

Case and point—Jonathon would never have agreed to get drunk on a plane with her. And if he’d caught Cassian and Nesta making out? He would have complained endlessly about how common people were. He couldn’t just have fun.

Scratch that. He wouldn’t have fun. And as the wedding drew closer, Gwyn panicked. She wanted a laid back vacation and when the words marriage came out of Jonathon’s lips, she’d asked to break up. She’d have to face the music and tell Nesta and Emerie eventually. Just not now.

Not when Emerie was showing off her new relationship with Mor and Nesta was focused on her impending nuptials. Gwyn could spend two weeks with her bare ass in the sand getting drunk in the sun and no one could stop her.

“Don’t ask me about Jonathon,” Gwyn replied easily. Azriel smiled—smirked, really—and she wished he wouldn’t. She’d forgotten all about her high school crush on him until she’d seen him in the airport. Azriel was aging like fine wine. He was absurdly attractive, more masculine than he’d ever been at eighteen. He was all broad muscle and smooth, brown skin set against the most incredible bone structure. And when his hazel eyes fell on her, Gwyn wanted to melt into her chair. 

“C’mon,” he cajoled. “If you can’t tell a total stranger something this personal, who can you tell?”

She started to respond, but the captain’s announcements and the stewardess silenced them both. Even Cassian and Nesta pulled apart long enough to watch the safety procedures. Azriel didn’t say another word to her until they were up in the air and that same stewardess was offering drinks. “Vodka sprite,” Azriel said easily, nodding towards Gwyn. “And jack and coke.”

“Are you ordering for me?” she demanded, wondering what it said about her that he’d guessed right.

“We can swap if you want,” was his easy reply. Gwyn had to look beyond him at Cassian and Nesta, back to kissing again. She didn’t know which was worse. 

Gwyn took her soda and her little mini bottles, shooting one back just as quickly as she could get the plastic red cap off. Azriel watched, mouth agape.

“Am I that bad of company?” he asked her, his tone laced with amusement. 

“Jonathon was an asshole,” she said, dumping the other little bottle into her plastic cup. “He wanted to get married.”

“Oh God. Not married,” Azriel teased. “I can see why that would be horrifying.”

“He was arrogant,” she tried to explain, unsure why it mattered if Azriel knew at all. “He thought he was better than everyone else and he never would have dated me if he thought I was smarter and that bothered me.”

“You need to be smarter than your boyfriend?” Azriel questioned, pushing open his soda with long fingers. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“No,” she said a shade too breathlessly. “But I don’t want someone dating me because they think I’m not as smart.”

“Ah, gotcha. So you dumped him?”

“It’s our secret, Az,” she informed him in her bossiest tone. “If Nesta finds out, she’ll try and set me up with one of her friends when we get back and they’re all lawyers.”

“Another unforgivable crime,” Azriel said with mock graveness. She watched, teeth biting her bottom lip, as he took a drink. She could have been eighteen again, if eighteen year old her had been able to string together six words to say to him. 

“I just want two weeks of uninterrupted fun,” Gwyn said, taking her own drink if only to calm her nerves. The rushing air of the plane was soothing, settling some of her nerves while the alcohol made her warm. 

“No strings attached fun? My specialty,” Azriel replied with an easy smile. God, she bet it was. “I’m single too, you know.”

“So is Feyre,” Gwyn was stupid to reply. Azriel scoffed.

“She’s been fucking Rhys for years.”

Gwyn gaped. “Does Nesta know?”

He shrugged. “I don’t partake in the gossip, I only know what Rhys tells me–”

“That’s the literal definition of gossiping,” she informed him. He shook his head, rolling his eyes.

“It’s engaging in a fact based discussion. I know more about naked Archerons than I ever wanted to.”

She didn’t bother asking if he’d ever gotten with Elain. She was very married, curled against Lucien’s shoulder just two rows back. It didn’t matter. 

“Well, if it helps, Nesta once sent us all a picture of Cassian’s penis so we could see it.”

“God, okay, that’s worse,” Azriel agreed with a strangled laugh. “Never do that to me.”

“How would I—”

He turned in his seat, holding his nearly empty cup. “You want no strings fun, right? And to keep your friends off your back? Hello, my name is Azriel. I’m your man these next two weeks.” God, she was going to puke. There was no way he was being serious. 

“That’s not what I meant,” she said before throwing back the rest of her drink. 

He shrugged those broad shoulders. “It doesn’t have to be like that. I’m not immune to Nesta’s antics, you know. Her lawyer friends are…”

“Stuck up?” Gwyn guessed. 

Azriel laughed. “Something like that. It could be pretend but if we’re being honest, I’d like it if it wasn’t.”

Oh God, oh God. She licked her lips. She was hallucinating. The plane was spiraling towards the earth and she’d blacked out due to lack of oxygen. He was—

“We could beat Nesta and Cassian to that bathroom,” he added, watching her carefully. Gauging, she realized. 

Gwyn swallowed. She couldn’t believe she was entertaining this. If he’d been anyone else she would have laughed in his face. “There should be rules.”

“Hit me with them,” he said agreeably, his focus wholly on her. 

“Just two weeks. Nothing else,” she breathed, wondering if the sex would live up to her now active imagination. Surely something had to give. He was compensating somewhere, she bet. Small dick, a quick fuck. She’d do this and he’d disappoint her and she’d be able to relax.

“Works for me.”

“We tell no one that this means nothing,” she added. 

“Who would I tell? My friends aren’t exactly lining up to talk to me.”

“If we get caught I’ll blame this on you.”

“Harsh but I’ll take it. C’mon. Come to the bathroom with me.”

“You know all the right things to say,” she replied dryly. 

But she was going to do it, damn her. 

AZRIEL:

Maybe Nesta was right to be suspicious of him. She was still sucking face with Cassian three hours into the flight. The lights were off, shades closed and the stewardesses had retreated. He and Gwyn had been talking and watching a movie, waiting for the right moment. He’d never done this before and his heart was pounding. If they got caught he was sure they’d be banned and how the fuck would he get home, then? By boat? 

He was willing to risk it. Stretching his legs, Azriel slid into the aisle and walked past rows of sleeping people for the bathroom. It wasn’t as small as he’d thought it would be but was hardly big enough to do anything but hold her up against the sink and fuck her stupid. Maybe, he’d be able to get on his knees and eat her out, but that seemed like it was pushing it. 

He kept the door unlocked and when it pulled open, Gwyn slid right in like she was utterly alone.

“Did anyone see you?” he asked breathlessly.

“Nope,” she replied, so deliciously close he could smell the soft, sweet smell of whatever shampoo she wore wafting off her.

“Good,” he whispered, reaching for her face. He knew they had to be somewhat quick and yet he needed to kiss her, to grope just a little. Otherwise she wouldn’t be wet and it wouldn’t be fun for her. Two weeks of easy pussy was the best deal Azriel ever made. 

Gwyn kissed him back, hands at her sids at that first touch. 

Hurry up, motherfucker, his cock screamed at him. Grumbling to himself, Azriel used that moment to reach beneath her cute ass and haul her up against the sink. Her legs wrapped around his waist, squeezing just enough to make his eyes roll in his head. He was semi-hard just at the thought of fucking on the plane but now he was nearly fully erect.

His tongue swept into her mouth as she slid her hands beneath his shirt, feeling the muscle just beneath. Women liked that which was good, because Azriel liked pleasing women. He swallowed the urge to be noisy in favor of palming her breast through her shirt and bra. 

No time, hurry up.

Gwyn seemed to be thinking the same, yanking his shorts off his hips. She broke the kiss to look, those big teal eyes widening at the sight of his thick, large cock. He couldn’t suppress a grin even as he said, “Hips up, baby.”

She did, letting him shimmy her out of her leggings and striped pink underwear. She was nearly bare save for a neatly trimmed strip of copper hair he immediately wanted to put his face in. There was no way he’d fit, not even if he knelt sideways.

“I’m gonna eat that pussy when we land,” he told her, kissing against her jaw while using his thumb to rub against her clit. She’d taken the base of his cock, stroking it in her soft, small hand.

He just barely fit and the sight was doing it for him. 

“All men say that,” she replied, challenge sparking in her eyes. 

“Trust me,” he whispered, digging out the condom he had in his wallet to roll it over his cock. She was slick enough and he hardly had the time to see her drenched. Six hours and they’d be at the resort Vanserra set up. He’d find her room and put that pretty body on his face for hours. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, pushing himself into her. She gasped, nails digging through the fabric of his shirt. “You’re fucking tight.”

She took a breath, licking the side of his neck. Gwyn began nipping little bites before soothing over his skin, the sensation driving him wild. He wanted to fuck this woman with the proper space. There was no time for regret, not when he was seated in her. One palm braced on the sink, Azriel thrust into her tight, wet pussy while his other hand when back to rubbing at her clit. He’d feel her come or he’d get banned from flying ever again.

“That’s it,” he praised when her skin began to flush the prettiest shade of pink. “You fuck my cock so well, baby.”

She curled a hand at the nape of his neck, threading her fingers through his hair to tug. Her breath and the wet slap of their skin was the only sound Azriel could hear as he prayed no one walked by. There would be no denying what was happening in here.

She was panting. “So needy,” he praised, his release pooling in the base of his shaft. “Are you going to come all over my cock, baby? Make a mess of me.”

“Oh, God,” she whispered, arching against him. She tightened and Azriel sped up, thrusting into her roughly, chasing the building pleasure until he was nearly delirious with it. Azriel pressed his mouth against hers, privately impressed he was keeping his rhythm despite all the things he was trying to do with his body. 

Gwyn bit his bottom lip hard, causing him to clench his ass to keep from coming. He was so fucking close, needed to push her over that ledge, too. Gwyn panted, kissing him frantically. He felt her come apart—her clit shuddered against his thumb while her pussy convulsed against him with wave after wave after wave, milking his own release from his aching cock. He jerked into her, pushing further until there was nowhere to go. 

If that's what she felt with a condom on, how would she feel without one? He didn’t think he wanted to know. Still, he kissed her again and again, until his pulsating heart stopped throbbing in his balls and he could pull out of her without wanting to die.

“Good?” he asked her, cupping her face.

“Good,” she agreed. She was quick to pull up her pants and adjust her shirt, look herself over in the mirror before walking right out as if he wasn’t standing right there with a half hard dick wrapped in a filled condom. He admired her confidence. 

Closing the door quickly, Azriel found a little trash can. He wrapped the condom up in a layer of toilet paper, yanked up his own pants, and washed his hands before emerging a respectable amount of time later. Anyone watching them carefully might realize what had happened.

And lucky for them, no one was. When he returned, wobbling against the rocking plane, Gwyn was curled back up, eyes on a new movie starting on the screen in front of her. Azriel grabbed one of the earbuds and jammed it into his own, plopping into his seat with a groan. He’d be asleep in ten minutes if he was lucky.

“Don’t forget,” he murmured, leaning his head close to hers. 

Gwyn smiled.

“I won’t.” 

[theladyofbloodshed]

Chapter 14 13 (still can’t count lmao) - the Lucien & Nesta brotp

‘And if there is any sign of him here-’

‘- I am to winnow Nesta directly to you. I am capable of following an order – particularly one you have issued seven times.’

Nesta counted on her fingers. ‘I’d put that figure at eight actually.’

Lucien threw her a wink, but Azriel’s shadows darkened around him. It was enough for Lucien to shuffle away with apprehension.

Nesta gave her male a comforting embrace. He had a meeting at the Hewn City with both Mor’s father and Eris Vanserra in attendance so the tension was already running high. Cassian had been given a duty in Illyria so the pair did not come to blows in such close quarters. They did not doubt Eris’ ability to sniff out any instability either to exploit. Azriel would have been fine if Rhys hadn’t passed a comment that Cassian was in a volatile state. Nesta understood. His heart was worn on his sleeve and Eris always capitalised on that – Azriel, at least, usually managed his temper around Eris and Keir. Volatile had pealed as a warning bell to Azriel though and he had become frantic in his desperation to protect Nesta.

‘I’m being over cautious,’ he admitted.

‘Paranoid is the term I would use.’

‘Lucien,’ Nesta warned, keeping her arms locked around Azriel’s body.

The male had become a reluctant ally, promising to stay with Nesta in the event of an enraged bat paying a visit and demanding she mate with him. She had to wonder how much of it was due to the goodness of Lucien’s character versus working his way towards Elain and winning favour with her fearsome elder sister.

‘Go. You’ll be late.’

‘Anything, Lucien, you winnow Nesta to-’

‘To Illyria. I know.’

Nesta pressed her hands to Azriel’s hard chest. ‘Don’t tease him, Lucien. I’d hate to spend my day scrubbing your blood from the carpet.’

If Nesta thought it might be awkward to spend time in close quarters with the male, she was proved wrong. Lucien dripped with charm and warmth, engaging Nesta in conversation, making her laugh as the minutes ticked by – even going as far as volunteering to help in the kitchen. She had judged him too harshly initially, Nesta could admit. Lucien had proved time and time again that he was a good male. But how could she still not find repulsion to the mating bond that had snapped into place mere seconds after Elain had emerged from the Cauldron?

Lucien had pledged his allegiance to the Night Court when he had no other choice. It was not the case now; Lucien would be desired by many courts. He had a very calm demeanour, always fulfilled his role, and looked good doing it. Nesta had to wonder if he merely remained serving a court he did not fit into for the rare moments when he crossed paths with Elain.

It was cruel to think such a thing. If he wasn’t fae – if the bond hadn’t snapped – then Nesta knew Lucien was the type of male that would be good for Elain. He was polite, well-educated, caring. More than that, he was happy. He didn’t swallow up the space and dominate it, he was kind and thoughtful with laughter coming easily to him. Take away the golden eye and exile, then Lucien would be the type of male Elain would be encouraged to marry. And how different was an arranged marriage made by parents versus a mating bond decided by fate? Nesta would have accepted the former without hesitation, trusting her parents to make an advantageous match. It was complicated.

‘Cauldron, your face has flashed through a whole spectrum of emotions while you’ve stared at the fire.’

‘Oh. Thinking. Apologies.’

‘Do you want to play three men’s morris?’

Nesta bubbled up with delight as Lucien pulled the small, wooden square from his pocket. ‘How do you know it?’

‘Jurian,’ he explained with a wry smile.

And Lucien knew mortal customs thanks to his time there. The bridge that Elain needed – though she’d nestled herself well and truly into Feyre’s family now.

Their game soon progressed to full blown chess at the table and Lucien was far smarter than she’d given him credit for. Nesta couldn’t work out any of his tells. She could only beat Azriel because his shadows helped her to cheat. They had no loyalties truly.

As they played, Lucien spoke about his life in the Autumn Court at her request. On the topic of his education, Nesta listened with fascination. Their lives sounded similar; hours spent with a grizzled tutor who taught them mathematics, literature, music, geography, history – though of course the content was different – all ready to package them off as the perfect partner in a marriage that would bring wealth or properties.

It made her squirm to think of how similar Lucien was to them and the ringing voice in her head saying that he would be good for Elain did not relent. No, Nesta would never insist upon it simply because of a faerie bond. She’d hate for any to think the same of her own bond. They could be wrong. Hers was wrong. Elain deserved the choice. Lucien too.

It was set to be a long meeting in the Hewn City so Lucien was glad to have an excuse not to attend. Nesta did not want to know how or when Azriel had collared him to be her guard dog that day. Likely he was smart enough to realise that Lucien would need Nesta’s blessing if there was any hope of a future with Elain and he’d never do anything to cause an issue for her and Azriel. He’d not breathed a word of finding them together either.

A casual mood had slipped into the room so both lay on the couch with their legs beside the other reading. His flames moved silently in the fire place in ribbons of gold and orange as he read one of her books. Of course, he’d managed to pick the filthiest one on her shelf. Every now and then, Nesta saw over the top of her own book the way his eyebrows kept quirking upwards or the stifled snorts at whatever passage he read.

At the knock of the door, he snapped the book shut as if scandalised that somebody might catch him reading a romance about a handsome farmer who charmed the lady of the court.

They moved into position by the door. Lucien’s fingers brushed against her own as she pulled the door open a crack, ready to whisk her away without a second’s hesitation.

‘Oh. Elain. Uh. A moment, please.’

Nesta made a show of shutting the door then fumbling with the chain to give Lucien time to scurry into the bedroom to hide. Nesta didn’t need questions about why Lucien was in her house – especially as nobody had ever paid her a visit before.

‘Come in,’ she said gesturing to the small space.

Elain struggled to hide her discomfort at the lodgings, despite their own cottage being in a far worse state. Her home was clean, tidy, warm. It lacked the decadence of Feyre’s homes but it was the best Nesta could manage and she’d done it all on her own. Elain did sit eventually after scrutinising the room thoroughly.

‘Are you expecting company?’ Elain gestured to the small table where a freshly brewed pot of tea sat along with two cups.

‘Oh. A habit. I forgot Azriel wasn’t here.’ A terrible lie. Worse still was the fire place that was burning without any sort of fuel. Elain had never lit a fire in her life so hopefully would not pay attention to it.

‘I came to talk to you.’

‘I presumed as much,’ Nesta replied, struggling to keep the bite from her voice.

Of course, Elain would not come to visit, to be the sisters they had once been, but only to give voice to the inner circle’s musings. Elain was always the safest option for such things; nobody would ever shout at her, least of all Nesta who had protected her for so long.

‘Go on then,’ Nesta snapped. ‘Say what you have to say.’

Elain blinked at her tone then brushed the skirts of her pretty, pink dress. ‘Very well. Nesta, would you reconsider your decision? It’s causing issues with the running of the court like today, for instance. Mor said that-’

‘I care not for her opinion.’

She blushed slightly as another argument was prepared. ‘When Rhysand came here a few days ago… It’s put strain on him and Feyre too. She thought they were in agreement about this. It could drive a wedge between them.’

‘What Rhysand does is not influenced at all by me. He is his own person. You are trying to turn my relationship into a battle.’

‘No, that’s not it at all, Nesta. Please, you must understand. The change is difficult. Azriel so rarely comes to the house any more. It’s upsetting everybody because he’s chosen…’ She wrung her fingers in her hands then her eyes flicked to the tea pot. If she thought Nesta was about to pour the tea for her in the middle of this, she was more spoilt than Nesta realised. ‘Is it… Is it just to cause a fuss?’

It felt like a punch to the gut. Nesta had moved here to be away from them all. She had gone to the restaurant at Elain’s request. She would have quite happily remained in this place alone if Azriel hadn’t sought her out. Their love had been unexpected, yes – but to think that Nesta would go to these lengths purely out of spite? They had kept their relationship hidden for months to not cause a fuss. To not cause any pain.

‘That was extraordinarily cruel – from you especially, Elain.’ It hurt in ways Nesta could not even explain. Her anger couldn’t rise to the surface; it was held down by pain. She had to blink away tears.

‘Couldn’t you just try to become friends with Cassian? You’re not expected to accept the bond tomorrow, Nesta. It would be much easier for everybody if-’

‘I am in love with Azriel. He is my partner, Elain. He is the male that I want to father my children. No, I will not try to fall in love with somebody else because it makes your lives easier. How dare you say such a thing to me?’

Those big doe eyes blinked at her in confusion. It was an act that Nesta had seen her hone in front of their father to make him give into his beloved. She’d fallen for it enough too.

‘You are a hypocrite of the worst kind.’

Elain clutched a hand across her chest like it could shield her. ‘The bond isn’t the curse you believe it to be. Feyre is so happy with Rhysand. It’s just causing so much upset.’

‘When did I ever pressure you to abandon your ridiculous pining for Graysen to become friends with Lucien?’

‘That’s different,’ she said quickly.

‘From where I’m standing it’s a mirror,’ Nesta said, her voice was quiet and raw with pain. She’d had no doubts that Elain would support her in this. So utterly wrong. The sister that she had fought for and protected all this time had never grown a spine to do the same for her. ‘You get choice but I do not? My happiness is insignificant compared to the happiness of your new, little family. Azriel’s happiness is not put into consideration either.’

When Elain tried to speak and explain herself, Nesta cut her off. ‘When I pushed against this bond, I didn’t just fight for my right to choose, but you as well, Elain. Why should I have bothered? Should I be awaiting an invitation to your mating ceremony to Lucien? Are you just causing a fuss? Instead of ignoring him at every damn occasion like a petulant child, try and be his friend. We need Lucien so be an obedient girl and fuck him to secure the alliance for your beloved court.’

The bedroom door opened. Lucien’s face remained neutral but Elain had turned beet red. It had not been a set up but likely felt that way to her. And Nesta was glad for it. That awful part of her was glad to see Elain flustered around Lucien.  

‘Nesta, I think that’s enough.’

It didn’t feel like enough. She wanted Elain to feel ashamed. Lucien was too good to ever pressure Elain into accepting their mating bond, he wouldn’t bellow and demand it or haunt her until she gave in. He was kind enough to open the front door for her as she fled from the apartment.

The male flopped down into her vacated seat with a sigh.

‘Sorry you heard that. It’s nothing personal against you. More a war with the Cauldron itself.’

‘If anybody would go to war against the Cauldron, it would be you. I understand,’ he said, gently. ‘I had a love before. I was certain the bond would snap. I can’t imagine anybody filling the void that she left. It is difficult for me too.’

Nesta nodded in understanding. She hadn’t considered whether males ever pushed against the bond too – whether Lucien had been just as horrified by it when it snapped between them.  

‘If it helps, the Cauldron liked Elain enough to make her a seer. I’m sure it chose you with good intentions whereas I attacked it. I’m fairly certain Cassian is my punishment.’

Lucien let out an exasperated laugh. ‘The good news is, the tea is the perfect drinking temperature for us.’

***

The meeting was made longer by Eris who was never able to shut his mouth. He passed comment on everything. Had a remark about everything. Made a witty joke that only he ever found funny repeatedly. Azriel hated the male. There was not one part of Eris Vanserra that was good.

Mor had been agitated throughout, biting her nails or wrapping a lock of her hair around her finger – but she hadn’t leant on Azriel for support. She had no Cassian to rely on either. It might do her good, Azriel realised, to stand on her own two feet without bowing into fear in the presence of Eris and her father. He’d have been there if she needed somebody to lean on; he’d said as much. He was still her friend despite everything. But he knew his value now.

When it was done, Azriel was agitated still, desperate to get back to ensure that Nesta was well. He’d be a fool to trust Lucien entirely, but he couldn’t hide Nesta away in Rosehall whenever he became anxious, no matter how much he truly wanted to. It would not do her any good to press his fear upon her. And through it all, he knew Cassian better than any. He’d never willingly hurt Nesta. At least not until the bond was truly severed – then they would have to batten down the hatches and brace for the storm.

‘Come for dinner,’ Rhys pleaded.

Azriel caught the tightness to Feyre’s expression. Her hello had been brief and cold in Velaris before they’d winnowed. Likely his words last week hadn’t been well received. It was wrong of him to bring up Tamlin – and he had apologised – but she’d grown frostier towards him. Mor too strode down the corridor of the city she hated without checking he was beside her like usual.

‘It’s alright. I’ll go back home.’

‘Bring Nesta,’ he said. ‘Please.’

‘I’m not going to put her in a situation where she’s criticised simply for being in love.’ Azriel murmured. He loved Nesta too much to expose her to their pecking.

Rhys shook his head tersely, following the females to the balcony where they’d return to Velaris. ‘It won’t be like that. What you have deserves celebrating. The others will come around. Az, please. You can’t hide from us forever.’

And it was the truth. There would be times they’d all need to be in each other’s presence; Solstice for instance or Starfall which was only a couple of months away. He’d rather not have to prepare for battle each time he met with his family, but if that was what it took then Azriel would do it. Nesta was the most precious person in his life.

‘I’ll ask her. No promises.’

Rhys let out a chuckle. ‘We know who’s in charge at home.

‘Says you,’ Azriel said nodding towards Feyre who had a face like thunder.

Azriel winnowed directly home. He let the silence fall around him, breathing in a sigh of relief in the stairwell that he was away from the Hewn City. It was a putrid place full of males who didn’t care who they stepped on to reach the top.

Both Nesta and Lucien were slumped on the couch with a glass of wine in hand.

‘What’s happened? Did he come here?’

Nesta’s face brightened at the sight of him, but her smile didn’t meet her grey eyes. And it was unlike her to drink at all, especially not in the day.

She sunk into his embrace with a noise of contentment.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘My company is so poor that Nesta needed to drown her sorrows.’

The male rose. Azriel would be angry at him later for drinking when he’d needed his reactions to be fast. He could tell something wasn’t right with Nesta. She was clinging to him without feeling self-conscious. The touch was more important than her embarrassment to need somebody else.

Lucien said a brief goodbye then departed into the sunset.

‘Will you talk now?’ Azriel asked, kissing the female he loved.

Nesta did eventually. He sensed her hesitation to admit what Elain had said for fear of retribution. It stung to hear it from the sister that Nesta had always given everything for. Her own hurt was clear to see; what was worse was that Nesta still felt like she was betraying Elain by confessing what she’d said. Elain was naïve. Or at least he’d always thought she was. Pretty and docile, never stepping a foot wrong. This was not naivety. This was planned for when Nesta would be alone. It was calculated and callous.

‘I thought she’d be on our side,’ he admitted.

Nesta gave a frustrated sigh. ‘There are no sides. This is not a war. It’s not us against Cassian. He is your brother.’

When Nesta’s voice cracked, it broke a part of Azriel. This had put so much weight on her shoulders; weight she shouldn’t have to bear for choosing to love him. They had committed no crime yet Nesta was being painted as a wicked female sent to upheave the calm.

They needed to see them, just as Rhys had, to know their love was genuine. But they weren’t a spectacle to be gawped at. Nobody else had faced as much scrutiny.

‘Get dressed. Something light. We’re going for dinner.’

Nesta swallowed. ‘I don’t want to go there.’

Azriel smoothed the wayward strands of hair that had wriggled free from her coronet throughout the day. ‘We’re going to the Summer Court. We’ll go to the sea.’

Her face softened with hope. And it was enough. They’d keep going through this storm because they had something worth fighting for.

When Nesta emerged from the bedroom in a cornflower blue, silk dress, Azriel’s jaw dropped to the floor. She’d pulled the pins from her golden-brown hair so it fell in waves over one shoulder. It was tempting to skip dinner and have dessert here. A shadow darted from his body to twirl around Nesta.

‘My beautiful Nesta.’

They were heading out of the door, ready to winnow to catch the sunset when Rhys’s voice echoed in the chamber of his mind.

Am I to expect two extra dinner guests then?

Their absence would not be blamed on Nesta. Azriel was done entirely with anybody saying a bad word about her. She would not burn for a crime that was not hers. Not his Nesta who sang tavern songs to him over an ale and who had never once been embarrassed to be with a bastard-born Illyrian, who loved every difficult part of him. He'd be her shield. Her sword. He'd be the fires of hell if she wished it.

Ask Elain why we aren’t coming.

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