#do NOT ask cassian about his bird of the week he will never shut up

[greatprotector-if]

reasons why i made sacha have a pet duck:

(Literally just duck gifs under cut)

[lilac-witch]

If My Wish Came True, It Would've Been You - Azriel x OC

CHAPTER TWO: ONCE UPON A TIME, THE PLANETS AND THE FATES AND ALL THE STARS ALIGNED

word count: 816

synopsis: All it takes is a bit of courage, and a leap of faith, to come one step closer to salvation. Something the Inner Circle are in desperate need of.

warnings: none.

main masterlist | series masterlist

"How sure are we that this is going to work?"

Cassian's words cut through the air like a sharp breeze, breathing new life into the roam. The life being a weeks-old question.

Could they really make the jump to another world.

"There's no telling," Amren stated bluntly. "All we can hope for is that those books haven't been gathering dust in Rhys' library over the centuries for absolutely nothing."

Azriel watched the small female. The way he had watched her for the last fortnight, nose buried in book after book, desperately searching for the answers they so desperately sought. Amren had been nothing short of miraculous, gathering a plethora of possibilities to help them make the journey to Midgard.

"Do you have everything you need?" Rhys asked, his arms folded, shoulders stiff with unreleased tension.

"I believe so," Amren replied, glancing at the stash atop the oak dinner table, including but not limited to an assortment of dried vegetation, bird feathers, odd-coloured liquids and bones from a source Azriel hoped he'd never come to know. "All that's left is to decide which lucky males and females get to cross the boundaries of space and time."

No one moved, and rightfully so. They had no idea what to expect of the world Bryce Quinlan hailed from, other than the atrocities she'd shown them.

"I'll go."

Azriel watched as Cassian's eyes widened in horror at Nesta's statement. His brother shook his head, muttering to his mate under his breath, begging, pleading that she reconsider.

"Enough, Cassian," Nesta snapped, eyes blazing with those all too familiar silver flames. "I said I'm going, and that's final."

Azriel sympathised with his brother. If it were his mate, he would do anything to keep her someplace out of harm's way. But Nesta was not his mate. She was a warrior. A Valkyrie. She would let no male take her power away from her.

"I should go as well," Rhysand breathed, wincing slightly at the thought of having Nesta as a travel companion. "I suggested this plan. It's only fair I present it."

Feyre was easy to read when in the company of friends and family. Her face was an open book. Azriel knew the idea of being separated pained his High Lady, and his High Lord, especially so soon after Nyx's arrival into the family. But Feyre knew what needed to be done to ensure a safe world for their son to grow up in.

The youngest Archeron sister nodded. "I'll stay, ensure the court continues to run smoothly. Cassian should stay as well. We don't want the Illyrian camps to fall into disarray."

Cassian opened his mouth to object, but one scathing look from Rhys had him clamping his jaw shut with a huff. In any other situation, the action might have been funny. But there was nothing funny about potentially bridging the gap between life and death.

Mor was the next to volunteer, saying something about wanting a first-hand glance at what a night out looks like on another planet, but Azriel's mind had wandered elsewhere. He couldn't help but feel like something was edging him to join this 'little' expedition. Like a rope had been tied to his wrist and was tugging him along a path.

Azriel's shadows skittered as he announced his decision. He'd go to Midgard.

"Well if my favourite Night Court duo are going, it must be a sign that I join!"

Azriel cursed under his breath, turning to see Helion waltzing through the entryway. He'd chastise his shadows later for their lack of vigilance.

"What if it's a sign to stay away?" Mor drawled, challenge gleaming in her eyes.

Helion gasped dramatically, a hand finding its way to the centre of his bronzed chest. "Why, Morrigan. You wound me."

Rhys cleared his throat, putting an end to the dramatic skit. "It's settled then. Nesta, Mor, Azriel, Helion, and I will find Bryce Quinlan and the solution to all of our problems."

Rhys turned his gaze to Amren. "Whenever you're prepared."

Azriel took his place beside Rhys, observing the vicious black-haired female drop the various ingredients into a mortar and pestle, grinding the contents into a coarse powder before adding some form of liquid to create an obnoxious yellow paste.

"You'll only need a thumbnail's worth," she said, passing the bowl to each member of their group. "Place it on your tongue, and swallow when you're ready."

The five of them said their goodbyes, heard the silent prayers for safe travels and formed a small circle. One glance around the room could be their undoing, could be the reason their mission failed. One selfish reason to stay and live out their days in as much happiness as possible.

"Well," Mor said, glancing owlishly at the disgusting paste. "We always did say to whatever end."

"To whatever end," they agreed.

And then they took the leap.

Oh my gosh guys, I'm so sorry it's been so long. I've been trying to grapple with an increased workload, and writer's block on top of everything. Thank you for being patient, and I hope you can continue to be. This is a bit of a filler chapter for the next to come, but I hope you enjoy it in any case :)

Please let me know if you'd like to be added to the Tag List!

Tag List: @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria @talesofadragon

[theladyofbloodshed]

Hey if you’re taking prompts would you do Nesta finally telling Cassian about Tomas and him comforting her?

To kill two birds with one stone... Nessian snippet. TW for sexual assault.

...

‘You could try being nicer.’

One word. Three letters. Try. Hadn’t she tried enough?

Cassian shrugged. ‘I’m just saying they’re used to their females being meek and looking at the ground rather than staring directly in their eyes. You don’t have to be their friends, just be a bit nicer and don’t take everything they say as an insult.’

That familiar flare of her nostrils came as her knife sliced through a tomato for dinner. ‘I’m sorry aren’t these the same males you said you wished you could push off a cliff?’

‘That was last week. Now, we are in Illyria playing peacemakers so be nice.’

‘I was nice to somebody once who didn’t deserve it. Never again, Cassian.’

The grating tone of her voice had Cassian pausing from peeling cloves of garlic. He glanced sidelong at her, worry furrowing his dark brow.

‘Who?’

Nesta pushed the tomatoes to the edge of the chopping board then attacked the onion with more force than it warranted. ‘Are you asking me for a list of people that I’ve ever been nice to?’

‘No. I’m asking who has made you clench that knife so hard that your knuckles are white.’

Suddenly, Cassian wasn’t her mate anymore. They weren’t in an isolated cabin in Illyria with only the wild, rugged nature for company. She was a mortal receiving a faerie general in her bedroom, waiting expectantly for a letter from her estranged sister. Cassian had crossed the room that day and she had dared to brush her body against his, to press her hand against his chest. Then the memory of Tomas had threatened to drown her and Cassian – somehow – had recognised that brief moment of blind fear. He had held her wrist to his body, demanding to know who had caused that terror to flare behind her eyes. Cassian hadn’t even known her then. But he’d have found Tomas and made him pay.

‘I’m not hungry,’ she declared, releasing the knife and leaving Cassian to prepare a dinner alone.

It took Cassian all of three minutes to follow her up the stairs, move her away from the dresser, and sit her on the edge of the bed. It groaned under his heavy weight as he settled beside her.

‘We’ve had this conversation many times, Nes. You need to open the door, not shut me out.’

‘Why do you care?’

‘Because you know more about my five hundred years than I know about your twenty.’ His knuckles grazed her cheek. ‘Were you talking about Rhys?’

‘My life doesn’t resolve around Rhysand.’

She tried to stand, but Cassian slunk his arm around her waist, pinning her. ‘Tell me.’

‘It was my fault,’ she said, voice as brittle as she felt. ‘I was nice to him. And look where it got me.’

‘Who?’

She forced a breath out from between her pursed lips. It was a wound she’d avoided looking at, even when it ached and pulsed.

‘Why do you still hide from me? You’ve been my mate for a year. Why do you think I won’t support you?’

Nesta couldn’t look at the kindness in his eyes. She still struggled with these declarations because Cassian was always genuine. He would always give rather than take. Her fingers edged closer to his then tangled with them.

‘A boy from the village. There were no options for girls like us – poor girls with no dowry. I was beautiful and untouched but that was all I had to offer. Tomas was poor too. Not as bad as we were, but not rich by any means – not like Graysen. Feyre warned me off of him but then she left.’

Then it fell to Nesta to figure out a way to feed her and Elain’s starving bellies. If she had known that Tamlin would have sent a treasury of gems and jewels, Nesta never would have been nice to Tomas.

‘He hunted like Feyre in the woods. After she’d gone, he caught up with me once and offered to walk me home. I would have said no. I never let boys walk me home. But he had two pheasants hanging in his hand and we were starving. So I was nice to him. I smiled at everything he said, batted my eyelashes when he complimented me, and told him at the end I’d hope to see him again.’ Nesta let out a low laugh. ‘The next day, he brought me a dead pheasant. What a catch.’

Cassian shrugged his shoulders. ‘You did what you needed to so that you were both fed. It’s not the end of the world.’

‘Tomas continued to court me - small walks so I wouldn’t be sequestered in that awful cottage with my father. His mother was often bruised, but I hoped that Tomas was not like his father. If I married him and left then maybe father would do something to feed his precious Elain and I would have a husband to take care of me. But Tomas could speak cruelly about other villagers. He would laugh at the elderly when they struggled, would sneer at the poorest children. I don’t know if he thought it would impress me.’

The walks became insufferable. She began to dread the knock at the door. Any other man would have spoken to her father to gain his permission, would have been polite, would have ensured they had an escort. Any decent or proper man would have.

The more time that they spent in each other’s company, the more Nesta despised him. She had to listen to his insufferable arrogance in exchange for a lump of stringy meat. Had to listen to him talk about the other girls in the village as if he was comparing cattle. It became apparent that, rather than being his father’s opposite, he was moulding Tomas into something worse than him.

Then he had tried to kiss Nesta.

He’d grabbed her suddenly at the edge of the narrow path leading to their cottage.

It had happened so quickly that Nesta barely had enough time to swoop her head upwards. Tomas’ lips had clattered against her jaw. The flush on her face had not been from modesty but sheer mortification that Tomas would dare to grab her like a possession and stake a claim on her without proper courting or permission. Nesta had feigned shyness, but had seethed that night in bed beside Elain. She had barely slept through anger.

‘I was nice to him, Cassian, and do you know what he did?’  

Nesta remembered her mother’s teachings. Always smile and agree with what the men say. Never show anger because a man can always match it and then some. Be palatable. Be agreeable. Be nothing at all - except his.

In the square, where it was quiet but visible, Nesta spoke clearly to Tomas that day. She no longer wanted to spend time with him. There was no dowry to be offered therefore no marriage to occur. It was unfair of her to take his time when a future was impossible. It was the nicest way she could think of that wouldn’t invoke anger. What Nesta had wanted to say was that he was arrogant and rude, and any woman that was forced to spend another moment in his company had likely been cursed. Tomas had taken it well. He’d agreed, dipped his chin and agreed. In fact, when Nesta looked back, it had been too agreeable. Too unlike Tomas Mandray.

He'd emerged that afternoon from the woods like a beast. Nesta had jumped out of her skin. But she had seen the anger in his eyes.

‘Our cottage veered off from the others. It was isolated from anybody else. Tomas knew that.’

Cassian’s fists clenched.

‘Tomas called me a stupid slut who deserved everything I got for leading him on then he dragged me into the forest.’

When they’d been in the war and she’d first heard the healers ripping cloth for bandages, her heart had felt like it was caving in as she remembered the way Tomas’ hands had clawed at her dress, tearing the ribbons clean off and splitting the gown at its seams. It had exposed her chest and the worn chemise below.

‘I managed to get away from him. I wasn’t nice then.’

Only blind terror had helped her navigate that situation. Negotiation was not an option. No niceness would have got her through it. Nesta had scratched and kicked even as Tomas pressed her against tree roots. He bruised the inside of her thighs trying to pin her with his knees. When her forehead made contact with his nose, the sudden burst of his blood on her face gave them pause. It was enough for Nesta to raise her knee with enough force to have him double over, wheezing. She’d run home, blood on her ruined gown. Elain was out. Father paid her no attention even as she threw the gown on the fire. They only had five dresses between them but that one needed to burn.

Nesta massaged her face. ‘I will not be nice to males anymore to please them. I will not be nice because it makes their lives easier if I am. Because the last time I was nice to a boy, look what happened. If I hadn’t been nice then I never would have put myself in that silly situation. I should have known better.’

Like a petal in the sun, Cassian unfurled his fingers from the fists they’d been balled into. Gently, he took both of her hands. The warmth of his skin was always welcome. Always comforting.

‘Nes, none of that was your fault. It was all him. Don’t ever blame yourself for somebody else’s actions. It’s easy to wish you’d done things different with hindsight. You could have been horrid to him and he still might have done it. It wasn’t your niceness that made him do that. He did it because he’s an animal.’ Cassian leaned forwards and kissed her forehead. ‘Now tell me where I can find him because I’d like to peel every inch of skin from his bones.’

When Cassian wrapped an arm around her shoulders, she sunk into her mate’s embrace. These arms were home. She wouldn’t tell him where Tomas could be found because nobody deserved the sort of pain that Cassian’s eyes promised.

‘I’m sorry that I asked you to be nicer to the males. It’s not on you to change to suit them.’

Nesta nodded in agreement. She was nice, when she wanted to be, to those who deserved it. Not males who wanted to keep her submissive.

‘I’m sorry that you had to go through that as a mortal. You should never have had to experience these things, Nes. I promise, as your mate and a bastard-born lesser fae, to always protect you. And I’ll never ask you to be nice again.’  

‘Thank you.’

‘And to show you how nice I can be, read your book. I’ll cook.’

[bloodycassian]

anon asked:

ok hear me out, azriel x reader where reader can hear thoughts or something along those lines and she doesn’t know how to control it so she’s constantly hearing or feeling thoughts/emotions and it’s heats super overwhelming and az helps her through it <3

The headaches hadn't stopped for weeks. Rhys had even called over a medwitch from the continent to help, but there was nothing she could see that was wrong. They were all worried, but their worries just somehow made your head hurt even more. The whispers you could hear from them down the stairs of the townhouse were the worst part. 'Do they need a cleansing?' 'What happened to cause it?' 'Their body is doing this for a reason.' they went on and on and on, never answering each other. Each voice different through the muffling of the walls.  You were ready to scream. Pillow over your head wouldnt even block them out. You rocked in bed, hands over your ears. Nothing, no more silence ever. Just the ringing in your head of all the voices. Mor had tried asking her father if he knew anything about such subjects. Anything for help. Azriel swooped into the city streets, nodding at a few shopkeeps as he went. After being gone for the last few weeks, the welcome faces of his home were a sight for sore eyes. He held the bag of various salts and salves gently, just as he had his whole trip back. He landed with precision at the front gate of the town home. The familiar wrought iron fence squeaking slightly when he opened it. You felt his presence before he even opened the front door. The coolness of his essence seeping through the walls. The curling shadows that darkened everything ever so slightly. "Your condition seems to have...developed since I left." He set the tote down on the chair by the door, then closed it softly. The whispering became more intense, a pounding in your head that drowned out almost everything else.  "Oh-" He breathed as he walked in. A shocked look then he was grinning. "Leave us." He dismissed Rhys, who gave him a look before obeying. He took off his jacket, leaving him in a dark tunic that made his eyes look brighter. He cocked his head when staring at you, then took a breath. The shadows seemed to summon around him, making him look even more intimidating than normal. They slunk around his ankles like a fog. Then they covered the walls of the room, blocking off the light from the window entirely. The relief in your mind was overwhelming.  You choked out a sob, looking at him with wide eyes. The silence, the weight taken from your brain was like breathing for the first time. "H-how?" You panted, getting up from the bed. Sickness did not weigh you down any longer. The pounding ceased completely, alleviating your too warm temples. He came close to you, only too close because of the thin nightgown you wore. Really it was one of Cassian's old shirts that just fitted you like a dress. When you had taken his room due to your apparent illness you had found a few 'interesting' items of his that were left. "It seems your condition has...evolved since I saw you last." He reached a hand out to you, the siphons atop thrumming with a warm dark blue. You took it tentatively, your eyes slid shut -then there he was. His scent, his thoughts, his everything was in your mind. You scrambled away from it mentally, your heart slamming in your chest. He stroked a thumb over your hand. His mental voice was warm, yet rough and commanding. "Slow. Think, but slowly. I'm here, you're okay." The voice said.  His darkness seemed to follow him to your mind, coating it in a coolness that was much appreciated. "What do I do? What am I?" You took a breath, trying to center yourself. Your entire being was roaring at you to fight back against the intrusion, but he shushed you into not trying it. "You...are new. You're like me, in a way." He whispered softly, his essence drifting over you comfortingly. Like a soft blanket, cold but still comforting.  "How do I get it ito stop?" You sighed, wanting to bury your head in your hands again. He touched you then, slowly at first. Dragging a soft, textured hand up to your wrist, then pulling you in for a hug. His warmth was the opposite of everything else about him, those shadows did nothing against the core of him, his heat.  "You dont, you learn how to make it work with you." He said aloud, his presence rolling out of your mind like a thundercloud. He pulled out of the embrace, "You need to make the thoughts blend like street noise- like a crowd. Learn to select what you want to hear. "  "You make it sound so easy." You rolled your eyes at him, crossing your arms over your chest. Azriel may or may not have glanced at how it hitched up the oversized t shirt. Hunger opened up in the pit of his stomach at the filthy thoughts. He knew it was Cassian's shirt, recognized and scented it. It made him want to put his own scent on you in several different, creative ways. He cracked a grin and shrugged slightly, "It'll be like reading a new language. But you need to learn to speak it first." He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and lead you to the balcony, the shadows following you in a close bubble the whole way.  "All these people have their thoughts, their words and actions. My shadows tell me all about their outfits, their scents, their hair. Unnecessary unless they have a weapon." He gestured to a few fae males outside a townhome a few houses down. One threw their arms up in the air and stormed back inside." I can't keep them from giving me this information, but I do let it go. I dont even listen unless I detect a threat."  You let out a long breath, feeling the anxiety of him leaving already. "Please stay." His stomach dropped at the words. You grabbed for his hand. As if the open sky was demanding he take off that second. " I cant-" You kept your voice from trembling. "It's too much. Why me? Why now?" Tears threatened and you looked away. He couldnt bear to see you in such pain. He wanted - he needed to give you relief from it. He squared his shoulders and squeezed your hand back. "Are you afraid to fly?" he asked, flexing his wings. The shadows answered with their own wave. "I'm not the biggest fan-" Before you could give your list of excused you'd rather not fly, he was shooting into the air, the backs of your thighs rubbing over his deliciously warm skin. Your yelp of surprise was left behind you. You held on to his shoulders for dear life. "If you would open your eyes you might not be so scared." He laughed, his siphons glaring a bright shield around you that protected you from the wind. He flew fast, and far. His presence was the only one you felt, like a cool rain on your still reeling mind. He had sent Rhys an advisory thought before he took you, letting him know you needed some 'fun'. "If I open my eyes I'm going to vomit all over you." You said, squeezing your eyes tighter. You felt the laugh through his chest. His thumb circled the back of your knee, giving you goosebumps that had nothing to do with the slight chill running through the shield. The shirt was not nearly enough for an outing, and you doubted he was taking you anywhere with anyone who would mind. The thought sent a thrill through you. Alone. He wanted to be alone with you.  As if in approval, his essence drifted happily into your mind, caressing you as his thumb did. He flew lower slowly, enjoying your scent mixed with the cool smell of the lake below. The way the sun at this angle made your hair shine. He landed softly, setting you down only after you'd made him promise you were no longer flying.  "We're done...for now." He winked when you opened, marveling at his wind tosseld hair for a second before collecting yourself and brushing your shirt absently. He grinned wider, and the coolness you'd felt since he showed up in the town home receded. You felt...like you. Normal again, weightless in comparison after the weeks of buzzing in your head. And the view beyond his goofy grin was marvelous. A snowcapped mountain towered above, sloping to create the lake. Mixes of different rock lay everywhere. The scattered pines seemed like giants whispering in the breeze. "Listen to the birds, enjoy the silence for a while." He said, then began walking to the bank of the bright blue water. You stood in shock for a while, letting the sound of the wind and nothing else seep into you. You reveled in it, joying in the simplicity of it. Everything seemed so much louder than you remembered.  You sat on a boulder and watched him skip rocks, the short splats of them echoing off the mountainside. He skipped one after another, occasionally picking up smaller ones and pocketing them. You let your mind wander, trying to regain the feeling he had shrouded you with in the townhome. The solid wall he had put up around your mind for you. But he had said you needed to learn to let it blend in, to deal with it and not shut it out. It was an asset, not a hinderance. You shuddered at using the gift for much. You didnt care to know peoples ins and outs in normal conversation, let alone without them knowing. You attempted to summon that wall. It was like grasping at water, thick and heavy and impossible. The lingering remnants of control slipped away like sand through your fingers. You buried your face in your hands, letting the tears fall.  When he approached, you didn't bother hiding. He had been in your head, he knew what it was like. He said nothing, just wrapped an arm around you and let you cry into his shoulder. Holding you tighter on the bigger sobs that ripped out of you. 

[anyoneseenadam]

could you maybe write cuddles with mor? there’s a serious lack in writing for her and i just read your exam work you wrote <3 (i loved it)

pairing: Mor x reader (acotar)

warnings: literally just fluff

a/n: HAPPY PRIDE MONTH LOVLIES!!!! if any of you are queer in any shape or form you are valid and i love you, mor would too <33

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“You’ve had her all day,” you whined, tugging on Mor’s arm as she smiled at you lovingly.

“That’s because she was my friend before she was your girlfriend,” Cassian replied in the same whiny voice, trying to tug Mor in his direction, “And we have actual work to do.”

“Do I look like I care?” you pulled a face at him, glaring from under your brows.

“You should,” he replied, flicking your nose.

“I will not hesitate to stab you bitch,” you gave a firmer tug as Mor wriggled her way free of Cassian, moving to pull you along as you stuck your tongue out at Cassian. He pulled another face at you, sticking up his middle finger as you were pulled away, laughing at him as you go.

You squeezed her hand as you fell into step beside her, your pace slowing as you walked home.

The walk was quiet, Mor tired after a long day and you simply content to walk silently by her side. The only sounds you could hear was the birds chirping and the distant chatter of people spending their evening in bars and on balconies. You could smell a barbeque in the distance and the setting sun cast goosebumps down your bare arms.

Summer was always your favourite season, the heat allowing you to spend all day outside, lying about or going on walks. You had even dragged Mor swimming earlier in the week, much to her protests. Although she contrasted you quite nicely in that sense, her favourite season being winter.

She was in love with the smell of spices and fires burning as the months grew colder, having more time spent inside with her family and of course she could never say no to the love of her life all bundled up in an oversized jumper and holding a hot drink while curled in front of the fire.

However now as she walked beside you and watched you breathe in the air, your sun-kissed skin glowing in the evening light. You look over when you feel her gaze on you, her eyes dark when you catch them and you giggle, leading her up to the front door of your apartment.

“What is it?” you ask, and she smiles at you in the way that fills your stomach with butterflies and heart with an abundance of joy.

“You look so pretty in this lighting,” she said softly, the sun casting you in tones of gold. Your skin was sparkling the gold jewellery you dressed in made you appear ethereal. All this paired with a white sundress and thick, leather sandals made her surer that she was in face dating an old god, one who had awoken from their long slumber to greet her.

She silently thanked whatever forces had brought you into her life when you laughed quietly, looking down in embarrassment at her words, before looking up from under darked eyelashes and smudged eyeshadow and reached to kiss her gently.

“Well you look pretty in every lighting, so I think I won on that front,” you joked when you pulled away and she rolled her eyes, pulling you into her arms before unlocking and pushing open the door.

Once inside you moved through to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of gin and two large glasses as she walked through. She smiled when you shook the glasses and went to grab the lemonade you had made earlier that week, using lemons from the tree that grew on your balcony. You made your drinks with her hugging you from behind, her chin tucked into the crook of your neck as she watched you carefully pour out measurements.

“Did you eat tonight?” you asked, turning in her arms, and passing her drink over.

She nodded, sipping, and humming appreciatively, “Did you?”

You nodded as well, nudging her nose with your own before steeping away and leading her to the table you had set up on your balcony. She sat down in a seat as you leant on the railing with one hand, using the other to remove your shoes, scrunching your nose up as she laughed at your struggle.

“Don’t be mean,” you joked, standing and moving to walk to your chair when she grabbed your waist and pulled you down onto her lap. You laughed at the change as she wound her arms around your waist, pressing a kiss to your neck as you listened to the soft, jazzy music that was playing in the bar a few blocks over and watched the sun set over the horizon.

You mindlessly spoke about your days as you sipped at your drinks. You had turned in her lap at some point so now as you sat under the starry sky, your only source of light coming from the moon and the tall candles you had lit. You turned to look at her when you noticed she had been quiet for a while and found her watching you sleepily, her eyes flickering with the reflections of the flames dancing in them.

“Lets go to bed,” you whispered when you noticed the tired way she was moving. She didn’t reply, instead just taking the hand you offered her and shuffling through to your shared bedroom with you in tow. You both changed into your underwear, the air too hot for much more, and you moved to crack open the windows in your room.

When you turned back Mor had gone into the ensuite and you moved to follow her, the two of you getting ready for bed quietly as you went about your separate routines. When you finished she had already gone back through and you found her sitting up in bed with her arms outstretched to you, a sleepy but genuine smile resting on her beautiful face.

You crawled into bed next to her, lying with your head tucked between her breasts as she stroked a hand over your head. You were surrounded by her smell, the scent intoxicating and addicting and you let out a content sigh as she moved her hand from your hair to pull the cotton sheet over your bodies.

The cool fabric was a stark contrast to her warm body, yet you found yourself pushing closer into her, tangling your legs with hers and raising your arms so your hands could grab hers, interlinking your fingers. Mor kissed your head gently, her slowing breaths and heartbeat creating a melody that was lulling you to sleep slowly.

Your long day had left your body tired. Your arms were heavy and your eyes falling shut automatically, however now that you were actually laying down to get some much needed rest your brain wouldn’t quiet down. There was a random song playing in your head and while you were extremely comfortable in your lovers’ arms, you couldn’t get to sleep. It didn’t help that even with the open windows the room was suffocatingly hot, and Mor’s hot skin being pressed against you was only adding to that.

After about an hour of no sleep you rolled out of Mor’s embrace, standing and wandering to get yourself a glass of water, drinking it on your balcony as the cool air washed over your sweaty skin. You lifted your hair and sighed as the breeze moved over your neck, cooling you down considerably.

“Why did you leave?” you turned to see your girlfriend wrapped in the white sheet standing behind you. You smiled as she pouted at you adorably, her hair mused on top of her head, although she still looked as stunning as always.

“It’s too hot in there, sorry baby,” you apologised and she scrunched up her face before holding up a finger and turning, plodding back into you apartment as you watched her with a soft smile upon your face.

She returned holding about thirty pillows and deposited them at your feet. “We can just sleep outside then, because I am not giving up on cuddling.”

You laughed as she spoke, drawing her into you by her waist, “I’m glad we both have our priorities straight.”

“Nothing about us is straight,” she muttered and you laughed before pulling away to arrange the pillows she had brought out. When you had made an appropriate pillow fort Mor clapped her hands together, crawling under the blanket that had been drawn over the top to shelter you from the light in the morning.

You crawled in next to her and she grinned at you with childlike joy. “Big or little spoon?” she asked and you looked up as you pondered it.

“Little,” she smiled at you before moving to lie half on her back and half on her side, stretching out an arm for you. You lay next to her, her arms wrapping around your waist as your own hands came to clasp her hand, pulling it up to your heart.

She pressed her face in between your shoulder blades, kissing the skin in between them as you both burrowed down to sleep.

“I love you the most,” you whispered as you realised that she had just changed her entire sleep plan to better fit you. You felt her smile against your bare skin as her arm tightened around you.

“I love you more that that,” she replied and your laughed, squeezing her hand, making her yelp slightly.

“Well I love you more that that,” this time she jabbed you beneath the ribs, knowing how ticklish you are there, smiling as you cried out, wriggling away from her as she laughed.

She relented her tickling hands to pull you back, wanting you as close as physically possible. You allowed her to pull you close again and she sighed into your skin as she breathed you in.

“Goodnight, my love.” She whispered the words into your skin, hoping that saying them directly into you would seal them in. Make them permanent.

Little did she now that her love for you was already permanent, and that yours for her was equally as permanent. You knew what she was thinking when she spoke but half asleep you simply replied, “Goodnight darling, I love you.” Finally drifting to some much needed sleep as the breeze cooled your joined skin.

[akingdomofswordsandstories]

Unrequited pt. 2

azriel (acotar) x reader

*this is part 2! Sorry for the wait guys! I really struggled with this and low-key I don’t like it but I hope y'all do! I wanna write the scenes after this but idk how im gonna make it work lol. anyway, enjoy!

word count: 3193

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

What you hadn’t realized was that Azriel left a few minutes later, walking to your apartment to make sure you had gotten home safe.

All of a sudden he heard whimpers and labored breathing coming from the alley.

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of you laying on the ground and bleeding out. He felt a tug in his chest. A click. Panic instilled in him as he gently but swiftly picked you up and flew you to Madja.

“Hang on y/n, you’re so strong” he whispered

In those moments, he feared for you. Fear that was so strong. Something he had never felt before.

He rushed into the house laying you on the bed gently before he was shoved out by the Madja so she could try to save you.

Azriel alerted the others and then collapsed into a chair, sitting in silence. A tear slipped out of his eye at the thought he may have been too late to save you.

You. His mate.

Why, of all the times did the bond have to click while you were on the brink of death. In a situation where you may not make it out alive. It wasn’t fair.

He wondered if you had known. Could that be the reason why you had been distancing yourself from him? Because you didn’t expect or want him to be your mate? But if you had known you would’ve said something, right? You wouldn’t keep it a secret? So many thoughts kept racing through his head.

Could it have been because of Elain? He knew the inner circle wasn’t stupid, they all saw him drifting more and more to Elain. Could that have been why you had distanced yourself? He would be lying if he said he didn’t like Elain, but he would also be lying if he said he didn’t like you.

Your stubbornness. Your generosity. Your sense of adventure. The way you could get lost in the things you did.

Suddenly the door swung open and the others came into the room, worry written all over their faces.

Azriel could tell that Cassian and Mor had been crying on the way there.

“How bad is it?” Mor shook as she spoke. You could see the pain in her eyes. The worry she had for someone who was basically her sister.

Azriel’s expression was unreadable and he didn’t respond.

“Do you think she will make it?” Feyre asked, grief evident in her posture. “I- I don’t know” Azriel answered, “It was pretty bad,” he said quietly.

Just as he answered, Madja appeared from the other room. “She’s in rough shape, I don’t know if she’s gonna make it through the night. She lost a lot of blood.”

The room grew eerily quiet

“She’s stable for now, but I will stay here and notify you if any changes occur.”

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

Rhys, Feyre, Amren, and Elain went back to the townhouse to try and get as much rest as they could. Mor, Cassian, and Azriel decided to stay in your room with you.

Tears started slipping from Cassian’s eyes once he saw your fraile body lying in bed, barely hanging on.

“Oh mother” Mor sobbed out, a hand slipping over her mouth. She went over to the bed you were on, gently sitting on it and grabbing to hold your hand. She leaned against the headboard and watched as your chest heaved.

The trio sat in silence for some time, watching your every move, your breathes, whimpers, and shifts.

Azriel broke the silence.

“She’s my mate. All this time and I never knew.”, the sentence coming out as a whisper.

Shock was painted on Mor’s face. “Y/n’s your mate? How di-? When?”

“It clicked when I saw her body lying there.” his voice started breaking “Why did it have to happen right now. Of all the times. Why couldn’t it have happened months ago. I could’ve had more time. This never would have happened. How do I move on from this?” his voice ending on a whisper.

“All you can do is hope to mother that she has the strength to pull through.” Cassian replied softly. “You know, this whole situation is so ironic.”, he said softly to himself, lightly shaking his head.

Azriel gave Cassian a look of confusion, wondering what he was talking about, but decided to drop it for now.

“Anyway, let’s try to get some sleep and pray the morning holds better news”

Mor had dozed off, back against the headboard and hand still holding yours. Cassian was sitting in the chair, head resting on the palm of his head, it still took him a few hours to fall asleep completely. Azriel, however, couldn’t sleep. The thought of sleeping while you laid like this. He felt guilty, the feeling that he may have been too late. For the rest of the night, Azriel sat in a chair next to your bed, shrouded in darkness, hoping you would be ok.

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

Sunlight peeked through the sheer blinds over the balcony door. The faint sound of birds singing flowed through the air. Light shined onto your face, causing you to groan. Groggily, you opened your eyes, blinking to adjust to the light filling the room. Your head pounded and you winced as you shifted in bed.

“Y/n?” you heard a whisper. You mumbled in response. “Oh! Thank mother you’re alright! We were all so worried for you. Wait, let me call Madja now that you’re up.” Mor rambled on causing you to smile slightly. “CASSIAN!” she squealed “Wake up! Look! Y/n is awake!”

Cassian jumped to his feet at her shout. “Oh my god!” he ran over to your side “I was so worried, I’m so glad you’re alright” he said, taking your hand into his. “Let me go call the others, they’ve been waiting for an update.”

Soon after, the rest of the inner circle came over to your room to check in and Madja came to see how you were healing.

“That was quite the wound you had. Make sure to rest for the next two weeks. No buts, we don’t want this opening back up from stress or straining activity.”. You groaned at the thought.

“But I feel fine now, it’s not a big deal! I can go back to doing my duties in 2 days. I’ll be good as new.” you pleaded, trying to convince Madja and yourself. Before she could respond, Rhys cut in.

“You will do nothing of the sort. You just got stabbed for cauldrons sake, if i catch you trying to do anything remotely straining, i’ll lock you in your room and have Cassian stand guard in front of it”

“Fine” you grumbled out

“Now that everything is settled, i’ll be coming to check on you every few days.” Madja states before leaving

After a little more small talk was exchanged, the inner circle decided to leave you to rest a bit more, but promised they would visit you as frequently as they could.

Except, one person stayed behind.

Azriel.

“Can I talk to you?”

“Is something wrong?” you asked

After a hesitant pause his voice rang out. “We’re mates.”

You felt a blow to your chest. When did he find this out? As if Azriel had read your thoughts, he responded “Last night. After I found you.”

“Oh”

“But, Cassian said something, how it was ironic, and I can’t help but wonder how long you’ve known”

“I-, I told Cassian that we were mates yester-”

“But how long have you known y/n.” his voice quiet and sharp as a knife, as if tendrils of anger were waiting to escape

“Since the diplomatic mission Rhys sent us on”, you whispered. You could feel the tears threatening to fall from your eyes

“That was months ago and you didn’t think to tell me?” You could feel the anger in his voice

“I thought you would have figured it out sooner. I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry” tears started falling from your eyes

“You knew and said nothing. Why didn’t you say anything? You should have said something” he seethed. His anger was unhinged, a drastic change for the usually calm and collected shadowsinger.

“If you didn’t want to be my mate just tell me. I’d be glad to be rid of the bond.”. As soon as he said it, he regretted it. His anger dissipated. He looked up and saw your face, tears streaming down.

“I see the way you look at Elain, Azriel. I’m not some stupid fucking female. How do you think it feels to see your mate all over someone else. I wanted to give you a chance to find your own happiness without me burdening you with this. And if we’re being honest, if you had to choose between me or her, you would choose her. I knew you would be disappointed by me. I knew you wouldn’t want to be my mate, that's why I didn’t tell you.” your anger started boiling up. “Do you think it feels good to be rejected, especially by someone you’ve loved for a long time? I didn’t want you to be disappointed that I was your mate, the person you’ve waited so long for.” your voice tapered off at the end. “Can you leave please” you said softly

“No, wait, I’m sorry I-“

“Azriel. Get out.” your voice boomed through the room.

He left reluctantly, softly shutting the door behind him. Just as the door shut, the sobs that you had been desperately trying to hold back broke free. Your body shuddered as you hugged yourself, crying yourself back to sleep.

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

During the following weeks, you avoided Azriel at all costs. As soon as he walked into the room, you would walk out. Any required conversations were kept short. You did anything you could to keep your mind off of him, cleaning, errands, hell you did it all. It certainly didn’t help your recovery, but you did what you could to keep your mind busy and off of Azriel.

“Y/n stop please. You need to rest, how many times do we have to tell you. You’re only making the healing process longer” Mor ranted on.

“I’m fine, I doubt a wound, which is almost healed by the way, would be damaged by me doing chores” you emphasized as you rolled your eyes

“Maybe not by chores, but it is affected by your stress”

A moment of silence passed.

“He feels terrible, you know, he didn’t mean to say it. He just wants to talk to you.”. Mor didn’t risk saying his name because she knew it would only anger you more.

“Well I don’t want to talk to him, or deal with him, or see him, or think about him. At all.”. You grumbled. Your heart clenched, but you brushed it aside.

“Y/n, please. I love you two and it hurts to see our family like this right now.”

“Please, can we drop it, I-“ your voice cracked

“Yeah, of course. Just… keep an open mind, maybe?”

“Yeah, ok” you looked down.

“I’ll see you later tonight then, for Rhys and Feyre’s dinner party.”

“Sounds good.”. You pressed your lips into a tight smile as you watched Mor walk off. You had definitely contemplated not going today. All of the inner circle certainly knew what happened, maybe not all the details, but still enough, which made you feel exposed. You weren’t use to having your emotions splayed out to everyone like that, and it made you too vulnerable. However, Mor had threatened to pull you to the party herself if you refused to go, so being complicit seemed like the best option.

It was just one night. You would be fine… right?

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

It was nearing 8 as you finished getting ready for the party, which started at 8:30. You were wearing an olive green silk midi dress. It wasn’t anything too fancy, but it was still very elegant. And comfortable. You were touching up as Mor arrived.

“Ah, there she is, beautiful as ever.”

“I could say the same about you, darling” you emphasized

“Are you ready to go, I heard the party is getting started, and you know I wouldn’t want to miss all the cocktails”

A laugh mused on your face. You grabbed your purse before the pair of you winnowed to the house.

You arrived at the front door, scanning the scene when you got there. It was a cozy ballroom with french doors which opened up to a huge balcony leading to the gardens. There was a huge dining table in the center with plenty of space to mingle in clusters.

You hadn’t spotted Azriel yet, a sigh of relief leaving your body. You strutted in, arms linked with Mor, grabbing a drink off the platter. You weren’t even sure who or what this party was for, but you realized you had downplayed it after spotting Helion and Tarquin. The high lords in Velaris. But that was the least of your concerns, the only thing you were focused on was avoiding Azriel.

Spotting Feyre near Helion, you breezed over to say hi.

“Ah! Y/n! Helion, i’m sure the two of you have met a few times before!” Feyre smiled out

“Yes, I do remember you! I heard about what happened, how are you feeling?” He asked

“Much better than the last few weeks, that’s for sure. Although I must say, this alcohol is certainly helping” you giggled. “Well I just wanted to pop over and say hi, but I think I’m gonna go find Cassian now. It was so nice to see you again Lord Helion, enjoy your evening.”

“You too Miss Y/L/N”

You dipped your head towards the both of them before making your way through the room to find Cassian. Where was he for caldrons sake. You hadn’t seen him in a week because he had to go up to the illyrian war camps again. Pushing your way through the crowd, you bumped into a hard chest, spilling your champagne. Cursing to yourself, you started to apologize.

“Oh mother, I’m so so sorry, clums-“. Looking up your y/e/c eyes met strong hazel ones, which were burning into your soul. You felt your throat close up, starting to feel trapped in the crowed room

No no no no. This couldn’t be happening. Not now.

You knew it was only a matter of time before you would have to talk to him, but you couldn’t do it now. Before he could say a word, you pushed past him and bolted out to the balcony to get some fresh air. You had run to the corner, near the steps to the garden, out of sight from others. Taking deep breaths, you calmed your nerves. You would be ok, everything was fine. It would be fine. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

You decided to quickly go grab another drink before returning to the serenity outside. Leaning against the balcony, you stared out at the stars and the gardens. They were so beautiful, even in the winter, you thought to yourself. You basked in the silence, your thoughts drowning you.

Some time had passed before you heard footsteps approaching you on the balcony. You knew who it was without having to turn around, but you still couldn’t bear to be around him. You turned to leave but his hand caught your wrist, holding it firmly. You could feel the scars from his hands against your skin.

“Please. I just want to talk”

“What’s there to talk about Azriel, you made your feelings clear that day.”

“Just listen, please, and then i’ll leave you alone if that’s what you wish”

You sighed, nodding your head in defeat. You couldn’t keep balling up your emotions.

He led you back to the railing of the balcony before his grasp left your wrist. You tilted your head down looking at your feet and fiddling with your thumb.

“I spent 500 years pining after Mor because I was so afraid of maybe having a chance at love. I thought it was best to love someone who would never love me back so I wouldn’t get hurt. Then I met Elain. She helped me to open up more, and helped me to believe that happiness would be possible for me, with someone. I had given up on the idea of having a mate. I didn’t think I deserved one. I was ok with that and had accepted that.”

He let out a breath as he ran his hand through his hair, light curls falling onto his forehead. “When I saw you lying there and the bond clicked, I was so mad at myself. I shut out the possibility of having a mate for so long. You were my mate. My mate. I never thought I would be able to say those words.”

He paused.

“I was mad that you may not make it. I was mad that I didn’t find you soon enough. I was mad that we didn’t have more time. I didn’t know what to do or how to feel. I Just wanted you to be ok. And then when you told me that you had known for so long, I was angry. Angry that I hadn’t realized sooner, and angry that you kept it from me because you may not have wanted me or expected me to be your mate. And I snapped. Then you said the thing that I had least expected. You said you had loved me” He chuckled dryly. “I am so sorry, y/n, so very sorry.”.

His hand reached down to cup your face. He jerked your head up so you were looking at him. “What i’m trying to say is that I love you, but I understand if you don’t feel the same way anymore”.

The air had been knocked from your lungs. Your heart swelled and your eyes watered. Before you had realized what you were doing, your lips crashed into his. His mouth fit perfectly against yours. He was a breath of fresh air with a hint of mint. Azriel’s hands gripped your waist, pulling you into his body and he smiled against your lips. It felt so right. Everything about it. Your heart was pounding out of your chest as you both pulled away, breathless. Your forehead rested against his.

You whispered just loud enough for him to hear.

“I love you too”. As soon as the words left your mouth, he pulled you in for another kiss, his wings forming a cocoon around you. This one was more demanding. Passionate. A promise. You pulled away from his mouth and leaned against him, his arms wrapping around you.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Azriel said. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a small black box. “It’s your Solstice gift, I was trying to find a good time to give it to you.”, he scratched the back of his head.

You gently took it from his hand. The box had a red ribbon wrapped around. Undoing the ribbon, You opened the box to find one of the beautiful necklaces you had been admiring with Mor. “Oh my Az. Its so beautiful. I love it. How did you know?”

“I may have had my shadows follow everyone around to find out what they wanted.” he laughed out.

You smiled. “Will you help me put it on?”. Handing the dainty chain to Azriel, you brushed you hair aside. Baring your neck to him. His fingers ghosted the soft skin, clasping the necklace together. He tenderly placed a kiss next to your ear, causing butterflies to erupt.

You cleared your throat. “I think we’ve been gone long enough. Would you like to get some food, Azriel?” you smiled.

“I would love to, my darling mate.” he paused before darkly saying “I am especially excited for the part that comes after I eat.”. You lightly smacked his shoulder before the two of you made your way inside, beaming.

taglist ---

@minnie-mitzel @itsbebeyyy @preciousbabymuffins @kexrtiz @vicisbookishblog @peneflop @millianec @agentsofsheilds 

[meher-sumedha]

Alright so a Gwynriel Fan Fic Cause.... I have been reading a lot of them and love them and it's time to give back to the world. @meher-sumedha.

Edited : I am so sorry for the way I have used this fic. I never meant to hurt any feelings and I didn't know. I didn't know so much and I really am sorry.

Gwynriel Headcanon : A dinner with the Inner Circle

Trigger Warning

Nesta had invited Gwyn to a dinner with the Inner Circle, something which she had started doing very often cause she saw how much Gwyn enjoyed herself. Today was supposed to be no different. But it was, because she had heard the conversation between Azriel and Elain that day.

"What's your condition? " Elain had asked him.

"You have to reject the bond with Lucien" He told her while tucking her hair behind her ear. An action which Gwyn thought was reserved only for herself. She was wrong.

"Done, but you can't talk to that Librarian-"

"Gwyn" Azriel corrected her.

"Whatever, but you can't talk to her"

"I am her trainer, I have to talk to her". He seemed uneasy with this condition.

"Fine, but no need to talk to her any more than needed" She said and grabbed his collar and kissed him. Gwyn had forced herself pulled herself away before she could see anymore.

Gwyn was in a light pink evening dress. She had stopped wearing her clothes to the townhouse now. "Gwyn we're gonna be late, and unless you wanna sneak food from the house at 2, hurry up". He said to Gwyn while standing outside her door in the House of Wind.

Nesta had given her Rhysand's room cause he barely stayed there now.

She had become pretty comfortable with the spymaster. It all started when he caught her eating a chocolate cake in the middle of the night. And since then, whenever one of them had nightmares, they would share a cake while looking at the stars.

"I'm coming, in a minute", She said and brushed her hair. She then walked out of the door.

Azriel took her in as always and one of his shadows started playing with her hair and she giggled. Azriel then extended his hand.

"We're gonna fly cause whenever I winnow with you, you get sick everytime".

She put her hand in his not flinching once when she touched his scars. "I swear if you free fall like last time and drop me, I will make your life a living hell". He just laughed at that and picked her bridal style, ready to fly. Azriel once took her flying and he free falled from the sky with shouting Gwyn. It was their happiest moment. At least for Azriel it was, Gwyn didn't talk to him for a week after that but it was worth her hanging on to him like dear life.

"I promise I won't drop you", "AND??? ", "ANDD, I won't free fall".

"Promise? ", "Promise".

She wrapped her arms around his neck and he walked to the skies and took off. "AZZ" Gwyn shouted while he took her as high as possible. "What? You said not to free fall, this is winged up" He replied while smirking. Gwyn hid her face in his neck but then finally looked up when they stopped, right above the clouds to see Azriel's laughing face.

She had never seen him laugh, not like this at least. His shadows were out of control and for a moment Gwyn just gazed at his face. All the feelings which she had stuffed down years ago started to resurface.

Azriel stopped laughing and looked at her face for a moment. He wished that moment could last forever because the way Gwyn was looking for him, was the look of desire and want, the look he had never recieved.

"We should go, we don't want to be late or Rhys will beat my ass". She smiled at that and simply nodded before hiding her face in his neck. He always wanted to protect someone, but never got the chance to. The fact that Gwyn trusted him with herself, was the greatest honor for him

He then flied down, free falling but Gwyn didn't shout. She just held on to him. She knew that he would never let her go.

They entered at the doorstep of the townhouse and knocked. There was smiling Feyre with her messed hair at the door. "Trouble with Nyx? " Gwyn asked while walking inside. "You have no idea" She said while smiling and closing the door when Azriel entered.

"Where is he? " She asked eagerly. She loved that kid. More than anything cause she had baptised him. It had formed a kind of bond between her and Nyx.

"Don't even want to meet the others? " Azriel asked cheekily and Gwyn glared at him. Amusement shown clearly in his eyes. They entered the dining room and saw Rhys trying to stop little Nyx from crying by making funny faces at him. Something that was definitely not working.

Feyre went straight up to him and took the baby in her arms. Rhys gave her a reassuring look before walking outside, nodding at Gwyn in his way. Feyre rocked Nyx side to side and he finally went to sleep.

Feyre looked pretty tired so Gwyn went up to her and asked. "May I? " Gesturing to Nyx. She nodded and Gwyn took the baby in her arms. So gently to make sure she didn't wake him up.

"BROTHER, I CAN'T WAIT TO TELL YOU ABOUT-" Cassian was cut off by Azriel pointing to his own throat and doing a signal and mouthing SHUT UP. SHUT UP. SHUT UP.

But the damage was already done, Nyx started rubbing his eyes and stir awake but then Gwyn started humming a tune which put him back to sleep. Nesta came up to her and slightly hugged her, slightly giving her an apologizing look before glaring at Cassian. Nesta was very protective of Nyx. Cassian just raised both of his hands in air in a surrender position.

Gwyn then took Nyx to his room to tuck him in his bed. Azriel's shadows followed close behind her. She tucked Nyx in the bed and kissed his forehead lightly.

She then went out of the room and closed his door behind her. She entered the dining room and took a seat beside Emerie, with Azriel on her right and to his right sat the high lord and high lady. In front of them were Cassian and Nesta and beside Emerie was Mor. They all were talking when someone walked in the dining room.

"Nesta", the girl said. Nesta stood up and said "Elain". Gwyn assumed it was the third Archeron sister, the one who had refused to come out of her room ever since Gwyn accidentally told the Inner Circle about Azriel and Elain's 'mishap' in the garden. She genuinely thought they knew.

Nesta had turned stone cold towards her sister, staring right back at her with her silver eyes. "Elain, we are happy that you decided to join us for dinner, would you like to take a seat? " Rhys asked her, trying to minimalize the tension in the room. Azriel was just speechless and was just staring at his lap instead.

"I see that the bird who can't fly and the bitchy librarian are still here" She said to Nesta. Everyone was surprised at her tone, no one had ever heard her talk like that, especially Azriel who finally looked at her.

"They are much better than you ever will be". Nesta replied, her gaze not faultering. Elain scoffed. "What have they done really except be a burden to all of us? They have not returned one thing we gave to them. They are never going to do so either. How can you choose them over your blood sister? " Elain replied.

"I was stuck with you, with your flowers and gardening and thinking that everything is perfect in the world. I never had a choice with you. If I did, I would never choose you. They are my sisters by choice. " Nesta replied, striking hard as ever.

"How can you call them your sisters? The crippled bird I can still understand but that pesky librarian. She gave her maidenhead to a person she never knew, she is a slut and an whore and a half breed. She isn't welcome anywhere else and she shouldn't be welcome here either. Why are we helping prostitutes now? How is she ever gonna be useful to us when she couldn't even save her own sister-", "ENOUGH". Feyre cut her off.

Gwyn's eyes were full of tears. She silently stared at Azriel for a moment before standing up and leaving.

Tears finally took the best of her when she walked out of the townhouse. She went straight to the stairs of the house of wind and cried her heart out. She finally let the darkness consume her.

[rhysismydaddy]

Unholy Matrimony Pt. 2 (Nessian)

Damnation Series

Parts 1 / 3 / 4 / 5 

_____________________________________________________

~Nesta~

The day after meeting my fiancé, I drop Alexei off at the plane, tell him goodbye, and drive further down the tarmac to where Cassian’s waiting in a completely different private plane.

Very environmentally conscious, our lifestyle

The stairs are unfolded, so after making sure my luggage is transferred over, I head inside.

Cassian’s waiting, sipping bourbon despite the fact that it’s nine in the morning.

He’s dressed in dark jeans, boots, and a black long sleeve t-shirt that makes the tattoos on his hands and knuckles seem even more pronounced. He seems more comfortable now than yesterday.

Like he’s not trying to fit into the mold of a respectable gentleman in a suit.

He looks over as my heels click against the floor, eyes dragging up my legs, pausing at my chest, and scanning my face.

“Hey,” he murmurs, almost like he doesn’t know what else to say.

My lips twitch as I slide into the seat across from him, staying silent for now to throw him off.

As expected, he shifts in his seat, looking mildly uncomfortable.

Then, like he realizes what I’m doing, he narrows his eyes. “You realize that a woman who just sits there, looks pretty, and doesn’t argue is pretty much a man’s dream, right?”

A smile tugs at my lips, but I sigh like I’m not the least bit amused. “Good morning, Cassian.”

His mouth opens and closes a few times as he tries to determine the proper response for such a ground-breaking conversation opener.

He finally decides on: “You don’t have an accent.”

“Not when I speak English.”

Alexei, the hypocritical bastard, said English should sound like English and Russian should sound like Russian.

“Do you speak any other languages?” he asks, apparently not having looked in my file. He’s probably trying to figure out if his secret conversations with his fellow countrymen are safe.

“I speak Italian, since that’s what you really want to know.”

He grins, playful light in his eyes. “I think I’d like to hear that.”

An amused laugh escapes me at that, but I give him what he wants as I murmur, “Sono sicuro che lo faresti.” I’m sure you would.

His eyes seem to darken, and I roll my eyes. Men.

“I speak a little Russian, but not much,” he tells me. Considering I, unlike him, I did my homework, I already knew that.

Done with this conversation, I close my eyes and attempt to sleep. A plan that goes out the window when Cassian says confidently, “I usually only speak Italian when I fuck.”

I know he’s trying to feel me out, get a rise out of me, so I keep my voice completely deadpan as I reply, “Interesting. I tend to choose French.”

He laughs, face splitting into a humongous, goofy-looking grin. “Now that, I can’t wait to hear.”

Ah, yes. Because the idea I won’t sleep with him is unthinkable.

To me, too, but at least I’m not an asshole about it. Time to humble him a bit.

I feign like I’m not attracted to him in the slightest as I make a show of looking him over. “I never said you would, tupitsa.”

Before he can respond to me calling him a dumbass, I close my eyes and go to sleep.

~Cassian~

My fiancé passes out in a matter of seconds. It’s a little impressive, honestly. One second she’s teasing me with the thought of French whispers under silk sheets, the next she’s dead to the world.

I, unfortunately, am stuck on the first part.

Fuck, she’s hot.

It’s an effortless sort of beauty, considering she isn’t wearing makeup and her hair appears to be naturally blonde and straight.

Regardless, she looks like she just stepped off a runway.

Delicate bone structure, fierce eyes, full lips that sounded so good saying my name it took me a moment to formulate a response.

Distracting curves, sweeping hips, long legs that are currently crossed and allowing the slightest hint of lace at the top of her stocking to show.

My dick takes notice of that site, and I remind the greedy bastard she’s a Russian--an enemy--but he doesn’t seem to care. Nope, he wants me to peel those stockings down. With my teeth.

What’s somehow hotter than even her choice of legwear is the fact that she isn’t doing it on purpose. She’s completely relaxed, asleep for God’s sake, not trying to seduce me.

I grit my teeth and look out the window.

Like every other time I fly, I get restless after about ten minutes. I pull out my phone and make sure everything’s ready for when we land, work on my laptop for a bit, stare at Nesta sleeping for a longer bit, and pace the aisle like a caged lion when I start to feel like a creep.

Because I’ve been dealing with administrative shit like getting engaged, it’s been a while since I’ve done something to quell the rush in my blood.

Business, surprisingly, is boring when an army of hateful Russians isn’t trying to kill you all the time. I haven’t fought in days, haven’t shot my gun in longer.

I send Ricardo a text and have him set up a fight for tonight, but even the thought of the coming violence does nothing to help me calm down.

By the time we land, I’m more than ready to get the hell out of this plane.

Nesta wakes up when the wheels touch down, stretching and looking annoyingly well rested.

As the plane taxis, I tell her, “I have to work tonight.”

It’s a lie, and she cocks her eyebrow like she knows it. But she doesn’t call me on it, doesn’t even seem that interested. “I already requested a separate car.”

My brows furrow because I hate being predictable, but I keep my mouth shut.

Nesta stands as the stairs drop open, straightening her dress and pulling it down over the lacey top of her stockings that are now right in front of my face.

Before I even realize what she’s about, there’s a sharp smack to the bottom of my chin that forces my head up. She tsks, shaking her head teasingly.

“What was that for?” I ask, even though I already know.

She grabs her bag, and I follow as she walks down to the tarmac. “Somnophilia.”

I take a second to look up what the hell that is, laughing so hard I have tears in my eyes when I find the definition. Nesta shakes her head, small smile on those distracting lips, and walks to her waiting driver.

“I’ll see you at home, wife,” I call, not able to resist.

She just flips me the bird over her shoulder, making me laugh again.

Like I said, not what I was expecting.

~Nesta~

Things with Cassian are going... well, I guess.

He has the emotional maturity of a seventeen year old boy, but he isn’t terrible. As long as he stays out of my way, I dare say this marriage might work.

He’ll go about his business, I’ll go about mine, and we’ll avoid each other for happily ever after just like the fairytales say.

I shake my head as Maxim, one of the first New York transplants, navigates us through the city and to Sera. I’ve visited all my clubs at least once, and I have to admit, this one is by far my favorite.

As it should be.

The other three I run in New York were all my father’s originally. Built by a man, for the entertainment of men, I have to say they aren’t places I’d visit myself.

But I built Sera from the ground up, and while it’s designed to appeal to both men and women, men are--for the first time in history--not the priority.

The building it’s located in is a skyscraper, one I rent out to different businesses that don’t need an entire place to themselves. The ground floor is a bank, one that discretely cleans Russian money and makes us more through interest.

All in all, an unremarkable location to the public eye.

But every night, after normal banking hours have long passed, a select number of guests are invited to Sera--a speakeasy-type burlesque club with a hidden entrance in the secondary vault of the bank.

It’s secret, exclusive, and private as hell.

When we get to the bank, I enter the passcode on the side door--changed nightly--and walk through the silent lobby to the back room where the bouncer sits on a wooden stool.

“Privet, boss,” the burly man greets, sweeping the door open and ushering me through with a meaty hand. “Man in the back is asking for the owner.”

I nod and step inside, the door immediately closing behind me.

It’s the perfect level of crowded; enough people that no one stands out but not packed to the point of misery. By design, of course.

Everything seems to be the same as when I visited a few months ago except for the changed flooring I had installed last week. The tables and booths in the back are full of people captivated by the jazz singer on stage, a woman I discovered while walking to a business meeting in Paris.

Her cigarette-roughened voice had pulled me in, much like it does the audience now, and I’d offered her a job on the spot.

One of the bartenders, an ex-con who was locked up for stealing insulin for his diabetic daughter, smiles at me and slides me a tumblr of vodka as I make my way over.

“Good to see you,” Dima greets warmly. “How long are you here for?”

“Permanently.”

His eyebrows shoot up, which makes sense, considering the engagement hasn’t been announced properly. We’re apparently having a party of some kind in two weeks to celebrate the big news.

“I’ll explain later,” I tell him, noticing a group of people approaching the bar.

He nods, and I slip away towards the back corner where a roped-off set of stairs lead down to the basement below.

Like usual, there’s a private poker game happening in the main room of the bottom floor, and I stop to make say a few hellos but eventually move on to the hallway containing offices for some of the management.

The soldier stationed at the door to mine nods in acknowledgement, then tells me a whale’s inside.

My brows raise at the idea of a big-time investor coming to see me at this hour, but I shrug and walk in, shoulders back and face blank. I learned a long time ago to never let my emotions play out on my face.

The man waiting inside looks to be in his forties, richer than sin, and cold. Mafia, undoubtedly. His dark eyes rake over me, and he asks in a tone I don’t appreciate, “Who the fuck are you?”

“Nesta Orlov. You requested to speak to me?”

His bushy brows pinch together. “No, I want to speak to the owner.”

“One and the same.”

“I was told Cassian Azara is the owner.”

My jaw clenches at the thought that we’ve been engaged for less than two days and people already assume my shit is his. “By who?” I ask, remembering our upcoming nuptials aren’t even public news yet.

“My Capo.”

That gets my attention.

Rhysand’s telling people my club is Cassian’s? Why?

Something isn’t right.

I might not know the Italian boss, but I’ve heard he’s straightforward. Ruthless but honest. So why would he lie?

A little voice inside my head whispers, What if he isn’t?

Mind whirling, I turn to the man and smile politely even though it’s the last thing I feel like doing. “Would you mind giving me a moment? If you go upstairs, our bartender will get you anything you want, on the house.”

He shrugs and leaves, and as soon as the door clicks shut, I go to my desk and pull up the electronic copy of our marriage contract.

Like I thought, nothing’s amiss.

I read this shit thoroughly enough to know exactly what I was getting into, and in case I missed anything, I had my private lawyer scan over it.

But that little voice, that gut feeling, refuses to go away. So I grab my bag and look through the physical copy, dread unfurling when I notice an extra page tucked in the middle.

It’s a prenup.

One I’ve never seen.

And there, smack dab in the middle, is a line declaring the deed to Sera the property of Cassian Azara.

A rough breath forces its way out of me, and for a second, I’m so angry, so blind with rage, I can’t hardly think. What the hell is going on?

I force myself to think through this, to rationalize what I’m seeing.

Replaying the moment in the Capo’s office, I realize the switch between the original and this version of the contract must’ve happened prior. I was only in there a few minutes and had the papers in my hand the whole time.

Which means...

Alexei picks up on the first ring, like he was waiting for the call. “Da.”

“What the hell have you done?”

He sighs. “What needed doing.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it. I wasn’t the one who started a goddamn war with the Italians, and yet I’m the one who’s paying all the prices. I’m marrying the bastard, for fuck’s sake. Give him one of your clubs.”

His tone hardens. “He didn’t want anything else.”

“I don’t give a shit! This place is my property. It isn’t yours to give away.” I take a deep breath and try to quiet the rushing in my veins. “That idiot will run it into the ground.”

There’s a long moment, and I swear he sounds a little guilty as he says calmly, “He has more than a few businesses of his own, Nesta. It will be fine.”

I pinch my lips together to keep from cursing the man who raised me.

“If you read the document,” he says, a strange note to his voice. “You’ll notice there are a number of clauses.”

My eyes scan to the bottom of the page, and I read as Alexei continues. “He is permitted from selling, unless to you. The investors have the option to vote him out at any time. And if he is unfaithful to you or ends the engagement for whatever reason, Sera is returned to you in full.”

All the violence, all the rage, seems to dim. Just a little.

This is so like Alexei; in fact, it was one of his first lessons to me.

Give someone the illusion of winning, and they’ll sign anything you want them to.

I read through the clauses again, lips twitching. “Let me get this straight. If I can prove Cassian Azara--notorious playboy of New York--is cheating on me, the club is mine? And if the board at Sera votes him out, he can’t fight it?”

I can practically hear my father’s smile. “Da.”

“Or if I drive him crazy and he ends the engagement?”

“Da.”

Sounds easy enough. I drive Alexei absolutely insane and have never had a long-term relationship. I’ll have him running for the hills in no time.

One thing doesn’t make sense, though. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew if I told you, you wouldn’t sign. It’s still a risk, even with the clauses” He takes a deep breath. “I never told you, but we were losing the war in New York. We would’ve lasted another year, and then we would’ve lost the city.”

“Alexei-”

“I need this alliance to hold, Volchonok,” he says. “And either of you calling off the engagement or divorcing the other is grounds for the war to start back up.”

“So you’re saying I still need to marry him.”

He gruffs a confirmation, and my brain whirls as it thinks of a new plan.

My options are down to three: have him sell to me, prove he’s cheating, or get the board to vote him out.

“One more thing. You only have until the wedding. Once you’re married, the only way to get your property back is if he signs the deed to you.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, moving my timeline up by a factor of a hundred. Checking the calendar proves what I already know: I have less than thirty days to somehow convince one of the most notoriously stubborn men in the world to give me a multi-million dollar company.

Easy.

“I’m... sorry. For lying.”

I’m so shocked he just apologized--something he’s never done in my twenty-five years of life--it takes me a moment to respond and tell him he’s forgiven. “Ty proshchen, otets.”

I disconnect the call and swivel around in the chair, a smile pulling on my lips.

I’m going to drive him fucking crazy. All while I make him fall in love with me.

Oh, Cassian. I almost feel sorry for you.

_______________________________________________________

NEXT CHAPTER

[bookofmirth]

if you’re still taking prompts.... can i please get no. 29 for elucien? hopefully something abt lucien not being able to keep his mouth shut lol. tysm!

omg I forgot that I wrote this prompt in that list lol. 

The IC have a monthly dinner with all the ships in Velaris - feysand, nessian, gwynriel, and elucien. Elain can rarely hold her liquor and always falls asleep. She and Lucien walk home together and make plans. 

Prompt: We aren’t playing Cards Against Humanity, you can’t say shit like that.

Cassian, Rhys, and Lucien jostled for space in Feyre and Rhys’s kitchen as Azriel transported plates back and forth from the dining room to the sink. 

Every month the men took care of the dishes after the women’s attempts at making dinner, and yet they could never figure out a system in which the kitchen ended up cleaner than it had started. Water on the floor, sopping kitchen towels, and a dishwasher stuffed passed capacity perpetually had Feyre groaning that they should just hire someone for all of it, from dinner to clean up.

By the time they had finished, Elain was asleep on the couch. Gwyn, Feyre, and Nesta were speaking in hushed voices punctuated by restrained laughter, and every bottle in the place had been emptied. 

“Elain is conked out,” Cassian said as he and the others rejoined the women in the living room. He held out a hand. “Time to go, sweetheart?” 

Nesta took his hand and unfolded her legs from beneath her to stand. She brushed her nose against his cheek in answer and turned to her family. “Next week,” she said to Feyre, referencing some plan they had made. 

Azriel and Gwyn gathered their things, Feyre disappeared to check on Nyx, and the party disbanded as it usually did - quietly, content in the knowledge that they would see one another again and that the worst was behind them.

When Lucien touched Elain’s shoulder she sat up rubbing her face. 

“I’m not asleep,” she said, blinking. She pushed her hair back from her face and Lucien smiled at the line pressed into her face from the throw pillow she had fallen asleep on.

“Of course not, dearest. Everyone else was exhausted, they’ve taken off.”

Elain looked around the comfortable living room as if she would find her family there despite what Lucien said. “Oh, they must have drunk too much.”

“Yes, that’s surely it.” Lucien placed her coat on her shoulders as she stood and made her way to the door. He noted the full glass of wine on the table where she’d been sitting as they left and imagined that her tolerance must have lessened of late.

Once in the chilly night air, Elain seemed to perk up again and become alive. “Next month,” she said, leaning into Lucien for warmth, “I think I’ll make a pavlova and bring it to dinner. Or perhaps I should make it in Feyre’s kitchen. I’ve never tried one, and they do look impressive.”

“I’ve never had one either,” Lucien answered.

“Really?” Elain looked up at him, eyes glowing and curious. 

“Really. I’d be delighted to try one for the first time ever if it were made by my wife. Though you might need to let me have some at home first, just practice on me or something.” 

“Yes,” Elain said, “I should perhaps practice it first. Maybe this week.”

“Perfect. One of these days I might have to fight Azriel and Cassian and Rhys for wanting to take you for their own. Your pavlova might be the thing that breaks their resolve. We’d have to call in the President to intervene, there’d be a threat to national security, they’d outlaw all bakery projects from leaving the house on account of making men covetous of others’ wives.” 

Elain gripped his arm as she laughed quietly, trying to keep from breaking the evening silence.

“I think that if I were to challenge them to a writing challenge, I’d win. Only if it were to write erotica, though. I know that Cassian reads all of Nesta’s books but I still think I’d have him beat if we were asked to write smutty Twilight fanfic. I might be able to write some good Mario Kart fanfic, though I’m not sure about the smut. It could be a real battle, you know. I might have to get my shirtsleeves wrinkled.”

“Lucien, you can’t say shit like that. We aren’t playing Cards Against Humanity.” Elain laughed despite her protests and pulled him closer, hugging his arm before letting him go. 

Lucien spun on his heels and faced Elain, walking backwards and he spoke. “What if you and I go away, just for a while?”

“How long is a while?”

Lucien hummed in mock contemplation. 

Elain raised her eyebrows. “How long have you been planning this?”

“Only a few weeks,” Lucien confessed.

Elain grabbed his arm and turned him around, a near-miss with a light post. 

His arm draped over her shoulders, Lucien continued to hum in thought. “Well, you see my love, I was thinking that we’re overdue for a vacation somewhere sunny.”

Elain scoffed. “I think we get enough sun, darling, living in Day.”

“Yes,” Lucien agreed, “But what about sunlight on the Continent? We could visit their topiaries, their estuaries, their aviaries. It would be grand.”

“The Continent...” Elain stopped walking and touched her stomach. It had been so long since he’d seemed this light, this unburdened. 

Lucien turned and tilted his head at her. “You don’t like birds? Or is it the trees? I’m sure their rivers are quite nice.”

A small smile stole across Elain’s face and Lucien’s bloomed in response, even before he realized why. 

“Perhaps we should go somewhere closer to home,” she said. “At least for the time being.”

“Yes,” Lucien said in answer. He gripped her hands.

“I’m sure I’d like to see the shrubbery on the Continent,” Elain continued, “But I think I’d much rather meet our child, first.”

---

I’m open to more prompts, I have a few left so they just take some time. :) dialogue prompts

[dracosollicitus]

"i’ve seen you hanging around my apartment and i thought it was because you missed me, turns out you’ve been using my wifi you asshole" for rebelcaptain please :)

“Kay?” 

“Cassian.” 

“…Is that…were you just talking to Jyn?”

The tall, thin man sighed and closed the front door behind him; chucking his keys into the bowl near the door, Kay Tuesso glared at his long time roommate, who was standing by the window, nervously peeking between the curtains every few seconds.

“Yes.” Kay rolled his eyes and walked to the kitchen, where he took their filtered water from the fridge and poured a large glass. Setting the jug back on the shelf, he shut the fridge and turned around. Kay blinked slowly in response to his roommate’s proximity, his roommate who was now leaning over the kitchen counter, wearing a very intent, almost hungry expression.

“And?”

“Believe me, Cassian, I do like your sudden decision to only compose one word sentences. They’re much more efficient.” Kay took a long sip of water and then regarded his friend once more. “But if you would like for me to respond adequately, I will need you to either pick better words, or provide more words.”

“Why is Jyn here?” Cassian demanded, his hair sticking up on end, as though he’d dragged his hands through it. “What did she say?”

“She said ‘hello Kay,’ and then I said, ‘hello, Jyn,’ and then we discussed the weather, which seemed forcibly polite at best. After that, we-”

“Not that.” Cassian scoffed and pushed off from the counter, and Kay moved into the living room, the shorter man hot on his heels. “I mean - did she tell you why she was here?”

“Ah.” Kay grabbed the remote and clicked the TV on; flipping through the recorded shows, he landed on a documentary about penguins. “Yes.”

The narrator began in a pleasant drone. “These majestic avian creatures have long fascinated mankind. In tonight’s episode of “Flocking Together,” we will dive into what makes these birds-”

Kay paused the television to address Cassian, who was now sitting on the couch next to him, leaning into his space and wearing a ferocious glare.

“…Yes?” Kay blinked and pushed his glasses further up his nose.

“I’m going to kill you,” Cassian decided. “I can make it look like an accident.”

“Good for you.” Kay hit ‘play,’ and the program resumed. 

“-tick. Watch as these brave birds survive bitter cold, vicious seal attacks, and-”

“Hey! I was watching that!” 

Cassian was fuming in front of the now-off television, gripping the power cable. “Kay! What did Jyn say?”

“You could text her and ask her,” Kay pointed out. Cassian half-screamed and threw the power cord down on the ground. 

“Why was Jyn here?” 

“…I can’t tell you.” Kay crossed his legs and looked at Cassian expectantly. “Will you please plug the television back in, you ridiculous cretin?”

“You can’t tell me? You … what, did you promise not tell me?”

“Something like that.” Kay shifted evasively, and Cassian growled something incredibly impolite in Spanish, under his breath. 

“Look.” Cassian took a deep breath and exhaled through his nose. When he next spoke, he sounded much calmer. “I just want to know how she is. I mean, I spoke to her every day for three years, and since… since we…”

“Since she dumped you,” Kay finished, and Cassian looked like he was considering flipping him the bird. 

“Since she dumped me,” Cassian said through gritted teeth. “Since then, we haven’t spoken. Three weeks, and I see her outside this apartment every now and then, and - and why? Does she miss me?”

Hope seemed to leak out from around the carefully constructed mask that Cassian had spent years perfecting. 

“Yes.” Kay nodded, once. “Will you please stop holding the television hostage, now?”

“No, wait a second.” Cassian grabbed the cord as collateral and straightened up. “Did she say those words? Did she say I miss him?”

“Something like that.” Kay held the remote up and then jerked his head. “Plug it in, and move out of the way. Or I will move you.”

“Fine.” Cassian obliged forcefully and stalked to the door. “But I’m going out there to talk to her, unless you give me a good reason not to.”

“No. Wait. Don’t.” Kay spoke robotically, his attention already glued to the television once more.

“-predatory drilling practices by corporations.” 

“I hate corporations,” Kay said to himself as Cassian slipped his shoes on and snagged the keys. 

He slammed the door shut behind him with a huff and barreled down the stairs, knowing (from surveillance) that Jyn had still been on the bench out front as of forty-five seconds ago. But what would he say to her? Cassian hesitated at the door to the complex and then shook his head and walked out. He knew what he wanted to say to her. I miss you too, estrella. If you want me, I want you. I always want you. 

She was up ahead, sitting on the bench, hunched over her laptop, her nose wrinkled adorably the way it always did when she was thinking. Cassian rubbed his neck and walked swiftly to her, before his coward of a brain could talk his steadfast heart out of this decision. 

I love you madly. I could never stop loving you, even when the stars fall from the sky, I will love you. 

When he was close enough to count the freckles on her nose, Cassian spoke. “Jyn.”

It came out as a whisper, delicate, fragile. 

“Cassian.” She looked up, startled, green eyes wide. “I-”

He looked down and frowned - her laptop was open to a social media page. She bit her lip anxiously as he raised his eyes to her face.

“Were you-” He grabbed her laptop, ignoring her squawk of protest.

“Gimme that!” She swiped for it, but he held it over her head, glorying in their eight inch height difference - not for the first time, but for a very different reason than normal. Cassian clicked on the network tab at the bottom of the screen.

“Ah HA!” He stared down at Jyn in only mildly heartbroken victory. “You’re still logged into my Wi-Fi!”

“It’s faster than the coffeeshop,” Jyn whined, holding her hands out for the laptop. He handed it over with a reluctant scoff. 

“I can’t believe you.” He shook his head as she settled back into the bench and refreshed her page. “You ridiculous, little…” he searched for the word in English, “…Goblin!”

“You love me,” Jyn muttered, scrolling through her dashboard. Her cheeks immediately turned bright pink, and she raised her eyes apologetically to his.

Stupidly, Cassian opened his mouth. 

Stupidly, he said, “I do.”

Stupid.

[propshophannah]

It was as clear as if it had already happened. As clear as if she’d been there. But it hadn’t happened and Elain would not be there when it did.

Azriel stood naked under a stream of hot water, face buried in his forearm, breath heavy. The muscles of his back and buttocks flexed and clenched with each hurried stroke of his scarred hand. His beautiful scarred hand. There was something desperate about the look on his face, in the curve of his shoulders. Perhaps something haunted, too.

He bit into his lower lip, eyes wrinkled shut, body curled forward.

“Elain—” He came with a groan and a jerk of his hips and then it was over. He washed the mess away, ran a hand over his jaw. Water dripped everywhere. For a moment, it was hard to see his face, nearly hidden by steam from the water. But she saw it as he pulled the curtain and stepped out—shame. He was ashamed.

Ashamed of himself for what he’d just done. For thinking of her. For saying her name.

He wrapped a towel around his waist and braced himself over the sink. His head hung low. Shadows swirled—over his skin, caressing his neck. He ignored them. Too ashamed to accept any comfort. Too disgusted with himself. He stared down at his hands.

The vision ended and Elain blinked. She sat in the garden. The air was cold but the waning day was sunny, bright.

Azriel had gone into the city for a meeting. She’d chosen to stay behind. It’d been a few weeks since their encounter in the kitchen. Since she’d come onto him and he’d run away. But she told herself it was fine.

Because it was.

After dinner that night, he’d acted as if nothing had changed between them. And maybe that was because nothing truly had. They’d gone to sleep in the living room atop the makeshift bed they’d built when she’d first come to stay. She couldn’t remember how long ago that had been, but she remembered being sad. Remembered when she’d let Az take that sadness away. And she remembered when she’d decided that there was nothing wrong with wanting to move on with her life.

Even if it wasn’t the life she’d originally planned for.

Heavy footsteps crunched what was left of the fall leaves. “I’m back,” Az said from across the garden. “I just wanted you to know I was back.”

Elain smiled, shielding her eyes from the sun as it just began to set. “Welcome home.”

A ghost of a smile brushed his lips, he hid it fast. He looked down at his feet, then hers. He blinked. “You’re wearing trousers.”

Indeed she was. A pair of old loose fitted trousers of Azriel’s she’d taken in and hemmed to fit her. She raised an eyebrow. “Such insights, spymaster. I see now why the High Lord and Lady keep you around.”

Az smiled, showing teeth and folding his arms across his chest. He wore a pair of dark trousers and a loose fitting cream shirt. The long sleeves were rolled almost to his elbows and the few buttons at the collar had been left open. The cobalt of his siphons simmered like icy flames in the waning daylight.

He glanced at his shadow—so long it stretched across the space between them, practically touching Elain. “You should never offend a shadowsinger.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Because.” He took a step forward, his shadow just grazing the tops of her knees where she knelt. “Dark things happen.”

Az vanished just as his shadow swirled and darkened. It spread across the garden in the form of a winged warrior then it morphed into a bird and flickered across the pumpkins and the dirt. She spun around to follow it. It flew into her own shadow and grew until it looked as if she had wings—great, powerful illyrian wings. They beat in time with a cold wind that blew in from the ocean. They slipped over her shadow’s shoulders like a flowing cape, then slipped down—becoming a ballgown—then further…

Until they became a field of sunflowers bobbing in the breeze all around her shadow.

Elain smiled. And moved to make it appear as if she were actually among the field. Tiny butterflies and birds of shadow moved through the scene. She threw her arms up and spun to make her shadow dance through the image.

When she opened her eyes it was gone.

“Azriel, you’re an artist.” She looked around. “Az? Where are you?” She stared hard at her shadow. “I know you’re in there. Come out.”

He did not.

“Fine.” She turned on a heel and began walking toward the house. A step outside the garden’s gate she spun around fast, expecting to catch him—

Only to be disappointed when all she saw was her own, ordinary shadow. She could have sworn she heard a deep chuckle.

“I’m going inside and I’m going to make myself dinner and leave none for you.” She turned again, putting on a show of marching toward the house. Once in the backyard, she locked up the tools in a small shed and moved to walk around front.

She was rounding the sunny back corner when a dark figure appeared in her periphery. Too close. Too big. Too much like that one time they’d come for her. Fear flooded her senses and she leapt back. A terrified scream on her lips—

Only to realize that it was Azriel’s damn shadow that had jumped out at her.

He stepped out of the darkness and—and he was laughing. Not his usual dark chuckling, but open, gasping laughter.

“It’s not funny,” she yelled, relief cooling the hot, sticky sweat on her back. “You scared me half to death.”

“You should’ve seen the look—”

“It’s not funny, Azriel.”

He stopped at the tone of her voice, the look on her face. She fought to keep the tears from her eyes. He reached out, “Elain—”

“Don’t.”

“Elain, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine.” She swatted his hand away and stormed around the house.

Only to run face first into him when he appeared in front of her.

He placed his hands on her shoulders, keeping her against him. “I’m sorry I scared you.” His voice was low, warm.

One of his thumbs flinched—as if aching to move across her skin.

She inhaled sharply. Suddenly aware of all the space that wasn’t between them. She wasn’t sure how, but she was pretty sure he was aware as well. But…

Neither moved.

“It’s all right. It just—I just thought…” That renegade thumb began to rub small circles on her shoulder. His hands were large, warm where they held her. It was just cold enough that their breath began to fog.

She traced the lines of his tattoos through the opening in his shirt with her eyes.

“Tell me.”

She swallowed hard, and brought her hands up, weaving them in the fabric on the sides of his shirt. He breathed in very, very slowly and deeply. “The night they came for Nesta and me. She woke me up with a hand over my mouth. I’d never been so scared. It was the look on her face.” She shook her head. “Nesta never gets scared, never fears. At least not that she shows. She didn’t speak, just pointed to the window. We were halfway across the room when the soldiers came in. They were quiet. As if they were worried about waking us—it was strange. I remember thinking it was strange.” She tightened her hold on his shirt. “They looked like giants in the darkness. Huge figures moving toward us. I’d never seen males so big—except you and Cassian. So I knew, we knew, who—what—they were. And…and I knew we were going to die, that I was going to die.”

Azriel rubbed her shoulders. “That must have been very hard.”

She looked up at him, willing every ounce of pity she could into her face. She said, “It was awful,” and reached for his arm, stepping to the side—and then bent as she swept his feet out from under him. He slammed into the ground, flat on his back.

Elain stood over him, hands on her hips. “That was for scaring me.”

Azriel smiled. “I’m going to kill Cassian for teaching you that.”

“Then you’ll have killed an innocent male.”

“Who?”

She leaned over. “The fearsome shadowsinger asking the seer for information. Oh how the mighty have f—” She slammed into the ground with a curse.

Azriel braced his hands on either side of her head and leaned in. “You were saying?”

“Feyre didn’t teach me how to avoid that move.” Azriel only smiled. “So now that you have me at your mercy, what are you going to do with me oh mighty shadowsinger?” she dared.

As quickly as she’d fallen, the air between them went taut. Every fiber of her being waited for what he would say next, what he might do.

He stared at her.

She stared at him.

With a finger, she hooked the loose hem on his shirt. Twirled it. Up, up, up—she grazed the golden brown skin of his stomach.

Azriel hissed in a breath, eyes going a bit heavy in the lid.

She placed her entire hand on his stomach and smoothed it around to lay on his back.

Azriel needed no push. His mouth was on hers in a second. His lips large and skilled as he fit them between hers. His tongue darted out and that was all she needed.

Elain wrapped a leg around his waist and rolled him onto his back. Their lips never once lost contact. Her hands roved under his shirt, over the muscles of his chest to his shoulders. He pulled her shirt untucked, slipped a large, hot hand across the small of her back, fisting the other in her hair. He angled her mouth where he wanted it, where he needed it to give her strong thorough kisses.

She didn’t mind at all.

He tasted like summer sun, like the warmth of a whisper, like too-sweet blackberries.

She ground her hips into him and moaned when she found him swollen and hard. She reached between them, stroking him with a hand through his trousers. “I want this,” she said. He groaned. “I’ve wanted this for a very long time.”

He rolled them over—and ground the length of him between her legs. She thought she might lose consciousness from the feel of him. From the deep, powerful strokes promised by the strong muscles of his waist, hips and thighs.

She grabbed his rear beneath his trousers. Gods he was well muscled. And she wanted to feel those powerful strokes with her hands as he drove into her.

She let go of his backside and pulled her shirt off. “Touch me.” His lips found hers the same moment his hands found her breasts. And Azriel didn’t bother to touch them above the fabric of her undergarments. He pulled the straps down, and put his hands on her bare breasts. An action so sudden and unexpected she arched into his touch, a whimper escaping her throat.

He rolled her nipples hard between his thumbs and fingers. No one had ever done that to her before. She was not a virgin. She’d let Graysen atop her, inside her, twice. But each time had been short, and he’d insisted that she keep her dress on. He’d allowed her to touch him, suck him, but he’d only ever sunk his fingers to test her readiness before he sunk his cock. She’d asked him why he did not want to see her naked, or taste her below the mouth and he’d said it would be improper for her to let him touch her like that, and he’d wait for their wedding night when it would not stain her reputation. She’d agreed.

And used to hate herself for it…

But as Azriel’s skilled hands rubbed and rolled and pulled her swollen nipples almost to the point of pain, she was glad. She doubted Graysen would ever have touched her with this kind of skill. And Elain wanted more—wanted everything.

She unhooked Azriel’s belt. He lifted his hips for her and she pulled the trousers open, the generous length of him springing free into her waiting hand.

Azriel pumped into it. Once, twice—

He buried his face in her neck. “Tell me to stop.”

“I want this,” she whispered. Still he pumped his hips. The smooth length of him, like velvet in her hand.

He growled in frustration then slipped his hand beneath her trousers and right into her. Her hips bucked off the ground at the sudden, very pleasing, intrusion. She moaned. His fingers were thick. He only worked one inside her and she felt full. But maybe it was his scars.

“Ask me to stop, please.” She shook her head, kissing him again. She moved her hand to slide along the one he had inside her, to feel where they were connected. “Say stop,” he begged.

“Stop.”

Everything stopped. She froze. Azriel panted—panted like he’d been frightened, scared.

She put her hand on his shoulder. “Az?”

He pushed off her, stuffing himself back into his trousers and standing. “I’m sorry.” He didn’t even look at her. Just stooped to pick up her shirt and hand it to her. Then he was walking away.

Elain wasn’t sure how long she laid there, clutching her shirt to her bare breasts. But when she finally moved it was long past dark. Her skin was cold, numb.

He hadn’t come back out.

And he wasn’t in the house when she entered.

He wasn’t there when she got out of the shower.

And he wasn’t there the next morning when she woke up alone in the makeshift bed they’d built in their living room—his living room.

[Watercliff part 6 - At least one more part!] part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

[shu-of-the-wind]

rebelcaptain; siren and ace!pirate ii

BECAUSE I’M A TRASHCAN I KEPT GOING

I’m really interested in sirens in regards to like. Consent and brainwashing and stuff. SO I might go a bit overboard in later snippets in talking about that. BUT ALSO I JUST LOVE THIS DYNAMIC. 

EXPLICITLY DISCUSSED ACE THEMES IN THIS ONE. /dances around like a happy parrot

cw: some discussion of dead bodies, immolation, knives. 

In the weeks before she can leave the bed without falling, she learns more of sirens than she ever cared to.

"Spirits," says Baze, two mornings after she wakes up in the cottage. "Ask the siren these questions, not me."

Jyn frowns. "What if he's lying to me?"

"Sirensong doesn't affect you. He could lie to you, if he didn't want to talk about something, but he can't make you see or believe anything you don't want to."

"Why does it not affect me?"

"Figure that out yourself."

She nearly chucks her bowl of fish stew at his head. "I'm asking you."

"And I'm saying you have to figure it out yourself." Baze folds his arms. "It's a personal thing. I can't tell you if you like men or women or dancing bears more. You're the one who has to figure that out."

Jyn says, "I don't like anybody."

Baze says, "Well, that's obvious."

She can't help it. She snorts.

"Anyway." Baze rolls his eyes. "Sirens are like humans, mostly. Different groups with different opinions. You're just lucky you met Andor and not any of the Sith. They'd have torn you apart in the water, if they had the chance."

"I thought sirens had to bewitch humans to eat. 

"Sirens don't eat humans," says Baze. The look on his face says spirits, what kind of provincial moron have I been saddled with? "Humans have unwebbed fingers. Sirens sing. It's just what some sirens choose to do with it, is all."

Jyn's leg aches. The bone was broken in two places, Baze had said, but they were just fractures, not clean breaks; faster to heal. A pain in the arse either way. "But--"

Baze grunts. It's the kind of grunt that says, I'm going to beat your skull in if you keep arguing with me. Jyn sets her jaw, and glares at him.

"Some sirens use song to kill people," says Baze. "Some of them use it to hunt fish. Some of them use it to seduce humans. Some of them use it to sink ships. Some of them use it to defend themselves. All sirens are different."

She pushes her chin out. "And you're such an expert on sirens because?"

"For fuck's sake, girl," says Baze. "Are you always this snippy?"

Jyn bares her teeth. "I'm nicer if I have a knife."

"Tough luck," says Baze. "You don't get a knife until you can walk. And I'm sure that you're not going to stab me with it."

She scowls, and holds tight to the kyber crystal around her neck.

"Andor won't kill you," says Baze. "The sharks in the shallows are more likely to kill you than any siren around here. Andor and Antilles are the only ones in the area that I know of, and neither of them kill humans."

"Why?"

"Not my business."

She still wants a knife. She's not going to keep begging for one, but she's going to get one eventually. Baze just hasn't been stupid enough to leave a gutting knife on the table, yet. He'll get sloppy soon. She's sure of it. "Is Antilles here?"

"He's traveling," says Baze, without blinking. "Won't be back for a while. Sirens usually travel during the autumn."

"Why is Andor here, then?"

"Ask him that."

She's going to get that damn knife and cut all his long ropey hair off his head in revenge for this. "Why'd he save me, anyway?"

"Ask him that."

He'd said it'd been his fault. The more time that passes since the wreck, the less she remembers, so if Andor says it's his fault, she'll take it, but she's still not entirely sure why he'd pulled her out of the water. He could have just let her drown. She scrapes her spoon over the bottom of the bowl, thinking.

You weren't affected. It meant I could get you to shore without--

Being pawed at like a doxie in an alleyway, presumably. Though why he'd done that--

"Don't hurt yourself," says Baze.

This time Jyn does chuck her bowl at him. It's empty. Baze looks undeniably pleased with himself, in a grouchy sort of way, when he collects the bowl and the spoon and goes outside to wash them in the stream.

The siren--Andor, Cassian, whatever he wants her to call him--doesn't come back for the first week. She's glad of it. She's not sure she could have handled any more information, that first week. By the second week, though--by the time Baze is going out all day on his own, to fish, and the sun keeps casting low shadows over the fireplace, and there's thick smoke in the cottage and nothing for her to do--by then she's frustrated. Jyn can go for days without speaking to anyone, by choice, but there's a difference between choosing to sit alone in the corner of a ship for days at a time and being trapped in a ragged cottage with no way to defend herself and no means of escape.  

It's the ninth day since she woke up when someone scuffs their fingers over the threshold of the cottage. It's the siren. Cassian. Andor. Jyn knits her hands up in the blanket, and watches him for a bit in silence.

"Can I come in?" he says, slowly, like he's testing out the flavor of the words. She jerks her head.

"Whatever."

He creeps in to the cottage. All his clothes are much too large for him, this time. The trousers sag around the hips, the knees; the collar of his shirt is so large it's almost slipping off one bony shoulder. It's Baze's shirt, she realizes. Baze's clothes. She knows the tear in the right sleeve. She'd seen Baze slice his shirt up by accident, two days ago.

"How is your leg?" he says, and stands at the end of the bed. It's brighter in the cottage than it had been on his first visit, and she can finally make out his feet. They're scaled around the ankles, patchy with gleaming grey-green shine up his calves, with long, oddly flat toes. They're webbed, just like his hands. Unlike his hands, though, his feet are weighed down with wicked-looking talons. They're curved, almost like a bird's, but smaller. Jyn stares at them for a bit--there's no blood on them that she can make out--and then darts a look up at the siren's face. He's watching her, too, that same odd awestruck gleam in his eye, but his face is smoother, now. There are more secrets in it. Like he's actively thinking about hiding from her, instead of just struck dumb with shock.

Fine, she thinks. Two can play with that.

"Hurts," she says finally.

"I'm sorry." He wets his lips. His hair drips onto the shoulders of his borrowed shirt. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Not unless you can heal broken bones."

"No," says the siren. She thinks his mouth might be curving, just a bit, but then the light shifts and he looks just as serious as always. "I can't."

"Then no."

Cassian nods, and then finds the chair Baze uses sometimes. He drags it over to the edge of the bed, perches on the corner of it. There are scales on his wrists, too. She hadn't noticed those the first time. The pale webbing between his fingers gleams with drops of ocean water.

Jyn leans back against the pillows, and says, "Do you eat humans?"

Cassian blinks at her. His lips part. He has edges to his teeth, she notices. Not quite human, not quite shark. Somewhere in between. "No."

"Some sirens eat humans."

He shifts, uncomfortably. "Baze said he told you about the Sith."

"He said I should ask you."

Cassian brushes his hair out of his eyes with wet fingers. "There's only one group that will actually--eat humans. And they're--" He considers. "Not well liked."

Jyn considers that for a bit, and smooths the blanket out over her good leg.

"Most of us sing to defend ourselves," he says, still in that soft voice. It's higher than she thinks it ought to be, just a touch. "Like humans use harpoons."

She scowls. "We only harpoon whales."

"Do you?" His eyes go curiously flat, deep and dark like dim water. "I've seen squid and sharks and Mer harpooned for no reason other than they came too close."

Something squirms in the back of her throat. "That's different."

"It's not." Cassian leans back in his chair, considers her. "Song is a defense. That's what most of us use it for."

"I've heard stories," she says. "Sirens who sing just to lure sailors to die. Or--or to bed them, and drown them in vengeance."

He grimaces. "There are exceptions to every rule."

She considers that, too.

"You said they weren't your friends." Cassian tips his head. "The men on your ship."

"We all worked for the same captain," she says. "Doesn't make us friends."

Cassian digests that. "You're a pirate."

Jyn shrugs, and draws the hem of the blanket through her fingers.

"I've been pulling them free of the wreck." He flexes his webbed fingers, doesn't quite look at her. "The dead. There's no hard earth on Jedha, I can't bury them, but--I heard humans burn their dead. I've been--there's a bonfire on the far side. There are only one or two I haven't--sent off, yet."

Jyn watches a dribble of ocean water trail down his neck. She says, "How many?"

"Thirty-three so far."

There had been thirty-seven on the ship, including her. She looks down at her knees, lumpy under the blanket.

"The ship's only half-submerged," says Cassian. "If you need anything, I can go look. I don't know if it's been damaged."

"Why would you?"

He shrugs. "It's my fault it sank, and that you're hurt. And that they died."

That's true. Still. "You don’t have to."

"Baze says you can't be moved for another few weeks," says Cassian, fast enough that he must have been thinking about it. He peeks at her, and then away, and she realizes in that split second that he's curious. About what, she can't be sure. It's not like he's never met a human before. "The leg's too fragile. So if you want anything, someone's going to have to get it for you. Me or Baze, probably. Or Bodhi, when he arrives."

He shuts his mouth with a snap, and blinks. She gets the feeling he usually doesn't talk that much. Not all at once, anyway. His eyebrows are creeping up his forehead like caterpillars on a garden wall.

"Yeah," says Jyn. "The whole thing makes pissing a nightmare."

He doesn't flinch. He doesn't even blink, really. He just looks at her for a bit, and turns his head away like he's trying to hide a smile. "Sorry."

"Who's Bodhi?"

Cassian looks towards the door. "Human merchant. He shows up sometimes. He's immune to sirensong like you, means he can--bring Baze things without being in danger."

That's not all he does, she thinks. Still, she doubts Cassian's actually going to explain it. "Why are we immune and other humans aren't?"

Cassian folds his hands together, letting them dangle between his knees. He doesn't link his fingers--he can't; the webbing gets in the way--but he does cover one hand with the other, curling them together.

"I'm not sure," he says, after a beat. "There aren't--many. I don't think. I'd heard of it, before I left, but I didn't think I'd ever meet one. Humans like you are rare."

"Humans like me?"

He looks at her. "Humans who don't want other humans. Or anyone, really."

Jyn blinks. She blinks again. Cassian watches her for a bit, waiting, unblinking. She swallows.

"What?"

"Some men want men," he says. "Some women want women. Some want both. Some don't want anybody at all. The ones who don't want anybody at all aren't affected by sirensong."

There's something buzzing in her ears. She can't quite hear him properly. "Oh."

Cassian blinks at her. "Do humans not talk about this?"

"I," she says, and then stops, because her tongue is sticking to the roof of her mouth. "That--"

She hadn't known there were other people like that, she almost says. She snaps her teeth around it, and keeps it close.

"If a Mer bites a human it grants an immunity to sirensong," says Cassian, carefully. "The humans that are naturally immune are generally that kind of human. The ones who don't want, or don't--feel that kind of thing."

Jyn looks at him, at the shading over his face, the mask he's settled over his features, and then says, "Do you feel that kind of thing?"

Cassian meets her gaze. He does not look away. "That's none of your business."

"Then stop asking me about mine," she says, and turns her face to the wall.

Silence for a moment.

"Sorry," Cassian says. He flares his webbed fingers. "I just--don't meet humans like you. I don't meet humans at all, generally. But--there aren't many people who are immune. I want to understand how it happens, that's all."

She wants to hold her knees to her chest. She can't, obviously--it'd hurt--but she wants to. She feels safer that way. "Is that why you saved my life?"

"No," says Cassian, very fierce. The mask cracks around his eyes. "No, I--I could save you because of it. It's not why I saved you. I saved you because I didn't want you to die."

Another impasse. Jyn curls her hand tight around the kyber crystal, wishing she could work out what to say.

"I forgot," says Cassian. He shifts, and draws something out of his pocket. "I found this in the wreck."

It's a dagger. Jyn looks at it, and then at him, and then snatches it out of his hand, pressing it close into her palm with all her fingers. The sheath is tacky with dried ocean water, salt crusting at the hilt, but when she draws the blade and plays it through her hands it's still sharp as a rock shear. She sheathes it, draws it, sheathes it. Cassian watches her do it with eyes that have gone just a bit wide.

"Baze said you wanted a knife," he says, as Jyn flips the blade up into the air and catches it. "So I thought of you. When I found it."

"Baze thinks I’m going to kill someone," says Jyn.

"You won't," says Cassian.

"You can't know that." She flips the knife again. "I'm a pirate."

Cassian looks at her through damp bangs, the corner of his mouth hooking up, just a bit. "I trust you."

It's a miracle that she doesn't slit her own thumb open, at that. Jyn sheathes the blade, and shoves it under her pillow.

"I won't tell Baze," says Cassian. She thinks he might be teasing. His eyes are all crinkled at the corners. "But--so you have one."

"Right," says Jyn. She clears her throat. "Thanks."

"What port did you sail from?" Cassian draws his foot up onto the chair, rests his chin on his raised knee. "What island?"

She tells him. She's not sure why, but she tells him. There's still a distant buzzing in her ears.

Some don't want anybody at all.

[queen-archeron]

Nessian (Post ACOWAR) Pt. 4

Pt.1

Pt.2

Pt.3

Special thanks to @highladyfxyre for proof reading this! :)) It took awhile to update because I’ve been on vacation but I leave tomorrow so I should get back on track then!

The next 4 days in Velaris were as usual to Nesta. She would wake up to Cassian knocking on her door at dawn because she refused to set an alarm for herself, then they would train for a few hours, followed by lunch at Rita’s, and then everyone would separate for the rest of the day.

Her and Cassian always walked around the city after lunch, talking about how her training is going or when his next mission was. Nesta had grown comfortable around Cassian in the past few days. He made sure she never felt left out or angry and he took her with him everywhere he went.

They hadn’t discussed what had happened on the bridge, and both were avoiding that conversation. Nesta continuously thought about his words and what they meant. He didn’t want to rush the mating bond, which Nesta understood, but she was also impatient. They hadn’t kissed since that day on the bridge, and as much as she tried to deny it, she wanted to.

Cassian caught her glancing at him and she quickly looked away, clearing her throat and looking straight ahead. She heard him chuckle and scowled at him.

A few moments later she felt two strong arms wrap around her and she was pulled into Cassian’s hard chest. “Hang on.”

That was the only warning she got before he shot them into the sky. Nesta screamed and Cassian adjusted her so he had one arm under her knees and one holding her middle.

“What are you doing?” She yelled over the wind, watching as the landscape below got smaller. Her arms tightened around his neck and she turned to him, waiting for an answer.

He nodded towards a cliff that was slowly coming into view. “I want to show you something.” He turned to face her and smiled. “You’ll like it.”

She sighed but didn’t argue. Slowly, he glided them towards the ground and landed, letting her slide out of his arms. He took hold of her shoulders and turned her to face the edge of the cliff.

Nesta was in awe at the view from this height. She could see all of Velaris stretched out below her, and the ocean to the left was a beautiful orange color as the setting sun reflected off of it. The smell of food was being blown up from the city as a gentle breeze swept through. Birds flew across the surface of the water before rising into the sky again.

Cassian came up behind Nesta and she glanced up at him with awe still in her face. He smirked and looked down at her. “Told you you’d like it.”

Nesta face the view again. “Why did you bring me here?”

Cassian took a moment to answer, and Nesta sat down, crossing her legs beneath the skirts of her dress. Cassian joined her and leaned back on his hands.

“I used to come here after my missions. Whenever I had to kill, or if I just needed a break from all the chaos. This was my go to place.” He glanced back at her. “It’s quiet and it’s got one hell of a view, so I figured maybe you’d like it.”

She smiled and placed her hand on top of his in the grass. He held her gaze, turning his palm up to hold her hand in his.

“I love it.”

They both gave each other small smiles and watched the sunset from the edge. Nesta eventually scooted closer to Cassian and rested her head on his shoulder, her eyes slowly drifting shut as exhaustion set in after a long day.

The last thing she remembered was Cassian’s arm wrapping around her shoulder, and the words he whispered to her. Although, she was pretty sure she was dreaming.

“I love you, Sweetheart.”

———————

Nesta woke up in her own bed, the sunlight creeping through the curtains and a small breeze floating through the slightly open window. Stretching out, she smiled as she remembered her evening with Cassian, looking out at Velaris. He must have taken her home because she couldn’t remember getting here on her own.

I love you, Sweetheart.

She ran a hand through her messy hair as she remembered his words. But was she dreaming?

The thoughts crowded her head as she got dressed in a sky blue dress, brushed her hair out, and headed downstairs. She was met with Elain and Feyre eating at the table, and rose a brow.

“What are you guys doing here?” She asked, glancing around as she realized how quiet it was. Normally Rhys and the other Illyrians were here in the morning for training, and that’s when Nesta also realized that Cassian hadn’t knocked on her door this morning.

Feyre swallowed a piece of bread and sighed. “They were called to the Illyrian camps. Apparently there’s been a lot of fighting happening up there and they had to keep it under control. They should be back tonight or tomorrow.”

Elain yawned and looked outside to where her small garden was. “I’m going to work on some plating today.” Nesta and Feyre nodded and watched their sister skip outside. As soon as she was out of sight, Feyre turned to Nesta with a smile that only meant trouble. Nesta narrowed her eyes.

“What?”

Feyre leaned back in her chair, kicking her feet up on the table. “So…you and Cassian, huh?”

Nesta’s face reddened immediately and she crossed the kitchen floor to grab an apple from the fruit basket. She took a bite, facing away from Feyre and muttered, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Feyre chuckled and took another bite of toast. “He brought you home last night you know. He looked almost pained when he left.”

Nesta rolled her eyes and turned to face her sister. “You can think whatever you want, Feyre, but nothing’s going on.” Feeling satisfied, she made her way towards the door that led out to the garden, but froze when she heard what Feyre said next.

“I know you two are mates.”

Nesta slowly turned and watched Feyre smile again. Stomping over, she pulled out the chair adjacent to her and sat, staring at Feyre with a threatening glare.

“How?”

Feyre rolled her eyes as if it was obvious. “I have a mate. I know the signs, and Nesta, I’ve never seen Cassian so…” She searched for a word and Nesta held her breath. “I’ve never seen him so happy.”

She shook her head and crossed her arms. “I don’t make him happy, so clearly you’re looking at him when I’m not there.”

Feyre gave her a disapproving look as she swallowed her last piece of toast. “Nesta, when he came home with you in his arms last night, he looked like everything was perfect. And when he set you down in your bed, I saw the longing there.”

Nesta snarled. “He deserves better.”

“No he doesn’t. He deserves you Nesta, and he doesn’t want you to push him away.”

Nesta let out a deep breath. She took another bite out of the apple and rolled her eyes. Feyre shrugged and stood up, tossing it in the trash as she did. Before she walked out of the room, she paused and turned back to Nesta.

“I left out the ingredients to make cookies by the way.” She winked at Nesta and headed upstairs.

“They’re Cassian’s favorite.” She called, and Nesta heard a bedroom door shut. She let out an annoyed sigh, but glanced towards the counter at the ingredients that were indeed set out on the counter. A list of instructions were with them, and as Nesta stood to throw the core of her apple away, she couldn’t help but read them.

They weren’t hard, and it only took about 30 minutes to make. She furrowed her brows as she considered making them. And after staring at them for so long, she grabbed the ingredients off the counter, and set up a space for her to bake. 

———————

Nesta awoke the next morning to Cassian knocking on her door at dawn. She smiled to herself and glanced at the small jar of cookies next to her bed.

Later, she thought.

She made her way out of bed and opened the door to see a smiling Cassian. He looked her up and down.

“Its good to know you’re starting to actually wake up when it’s time to train.” He teased and she rolled her eyes but let a smile form on her lips.

“I’ll be down in a sec.” She closed the door before he could reply and heard him walking down the stairs.

She knew she shouldn’t be nervous about anything. They were just going to train like every other day, but she knew what was coming. After training she wanted to walk with him to the townhouse where she would get a few cookies, then go to the edge of the mountain where they had spent the evening yesterday.

She felt anxious already, and she rushed to get dressed, quickly braiding her hair and then walking downstairs.

Cassian held a hand out and she gladly took it, letting him lift her into his arms, before they finally flew towards the sparring ring. They were silent most of the way, enjoying each other’s company, and Nesta didn’t mind one bit.

As they landed, they quickly began to train, starting with some warm ups.

Nesta could feel a difference in her body after training with him for only a week. She could do more reps of the exercises Cassian asked her to do, and she felt stronger.

As usual, Cassian and Nesta did some sparring exercises, then finished with a warm down. She did some lunges, squats, and push ups. She caught Cassian eyeing her every move and held back her smile.

The Inner Circle started to get ready to go to Rita’s, wings spreading out as Rhys picked Feyre up, Azriel picked Elain up, and Cassian picked Nesta up. “Wait…” She murmured as they started heading for the edge of the ring. His eyes shot to hers as he listened.

“Can we not go to Rita’s today?” She watched as he glanced over his shoulder at Rhys and Az and shrugged. “Where do you want to go?”

She shook her head and tightened her grip on him. “I mean just you and me.”

Cassian smirked, but set her down and gave her a nod. He walked over to Rhys, who was still carrying Feyre and must have told him, because Rhys nodded, and as Cassian walked away, Nesta could see Feyre smiling.

Picking her up again, Cassian shot into the sky. “Where to?”

She glanced towards the townhouse which looked so small beneath them and pointed. “I need to get something and then we’ll go.” She called through the wind.

Cassian set her down at the door and waited for her as she ran upstairs and grabbed a few cookies, putting them in a bag and shoving it in her pocket. When she walked back out, Cassian held out his arms for her again.

She let him pick her up and finally said, “Let’s go to where we went the other day. The one that’s quiet and has one hell of a view.” He chuckled at that.

“Whatever you say, Sweetheart.” He grinned and flew them up towards their destination.

———————

When they landed, Nesta leaped from Cassian’s arms and went to the edge of the cliff, watching the day go by beneath her. Cassian sat down behind her and he patted the grass next to him, an invitation.

As she sat down, Cassian watched her with wondering eyes. “Why did you want to come here?”

She glanced out at the view and sighed. “Can’t I just come to enjoy the view?”

He shook his head and she rose a brow. “You’ve been anxious all morning, Nesta. I know you.” She felt a blush rise to her cheeks and moved her hand to her pocket. She took the bag of cookies out, which were surprisingly not crumbs. Pulling one out, she took a deep breath and handed it to Cassian.

She was pretty sure he wasn’t breathing, and he observed the cookie as if it was some exotic creature he’d never seen before.

“Nesta…” He furrowed his brows and his wings spread out behind him. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

She bit her lip but nodded at him, taking his hand—the one with the cookie—in her own and smiling.

“I’m accepting the bond, Cassian.”

He shuddered, and she could see the hesitation in his eyes.

“I want you to be one hundred percent sure that you want—“

Nesta cut him off by leaning forward and pressing her lips to his. He didn’t resist and kisses her back immediately. When she pulled away, his eyes were glassy, and he glanced down at the cookie in his hand.

“Eat it Cassian.” She begged him with her eyes, worried for a moment he wouldn’t accept it. “Please.”

Cassian brought the cookie to his mouth, never removing his eyes from hers , and took a bite.

Then another. And another. Until he had eaten the whole cookie, and stared at her.

Before she could say anything, he lunged forward, his mouth finding hers as they fell to the ground. Her arms immediately came around his neck, pulling him close, and he groaned into her mouth as she hooked one of her legs around his waist.

Cassian pulled away, but barely. Their noses brushed and they were both breathing heavily as he let out a small laugh. “My mate.”

Nesta nodded running a hand through his hair. “Your mate.” She whispered.

Cassian scooped her into his arms and spread out his wings, walking towards the cliffs edge. He leaned in close, whispering in her ear. “I’m taking you home.”

And before she knew it, they were flying through the sky, heading towards Cassian’s townhouse, while smiling at each other with love.

[luciensfox]

Sleeping Fires

The missing scene between Helion and Lucien. (contains spoilers for ACOWAR) Rating: T Words: 5k+

“Her fox dreams of wings and sleeping fire.”

At least, that was what Elain had told him as Lucien passed by the garden two mornings ago.

If he were being honest with himself he knew that he had rushed by, nearly tripping over his own feet, not because he was in a hurry to join Feyre’s meeting with a newly crowned High Lady, but because of what he saw burrowed between the flowers. Upon noticing that Elain wasn’t alone— that shadows unspooled from the edges of her small lavender field— he had felt his heart speed up, then skip a beat. The sudden halt inside his chest caused him to stumble, but before his mate could look up from her delicate handwork and inquire if something was wrong, he had fled. But he had no doubts that those shadows saw him, and that they drew back slightly… as if they didn't intend to harm. As if they were… hesitant.

It came out of the wind sighing against the tall grass.

Both he and Azriel stared at her, one Fae in pursuit of the city below, the other resting on his elbows beneath a tree. She blushed gently at their attention, and mumbled an apology for “being so obtuse.” Azriel looked like he wanted to say something, but as his eyes drifted back to the Autumn Fae, he just frowned. Lucien, not knowing what else to do, said hoarsely, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

And then he was gone.

The path from the Town House into Velaris was but a few minutes, and soon he found himself shrugging the shoulders of his jacket closer to his chin. A calming chill settled against the wind as grey clouds smudged the midmorning sky, causing shop owners to close their windows and children to hurry back indoors. As if waiting for the last civilian to find shelter, the rain began.

Candles slowly lit every storefront, the scent of freshly baked pastries and incense from the nearest high priestess’s vigil shrouding him in a foreign aroma reminiscent of when he was younger and his brothers, not yet soured with time, would created towering bonfires under a plumb, star speckled sky.

He ducked through the heavy wooden door and shut it gently with his long fingers.

Whereas outside the scent of rain and smoke lingered, in this shop the air was peppered with metal and firewood and often times sweat or the occasional spilled spirit. As usual, it was empty. The only patrons who deigned to enter were either fumbling apprentices, lordlings with unchecked boredom, and occasionally the Illyrian commander himself. But Lucien knew that with Cassian it wasn’t so much the shopping he was interested in than it was screwing around with the newly acquainted Inner Circle member.

Lucien didn't know how he felt about any of it; that he was considered part of their family, or that Cassian visited him more frequently than any of the others.

It… unsettled him.

This sense of home.

“Are you done shuffling around like a newborn bat or shall I have you solder more hilts?”

He glanced at the women perched in the far corner of the room, boots propped up against the rickety table, sharpening a blade between her hands. The murky sunlight that filtered in made her rich brown skin seem luminescent against the shadows cast by the hearth, and her braided onyx hair was neatly parted to either side of her neck, exposing the silken black tattoos that rose from somewhere beneath her shirt to the corners of her ears. And if the tattoos weren't a dead giveaway for who she was, then the membranous wings that stretched behind her sure as hell were.

“I see you’re as cheerful as ever,” he said.

She gave him a warm smile that did nothing to warm the gesture of her middle finger quirking upward. But Lucien laughed. And that laugh scratched up his throat like a trapped hothouse bird.

She never lifted her hazel eyes from her work as he sat down across from the Illyrian blacksmith and began to draw a new design against a recently forged sword. Peering at the one she held, Lucien could see twin dragons scaling up the hilt of the weapon and the beginnings of a star motif being wrought into the design.

His own latest creation was a chaotic scene full of elemental things. The sun stretched against the quicksilver tones of the knife, it’s rays curling into stars that melted into waves that burned into flames and so forth. Woodland creatures gathered near the pommel, upon which a massive fox had it’s lips curled back as though it were laughing or shrieking at the sun.

The two of them didn’t forge weapons for battle. Now that the war was over, the only time they ever created surplus amounts of armaments was when Rhysand inquired for more to be sent into the camps to be used for training.

But Lucien had always been infatuated with knifes, perhaps a dark part of him that still drew ties to the Autumn Court, and the artwork and craftsmanship that went into creating them. No two knives were ever the same, for each was forged in different fire.

It was exactly what he had told her when he first entered her shop. It didn't take long to form a friendship with the blacksmith, and soon he was offering his labor free of cost. Both of them found it to be relaxing— about as inviting as Feyre found painting to be.

So he continued to play with fire, even though something else festered inside him.

It was days like this, when the sun was overcast by storms, that a foreign tug pulled at his ribs, as though he was tethered to the missing light and it cried for him to return.

“Your drifting again, fox.” Valora quipped, finally looking at him.

He rested the tools on the wooden table and gave her a bored stare.

Valora had been one of the numerous Ilyrian women who decided to live in Velaris after the secret City of Starlight became painted on every map of Prythian. Most of them who relocated into the city did so on their own accord, Valora had explained, for the treatment of women in the camps had gotten progressively more tolerable. Wing clippings ceased all together and everyone trained side by side, given equal opportunity to pursue the Blood Rites and join the legions in the skies.

She had mentioned even bastard borns were given better living quarters. Lucien knew without her telling him that the new treatment was likely born from how vital Cassian was to their winning of the last war. He wondered if the commander was even aware of the pillar he knocked down.

But every so often, Lucien would catch Valora staring to the North.

Just as he sometimes glanced southward and wondered what was becoming of his old courts.

They never spoke about their previous homes.

And they preferred it that way.

After Hybern had fallen, Prythian entered a state of silence. The rebuilding didn’t start until a month ago and it was still considered the earlier stages of the aftermath. Things had been so surreal, but they had not won easily and the death toll was much larger than the one charted from the Mortal War centuries ago. He had not been born yet, but the stories told from both his eldest brother and his father made him glad of that small blessing.

The two worked in silence for a moment more until Valora grew bored and announced that she was returning to the Steepes for a few weeks.

Lucien frowned.

“I’m only going back to check in with my sister. She just gave birth shy of two months ago and I want to see her son, my nephew,” she explained.

Standing up, he grabbed the jacket he had discarded. “You don’t have to justify anything to me. If you want to return… there, then what is stopping you? Go check on your family, V. I won’t cause too much trouble in your absence.” He had been about to say home. If you want to return home.

And from the wariness drawing her usual lively face…

She snorted, albeit a bit forced. He offered a small smile.

Before he left the shop, Lucien placed his hand on hers and squeezed tight. Valora looked up, her molten eyes shinning, and curled her fingers around his. They didn't speak, because they didn’t have to. The relationship built between them was highly platonic, if not a bit familial in the sense that an older sister might have with her younger brother. From spending so much time in the presence of the other, sharing wounds and sympathies, they’d formed a friendship as strong as the one he’d seen Azriel and Cassian have.

He wondered if that was a common thing, or if it felt this way to him because he was unaware of how this bond should feel. He once thought he’d experienced it with Tamlin. Now he wasn’t sure he could ever rely on his emotions to guide him.

The rain had stopped some time before Lucien walked back up the path of the Sidra. But now night was prominent and thickly lapsing against the drowning sun behind the mountains.

He must have stayed longer than he’d thought, considering he’d left Elain in her garden around noon and now the sky was bleeding blue.

Stopping only to retrieve a cup of tea, Lucien continued his journey back to the house when he realized there was something missing. It hit him when he saw a boy perched against a fountain in the square, a heavy book in his lap. He’d promised Feyre to visit the library and check in with the women there. In the aftermath of the war, Rhysand vouched that at least one member from his Inner Circle, including himself and his High Lady, would go to see the Priestesses every day and inquire about their well-being. And with the High Lord off in the Hewn City, the High Lady visiting the Winter Court with Mor, and Cassian stationed somewhere in the Illyrian camps for the week….

The prospect of seeing where Azriel went (or rather, where he didn’t go since Lucien last saw him) was too painful to bear, and he’d sooner visit the Weaver than ask Amren for any favors….

With a little reluctance, he turned around and hurried towards the library.

Lucien knew that his trepidation to visit the women didn't stem from anything other than his own trauma. Now that he was slowly patching things together, he was more aware of himself than he’d ever been before. And recognizing that he was also a survivor of abuse and rape made visiting this specific building a thousand times more terrifying. He’d only offered to go once. Upon Mor asking him how his visit went, he just smiled around a cup of wine and replied that the women were all safe and at peace. He forgot to mention the three times he had thrown up his guts after rushing back outside and ducking into the nearest alleyway.

How could he face them and offer support when he didn’t know how to cope with himself?

Feyre… tried to help. She would speak with him every day, as if he were the Priestesses they all visited and coddled and soothed. She would hold his hand only when he let her and tell him that he had escaped, that nobody would hurt him, that he had the power to withstand anything and that he could live without only breathing as a means of life.

He didn't deserve it. Any of it.

So perhaps that was why he never told them about how hard it was for him to do this task. Even when he knew it offered him a small solace whenever his friend did it for him. But then again, he had always been a coward.

Light spilled in from the high windows—moonlight, meant to cleanse and illuminate. His silent footfalls dipped into each pool of light as his tall frame cast mountains against the rows of books and wooden shelves. The tea in his hand was now cold, and he cursed himself for not thinking to bring food with him. Maybe if he left to find some pastries…. that always made people seem happier….

Fuck it.

He needed to keep walking forward.

But the closer into the heart of the keep he got, the farther the noise and light reached. It was as if the library had been enclosed in a grave for years, with no light or living creatures to reside down here. And he wasn’t an idiot— he knew that for however quiet this place often was, tonight it seemed like that silence was a real thing. A creature that lurked in the abyss, perhaps taking a bed where Bryaxis once slept.

Lucien felt it then. The wrongness.

Discarding his cup and steadily reaching for the knife at his side, he walked along the carpeted path that spiraled downward. His breathing was rapid, his heartbeat nearly shrieking in his own ears. He didn’t say a word, knowing that would out his location if there really was a threat here. So instead he scanned the hollow place with whatever dregs of power he could conjure to his mind. Yet even doing so, he felt nothing but solid air and emptiness.

If something had happened to the Priestesses while he was meant to visit them…

He ran.

Clotho should have been at the front gate. His first giveaway that something was off. And then there was the lack of light, and the lack of sound. Perhaps they were sleeping, but all of them? At such an early hour? It was a fool’s hope.

He flew on swift feet, checking every corner and crevice for either the women or the thing that hid from his reach. For half a second, the thought of calling for help crossed his mind. He was already entering a panic that he knew wouldn't ease until he was back outside in the fresh, cold air. But he also knew he couldn't leave until he knew everyone was safe.

And that is precisely when it happened.

Lucien froze.

And whirled around to face the vibrant eyes of a naga-hound.

“Fuck me.”

It lunged, grey fangs dripping with gore, and it’s claws dug into his jacket faster than he could procure the blade at his side. They slammed to the floor with enough force to wake whatever else was resting in the library. Lucien snarled and thrust the creature off him, gripping his weapon and letting it sail straight for the hound’s head. The naga noticed it a moment too late, forcing the blade to slice off an ear rather than hit the central point of it’s head. It screamed, and the sound was like a dry tree snapping in half.

Lucien went for his second blade, the last one on his person, and waited for the beast to advance. If he discarded that weapon he would have to rely only on his magic, for his strength was nothing in comparison to the muscles on this Hybern bred creature. So he waited, and the thing didn’t disappoint.

But what Lucien had miscalculated was the silence. It had gotten too quiet again, right before the second attack, and then suddenly he was knocked from behind as a second naga-hound burst from the darkness and ripped into his throat like a pair of shears clipping clean into a rosebush.

He cried out, feeling warm blood leak from the fresh wound. It had hit a vital artery at the rate in which his life-force was now bleeding out of him. Lucien grew light headed, but growled back at the creatures and forced his knife into the nearest available aim. The beast went down instantly, taking with it an entire bookcase as it rocked the earth beneath it. The second one howled, bellowing it’s fury.

Lucien quickly glanced to the side, his chest rising and falling erratically, to see his knife wedged deep into the hound’s right eye. His stomach turned over and he had to choke back his own vomit. Not now, not now, not now, not now.

But those were tears in his good eye.

He shakily rose to his feet and backed up, never once wandering out of sight from his opponent. But when his shoulders hit a solid barrier he felt his hope completely vanish. Feeling behind him, where he knew was once open air, was now a magic wall concealing him and the creatures inside this sector of the library.

The Mother must be laughing herself hoarse.

The naga-hound crouched low, and Lucien braced himself. When it erupted off the ground, however, it wasn’t met with his blade or fist…. rather, the thing erupted into flames and hit the ground as it turned to ash. Its cries were choked off by the blast of power he felt coursing through his veins. That fast it was gone.

Lucien slumped back against the barrier and slid to the ground, staring at nothing.

He had summoned fire for the first time in decades. Not just any small kindle of light to create a candle, or heat a slab of meat, or warm a bedside. No, he had channeled a source of power only his brothers had seen him wield. And he’d wielded it with more force than he’d ever conjured before. It was almost like seeing Rhysand mist all those Hybern soldiers, yet instead of feeling awe and slight fear, he just felt… numb.

It was then, as his wounds ever so slowly stitched back together, drenched in his own blood with two naga-hounds trapped in the crevice of a dark library with him, that he sensed someone winnow behind him. And for whatever strength he had left, he couldn't find it in himself to turn around and face whoever it was.

But he didn't have to.

The barrier he’d been leaning against was gone, but it took him longer to realize that it had vanished before the other person entered the hall. Yet, from the sharp intake of breath, it would seem like they had been present to watch it vanish. To see what power Lucien always knew he had, but never fully acknowledged for fear of learning something that would likely be used against him.

For it was Day power that also mixed with the fire of Autumn in his blood.

The scent of figs and warm tree bark replaced the reek of the decaying naga hound as Helion Spell-Cleaver stepped in front of him and stared at Lucien with unreadable eyes.

The bolt of white fabric carefully decorating his powerful body was still resplendent in the darkness, an inner light illuminating from within. The golden serpent coiled around his bicep stood out starkly against his skin, and the crown of glowing spikes atop is head appeared like the elongated shadows Lucien had casted upon entering the sanctuary.

Powerful, with lazy grace, and wrath hidden beneath those amber eyes. And yet, when he looked at Lucien, there was something offsetting his usual carelessness. The way his eyes widened, his muscles strained… indeed, Lucien was quite the sight to behold at the moment.

Lucien waited for what was to come.

But the High Lord of Day just stared and stared at him.

So the Autumn Fae swallowed thickly and made to stand up, feeling the blood drain from his head and out the open gash in his neck. A second passed where there was nothing but blinding light painting his view. And then Helion crashed to his knees before him and reached for his shoulders, drawing him towards that source of eternal warmth and brightness.

“Lucien,” he whispered, his voice shaking.

Lucien didn't respond, the loss of so much blood finally taking a toll on him. But the wounds closed together, stitching shut until his flesh was smooth and unmarred save for a small scar at the base of his collar bone. Blinking back spots from his vision, Lucien noticed the gore that covered him, drying to his golden skin, and the fingers that were trembling as they touched where the gash had once been. Following the hand to its owner, he froze and stared up at amber eyes, a shade like burning leaves…

“Thank you, High Lord.”

Helion began shaking his head, clutching Lucien harder. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but no sound cam out. Lucien didn't think the High Lord had ever been speechless in his life.

Those trembling fingers straightened and the hold on Lucien lightened as Helion helped Lucien to his feet, still keeping an arm around him in fear that the other might fall down again even though there was no longer a scratch on his body. The High Lord, somewhat unknowingly healed all wounds from Lucien, including the paper cut on his index finger from that morning. Why there was such strength behind that healing he did not know. Didn’t even think the High Lord knew, especially since it was Thesan who excelled at such powers.

“Are you hurt? Does anything still pain you?”

They were calm questions but they did nothing to hide the severity behind those words.

So Lucien slowly shook his head. “I am fine.” Even though he felt anything but. Even though being in this place made him want to curl in on himself like an animal in winter.

Something like devastation crossed Helion’s face, but it was gone a moment later.

Carefully, as if weighing each word, the High Lord asked, “How were you able to bring down that wall?”

The fear came back full force, causing him to look anywhere but those burning amber eyes. Thankfully he was saved from answering as Rhysand and an unknown Darkbringer, by the look of the warrior’s armor, winnowed before them. The High Lord of Night focused on the scene in front of him and his jaw tightened. There was a silent communication between him and his warrior before the Darkbringer nodded and drew his blade, walking down the corridor to their left to find more possible enemies lurking in the dark.

“It would seem that I missed a party.”

Lucien was going to strangle him, but from the unimpressed look on Helion’s face he might have to beat him to it. “There were two naga-hounds prowling about your court, Rhysand. This is hardly the time.”

Rhys’s eyes darkened as he looked upon the ashes and the broken bones of the creatures behind them, and he addressed Lucien as he said, “I was in a meeting with Kier regarding the boundary lines of the courts when I felt one of the Priestesses press the emergency bell. I brought a few of the Darkbringers with me in case the threat was more than I anticipated, but it would seem that Helion also decided to come offer aid. He and Tarquin were at the meeting as well, but Tarquin had already departed when I felt the pull to the library.”

It explained why Helion was also here, but now why he was acting this way around Lucien.

Rhysand seemed to glean something else occurring and wisely kept his mouth shut save for informing them that the women were all safe and had been hiding from the creatures until Lucien arrived and was trapped with them. That was the moment Clotho rung the bell.

The relief was instantaneous and he nearly sagged against the male holding him upright, but kept his eyes on the wall ahead, where the exit to the building resided. Rhysand murmured something he missed and Helion narrowed his eyes, but nodded. Then Rhys was gone. And Helion turned back to face Lucien.

Slowly, he let him stand on his own. As if he were a newborn deer and had to be monitored. Lucien felt a growl build in the back of his throat. “I can stand on my own without you hovering.”

The High Lord of Day ignored him and raised a hand to gently touch the scar that marred Lucien’s face. Lucien flinched, staring at that hand like it ended in claws, and Helion felt bile rise to his throat alongside the rage that entered his heart. “What have they done to you,” he rasped.

As he took in the familiar copper eyes, a shade or two darker than his own, and the skin a tad darker than the rest of his brothers, and the straight nose, the crooked smile, the scent of bonfires and cinnamon and… earthly sunlight…

Helion Spell-Cleaver felt tears slide out the corner of his eyes. His warm hands rested softly on Lucien’s shoulders—Lucien, who had noticed all these revelations and began to piece things together in his mind— and he felt his heart stutter in its cage.

“All this time… you were here all this time. In my own home… in my court when you were sent as emissary… under the— by the mother, Lucien.”

Lucien was shaking, his hands slackening at his sides as he came to the same conclusion that was always so glaringly obvious but that he was terrified to admit for fear of being resented or hunted or used…  

“My son,” Helion gasped, gripping him tightly, “my own blood and I did not know you were right in front of me. Always there, always—,” he slammed his eyes shut and bowed his head. Lucien lightly let his own head fall against his fathers, his true father, and softly let all the trappings and masks fall away as he cried. Helion’s arms were suddenly there, circled around him as he held onto his son for the first time. He held him as he would have the day he were born, with a hand resting on his fiery head, the other against his back. “I will never let anything happen to you again. Please, please forgive me for not being able to stop it. What you have went through, what you had to endure…. know that I will live out the rest of my existence with that weight on my shoulders.”

“…Father,” Lucien said quietly, hesitantly, “It wasn’t your fault.”

Helion drew back to stare at his son and felt his heart break all over again, like the day Lucien’s mother was taken from him back to that creature Beron in the Autumn Court. One day, he’d make blood rain down like falling leaves. He swore that upon the Cauldron.

“Does…. does your mother,” he couldn't even ask. The possible answers to his unasked inquiry too damning to hear. But Lucien gathered enough of what he was trying to say, and he paled.

“I’m not sure.” It was all he could offer as well.

The High Lord nodded hurriedly, knowing that he needed to find her as soon as he left this court. But for now… for now, he needed to be with his son. And his son needed to know what a home truly felt like, if he’d have him.

“Come back with me. Live in the Day Court. Be my heir, or my emissary, or even a mere Lordling— I don’t mind. But Lucien, please, I don’t think I could bear not being near you now that I know who you truly are. I might be a millennia old, but my heart still wavers for certain things. You and your mother above all else.”

To leave Night, he would be leaving behind all that which he had worked so hard to create here. Feyre would want him to go, to experience this, and he was positive Nesta and Amren wouldn’t give much of a damn. The Illyrians he had taken a liking to, especially his friend Valora… but if she could return to the camps and find happiness, then so could he.

The thought of leaving his mate was unbearable. But the thought of not going with his father to the Day Court…

Elain was not ready for him. So he’d wait for her, no matter how long that took. If it were a month, a year, or the rest of eternity— he would wait. And if she found love with another, if someone made her as happy and free as she needed to be, then he would fight every instinct in him and let her go. But this…

This he could not walk away from.

So Lucien smiled at his father, a real smile that garnered his title as Lord of Foxes, and Helion shone so bright the whole of Velaris must have wondered if Bryaxis returned to its home with the sun in its mouth.

Together, they winnowed to the Day Court.

Later on, Feyre would wink at her mate and Rhysand would smile back.

Somewhere in Prythian, a women stopped staring out her chamber windows, rose to her full height, and grabbed her cloak. Then she walked right out the palace doors, starting a long journey North. In her dreams, a fox encounter a male with wings. In her dreams, the fire slept long enough for her to leave its embrace. In her waking plight, she went in pursuit of her son.

[pardonmymannerssir]

cassian/jyn prompt where jyn joins the resistance after she is left by saw.

A quick little drabble for this prompt that I may expand on in the future :)

Rating: T

Pairing: Jyn/Cassian

Cassian knows trouble when he sees it. He’s developed a sortof sixth sense for it, honed from years spent on the streets of Bereen wherehe’d done whatever he’d had to do to survive, scraping by with little more thanwits and instinct. They hadn’t let him down, not yet.

And right now they’re telling him that Jyn Erso is, withouta doubt, trouble.

“We’re putting her under your command,” Commander Draventells him as they watch a training officer drag the woman in question –girl, really- bodily off another recruit.  

“Is this punishment for what happened on Glygon?”

Draven snorts. “She’s a capable fighter, Andor. Best I’veseen in years, possibly even better than you.”

Cassian grunts, arms crossed over his chest. “She’s a loosecannon who doesn’t follow orders.”

“Reminds me of someone else I used to know.”

Cassian bristles. “That was a long time ago.”

–

He has to throw her in a containment cell her first weekunder his command. The only thing she seems any good at is starting fights. Winning fights, he corrects reluctantly.

“You can stay in here till you learn to stop acting like awild animal,” he tells her, flinging her into the cell by the scruff of herneck.

She curses at him, face bloodied and left eye swelling shut.There is something savage about her, the sort of beastly barbarity he’s seen inwounded animals. Jyn Erso, for all her bravado, is a broken, bleeding thing,and he knows a great deal about being broken. He can think of no other way tohelp her but to give her some time to think.

Cassian closes the door and leaves her to it.

–

He leaves her in the cell for two days, coming to her on thesecond night during the dog watch. She’d been a wild spiting hellcat when he’dleft her, but now she is subdued, hunkering in one dark corner. He call feelher eyes tracking him in the darkness and the hairs rise on the back of hisneck.

“Here,” he says, throwing a flask into her lap before takinga seat beside her.

She is still for a long moment before finally lifting the flaskand taking a long swallow, wincing against the split in her lip.

“I don’t want you here if you don’t want to be here,” hesays as the silence drags and intensifies. He leans his head back and braceshis arms on his knees.

“You think they gave me a choice?” she asks, voice roughfrom disuse.

He glances at her. She looks young in the moonlight thatfilters from a single window high above, younger than he’d previously thought.

“There’s always a choice,” he says quietly, thinking of achildhood he’d rather forget.

She snorts and sighs, head thudding gently against the stonewall behind her. “Not for me.”

Cassian considers for a long moment. “I know what it is tobe left behind,” he says. Draven had told him, explained to him how’d they’dfound her with nothing more than an old blaster and the clothes on herback.  “But you can’t spend your wholelife waiting for the other shoe to fall. I meant what I said. If you don’t wantto be here, I don’t want you here.”

Again there is silence and Cassian shifts, ready to leave,when she sweep out her arm and presses the flask to his chest. Her face, whenhe looks, is set with determination. “Saw used to say that we can’t alwayschose our circumstance, but we can chose to make them better.”

She meets his eye and Cassian takes a sip from the flaskbefore passing it back to her and it’s a silent agreement between them.

–

She throws herself into her training and into theirmissions, but somehow remains a giant pain in his ass all the same.

“I told you to wait for backup,” he shouts over the sound ofexplosions.

Jyn rolls her eyes as she hunkers down next to him, blasterin hand. “Don’t be such a baby, it worked, didn’t it?”

Cassian grinds his teeth. “That isn’t the point, I gave youa direct order-“

“Which I decided not to follow, yes, I am aware of what happened, Lieutenant. Now, can we get the hell out of here and you can yellat me later, somewhere less… explosive?” She arches a teasing brow that does something ridiculous to his chest,  before taking him by the hand and draging himalong the walkway, flames dancing below their boots through the metal grating.

“You do understand that I’m your commanding officer, right?”he yells, his tone rather more defeated than he would like.

She shoots him a look over her shoulder, perfeclty at ease as the world burns down around them. “You do know I don’tgive a shit, right?”

Trouble, he thinksdismally, nothing but trouble.

-

Yavin is quiet, for once. The sky feels heavy and the moonintrusive.

“My mother hated space travel,” she says with little preambleand Cassian goes a bit tense. They’re alone, having been assigned to the seconddog watch, and he seems more aware of her in the darkness. The cadence of herbreathing, the slight shifting of her weight from one foot to the other. Theway her eyes shine and her hair flutters against the pale curve of her cheek. She’syoung, younger than him, at least, but sometimes she seems like the oldestperson in the galaxy.

“My mother never left her home planet,” he finds himselfsaying. He doesn’t talk about his family, his past. He hasn’t thought of hismother in almost a decade.

She glances at him briefly and there is some unknown emotionthere, something she doesn’t want him to see. “You could almost envy that.”

Cassian looks away, suddenly aware he’d been staring, andwatches the trees sway in a cool breeze. “She died, not much to envy there.”

“Everyone dies,” she says after a long moment. “It’s living that’sthe hard, complicated part.” There’s a sort of wistful melancholy in her tonethat he can’t translate, exactly, but it echoes in his bones.

“Why did you stay?” he blurts out, partially from adesperation to change the subject and partially because it’s a question that plagueshim some nights for reasons he can’t quite express.

She glances at him again, a small smile tugging at her lips.A real smile, he thinks, not the sardonic one she uses like a shield between herand the rest of the world. “Maybe I just got tired of running.”

–

She helps him recover the Imperial Droid -though she gripes about it the entire time- and is present whenhe finishes reprogramming it.

“Seems like a waste of time to me,” she says around a mouthfulof fruit.

“Good thing I didn’t ask you,” he grumbles, tightening afinal bolt on the droid’s circuit panel.

“Testy, testy,” she teases, and Cassian glances around thetower of metal in front of him to watch one slim ankle bounce against her knee. She’s dressed down,sporting a loose shirt and tight pants, her boots partly unlaced. If she wereto be stopped by an officer in the halls Cassian knows he would hear about itbut, well, maybe he likes the way she always looks a little unkempt, a little disheveled.

Cassian powers the K-2SO unit on, mostly to distract himselffrom the strange and dangerous path his mind had traveled down.

The droid boots up immediately and makes an immediate lungefor Jyn, who squawks like some gurgling bird and tumbles sideways off thework bench.

“That’s enough,” Cassian says casually and the droidstraightens.

“I sensed danger,” the droid replies and points at Jyn, whoscowls up at them both. “She is dangerous.”

Cassian barks out a laugh, leaning against the droid whoblinks at him in confusion as Jyn climbs grumpily to her feet.She ducks her head but not fast enough to hide the smile tugging at her lips.

“This was an excellent idea,” he concludes, banging a fistagainst the droid’s metal chest plate, beyond pleased with himself. Whether he’s talking about the droid or Jyn, well, it doesn’t really matter does it?