#don’t know about if i’m adding nesta yet.

[burygods]

well, that book was something

[starsxblazing]

Cause and Effect (Part 2)

Azriel awoke in panic as the horrible memories replayed in his mind on a constant loop. He was worried about Cassian who had been severely injured just to protect him in his compromised state. As he assumed, his brother was with Madja who was working on his shredded wings. Knowing that he was in good hands, Azriel immediately launched into the skies to check on his High Lady’s sisters.

He had been horrified in his helpless state as he watched the three of you being turned into High Fae. Only the oldest and youngest of the sisters had put up an actual fight and although it was admirable, it hadn’t done either any good. His mind was stuck on his initial thoughts of you. Your timidness and fear did nothing to cover up your beauty and he was reminded of his shock and frustration when Nesta hadn’t made a fuss about you as she had for Elain.

His mind shifted through memories further back and realized that he hadn’t seen you on his visits as they dealt with the human queens. None of them knew that Feyre had a younger sister and he wondered if it was to keep you safe but the lack of response from your sisters told him that it wasn’t the case.

To his surprise, you were the first one that he saw as he landed on the balcony. There was a half eaten plate of food that had been pushed away to make way for a book that you seemed to be unable to focus on. As soon as your eyes met his, he was unable to resist the small that he gave you. 

A sense of happiness and peace radiated off you so deeply that he could feel it all of the way across the room as he passed through the glass doors. It wasn’t until you gave him a genuine smile that shock overtook him. The warmth of a golden thread spread through him and it was all that he could do to regain his composure.

“How are you doing?” he asked in a gentle voice as he restrained himself from touching you. 

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly as you surveyed the room that you were both in. “I’m not sure how to adjust or even begin to learn what all of this means through how disorienting all of it is.”

Your words hit him like a stone to the heart, causing it to ache tremendously. You had just been traumatized and forced into a life without your consent. Not only that, it appeared as if you were left to deal with it on your own since your sisters were nowhere to be seen or heard. There were so many things that weren’t adding up but the more that he tried to figure it out, the more that his anger tried to overtake him. He forced it deep down so that he would be able to keep all of his attention on you which ended up being very easy to do.

“I could never even begin to imagine how overwhelming that it is.” Another bright smile formed on your face that had his heart warming. “I have faith in you but I’m always here if you ever want my help with anything.”

A shy smile replaced your bright, genuine one and he felt desperate to do any and everything in his power to make it return even though he wasn’t sure how to do so just yet. The only thing that he did know was that you were his mate and he wanted to follow you around like a love-sick puppy. During his eleven years of being imprisoned in his father’s keep, he had done nothing but dream about what it would be like to have someone love him unconditionally and to love them in return.

Even though he knew that mating bonds didn’t always work out, your smile that seemed to show a genuine kind heart had him hoping that it wouldn’t be the case. He didn’t deserve you, that much he already knew, but he was willing to do everything in his power to. Your eyes became stuck on the shadows resting around his shoulders while curiosity shined through your eyes. No matter how hard that he tried not to, he remembered not knowing about you sooner. When a slight frown formed on his face was when your entire mood visibly shifted and it was all that he could feel in the air around the two of you.

“I never saw you when we went to visit your sisters,” he mused quietly, hoping that you would give him a reason why.

“I was in my room. I didn’t- ” you sighed, your eyes glossing over in the process. “Nevermind. It’s not important.”

“I think it is.” He did his best to keep the anger and frustration from his voice and his shadows in check. “You shouldn’t have been excluded, especially not with something so important.”

“It was my choice.” A sad smile appeared as tears lined your eyes, the sight hurting his heart. “I wasn’t.. It’s not really important enough to be worth sharing.”

“I think-”

“What are you doing?”

Nesta’s voice from the doorway had the both of you turning to look at her, her face etched into pure icy anger. The look had you stiffening up in front of him and he took the less than a handful of steps to stand close behind you. His jaw clenched unbearably hard as he rose to his full height, his wings flaring slightly in his protective nature of you. 

Your sister, undeterred or bothered by his threatening demeanor, did nothing but continue to glare at the both of you. The female hadn’t been anywhere near the room and hadn’t seemed to care enough to have you by her side. It made him wonder what the angry interruption was about but he wasn’t given time to question it before you sighed quietly while hanging your head and shaking it slightly.

“We were just tal-”

“You don’t need to talk to her,” Nesta snapped. “She has us. Stay away from her.”

He had to force himself to relax his jaw when he noticed that you were turning to look at him. You simply glanced back at him with apologetic eyes before walking away from him. His eyes narrowed at the archway when you went in a completely different direction than your sister did. Nesta had been insistent that you had her to help you but he could already tell that it wasn’t the case.

He almost followed you but decided against it because he wasn’t sure if it would help you or not but he did know that wherever you were would be his permanent residency.

If you weren't tagged, it was because I was unable to!

@amara-moonlight @allygrace74 @sidthedollface2 @historygeekqueen @hnyclover @kalulakunundrum @historygeekqueen @bubybubsters @thisblogisaboutabook @mybestfriendmademe @caroline-books @justvibbinghere @wisdomofthebrain @nighttimemoonlover @cleverzonkwombatsludge @alessiazeni @rhenysz @ladespedidas @meritxellao @candyjaypoppins @carnationworld @mulansaucey @why4anne @tsibba01 @sassyangel16 @aetherl0l @wallacewillow0773638 @cherryinsalemverse @lupinswolfsbanes @amysangel @ayme301 @sassyslytherinshai @zeroangelo13 @sirens-and-moonflowers @evye47 @starcrossedsan @impossibelle @landofpetrichor @tuggboatfishin @dr4g0ngirl @one-big-fangirl @mistyheart @ang-taylorsversion @youngblood199456 @anuttellaa @thestartitaness @fxckmiup

[tsunami-of-tears]

Someplace better

Azriel x Reader

A/N: This is dark. There are no happy endings. Please read the warnings.

Wordcount: <1K

Warnings: angst doesn’t even cut it; emotionally abusive family dynamic; suicide; it does not end well, you’ve been warned.

My mother is a horrible wench. 

We just had yet another fight that ended in screaming and tears and slammed doors. 

I thought our relationship was getting better. I was trying to open up about the struggles I’ve been having, only to have them all thrown back in my face. 

“Before you point the finger at everyone else, maybe you need to consider that you’re the problem,” she sneers. 

I’d been trying to tell her how overwhelmed I felt, that I felt stuck and couldn’t see a way out. I can feel myself starting to crack under the pressure, pieces of me splintering as I try to be everything for everyone. 

No matter how hard I try, it’s not enough. There’s always something I’m not doing, something not done right. 

‘You’re a failure and a burden,’ that little voice says, harmonising with my mother’s insults.

“I can’t help you if you won’t help yourself,” she says dismissively. 

So much for motherly love… 

————

Later that evening, I’m heading to the River House for a family dinner. These events have become less frequent with everyone’s busy schedules, and I’m looking forward to seeing my friends. 

Rhysand greets me at the door, pulling me into a hug. “Y/N, it’s been too long,” he smiles down at me warmly. “Everyone else is here already, come in.” 

“It’s good to see you, I’ve missed everyone,” I give Rhys a tight smile in return. 

Time appears to stop as we walk down the hallway. The awkwardness drags on for what feels like forever. My thoughts race with things I could say, but my tongue cannot form the words. Rhys notices my silence, furrowing his brows at me. I plaster a huge smile on my face, attempting to conceal my inner turmoil. I can’t tell if Rhys picks up on my forgery. 

We enter the living room which is alive with chatter between my friends. 

Mor, Feyre and Cassian are laughing together, likely about something Cassian said. 

Amren and Nesta are engaged in a heated discussion.

And then Azriel… He’s with Elain, talking softly together about gods knows what. My heart starts to crack at the sight. 

I really don’t want to get between Nesta and Amren, and I can’t face Azriel and Elain together, so I sit next to Cassian as Rhys perches on the arm of the chair beside Feyre. He leans down to kiss her softly on the top of her head and I look away quickly, the crack growing until I feel like my heart is split in two.

Cassian gives me a quick peck on the cheek as I sit before returning to his conversation with Feyre and Mor. 

I struggle to engage with anyone, feeling more alone than ever while surrounded by my chosen family. 

————

The rest of the night is much of the same. 

Every single word is a monumental effort. 

I’m hyper-aware of every single person around the table. Every single smile and hidden touch. I feel as if I’m watching from behind a window. I’m on the outside. Alone.

‘They’ll be fine without you,’ that little voice whispers in my ear. ‘Look how happy they are. They don’t need you. All your efforts are wasted. You are a waste.’

After dinner I bid everyone goodnight, heading up to my room. 

I miss the concerned glances between my friends, who noticed I’ve been extra quiet tonight.

I miss the shadows that follow behind me. 

I miss the way Azriel zones out from what Elain is saying as he watches me leave. 

————

I can’t remember the last time I stayed in this room but all my things remain untouched. Clothing, journals, even some beauty products - all where I left them. 

I pick up one of my old journals and flip through the pages. I mostly write down the bad stuff. It usually helps get the feelings out, but right now, it’s only adding to the storm that’s brewing inside me. 

I carefully set down the books in a stack on my nightstand, picking up a scrap of parchment. As I always do, I write. 

I’m sorry to do this here, tonight, but I cannot go on any longer.  I truly believe this is for the best. The world was not made for people like me. I’m far too soft.  I love you all. Y/N

I set the note down on the bed and rummage through my various medicines. I’ve always struggled to sleep, so I should have some extra tonics in here somewhere… 

I find four bottles of sleeping tonic in one of my drawers, plus the one in my pocket. 

I arrange them on the nightstand in a straight line. 

I pick up the first bottle, uncorking it and raising it in the air. 

A toast, to finding someplace better.

I bring the glass rim to my lips, chugging the clear liquid. 

One down. Just a few more. 

I make short work of the remaining bottles, though I feel a bit queasy from the sheer volume. 

As I set down the last bottle, a wisp of darkness curls around my wrist and snakes between the empty bottles. 

“You’re too late,” I tell it. 

The shadow vanishes and my eyes start to droop. 

I lay down on the bed, my entire body feeling heavy. 

As I feel myself losing the battle for consciousness, a mass of dark shadows appears next to the bed. 

Azriel. 

He is frantic as he reaches towards me. 

So close. He was so close. 

I never get to feel those hands again as the world fades to black and I give myself over to the endless sleep. 

A/N: I’m not gonna lie and say I’m okay when clearly I’m not, but I’m not unsafe tonight. 

Mental Health Resources*:  If you’re in immediate danger please call your country’s emergency number. Australia: Beyond Blue: https://www.beyondblue.org.au/ Mental Health Hotline: 1800 011 511 Lifeline: 13 11 14 USA:  Crisis Line (call or text): 988 UK:  Lifeline: 0808 808 8000 *If I have gotten anything wrong or if you have other resources to add, please let me know

[bats2102]

ACOWAR set up an Elain+Lucien Book

ACOWAR is Elucien coded. This book lays out all the major plot points, characters, and powers that will shape the relationship between Elain and Lucien. As I revisited ACOWAR, I couldn't help but notice a ton of textual evidence hinting at a final pairing between them.

For those who disagree that Lucien demonstrates any traits that correlate to a mating bond, I encourage you to actually look at Lucien’s behavior and actions through the ACOWAR novel. And if you are not interested in re-reading the novel, that’s okay I brought receipts. 

This analysis will provide compelling evidence of the Elucien connection and illuminate how ACOWAR lays the groundwork for their future storyline. Below are the main areas that will be explored, each accompanied by corresponding headers.

Early Mate Behavior 

Lucien’s introspection and selflessness

Primal mate behavior and the BOND BONDING

Parallels between their “souls” and characters

Lucien’s Devotion to Elain

The Internal conflict regarding bond

Future plot/story

And for good measure: Amren thinking Lucien is also Hot AF (ACOWAR edition)

Early Mate Behavior 

Lucien demonstrates mate behavior early as page 10 in ACOWAR by showing concern and determination to find Elain, whom he believes is being kept by Rhysand. Feyre, however, counters Lucien's determination by dismissing the significance of the mating bond between him and Elain. She argues that the mating bond is merely a physical reaction and implies that Lucien's actions are driven by instinct rather than genuine emotional connection to Elain. Feyre tries to undermine the legitimacy of Lucien's feelings by suggesting that he's being controlled by the bond and doesn't truly know Elain.

In response, Lucien challenges Feyre's perspective by drawing a parallel to her own situation with Rhysand. Countering that if that were the case it would apply to her bond to Rhys as well. He questions whether her relationship with Rhysand a physical reaction is also just, implying that their bond might be more than Feyre is willing to acknowledge.

“Despite what Jurian implied regarding how my sisters will be treated by Rhysand, I had told him, despite what the Night Court is like, they won’t hurt Elain or Nesta like that—not yet. Rhysand has more creative ways to harm them. Lucien still seemed to doubt it (ACOWAR pp.10)”

Lucien breathed, “Where is he keeping her?” I knew who he meant. I shook my head. “I don’t know. Rhysand has a hundred places where they could be, but I doubt he’d use any of them to hide Elain, knowing that I’m aware of them.” “Tell me anyway. List all of them.” “You’ll die the moment you set foot in his territory.” “I survived well enough when I found you.” “You couldn’t see that he had me in thrall. You let him take me back.” Lie, lie, lie. But the hurt and guilt I expected weren’t there. Lucien slowly released his grip. “I need to find her.” “You don’t even know Elain. The mating bond is just a physical reaction overriding your good sense.” “Is that what it did to you and Rhys?” A quiet, dangerous question. But I made fear enter my eyes, let myself drag up memories of the Weaver, the Carver, the Middengard Wyrm so that old terror drenched my scent. “I don’t want to talk about that,” I said, my voice a rasping wobble. (ACOWAR pp. 12-13)

Lucien's strong commitment to Elain's safety, is not solely driven by their bond it is also powered by his past experiences and concerns about Rhys's reputation. Unable to confirm Elain's well-being, he fears she may be subjected to the Night Court's dark reputation, intensifying his urgency to locate her. We know as readers that elain is not being harmed in her stay in NC, however Lucien has only known NC to be a place of horror thus the inability to confirm Elain's safety leads Lucien to contemplate the possibility that the Night Court's notorious reputation is being imposed upon her, adding an extra layer of concern and urgency. 

“She is my mate and in my enemy’s hands—” “I’ve made no secret from the start that Elain is safe and cared for.” “And I’m supposed to believe you.” “Yes,” I hissed. “You are. Because if I believed for one moment that my sisters were in danger, no High Lord or king would have kept me from going to save them.” He just shook his head, the candlelight dancing over his hair. “You have the gall to question my priorities regarding Elain—yet what was your motive where I was concerned? Did you plan to spare me from your path of destruction because of any genuine friendship, or simply for fear of what it might do to her?” I didn’t answer. 

If you are going to re-read a portion of the novel, I implore you to read pages 145-150 (Kindle edition) of ACOWAR. This portion of the novel really provides a look at character dynamics, Lucien’s loyalty, themes of trust and betrayal, and foreshadows future conflicts. Lucien argues that he NEEDS TO SEE elain safe, and he was willing to stand up against his perceived enemy the NC to ensure that is achieved. From his perspective, he likely sees parallels between the Night Court's actions and Tamlin's treatment of Feyre. Rather than escalating tensions or reacting rashly to the complexities of the mating bond, Lucien opts for a measured response: "There is a longer story to be told, it seems (ACOWAR pp.146-147). This response defuses the immediate tension and allows for further discussion without further antagonizing Rhysand. Lucien's choice to stand down and patiently await the chance to see Elain underscores his unwavering commitment to her well-being and his understanding of the delicate circumstances at hand, showcasing his loyalty and depth of character.

Lucien’s introspection and selflessness 

And you know what Lucien does next, he listens to Feyre’s story. He actively listens to her story, willing to acknowledge and understand her expirences while reflecting on his own role, he doesn’t dismiss her words or react indifferently: 

“So, I told him. All of it—the story that perhaps would help him understand. And realize how truly safe Elain was—he now was (p.149)

“I hadn’t realized I was a villain in your narrative,” Lucien breathed. “You weren’t.” Not entirely. (P.150)”

This shows a level of introspection and self-awareness on Lucien's part, as he acknowledges the possibility that his actions may have been seen in a negative light by others. (Which I could argue almost all characters in the series do not reflect on the consequences of their actions and their effect on others. So pro self-reflective Lucien!)

When Lucien request Feyre to tell him about elain. He takes Feyre’s assessment of her sister in this passage “Elain would put on a hat and gloves and kneel in the dirt, weeding. She acted like a purebred lady in every regard but that (ACOWAR pp.13)” and runs with it. He LISTENED to Feyre’s description of elain so closely that he knew she would wear gloves when she gardened and considered in the next book (ACOSAF) that it would be a suitable gift to give her gloves, that is thoughtful, and I will not argue otherwise. 

Furthermore, when this man is telling Feyre how he was SA during calanmai, rather than focusing on himself in regard to this traumatic expirences, he is worried of what elain will think of this situation. Lucien was SA and his thoughts were still centered to the care of elain.

But Lucien … “You took Ianthe into that cave on Calanmai?” He wouldn’t meet my gaze. “She insisted. Tamlin was … Things were bad, Feyre. I went in his stead, and I did my duty to the court. I went of my own free will. And we completed the Rite.” No wonder she’d backed off him. She’d gotten what she wanted. “Please don’t tell Elain,” he said. “When we—when we find her again,” he amended. (ACOWAR pp 33)

Primal mate behavior and the BOND BONDING (just evidence of their bond, for those who want to invalidate it)

“But Lucien’s attention went right to the hallway toward the back, his nostrils flaring as he scented Elain’s direction. And who she’d gone with. A low snarl slipped out of him— “Relax,” Rhys said. “Azriel isn’t the ravishing type.” Lucien cut him a glare. (p.254)

“It felt … strange,” Elain breathed. “Like you pulled on a thread tied to a rib.” Lucien exposed his palms to her. “I’m sorry.” Elain only stared at him for a long moment. (pp.301)

“There’s a bond—it’s a real thread,” he said, more to himself than us. “And?” Mor asked. Lucien ran both hands through his long red hair. His skin was darker—a deep golden-brown, compared to the paleness of Eris’s coloring. “And I got to Elain’s end of it when she ran off.” “Did you sense anything?” “No—I didn’t have time. I felt her, but …” A blush stained his cheek. Whatever he’d felt, it wasn’t what we were looking for. Even if we had no idea what, precisely, that was. “We can try again—another day,” I offered. Lucien nodded but looked unconvinced. (p.302)

Being the one to trust elain’s visions and act upon them. Also, everyone else being concerned about their bond if something happened to him.

He only glanced at Elain, whose face was again a calm void while she traced a finger over the embroidery on the couch cushions. “Yes. Let me help in whatever way I can.” Even Nesta seemed relatively concerned. Not for him, no doubt, but the fact that if he were hurt, or killed … What would it do to Elain? The severing of the mating bond … I shut out the thought of what it’d do to me.

Lucien is the one to ask for a healer to see elain, he recognizes that elain went through trauma, LUCIEN WAS the one who verbally acknowledge elain went through trauma. 

“It wouldn’t hurt to have a healer look her over. Externally and internally.” I was tired enough that I could barely summon the breath to ask, “Do you think the Cauldron made her insane?” “I think she went through something terrible,” Lucien countered carefully. “And it wouldn’t hurt to have your best healer do a thorough examination.” (pp. 288-289)

And you know who thinks Elain’s mate will help her??? MADJA, Why? Because their souls connected

“Does she need further help?” Nesta said through her teeth. The ancient healer jerked her chin toward Lucien. “See what he can do. If anyone can sense if something is amiss, it’s a mate.” “How.” The word was barely more than a barked command. I braced myself to warn Nesta to be polite, but Madja said to my sister, as if she were a small child, “The mating bond. It is a bridge between souls.” 

What if Lucien was a gift from the cauldron?? 

“But what if the Cauldron gave something to Elain?” Nesta’s face drained of color. “What?” Equally ashen, Lucien seemed inclined to echo Nesta’s hoarse question. (p.336)”.

Parallels between their souls and characters

Elain and Lucien’s characters parallel one another and complement each other so splendidly. Lucien being the son of the high lord of day, and elain character first appearing in ACOWAR in a “suite filled with sunlight” in a “chair before the sunniest window (p. 154).” 

Elain is further associated with LIGHT and SUNSHINE, through the novel:

“Even wasted away by grief and despair, Elain’s beauty was remarkable. Hers was a face that could bring kings to their knees. And yet there was no joy in it. No light. No life. (p.246)”

The frustration. “What can I get you, Elain?” Only with Elain did she use that voice. But Elain shook her head once more. “Sunshine.” (p.302)

Well would you look at that, elain HERSELF thinks she needs sunshine.

They are both social beings who require light to feel alive: 

“Weeks of cloistering Elain had done nothing to improve her state (p.248)”

They both have eyes that allow them to see things that are hidden to others: 

“What makes you think you could find her?” Rhys asked. Not rudely, but—from a commander’s perspective. Sizing up the skills Lucien offered against the risks, the potential benefits. “This eye …” Lucien gestured to the metal contraption. “It can see things that others … can’t. Spells, glamours … Perhaps it can help” (p.339)

In the following passage Elain displays agency by taking control of the situation and proposing a plan of action to address a potential threat. She actively engages in decision-making and asserts her autonomy by insisting on speaking to the individual herself, despite objections from others. Similar to Lucien, who just left to find the individuals from elain’s visions and serves as an emissary and prioritizes the protection of his people. Elain steps forward with a plan to negotiate with a potential threat to ensure the safety of those seeking sanctuary.

Elain considered. “I can speak to him.” “No,” I said—at the same moment Nesta did. But Elain cut us off. “If—if you and … they”—a glance at Rhys, my friends—“come with me, your Fae scents might distract the dogs.” “You’re Fae, too,” Nesta reminded her. “Glamour me,” Elain said—to Rhys. “Make me look human. Just long enough to convince him to open his gates to those seeking sanctuary. Perhaps even let you set those wards around the estate.”

Elain also remembers that Lucien was the one to seek out the individual from her vision: “And even with the truth laid bare … none of us told him that Lucien had gone after her. Elain seemed to remember, though. Who was hunting for that missing queen.”

Both characters' aversion to violence highlights their compassionate and empathetic personalities, as well as their desire for peace and harmony. While they may find themselves involved in conflicts due to external circumstances, they both harbor a deep-seated discomfort with the inherent violence of such situations, reflecting their shared values of empathy, kindness, and a preference for peaceful resolutions. The repetition of this in the interaction where Elain reveals she only stabbed the enemy, not made the killing blow, underscores her aversion to violence and her reluctance to engage in battle, mirroring Lucien's own distaste for violence.

“Will—will many of these soldiers die?” I cringed, but Nesta said, “Yes.” I could almost see the unspoken words Nesta reined in. Your mate might die sooner than them, though” (p.485)

The sound as both armies collided … I didn’t have words for it. Elain covered her ears, cringing.

“Well, I never want to fight in another battle as long as I live, but … yes, I’m in one piece.” A faint smile bloomed on Elain’s lips (p. 675)”

Devotion to Elain

This man is devastated by Elain's mental state. Since the bond is a profound connection between two souls, and based on the text, Elain currently doesn't know how to block the bond, it's crucial to consider that every emotion Elain experiences is could also be felt by Lucien. Given her current unwellness, imagine the agony of being told she's fine and safe, only to witness her as a mere "hollow" version of the person described to him, likely feeling every ounce of the despair she's currently enduring.

Lucien was standing in the doorway. And from the devastation on his face, I knew he’d heard every word. Seen and heard and felt the hollowness and despair radiating from her. Elain had always been gentle and sweet—and I had considered it a different sort of strength. A better strength. To look at the of the world and choose, over and over, to love, to be kind. She had been always so full of light. (ACOWAR p. 156)

(Side note: elain being described as light again when at her best)

He saw her in this state than decided that he would be willing to subject himself to Rhysands control and the NC in order to be near her. 

“This house is warded against winnowing, both from outside and within. There’s one way out—the stairs to the city. It, too, is warded—and guarded. Please don’t do anything stupid.” “So, am I a prisoner?” I could feel the response simmering in Rhys, but I shook my head. “No. But understand while you may be her mate, Elain is my sister. I’ll do what I must to protect her from further harm.” “I would never hurt her.” A bleak sort of honesty in his words. I simply nodded, loosening a breath, and met Rhysands stare in silent urging. 

Lucien is acutely aware that Rhysand intends to exploit Elain's presence in the Night Court to manipulate him. And we know that this is indeed true as evident from Rhysand's own admission, "I trust in the fact that we currently have possession of the one thing he wants above all else (p. 195)," which underscores Rhyland’s strategic mindset. Recognizing Lucien's unwavering commitment to Elain's safety, Rhysand leverages this vulnerability to exert control over Lucien's actions. Moreover, Rhysand manipulates Feyre's perception of Lucien, exploiting her concerns and emphasizing his own ability to sway Lucien's decisions. This manipulation is evident in Rhysand's question to Feyre, "If he got Elain away, back to Spring or wherever … do you believe, deep down, that he wouldn’t sell what he knows? (p.195)." This inquiry serves to sow doubt and uncertainty, further solidifying his hold over Lucien and Feyre's perception of him.

Now from pages p.675-68 there are many important points between elain and Lucien but given how long this already is I will focus on a few. Following the battle, Lucien’s concerns regarding elain’s wellbeing are immediately demonstrated by ensuring her condition. Lucien acknowledges her contribution and shows understanding, indicating a supportive and encouraging dynamic between them. This is shown through Lucien acknowledging that elains visions were correct, the loss of her father, and her contribution to the killing of hyburn. During this elain invites Lucien to velaris (with encouragement of Feyre, she is still the one who said it), and are later seen in close proximity of one another. They are seen walking side by side or falling into step with each other, and there’s an unspoken understanding between them where they seem to intuitively know how to support each other without needing to verbalize their feelings. So, no I do not agree that they are ill suited or do not like being in each other presence, I believe it to be more complicated than that. 

Internal conflict regarding bond

To be honest, I'm just going to ask you to read pages 248-254. If you can read this, look into Lucien's thoughts, and believe that Lucien does not demonstrate mate behaviour and that Azriel is the character who understands and has undying devotion to Elain, then you're missing important components illustrated of Lucien's feelings. 

Lucien's concern for Elain is palpable as he observes her deteriorating mental and physical state. He feels her pain and suffering deeply, evidenced by his internal turmoil and desire to alleviate her suffering. Despite the risk of facing Rhysand's wrath, Lucien ventures out to seek a moment of respite, yet his primary focus remains on Elain's well-being. In the context of Lucien's guilt regarding Elain and his past relationship with Jesminda, there's a significant emotional burden that he carries. Lucien's guilt could be manifesting in his interactions with Elain, leading to moments of hesitation or emotional distance as he grapples with conflicting emotions. He may struggle with feelings of inadequacy or unworthiness, believing that he's not deserving of a mating bond with elain due to his unresolved feelings regarding Jesminda death, for which he holds himself responsible. Lucien's guilt regarding his mating bond with Elain and his past relationship with Jesminda adds layers of complexity to his character and relationships.

The highlighted passages below offer a crucial moment in the narrative, revealing the complex dynamics between Lucien and Elain and hinting at future storylines. His unwavering belief in Elain's abilities and the importance of her visions is evident as he volunteers to pursue the truth behind her latest revelation. 

As they are left alone together, the potential for significant developments in their relationship becomes apparent, as the deliberate departure of the other characters to create a space for Lucien and Elain to engage in a private conversation, the contents of which remain unknown. The deliberate departure of other characters creates a private space for Lucien and Elain, foreshadowing what could happen if provided the space to properly explore their mating bond. 

Before departing, Lucien shares a silent exchange with Elain, their gazes locking in a moment with Lucien’s filled with unspoken longing and sadness. Despite the palpable connection between them, neither Lucien nor Elain vocalizes their emotions, leaving the true nature of their bond ambiguous. Lucien's failure to glance back at Elain and Rhys's departure symbolize the unspoken barriers and uncertainties surrounding their relationship. This poignant moment highlights the intricate dance of emotions between Lucien and Elain, setting the stage for deeper exploration in future narratives.

“There is a reason why Elain is seeing these things. She was right about the other queen turning old, about the Ravens’ attack—why is she being sent this image? Why is she hearing this queen? It must be vital. If we ignore it, perhaps we’ll deserve to fail.” Silence. I surveyed them all. Vital. Each of them was vital here. But me … I sucked in a breath. “I’ll go.” Lucien was staring at Elain as he spoke. We all looked at him. Lucien shifted his focus to Rhys, to me. “I’ll go,” he repeated, rising to his feet. “To find this sixth queen.”

“And for once, my sister rose to her feet and came toward us, the three of us not so subtly heading upstairs. Leaving Lucien and Elain alone. It was an effort not to linger atop the landing, to listen to what was said. If anything was said at all.

Before that dark wind swept in, Lucien looked back. Not to me, I realized—to someone behind me. Pale and thin, Elain stood atop the stairs. Their gazes locked and held. But Elain said nothing. Did not so much as take one step downward. Lucien inclined his head in a bow, the movement hiding the gleam in his eye—the longing and sadness.”

“And when Lucien turned to signal to Rhys to go … He did not glance back at Elain. Did not see the half step she took toward the stairs—as if she’d speak to him. Stop him. Then Rhys was gone, and Lucien with him. When I turned to offer Elain breakfast, she’d already walked away.” (p.345)

Elain's conversation with her fiancé Greyson reveals the complications of her feelings regarding Lucien and the mating bond. Initially, Elain expresses uncertainty and confusion about her desires, admitting that she doesn't know what she wanted when she returned to Greyson. This passage with her literal fiancé illustrates her internal conflict (There is no evidence that elain wants to reject Lucien in the text of ACOWAR). Greyson's refusal to accept Elain's bond with Lucien further exacerbates her emotional turmoil, as she struggles to reconcile her mating bond with her desire for a conventional human male. 

Elain’s internal struggle to assert her agency and autonomy in the face of external expectations and societal norms will be important in her character development. Elain's initial denial and resistance pave the way for a journey of self-discovery and growth, where she must confront her fears and insecurities before embracing her true identity and forging a deeper connection with Lucien.

Graysen swallowed. “Did you think you could come back here—live with me as this … lie?” “No. Yes. I—I don’t know what I wanted—” “And you are bound to some … Fae male. A High Lord’s son.” A different High Lord’s heir, likely, I wanted to say. “His name is Lucien.” I wasn’t certain if I’d ever heard his name from her lips. “I don’t care what his name is.” The first sharp words from Graysen. “You are his mate. Do you even know what that means?” “It means nothing,” Elain said, her voice breaking. “It means nothing. I don’t care who decided it or why they did—” “You belong to him.” “I belong to no one. But my heart belongs to you.” Graysen’s face hardened. “I don’t want it.” (pp. 499-500)

The following moment marks a significant turning point in Elain's life as she realizes that her connection with Lucien has severed her ties to her previous human existence. Foreshadow the complexities and conflicts that may arise in Elain and Lucien's relationship, as well as the internal struggles Elain will face in reconciling her human past with her fae future. 

“So, Elain silently cried, the tears so unending that I wondered if it was some sign of her heart bleeding out. Some sliver of hope that had shattered today. That Graysen would still love her, still marry her—and that love would trump even a mating bond. A final tether had been snapped—to her life in the human lands. Only our father, wherever he was, remained as any sort of connection.” (p. 503).

Future plot:

Anyways ACOWAR set up elain and Lucien’s future plot lines. Through introducing koschei, elain’s vision, vassas curse (Lucien=spell cleaver, elain=discovered vassa), Tamlin and spring court (after all elain does think the WORLD needs more garden (p.693)) Eris and Lucien’s dynamic, discovering Helion is Lucien’s father, elain mourning her father (Lucien and him knew each other), elain and Lucien discovering their magic (their eyes) ... ect... 

And if you want to argue that Azriel has any major role in these plot lines I encourage you to read ACOSF and HOFAS as there is ample evidence that the characters and plots introduced in those novels are more centre to his and Gwyn’s character (I can bring more receipts... as essentially ACOWAR set up nessian and Elucien, and ACOSF set up gwynriel and Mor+em). It is crucial to analyze the plot lines beyond the lens of mere smut and romance, as this narrow focus undermines the depth of storytelling Sarah J. Maas has woven into the narrative. By broadening our perspective, we can fully appreciate the intricacies of the plot and explore the multifaceted dynamics that extend beyond the relationship between the MMC+MFC. 

And finally, while I can acknowledge that all these points are directed to an elain and Elucien book. SJM will still and will always have the final say.... 

Amren thinking Lucien being Hot AF (ACOWAR edition)

Even fucking Amren thinks Lucien is hot af.

But it was Amren who said from the floor, “You should kill Beron and his sons and set up the handsome one as High Lord of Autumn, self-imposed exile, or no. It will make life easier.” “I’ll take that into consideration,” Rhys said, striding toward her while I remained with the others. (p.159)

[ninthcircleofprythian]

Unbound

Part 2 - Don't Pull Away

Series Summary - Not having a mating bond didn't stop the love Azriel and Celeste have for each other or their commitment. When an unknown magic lingering from Celeste's past causes her to lose all memories of the last century, will they be able to rebuild their life without a bond tethering them together?

Word Count - 3.2k

Warnings - angst, emotional turmoil (Az), mentions of past abuse, fade to black scene

Author's Notes - this continues the background portion of the series (one more after this before we get into the main portion of the plot)

Part 1

Keeping their courtship a secret for as long as they had certainly hadn’t been easy, especially since their two closest friends were mated to each other. When Celeste had broached the topic of breaking the news of their courtship months ago, he had rebuffed the suggestion.

“I’m not ready. Not just yet,” he had stated.

“Why?” she questioned seriously. “It’s been nearly six months since we’ve become serious, even longer if we count all the dates we went on before then. I’m not sure we will be able to hide it for much longer.”

She had started masking her scent in public after they had spent time with each other and suggested he should do the same. It was an idea she sprouted all on her own, but his emotions about it were complicated. 

There was no sadness in her tone, just curiosity. She had learned very quickly that Azriel was an extremely private male and sharing his feelings didn’t come easy to him. She never pushed too hard or pried too deeply until she was sure he was ready. 

“Nesta keeps trying to set me up on dates and I’m running out of excuses.” She saw him bristle at the thought before adding, “Plus, I don’t really like lying to my friend.”

Azriel’s skin felt tight at the mention of her dating other males. He had met a few of the casual dates of her past after Nesta had paired Celeste up before he had started courting her. Nesta’s choice in her own mate was infinitely better than the taste she had in choosing for her friends.

“I-I don’t know,” he stammered, the shadows tightening around his hand in nearly one fluid sheet as he flexed his hands into fist. “I’m just–I’m scared.” He sighed heavily, avoiding her eyes.

“Of what?” Celeste asked softly. While Azriel was definitely a private soul, Celeste was much more direct. She was gentle and empathetic but if she wanted to know something, she asked. It was something Az was still very much getting used to. She hardly ever skirted around things which was probably why her and Nesta had become such fast friends. 

“I don’t really know. It’s just-” the words seemed to escape him and the whiffs of chatter the shadows kept swirling around his ears didn’t help. His brain felt like a tangle of knots. 

“I think you do know. It’s in there,” Celeste leaned forward from where she sat on the sofa next to him, feet tucked under her and facing him, her knees pressed into his hip as she reached a hand forward and laid it on his chest. “Take your time.” She peered at him casually as if they had all the time in the world, head resting on her fist as her arm was propped on the sofa back.

Azriel stared down at the hand on his chest and watched as his shadows abandoned their perch along his ears and whirled in a pulsing ring around her wrist. He wasn’t sure if the hard thud of his pulse was because of Celeste’s proximity or her questioning. He centered his breathing to the shadow’s beat before trying again. “I’m scared because – once it’s out there we can’t take it back.” He met her hooded focus with a watery look of his own. Her countenance didn’t flinch. She understood what he wasn’t saying but guided him anyway.

“Would you want to? Take it back?” Her thumb began a slow rhythm against his shirtfront in time with the shadows that still lingered there. 

“No,” he answered hastily. “No, of course not. But–once we put it out there–” Azriel attempted to center his breaths again but only ended up with one shuddering inhale. “Once it’s out there it can be taken away.”

Celeste let him collect his focus for a moment. After a pause in silence she moved her hand from his chest and drew one finger down the side of his jaw, applying slight pressure to get him to turn to her. “Azriel,” she breathed out and he shuddered, his wings shaking the furniture. “It could be taken away now too.” 

The thought so simple, so plain and obvious now that it was spoken aloud, had never occurred to him. The idea that keeping this a secret meant it was safe and protected fractured in his mind. His eyes widened and she resumed the pacing of her thumb, this time along his cheek. 

“Just because we keep it hidden doesn’t mean it can’t be taken away from us,” she continued gently. “If a time of hardship happens to come, wouldn’t you want to suffer with people around who love you rather than suffering alone?” She had ceased her movements, the shadows stilling at the same second she did. 

Azriel sat there feeling like she had just broken open his chest and read the darkness inside like a book, a feeling he was very much not used to. Suffering alone was all he had known. The only suffering he shared, the only suffering he had done with others was because something happened to them collectively and even then he avoided sharing his own grief. Anything that had ever happened to him and him alone was always insulated. Always his and no one else’s. 

Celeste had known where to pluck out that mess of knots from because she had once battled the same fight. She had been subjected to terrible things at Tyrik’s hand in the past and then left alone and broken. Suffering in isolation with no one to console or comfort her had nearly been as hard as the physical healing. The life she was leading now, the one she had nearly lost her life for, was once her greatest wish. The friends and family she was now surrounded with had been what brought her that inner peace. Without them she didn’t want to imagine the mess of a person she could have become. 

Azriel’s focus zoned out while he pulled on that mind tangle Celeste had brought to the surface, feeling for the loose end with which to unravel it. She swore she could almost hear the gears working in his mind.

“There it is,” she whispered softly against his other cheek. “I told you it was in there,” she held herself there, Azriel feeling her warm breath brush across his face before she placed a gentle kiss to the spot and sat up straight.

“We can wait,” She stated matter of factly. “We don’t have to tell anyone just yet.”

Two days later, Azriel was sent up to Windhaven for an extended trip. This was the same place that had brought him so much suffering in his early life but also brought him so much joy in bringing him his brothers. The juxtaposition had always been a confusing one to Azriel, but usually when the feelings cropped up he had just ignored them. Shoved them deep down inside that darkness to examine later. Often, later never came. This time however, the chasm that Celeste had ripped open was still raw and shoving those creeping feelings down did nothing but to spit them back out from where she had read him. 

For the entirety of the first week, he took to the training ring every morning and every night, pushing himself against the wall of exhaustion with defense and weapons and weight training. When that didn’t work he laid in bed at night and held that tangle in his mind’s eye, just staring at it until sleep took him. 

Nearly three weeks into his stay, Celeste had arrived for a healer camp rotation. Azriel had been shocked to see the outline of her ample frame trudging alongside Rhys from the camp boundary where they had winnowed in. 

Seeing as the attitude towards females in the war camp wasn’t exactly welcoming, chaperones were a required necessity for all healers rotating through the camps. Azriel had stepped in to shadow Celeste on all her patient visits. 

“Your camp rotation wasn’t for another two months.” He pointed out when they were alone the next morning in the rickety cabin that was used as a clinic. Celeste was shuffling around preparing supplies, laying out bandages and tonics on a tray. 

“Well,” she said with her back facing him. “When you didn’t come home I figured I would come to you.”

Home. The word made that chasm in his chest twitch. 

“I told you I was staying longer.” He said from the corner where he had been for the last hour.  “You really didn’t need to change your schedule for me.”

Celeste had turned now to face him, staring directly into his eyes unflinching. “Yeah, a note. I have to miss our date this weekend. I am needed here a bit longer. I’ll be in touch. You got your point across alright.”

He had no response to that but his mouth twitched as he noticed her disappointment in his silence. Approaching him slowly from across the room, she placed her hand directly over the raw soul wound he could still feel inside him.

“Don’t push me away, Az.” She started softly as she leaned into her hand and tilted her head back to keep his gaze. “Take whatever time you need to work out whatever it is running through your head but please–please don’t pull away. Not from me.”

Celeste calling him out was never comfortable and she certainly had a knack for doing it. Rhys and Cassian loved him as a brother. Az knew that without a doubt but even they let him push away and isolate whenever his head became too loud with the thoughts he didn’t want to face. They didn’t poke and question. Celeste on the other hand spoke those thoughts aloud. She prodded deftly and guided gently. Pushing her away was the last thing Azriel wanted. He wanted her close by at all times, within his sight and tucked into his arms. He wanted all her mornings and afternoons and nights, especially her nights, for the rest of his days.

He spent his next few days at the camp standing quietly in her company, watching her nimble hands set bones, dress wounds and offer soothing touches of comfort. Often he noticed, when her work allowed them to reside in close enough quarters, that his shadows had begun choosing to gather around her remedying presence rather than swirl around in his brooding aura.

One afternoon, as Celeste had just dismissed the last patient from the clinic cabin, she began tidying up and gathering her supplies to prepare for the next day.

“Sometimes I wonder why we even have camp rotations,” she pondered aloud. “Most of the injuries I treat here aren’t accidents and most of the patients only allow me to treat the most severe ones.”

The patient she had just dismissed had done just that. Coming in for a shredded wing, he had an obviously broken arm in a dirty sling. The splint taped around his forearm had clearly been rushed and the bone badly set. But he had just clutched the arm tightly to his abdomen, outright refusing Celeste’s offer to access and reset it. “Just the wing,” he had said, the most important thing to an Illyrian aside from his siphons.

“It’s to teach them a lesson,” Azriel answered in monotone from the corner, shadows nearly obscuring him from view. 

“And what kind of lesson is that?” Celeste responded snidely, not bothering to look up from her duty. “That they can be broken in more ways than one?”

He knew instantly that she was hinting pointedly at her own experience with being broken. In more ways than one. Azriel didn’t answer as he worked to tamp down the anger at the thought. His wings twitched with tension as that tangle bumped against the shields of his mind. 

After a beat of silence she added, peering over into that darkened corner. “And do you agree with their teaching methods?” 

Her eye line didn’t waver as she waited for his response, even as the shadows thickened and briefly covered him completely.

How could he defend the brutality that bred fierce warriors and the violence that taught them to exact their powers into weapons? How could he defend that as one of the warriors who knew first hand, to his sweet Celeste who had experienced the same treatment for different reasons? But were the reasons really that different? In both cases the desired result was the same - obedience. In the end he had come out a soldier, but Celeste had just ended up broken. His feelings about Windhaven had been conflicted since childhood but adding Celeste into the equation had made them impossible. The tangle inside his head slammed against the obsidian fortress of his mind.

“No. I don’t.” His quiet answer seemed to satisfy her although her face remained furrowed in thought. 

A long tense bout of silence stretched between them with only the sound of her shuffling as she rolled bandages, the sun settling lower in the sky outside the window.

“Is that what happened to your hands?” She broke the silence, her voice strained.  “A lesson?” Her own hands had stilled before her but her head remained staring at the table. 

An unnaturally eerie stillness permeated not just his body, but the entire room. The shadows had revealed him fully and rushed to swirl madly around the hands she spoke of. He was unaware of how long it took him to answer. 

“No,” Azriel finally uttered gruffly, crossing his arms over his chest to hide the swirling shadows. “That was my brothers.”

Through all the time they had known each other and throughout their courtship of the last months, Celeste had never commented on or shied away from his brutal scars. She often stroked a touch over them or swept her thumb across them, following their grooves with a finger like reading words on a page, but she had never asked about them. 

Seeing the brief confusion flash over her features he quickly added. “Not them. Not Rhys and Cas.” He cleared his throat thickly. “My real brothers. Half-brothers.”

She didn’t ask any more questions of his confession, instead she looked at him pointedly and said, “From what I see, Cas and Rhys are the only real brothers.” 

That night he had laid there staring at the ceiling unable to sleep, the mess of a tangle laying squarely in his mind’s eye. At some point he gave up on contemplating the knots and decided instead to start pulling. Pulling and twisting and feeling. The things that surfaced inside him had been buried for so long that they had grown fangs. Fangs and claws and venom. As he pulled on that gods forsaken loose end, those wretched things followed, but as they emerged into the light that Celeste’s chasm had created, he began to see they weren’t so fearsome after all. Even though they snapped and snarled, hissed and spit, Azriel could feel that they would be able to be tamed in time. They didn’t need to be defeated. They were just as scared as he was. They had only grown fangs because he had refused them the kindness of trying and instead shoved them away. 

After what felt like an eternity, he had laid there in the barely lightening hours of pre-dawn, holding up that loose end, the tangle no longer a tangle but now just a string, and he had cried. Huge heaving sobs wracking his body and bringing him to his knees.

Oblivious to the time Azriel trekked the distance to the healer's quarters and banged the side of his fist upon the door. It took a few minutes for Celeste to rouse herself from sleep before the door cracked open a fraction and her velvety dark eyes peered out. 

“Az?” she questioned as she pulled the door fully open. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?” She stood there clasping her robe closed and taking in his appearance. His face was tense and rubbed swollen from crying, eyes red and puffy. The wind had ravaged his hair into a mess of dark curls falling into his face and the look in his hazel eyes was stricken. 

She grabbed his wrist and pulled him over the threshold, “Az, tell me you are alright,” she reached up to grab his face between her hands, forcing him to look at her. “Are you hurt?” The warmth of her touch banished the cold.

Still no answer left him, instead he mirrored her movement, grabbing her face in his ridged hands. She gasped from the shock of the wind ravaged chill that seeped into her skin, the shadows adding to her startle with a misty chill of their own as they seeped from his fingertips and down the back of her neck. Before she could close her mouth he swept his head down and claimed a hard sensual kiss. 

He felt the heat of her face flood under his palms as a fierce color rose to her cheeks and it was his turn to gasp. She responded with a tenderly soft flick of her tongue against his teeth, sinking into his body and her hands slipping to his chest as she continued to reciprocate his kiss. 

Reluctantly, Azriel pulled back and seared into her gaze with a determined look. 

“I’m ready,” he said, his voice rasped from crying.

She shimmied against him with a gentle pressure from her thigh to the front of him. “I can tell,” she panted out a laugh.

“No – that’s not what–”

“I know what you meant,” she breathed out in another whispery laugh. “But for now–for just this minute–it can wait,” and she pushed the door closed, tightly shutting out the cold night wind. 

As the fateful hour of Solstice dinner approached, Celeste stood adjusting the silver fabric of her dress inside the closet-sized bathroom of her apartment. Selecting a glittering pair of dangling starry earrings, she tilted her head and began placing them in her ears.

“Mmm,” a sultry purr rumbled from behind her. “You look amazing in that.” Azriel slipped in behind her having just returned from his trip to his townhouse. With an arm around her waist he tucked his wings as tight as they would go in the cramped space. With her hair swept up and pinned into a loose pile, he couldn’t resist nuzzling into her exposed neck. Shadows began lazily exploring the twists and turns of her hair strands, landing curiously around her hairpins as he voiced, “I’m heading out now.”

“Okay,” she said, tilting her head to lean into his. “I’ll be behind you shortly. I just have to pick up the last part of your gift on the way.”

“Hmm,’ he purred again, propping his chin on her shoulder. “I thought I knew what my gift was already.”

“Believe it or not,” she smiled brightly in the mirror's reflection. “Even the famed spymaster of the Night Court can still be surprised.”

“Famed huh?” he chuckled into her ear lightly. 

A shiver ran down her spine as she swatted at the side of his face teasingly. “Go already. You’re going to be late.” Az released his arm from her waist and straightened as smoothly as he could in the close quarters. 

“We are moving you out of here. Tomorrow. First thing in the morning," he said with irritation as his wing bumped against the door.

Celeste’s merry laugh filled the small space with sound. “Yeah, the Illyrian compliant apartments were a bit out of my price range,” she jested.

With Az still taking up the doorway it was impossible to turn around to face him. Celeste instead caught his attention in the mirror, “Az,” she paused as his eyes met her reflection. “I love you.”

She saw muscles of his face relax and soften from the usually neutral expression as a sweet smile spread, reaching his eyes with a crinkle. “I love you too, Celeste.”

Taglist - @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria

[azrielhours]

Falling for You

Azriel x Reader

Word count: 2.3k

Synopsis: Reader is v clumsy, Az is constantly bandaging her and looking after her when she hurts herself. She accidentally burns her hand making him a pie.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Aw, angel,” Azriel cooed. He had your forearm grasped gently between his two hands as he frowned at your latest bruise. “How’d you get this one?”

You blushed under his careful inspection, though this was hardly a rare occurrence. “I tripped near the top of the stairs.”

He smiled, still examining your arm. “My poor darling,” he tutted. You laughed at the fussing but blushed harder as he bent down to place a soft kiss on your hurt skin.

Azriel was the sweetest mate in the world, always showing such patience and concern for you despite your clumsy nature. Scratches and bruises would litter your skin and heal like the coming and going of the seasons, yet he seemed to always catch onto every newcomer with his keen eye. “Does it still hurt?”

Your eyes met his. “Not really.”

“I’m glad.” He still smiled, and you returned it as he took your hand, leading you to the door.

The first time you’d met him, you lost your footing and scraped your knee. Azriel never lets you live it down, always talking about how you’d ‘fallen for him at first sight.’ You scoff and roll your eyes every time he brings it up, but deep down the story makes your heart swell with love.

You let your mind wander as Azriel bunched you up in his arms and began flying to the House where Nesta and Cassian were hosting a family dinner. You’d always argued that being mated to him was a fluke; you loved him with all your heart but sometimes wondered how you’d scored a mate with the fluidity and stealth of a feline while you stumbled your way through life. If you ever mentioned this in front of Feyre, she just shakes her head and says you bring out the softness in Az.

Azriel descended upon reaching the house, setting you down with the gentleness he always beheld for you. “Y/N?”

You craned your neck to face him. “Hm?”

“I asked if you were alright.”

You blinked. “Oh, sorry. Yes, why?”

“You just seem a little distracted.”

“Oh. I guess I zoned out a bit on the flight.” You offered a reassuring smile.

He studied you for another beat. “Okay. We can leave whenever you want. You know that, right baby?”

You squeezed his hand affectionately. “Yes, Az. I know.”

“I’m just saying. If you don’t feel so good—”

You shook your head. “I’m good, I want to see our friends.” You tugged him down by the hand and he obliged. You wrapped your arms around his neck and placed a kiss on his cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too, angel.”

You shivered, unwinding yourself from him lest you prematurely take him up on that offer. “There you two are,” a voice redirected your attention to the entrance where Cassian came to greet you. He enveloped you in a hug. When he pulled back, he eyed your bruise, making you blush.

“Cassian, stop hurting my mate,” Azriel interjected playfully.

“Ah, yes. My bad,” Cassian immediately jested back.

“See, you already bruised her,” Azriel added. You laughed at their teasing.

“She’s just so fragile, I can’t help it,” Cassian shrugged his shoulders in exaggeration.

“Shut up,” you laughed.

Cassian nudged you with his shoulder. “Let’s go inside before you trip off the balcony.” You rolled your eyes as Azriel chuckled.

Inside, you took your places at the table. You didn’t miss the way Azriel covered the table corner with his hand as you passed by it, a habit he always minded.

As the meal ended, the group moved to the lounge. You languidly watched your friends interact. Feyre brought out her latest painting per Cassian’s request, gesturing with effortless elegance as she explained the inspiration behind it. You caught Rhys watching her, beaming with pride, likely at the charisma she exuded even in her relaxed state. You sat a little straighter.

Nesta mentioned she started going to a dance studio. “The teacher allowed me to advance to a higher level last week.”

“Because of her curves,” Cassian smirked.

“Because of my lines,” Nesta corrected, smacking her mate.

“Lines?” you asked.

“A dancer’s physical silhouette,” Nesta explained.

“That’s what I just said,” Cassian quipped.

Nesta ignored him. “Well-controlled poses make better lines.”

“What are you controlling for?” you asked.

Nesta waved a hand. “It’s supposed to be grace and rhythm.”

You hummed thoughtfully. The conversations moved on, but you fell silent, distracted by a distinct sense of mismatch gnawing at your gut. You felt noticeably at odds with the sophistication of your family surrounding you; warriors, courtiers, lords, and ladies.

Lost in thought, you gasped lightly at the sudden sensation in your chest. Admiration and comfort fluttered down the bond, making you relax your shoulders. You looked over to where Azriel sat and found him watching you intently. You hadn’t realized you’d been projecting your emotions to him. Before you could reassure him, Azriel stood up. “We’re calling it a night,” he announced to the group. “Thank you all for the dinner.” He took your hand to help you to your feet.

Others began rising in agreement, prompting a flurry of hugs and kisses to erupt. Azriel waited for you to finish; he was patient until he wasn’t. You laughed as he unceremoniously tugged you out of an embrace, throwing parting words over your shoulder while your friends laughed at Az stealing you away. Outside, he turned to face you, smiling warmly. You looked at him from beneath lowered lashes.

“Hi, angel.”

“Hi, Az.”

“How are we feeling.” He spoke softly.

“I’m good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said. You both knew he knew better, but he was sparing you. You fidgeted with your fingers under his inspecting gaze. “Sorry to have, um, pulled you out of the gathering.”

“Don’t be sorry. I told you we could leave if you weren’t feeling well,” he reassured. You looked up at him and found that endless patience of his. He placed his hands on your waist and pulled you gently to his body, which you happily folded yourself into. “Let’s go home,” he murmured into your crown. You hummed in agreement, thankful for the reprieve granted by your perceptive mate.

~

You found yourself in the kitchen after changing. Azriel wanted to go over some reports for the next day, though you suspected it was to give you some time to sort through your thoughts. You and Azriel always respected each others’ space to open up at your own pace.

You had an idea, wanting to make Azriel something to show your appreciation for him, to dote on him how he always doted on you. It was silly perhaps, but you combined ingredients to make a blueberry pie (for his siphons, of course). It was late into the night, but you had your mind made. You hummed as you worked, feeling a bit better. This is what a refined spouse would do for her mate, wasn’t it?

You finally placed the skillet into the oven and began cleaning up, intending to surprise Azriel. You did the dishes as the pie baked, feeling your tiredness catch up to you, wondering if Az already went to sleep. You hurried at that thought, turning to check on the pie. As you rushed over, you opened the oven to take a look—gasping as you lost your footing suddenly.

You were instantly falling as your foot slid on something. You grabbed onto the nearest surface to steady yourself—recoiling on reflex before you could register what happened. You slammed into the nearby cabinet as you hit the floor. The leg that lost its balance was splayed beneath the open oven door. You cursed as glaring pain scorched through your hand—the hand that recoiled because—

Because you’d grabbed onto the inside of the oven door in your fall, burning your hand.

“Fuck,” you whimpered in pain, cradling your arm to your chest. Azriel would surely be here soon due to the sound. You closed the oven door quickly to keep him from seeing, knowing he had a history of this injury.

You checked under your foot, finding a sizeable chunk of butter there, the culprit that caused the slipping and sliding. You exhaled raggedly as tears stung your eyes, in pain or defeat, you didn’t know. Sure enough, Azriel came into the kitchen, rushing over immediately.

“Y/N, what happened? Are you alright?” He crouched near you, frowning at your hurt state.

You sniffled. “I just fell.” You hid your burnt hand behind you

“Aw, angel,” he spoke softly, cupping your face and wiping your tears as they fell. “Come here,” he said, offering you his hands to get you off the floor. You couldn’t take them because of your burn, so you paused. He noticed this, eyes shifting to your arm hidden behind your back.

“Can I see?” he asked gently. You shook your head. He frowned, but his shadows wafted to his head, whispering in his ear. His eyes widened suddenly, and you felt panic spike and then cease down the bond. “You burnt your hand,” he breathed.

You nodded apprehensively. He gently placed his hand on your elbow to pull your hidden arm forward, which you allowed. He cradled your arm at your elbow and wrist. You opened your hand to let him see. There were red splotches on your fingers where you’d grabbed the door. Azriel winced. “Let’s get this bandaged,” he said.

He scooped you into his arms and carried you over to the table. He filled a bowl with cool water and placed your hand into it, letting it absorb the heat out of the burn, greatly reducing your pain. He wiped your tears and kissed your forehead. He gently pulled your hand out of the water and began bandaging it with expert care, standing between your legs as he worked.

When he finished, he kissed the back of your hand and placed it gently into your lap. “Does that feel a little better?”

You nodded.

“Wanna tell me how you got that burn?”

You swallowed. “I was baking a pie for you.”

His eyes widened slightly, lips quirking upwards. “For me? Why?”

“I wanted to do something nice for you because you always take such good care of me,” you said, waving your newly bandaged hand in demonstration.

Adoration washed over his face. He huffed a laugh, caught off guard. “Thank you, angel.” He enveloped you in an embrace, burying his head into your neck. You breathed him in. “You don’t have to repay me for any of this,” he spoke lowly into your ear. He pulled away, still taking you in with that reverence. “This isn’t burdensome,” he added.

You shrugged, still frustrated with yourself. “I’m sorry for always making you bandage me up and everything,” you said, feeling your emotions rise again.

Azriel shook his head. “Don’t apologize. I love getting to take care of you.”

You looked down as your tears returned.

“Why are you crying, baby?” Azriel lifted your chin up, frowning.

You took a deep breath. “Because. I’m sick of this.”

“Sick of what?”

“It’s just—it’s embarrassing, the clumsiness. You’re all so graceful without even having to try. You deserve a mate who isn’t such a fumbling mess.”

Realization dawned on him. “Ah,” he said. “Is that why you were feeling off at the dinner today?”

You nodded. “I know it’s dumb, but just—you know, the other girls, they’re so smooth and classy.”

Az strokes the sides of your thighs soothingly. “It’s not dumb. It’s okay to have concerns. And you’re wrong, you’re not a fumbling mess. I couldn’t ask for a more perfect mate.”

You felt his unrestricted love flow through the bond, soothing you enough to stop crying. But you continued. “I just feel like a sore thumb sometimes.”

He shook his head. “Everyone adores you. They can’t get enough of you. I thought that was obvious,” he smiled.

You believed him, feeling his sincerity in your chest. You returned his smile.

“Is that what this is? You just want to hear me tell you how much they like you?” Azriel teased.

You laughed, making Azriel smile wider.

“I understand this can be frustrating, but please don’t ever feel like it’s an issue. I love you the way you are, even if you’re constantly falling for me.”

You rolled your eyes, still laughing. His gaze sobered a bit. “You don’t need to be any more or less graceful. I’ve adored you from the start, I won’t stop now. I love getting to dote on you. Don’t you like getting doted on?”

You smiled. “Yes Az, I like it.”

“I knew it. You’re faking the clumsiness.”

You laughed again, brighter this time. He laughed too, wrapping his arms around you. He kissed you deeply, pulling you closer to him. You kissed him back, feeling your worries melt away. You let all your love flow through the bond as he kissed you, making him shudder at the feeling. He leaned forward, prompting you to bend back, but you remembered something. You tried to break away from the kiss, but he’d hardly let up.

“Az,” you smiled against his mouth.

“Yeah,” he breathed, making no attempt to stop.

“Az, the pie.”

“Fuck the pie,” he said.

You laughed, pushing him lightly on the shoulders, which he regretfully granted. He took a deep, steadying breath. When you tried to move around him, he pushed you back in place and went to retrieve it himself. He placed it on the counter and made his way back to you.

“This was very thoughtful of you,” he said huskily, looking at you with a hunger for something other than the pastry. He bent forward and laced an arm beneath your knees; you squealed as he suddenly stood, hauling you over his shoulder. He gave your ass a smack as he began taking you to the bedroom. “I was also thinking of showing my appreciation by having something sweet.”

~

taglist:

@iimisty-a @feyretopia @cityofidek @cullenswife @reiincarnatiion @sfhsgrad-blog @answer-the-sirens @mrstangerinejohnson @marigold-morelli @courtofjurdan @azriels-mate123 @punishers-girl (so sorry if I missed any or if these don’t work. Pls lmk if you’d like to be added)

[sadiegirl2021]

Silly little one shot for @gwynrielweeksofficial - Day 2: Compatible (loose interpretation)

Soul Meets Body on Ao3

“I don’t care how good-looking he is, Nesta! I’m not letting you set me up on a blind date.”

“Gwyn! Please!! This guy is your soulmate. He loves all the same books as you, he goes to the gym, he’s got a coffee addiction! You’re basically the girl version of him.”

“So! Blind dates are weird. You know how shy I can get…”

“He’s shy too!”

“Oh, wonderful! Really selling it. So we’ll just sit there, and not talk at all during dinner?”

“Talk about books!”

“Bye, Nesta!”

“Wait–”

Gwyn hung up the phone. She was sick of this. Why couldn’t her friends just accept that she didn’t want a boyfriend right now? College was crazy enough without adding love or sex on top. She needed to stay focused and certainly had no room to entertain Nesta’s blind date idea.

“So stupid,” she mumbled to herself, reaching for a bag of apples at the supermarket.

“What did you call me?”

Gwyn looked up and felt her jaw comically fall to the floor as she gazed at the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. Raven-black hair, golden eyes, and tall… so freaking tall!

“Oh… no… I wasn’t–”

He smiled, and her heart skipped a beat. “Relax, I’m just messing with you.”

Gwyn didn’t dare speak again, for fear it would be an incoherent jumble of words. This was what she was talking about with Nesta. Whenever she started talking to a cute guy, she froze like this! Her mind raced with funny and interesting things to say, but her mouth decided to keep shut. She just smiled at him.

“.... those are good apples,” he said, shifting a little awkwardly. Gwyn would have expected someone of his stature to radiate confidence.

“Yeah… they’re my favourite.” Gods, so smart, Gwyn!

“Me too… I like oranges as well.”

“Same.”

Was this possibly the worst conversation she’d ever had?

He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. “Do you come here often?”

Oh my god. Was he… flirting with her?

Gwyn let out a little chuckle, “Oh yeah, the supermarket is where it’s at. Haven’t you heard?” Better!

He laughed, and damn if it wasn’t giving her crazy butterflies.

“I’m Azriel,” he said smoothly, seeming to relax more in her presence.

“Gwyn,” she replied with a slight flush on her cheeks.

“Gwyn,” he whispered like an answer to a question. “I don’t normally do this… I mean I never do this… but do you want to grab dinner tonight?”

“Like a date?”

“Yeah… I mean, cool if not… I just–”

“Yes! I’d love to.”

He seemed to sigh in relief, “That’s great! Amazing… can I grab your number, and I’ll text you the details?”

She nodded, “Of course!” Oh my god, how did she pull this off? He was the hottest guy she’d ever met, and he just asked her out!

They gleefully exchanged numbers, exchanged a few more awkward observations of the fruit around them, and went their separate ways.

Gwyn practically floated home, dying to rummage through her wardrobe for the perfect outfit. Nesta was going to kill her… but blind dates were stupid! At least she knew she was attracted to Azriel.

______________________

Gwyn had opted for a short, sapphire-blue, body-con dress with silver strappy heels and no jacket. It was the height of summer… plus she looked way too hot to cover up.

“I can’t believe you’re going out with some rando over the guy I picked for you!” Nesta huffed from the couch.

Gwyn finished putting on her cherry-red lipstick and rolled her eyes at Nesta’s statement.

“Cassian is going to be pissed. You’re turning down his best friend for some stranger.”

“You know, I haven’t even met Cassian yet! So why would I want to date his best friend? Are you even dating Cassian?”

“Don’t judge our… situation! It’s complicated.”

“Because you’re in love with him?”

“He wishes!” Nesta laughed with an air of ‘yes, I love him so much it’s killing me, but I don’t know how to handle emotions.”

*Buzz Buzz*

“That’s him! Can you please get it? I need to grab my bag.”

It was Nesta’s turn to roll her eyes as she threw off her snuggly blanket and made her way to the door. As she opened it, she quipped, “You better not be some serial killer–Oh my god, Azriel!?”

“Nesta… hey! Do–Do you live here?”

She nodded in confirmation. “You’re Gwyn’s date for tonight?”

“Yeah, we met at the supermarket earlier. Hey, Cassian was in a foul mood today. What happened with you two last night?”

Nesta scowled at the mere mention of his name, and Azriel flinched, not expecting an answer.

“Hey, Azriel,” Gwyn chirped as she left her bedroom.

Azriel’s hand flew to his chest, as if someone had shot him with a cupid's arrow. “Wow! Gwyn… you look–”

Gwyn couldn’t even let him finish; she hated compliments, “So do you! Shall we go?” she asked, moving to the door. Nesta had the strangest look on her face, and a sly grin that was a little frightening. Gwyn gave her a ‘what the fuck’ look in exchange.

Azriel seemed to notice their interactions. “I’ll give you a minute.” He backed away into the hall to wait for her.

“What?” Gwyn exclaimed.

“That’s the guy!!”

“What guy?”

“The blind date guy… Cassian’s friend!”

“Are you serious?”

Nesta nodded with a huge grin.

Gwyn could only laugh. “Well… I still think blind dates are stupid!”

Nesta smirked, “So destiny intervened! Have a great night with your soulmate!”

“Shut up!”

Gwyn caught up with Azriel. He looked so sleek in his pressed black trousers and crisp white shirt, with a couple of buttons open to show a thick silver chain. If this was indeed her soulmate, she had some serious praying to the gods to do in thanks.

[prythiansfavoritefox]

For @teddyhoneybear

Elain’s breath came shallow in her throat. She had controlled her queasiness well up till that point but saving Cassian’s life had been the final straw. So much blood. Her new High Fae body made it so much worse, overwhelming her nostrils with the stench of salt and iron. Finally alone, she heaved into a bucket. Her throat burned with acid as she threw up again and again, the smell of digested food mixing with the blood’s odor to torment Elain’s nose. Those Night Court folk did not warn Elain about the drawbacks of having so much sensation.

She sighed both in relief at the vomiting ending and the frustration at being so squeamish. But she had grown up in ballrooms, not battlefields. Her sister too; to Nesta, the ballroom was a battlefield. She plucked the flower that had grown on her hand while she was distracted with annoyance.

Elain was prepared to dispose of this afternoon’s lunch and wash up when she felt breath against the nape of her neck. She gasped in shock, but she already knew who it was somehow, whether it was through her Seer powers or her mating bond.

Lucien.

She relaxed into him as his hand wrapped around her waist. She bit her lip to control her emotions as Lucien dragged his nose up the side of her throat. “I’m back, Elain,” he whispered almost like a purr, and Elain couldn’t resist turning in his arms to look at his face.

He was as heartbreakingly beautiful as ever and yet not. His stunning russet eye and his gold eye paired with that wicked scar held most of Elain’s attention, but she scanned the rest of him. Elain had only ever seen him in exquisite attire fit for a prince- or a High Lord’s son. Trenchcoats in rich colors such as emerald green, ruby red, and sapphire blue. White shirts with lacy embroidery and billowy sleeves. Doublets with threading that Elain suspected was made out of real gold. Pants, typically beige, that showed off his powerful thighs. Tall black boots polished as finely as his weapons. Hair typically tied up in ribbon.

The Lucien before her was…different. His black Illyrian leathers clung to his skin, showing off his toned and muscular body. He wasn’t bulky like Cassian or even the other Illyrians. He was tall and lean, built for endurance rather than strength. A skilled fighter rather than one that relied on brawn. His legs, well, there was another story there. His lower body strength was, if the size of his thighs was any indication, incredible. His hair hung loose around his shoulders, and blood still coated his face. He looked dangerous, feral, faerie.

While Elain adored that Lucien put such care into his appearance, she had to admit that the Lucien before her held a different kind of appeal to her- to the girl who wanted to be more than this, who wanted to step out of her sisters’ shadow and become greater than the garden girl who foolishly, in some’s eyes, held onto hope.

Elain reached up with one hand and wiped some blood away from Lucien’s face before planting a chaste kiss on his lips. “Are you ok?”

Lucien laughed softly, and Elain felt it against her forehead. “I never wish to fight in a battle again- but I am in one piece.”

Elain smiled back at him, a rush of fondess overwhelming her for Lucien. In a world of bloody, brutal warriors, Lucien was a man of peace. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t fight when he had to. Just like Elain who killed the King of Hybern.

“I heard you made the killing blow,” Lucien added in that quiet voice. Elain waved him off. “Nesta did. I just stabbed him.”

Lucien seemed to fumble for a response before he shook his head slightly. “You don’t need to pretend it didn’t happen, you know.”

“What do you mean?” Elain asked sharply, her defenses kicking in. Lucien shook his head. “I know you don’t like it any more than I do. But you did it to protect your sister. That’s what matters. You killed him, Elain. Nesta just beheaded him.”

Elain’s lips trembled. She didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to think about the fact that she had taken life, even if it was someone so malicious who was trying to kill her sister. She despised violence, hated that her sister had to kill animals every day so that they could eat. “I don’t want to think about that right now,” Elain muttered. Lucien shrugged. “As you wish, my lady,” he murmured. Elain got on her tip-toes and kissed Lucien’s forehead. Then his nose. Then both cheeks. “Let’s focus on the fact that we’re both still well,” Elain breathed. Lucien stared into her eyes, asking for permission. Impatiently, Elain grabbed Lucien by the back of his head and pulled him to her.

His tongue brushed the seam of her mouth, asking once more for permission, and Elain opened for him. Elain couldn’t hold on hard enough, couldn’t breathe fast enough. Her Fae senses threatened to drown her as they both sunk to the small bunk bed against the tent wall, Elain’s legs wrapped around his waist.

She had never wanted anyone this badly, never needed anyone this badly. It had never been like this with Graysen; the experience wasn’t even comparable. Elain’s dress was unbuttoned, and Lucien was sliding it gently off of her body. “Sit up, sweetheart,” he whispered, and Elain obeyed; she turned around, expecting him to unlace her corset when she heard him laugh.

Elain turned around, demanding, “What is so funny?”  Then Lucien placed his hands on her corset. “This.” Without breaking eye contact with her, Lucien ripped it in half.

Elain’s jaw dropped as she stared at Lucien. “I-you-you just-“

“Unlacing takes too long, and I’m too needy for you to wait,” Lucien crooned, and Elain was certain she was blushing scarlet. She clawed at his leathers, desperate to feel him too, and he laughed again.

“It seems you are needy for me too, Elain,” he murmured, and Elain huffed, feeling irritated and flustered and horny. “Are you going to take it off or not?” Lucien only flashed her a smirk, standing up and walking away from her. Elain made a whining sound at the distance he had put between them. “Where are you going?” She complained as he showed his back to her. He looked at her over one shoulder and winked. “Giving you a show.”

“I-“

There was a crackling sound from downstairs, which was an obvious sign: someone had burned the cake.

Someone. Yeah, right. Who else in this house baked? Elain smacked her forehead as she got up from the chair she had set up to watch over the cake as it baked, where she had dozed off. So annoying. Couldn’t the dream have finished before she got up?

You were having a sexual dream with Lucien!

Recalling that, Elain cringed in embarrassment. Oh, god, would Lucien be able to tell through the mating bond? Elain wasn’t certain how much he knew and how much he didn’t, but he always saw too much of her than she wanted anyone else to know. It was why she avoided him so, even when her mind screamed at her to, well…not avoid him.

Ugh. It was going to be a long day.

[moodymelanist]

Last anon again, for more of an angsty wlw Nessian maybe Nesta finding out that Mor is Cass's ex and getting insecure about it? Only if that vibes with you of course!

just something quick from when I was waiting for the eclipse to peak earlier 🌘🌘

“That’s your ex?” Nesta seethed the second Mor walked into the party, turning to look at Cass with as fierce of a glare as she could muster up. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I didn’t know she would be here,” Cass replied with a grimace. “It’s not like I planned this!”

Cass had invited Nesta as her plus one to Rhysand’s birthday party, and to everyone’s surprise, the ever-elusive Morrigan had been in town long enough to actually show up. Nesta had never met the other woman until just now, although she’d heard plenty about her over the almost eight months she and Cass had been officially dating.

Perfect, golden Mor, with her sunny smiles and bubbly personality. She was the exact opposite of Nesta, and God, did Nesta fucking know it. She was actually personable, people seemed excited to see her, and she had to be one of the most gorgeous women Nesta had ever seen.

What the hell was someone like Cass doing with someone like Nesta when Mor was in her orbit? Nesta was all sharp edges and snarky comments on the best of days, and seeing Mor in the flesh was like a slap in the face. Cass could be doing so much better; who the hell was Nesta to think she deserved someone like Cass—

“Sweetheart,” Cass said, calling Nesta’s attention back to her. Her girlfriend was biting her lip a little nervously, and Nesta would’ve felt bad for worrying her had she not been so caught up in her own head. “You okay?”

“She’s just…” Nesta trailed off, not sure how to answer the question. “I just don’t get why you’d settle for me when you already had someone like that.”

“Settle for you?” Cass repeated with an incredulous little laugh. Nesta’s eye twitched a little at being laughed at, and Cass sighed heavily. “Sorry, sorry. I just — Nes, why would you ever think that?”

“Because she’s actually nice and friendly and a way better person than me,” Nesta grumbled. “So.”

Cass sighed again before guiding Nesta to a more secluded area of the bar they were in. “Where is this coming from?”

“I’d never actually seen her before,” Nesta eventually answered, wishing she was anywhere but here having this conversation about her feelings. “And now I’m just sitting here watching everyone love on her!”

“Not me,” Cass argued back with a little frown. She pushed some of her curls back out of her face before adding, “I’ve been over her for years, Nes. I love you.”

“What?” Nesta blurted out, shocked. They hadn’t said those words yet, and to say it here of all places…

“That wasn’t— I didn’t mean for it to come out like that,” Cass answered. Her cheeks were turning a little red and she stepped in closer to Nesta. “I’m sorry.”

“But did you mean it?” Nesta asked, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Yes,” Cass told her. “Sweetheart, come on, how couldn’t I feel that way?”

“You already had the best,” Nesta muttered.

“You’re not a fucking downgrade,” Cass snapped, clearly losing her patience a little bit. “She fucking cheated on me! Why would I want to go back to that?”

Nesta felt like a little bit of an idiot, but to be fair, they hadn’t exactly talked about it. “Oh.”

“And even if she hadn’t,” Cass continued, clearly on a roll now, “you’re way out of my fucking league, and I’m in love with you, so why does this even matter.”

“Just— because,” Nesta answered lamely. It was a little hard to feel insecure when Cass had said twice now that she loved Nesta, but her brain seemed to always find a way. “I’m sorry. This was stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” Cass automatically countered. “I just hate that you’re thinking about yourself like this, Nes.”

“It’s not like I’m doing it on purpose.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Cass leaned down to give Nesta a kiss, her lips warm and soft against Nesta’s. “You ready to go back to the party now?”

“Yeah,” Nesta said, and then was embarrassed all over again when realized she hadn’t answered Cass’ words earlier. “And I love you too, you know.”

“I know,” Cass said back with an easy grin. She offered Nesta her hand and they both smiled a little goofily at each other for a few moments. “Come on, Nes.”

tag list: @perseusannabeth | @bookstantrash | @fieldofdaisiies | @goddess-aelin | @c-e-d-dreamer | @talkfantasytome | @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk | @sv0430 | @talibunny30 | @unlikelypersonalknight1 | @champanheandluxxury | @lilah-asteria | @burningsnowleopard | @sayosdreams | @readskk | @simpingfornestaarcheron | @bellaful08 | @readergalaxy | @podemechamardek | @pearlfortears | @nerdperson524 | @jmoonjones | @kale-theteaqueen | @autumnbabylon | @hiimheresworld | @illyrianshadowhunter | @dustjacketmusings | @live-the-fangirl-life | @that-little-red-head | @sweet-pea1 | @brieq | @queercontrarian | @jsmelodies | @afflicted-with-wanderlust

[violet-shadows]

Missing Piece (Part Eleven) (NSFW)

Series Index | Masterlist

Summary: Cassian and Nesta are happily mated and in love, so why do they feel like something is missing? When a newcomer arrives in the City of Starlight, they learn that their bond is not yet complete. 

Pairing: Cassian x Nesta x Reader (She/Her) (Poly Relationship)

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: smut at the end of the chapter, discussion of death

A/N: I apologize for the delay in getting this published and appreciate your patience. To make up for it, I’m planning on posting the next part within 48 hours. 

⊱ —————— ❈ —————— ⊰

I sat in the bathtub until the water ran cold, scrubbing my skin so raw that it stung, desperate to be sure all traces of the male I killed were rinsed away. This was far from my first time being covered in blood, but it certainly felt different knowing I was the one who drew it. When I was too cold and tired to sit in the water any longer, I got out, stifling a groan as my sore muscles protested. I tied my hair back into a loose braid, careful not to tug on the stitches at my temple, and donned the nightgown Nesta had left for me. As she predicted, it was too long for my frame, but fit well enough to be decent. When I was ready, I took a deep breath before stepping out of the bathing room, acutely aware that this was not how I had imagined seeing Cassian and Nesta’s bedroom for the first time.

 The two of them stood when I entered, both rushing over like I was a newborn foal not sure on its feet. Despite all that had happened, the care they displayed made my heart squeeze in my chest. “We have food,” Nesta explained as Cassian took my elbow, gently guiding me to the edge of their bed. The mattress was larger than any I had ever seen, likely built to accommodate one or more sets of wings, and I couldn’t help but think it would do quite nicely fitting the three of us. Once I was settled in bed, a tray with steamed vegetables and bread was placed on my lap. Nesta crawled onto the bed, sitting at my left side while Cassian took a seat on the edge, watching me intently, his trademark humor gone from his eyes.

“I’m okay,” I felt the need to say, taking a tentative bite of the food. In truth, I wasn’t the least bit hungry, but I figured a few bites would make the protective pair feel better. 

“It’s okay if you’re not,” Cassian said, eyebrows pinched together. “Nothing about what happened tonight is okay. I can’t tell you how sorry I am, for all of it.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” I replied, forcing a small smile that was meant to be reassuring. “If anything it was mine… I didn’t check the peephole and I walked home alo—” 

“Don’t say that,” said Cassian, “this was definitely not your fault.” 

“It was that damned male’s fault, and Amarantha’s, not yours though,” Nesta added, “never yours.” 

We sat in silence for several breaths as I thought of what to say next. I debated pushing down my feelings, locking the memory away, and asking them not to mention it, but the residual terror and heavy guilt that was weighing on me demanded to be felt. “I’ve never killed anyone before,” I whispered, looking down into my lap.

“You defended yourself,” Nesta replied, placing a gentle hand on my knee. “He killed himself when he attacked you. You did well.” 

“I didn’t even try to save him though,” I argued, my heart rate beginning to rise once more as I flashed back to that moment, hours before when I sat frozen while he bled out before my eyes. “I didn’t—” a sob cut me off midsentence, the emotions I’d been suppressing returning in full force. 

The tray disappeared from my lap and I was soon being pulled into a set of strong arms. Cassian hugged me, whispering soothing words as my cries turned into wails. Nesta had scooted closer to me on the bed, and I could feel her rubbing circles into my back as I wept. For how long we sat there, I wasn’t sure, but when my sobs finally ceased, turning into whines and sniffles, I was exhausted. “Do you want us to go?” Nesta asked when I had caught my breath. I shook my head furiously, grasping at Cassian’s shirt. I felt like I was at the edge of an abyss and they were the only thing keeping me from falling in headfirst.

Cassian nodded, shifting me with surprising ease until I was laying down in between the two of them. He stood, moving to extinguish the faelights while Nests slipped under the covers at my side. I turned towards her and she cupped my face with her hand, running her thumb across my cheekbone in gentle strokes. “I’m so sorry this happened,” she whispered, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” 

“You’re here now,” I replied, leaning into her touch, “that’s what matters.” 

“I was so, so scared,” she said, her grey eyes filling with tears, “when I smelled the blood. I was terrified that I might lose you before I even had you.” I swallowed thickly, reaching out to intertwine my hand with hers. Behind me, Cassian slid into bed wordlessly. 

“Nothing like that is ever going to happen again,” Cassian said. “I won’t ever let you get hurt again, I swear it.” 

“We swear it,” Nesta added, sounding resolute, and I felt the bond between us sing with the intensity of their promise. In a moment of boldness driven by pure emotion, I leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. Then I turned around to face Cassian and did the same, running my hand along his stubbled jawline as I did. Kissing Cassian felt far different than kissing Nesta, but it filled me with the same glowing warmth, soothing my aching heart as I did. Cassian was smiling when I pulled away, turning back towards Nesta so as not to put pressure on my sore ribs. He snuggled into bed behind me, resting an arm around my waist. “Is this okay?” he asked, voice low and rough.

“It’s perfect,” I whispered, settling into my mates’ embrace. 

⊱ —————— ❈ —————— ⊰

Madja left strict instructions that I was not to return to work until she cleared me, so I spent the days following the incident in the House of Wind with Cassian and Nesta. I spent much of that time in bed, resting my sore muscles and conserving energy so that my body would heal. Cassian or Nesta remained at my side at all times, and each night, we went to sleep together, with the two of them tucked against me on either side. The feeling of their warmth cocooning me was familiar, and it wasn’t until the second night that I realized I had experienced this before, in the dreams I had before I met them. Unlike in the dreams, though, I didn’t wake up in an empty bed, feeling like a piece of my soul was hollowed out. Instead, I was awoken each morning by one or both of my mates stirring, their gentle hands running along my back and through my hair,  calling me from sleep. It was blissful to be so near to them, the contentment I felt when I was wrapped up between them was so deep it was nearly hypnotizing. 

As the days passed and my body healed, I began to think about returning to my apartment. The thought made me shudder, but I didn’t want to outstay my welcome. We hadn’t discussed officially moving in together, only dancing around the subject from time to time, and I wanted to be sure they were certain about it before I made the House of Wind my home. Despite this, the thought of returning to that apartment made my stomach turn.

I pictured trying to sleep there alone with the blood-soaked floorboards and boarded-up window reminding me of what I had done. Imagining it made me feel cold all over, goose flesh appearing on my arms. I was thinking about it when Cassian walked out of the bathing room on the third day, and he seemed to pick up on my mood right away. “What’s wrong?” he asked, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. It was quite the sight: a big, strong warrior, one of the best that ever lived, his face soft with kindness and concern. My heart fluttered in my chest.

“Just—”, I almost told him but bit my tongue. I didn’t want to pressure them into inviting me to stay. 

“What is it, sweetheart?” Cassian prompted his large hand encircling one of mine. 

“I was just thinking about what happened,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “Thinking about all the nice things you did to fix up my apartment, and now…” My throat constricted and I couldn’t finish the sentence. 

“We’ll bring those things here,” Cassian said, squeezing my hand. “Or get you all new things, if you want.” 

“Here?” I asked, avoiding his gaze.

“Or… if you’d prefer, we could get you a new apartment,” he didn’t seem enthused by the idea, something like disappointment seeping into his tone. “You don’t have to go back there. Ever again, if you don’t want to.” 

“Do you— do you and Nesta want me to get a new apartment?” I asked, emboldened by Cassian’s sincerity. 

“We…,” he hesitated, “we want…”

“We want you to move in here,” Nesta’s voice startled me, and I looked up to see her standing in the doorway. As usual, her silver eyes bored into mine, as though she was peering into my soul. I felt the bond between the three of us go taught. “But, that’s your decision to make.” 

“You want me here?” I asked. “Are you sure?”

“Are we sure?” Nesta scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Of course, we want you here. If it were up to us we’d never leave your side again.” 

“But we don’t want to pressure you,” Cassian added hastily. 

“I want to go back to my apartment,” I said without thinking. Cassian and Nesta froze, exchanging a look reminiscent of heartbreak, and I rushed to clarify. “To see it one more time, before I move in here.” 

Cassian’s face stretched into a wide grin and Nesta smiled and her expression was tender. They blew out a breath, perfectly in sync with one another, and the tension in the air dissolved. Before I could say more, Nesta was on me, her arms thrown around my neck as she all but tackled me onto the bed. I winced, my ribs smarting slightly, but leaned into her touch all the same, my body melting into hers. She pulled back, cradling my face between two soft hands, and pressed her lips to mine in a passionate kiss. I nibbled at her lower lips, my hands settling on either side of her hips, but just as I was about to go further, she pulled back. “Shit, your ribs. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” I said, blushing and breathless. To our side, Cassian chuckled lowly, his scent cedar smoke and fresh rain, had shifted slightly, a note of heady musk now faint in the air. Lust. Any nerves I had were flushed out by desire, and I squeezed my thighs together, moving once more toward Nesta. She stopped my advances with one hand on my chest, her touch scorching my skin through my thin nightgown. Her cheeks were tinged pink and her pupils were blown wide, drifting down to the swell of my breasts and then back up to my face.

“A few more days,” she whispered. “We need you in full health for what we have planned.” 

⊱ —————— ❈ —————— ⊰

‼️ Explicit Sexual Content - Minors Do Not Interact ‼️

Sleeping next to my mates for the next two nights was divine torment. Now that I was feeling better and all was right between the three of us, the lid we had on our physical attraction had been blown wide open. At night, my skin seemed to tingle beneath their touch and it was all I could do not to beg them to move forward with their plans. The feeling of Nesta’s soft curves pressed against my front, her silken legs tangling with mine as we slept was enough to make me ache with need. Likewise, Cassian’s hard body pressed against my spine, and the occasional brush of something stiff against my ass had moisture pooling between my thighs. 

Sinful thoughts kept me awake, tormenting me with temptation that wouldn’t yield. Nesta’s slumbering form was particularly close to mine, and I pictured throwing my leg over her waist and grinding against her. I thought of how her nipples would harden, pebbling beneath her silk nightgown, and what it might feel like to slip the fabric over her head while Cassian ground his hips against me from behind. I imagined what it might feel like for him to hike up my nightgown and press into my cunt while Nesta—

My fantasy was interrupted by the star of the show himself, and I held my breath as I felt him stir behind me. He moved closer, resting his chin on my shoulder so he could whisper in my ear, “Did you have a good dream, my love?” he breathed out, the warm air on my neck sending shivers up my spine. The hand resting on my stomach moved slightly lower and pulled me backward, pressing my body flush against his. I felt his length twitch against my ass and let out a quiet moan. “Need some help?” he asked and I didn’t have to look at him to know he was grinning. 

I was so distracted by Cassian’s roaming hand that I didn’t notice Nesta awaken until her hand was settling on the curve of my waist. “You smell divine,” she whispered, placing an open mouth kiss on the hollow of my throat, “and needy.” 

“Should we give her some relief, Nes?” Cassian asked, nibbling at my ear lobe. I whimpered and Nesta let out a cruel, breathy chuckle. 

“I don’t know,” Nesta whispered, her eyes not leaving my face, “has she been a good girl?” She lifted her knee slightly and grazed my sex, applying the slightest bit of pressure and then pulling back before I could buck my hips for more friction. 

“I think,” Cassian said, his hand slipping lower until it rested mere centimeters from where I wanted it, “she’s been a very good girl.” His hand pressed between my thighs, rubbing through fabric, and I gasped. 

As Cassian’s hand drifted lower, sliding under the hem of my nightgown at an excruciatingly slow pace, Nesta’s hands slide higher, cupping my breasts. At the same time, Cassian’s hand reached my cunt, and Nesta’s brushed over my nipple. I arched my back, moaning as Cassian’s fingers slid across my slit, dancing over my clit in teasing strokes. Nesta kissed me then, deep and more passionately than ever before. Her tongue probed against my lips in time with the movement of Cassian’s fingers, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before they had me undone. 

Indeed, moments later Cassian dipped a single, thick finger inside my core, his palm grinding against my clit and sending me over the edge. I released a breathless yelp that should have been embarrassing, but my climax was so intense I didn’t care. My legs shook and my toes pointed as I squeezed my thighs together around Cassian’s hand. Nesta kissed me deeper and I felt Cassian’s mouth nip at the base of my neck. In the end, I was panting as I relax between the two of them, feeling utterly boneless and blissed out. Nesta giggled affectionately, running her fingers through my hair, and Cassian’s rough hand slid down my thigh, massaging the still-tense muscles. “There,” Nesta murmured, “now you can sleep.” 

“What about you two?” I asked, my eyes already drooping. I was always the type to get sleepy after sex, but the contentment I felt then was like a sleeping draught.

“Don’t worry about us, love,” Cassian replied, the rumble of his deep voice reverberating through me. 

“I want more,” I whined, my eyes already falling shut. I wanted to fight it, to demand we continue what we started and go back to chasing heaven with the two of them, but I’d never been more comfortable in my life. 

Cassian chuckled and Nesta pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Soon, my love,” she whispered. “There’s plenty more where that came from.” I drifted off shortly after that, into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

⊱ —————— ❈ —————— ⊰

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[vanseerra]

Home - An Elucien One-Shot

The Winter Solstice should be a time for joy and celebrations, so why is Elain awake so late and why does the house feel so dark and cold? Lucien should not be awake either, and yet, there is something in his chest compelling him to listen and follow to its cause.

G Rating | 3.5k Words

Elain

The evening was finally winding down. A still air has crept over the townhouse, bringing with it the deep chill of the winter night. Gone were the comforting thrills of a room full of laughter and excitement from only hours before. The winter solstice was always a big event here. With the festivities as well as Feyre’s birthday, everyone could be assured a day filled with joy. Nyx’s arrival had added an extra layer of warmth- watching his bright eyes light at the sight of every new toy and gift didn’t fail to spread smiles across everyone’s faces.

Seeing her sisters, Nesta especially, leaning into the celebrations and letting go of that past that seemed oh so close was a sense of peace for Elain. A bud of light was ripe in her chest as she played her role as a quiet and respectful observer with pride. It was in those moments that the newly turned fae believed she could adjust to this life, where she could hope for the ease that her family bore these days. That optimism clung to her with desperation but as the night inevitably drew nearer, when the sun began to descend behind its sunken veil, she fell with it.

The fire before her hummed with life. With drifting eyes, she stared into the flames. They bounced and danced around each other, their flicks of yellows darting skywards. To watch so closely caused her lids to sting but there was little she could do to look away. How could she deny this final chance of warmth? How could she turn from this tiny kindle of comfort while her siblings lay sleeping, huddled against their partners, their families.

With a sorrowful dip, the well in her chest widened, its darkness wrapping her ribs with weights. It was not an unusual feeling to her now and had stopped being a stranger to her a long time ago- before this house, this place, these lands. She wondered when they had become so acquainted but to bring up these memories now… she could not bear it.

Elain sighed, deeply and purposefully, arms curling around her knees on the sofa as she held the flames gaze. In her transfixed state, she did not hear the small creak of the oak door, nor heard the two hesitant footsteps that entered the main sitting room. The visitor paused, seemingly awaiting a moment to speak when she groaned loudly in pure frustration, flailing her head backwards. Deep golden eyes met her upside ones. With a gasp, she straightened her body back up.

“Gosh Lucien, don’t you know how to knock?” She exclaimed, a small pink tinting her cheeks.

“…To enter the living room?”

Elain was stunted. Truly, she hasn’t known why his sudden appearance had shaken her so visciously. She turned her body to face him, noting instantly the casualness of his attire: the way his linen shirt hung from his body, showing the slightest hint of muscle and the loose red braid that hung over his shoulder. She swallowed. No words could rise to her lips.

“I…”

“It’s late, I’m surprised to see you up.” Lucien's voice was crisp, warm and smooth, a delicate ember. His brows were knitted together in concern, the gentle pupils of his eyes examining her carefully as she sat before him. “Is something wrong?”

“I was just about to retire.” She answered simply.

It wasn’t a lie per-say, more of a non-truth. How could she explain what had been going through her mind moments before? Would she even want to? Seeing Lucien before her like this though, without all of the awkward formalities she swore to upkeep around her family and friends, was new but not unwelcome. She wondered what was going through his mind.

“May I sit for a moment?” He gestured to the couch she was perched upon. “I couldn’t sleep.” He grimaced.

She gave a gentle nod. He made his way over and slowly sat himself beside her, their bodies angled slightly away from each other. Her heart lurched in her chest. Had she ever been this close to him before? She’d certainly never picked up on his scent, the woody depth of cedarwood mixed in with something of slight sweetness. Cinnamon. Her instincts cried to her, begging for her to indulge, to sweep her arms around him and breathe in that cosy warmth. She dug her nails into her legs.

Lucien

Lucien's day had never really ended. He’d excused himself from the festivities relatively early, hoping to get a long rest before his return the following day. However, tucked up in the sheets of the guest room, his mind turned and turned. A pressure sat on his chest, similar to the shame he held some days but was somehow different.

The feeling was an ache. It dug deep into his chest and seemed to pull at his lungs, at his heart, searching for a response. It was a hollowed darkness. The weight called to him, echoed a sense of loneliness, of emptiness, of pain. A pang of recognition hit him suddenly, causing him to bolt upright. The pain was not his.

He had found her huddled on a couch before the fireplace. Even with her body turned from him, his breath paused at her beauty. The dim light of the lit fire flowed around her, illuminating the delicate outline of her pink dress. Sat there like that, she looked like a goddess. It wasn’t uncommon for him to be struck by her presence- sometimes just being in the same room as her would render him frozen. Never before though had he witnessed this side of her, performing no acts of properness, no walls guarding her. A need to protect her rung through his bones.

Beside her, he carefully examined the delicacies of her face. The softness of her features, the light rosiness that brushed her cheeks, the subtle curve of her long lashes. Breathtaking yet… her eyes ached, her jaw tightened, her brows twitched. It was clear how many words were turning in her head, how many thoughts she wanted to spill and clear from her.

“You can talk to me, you know…” His invitation was weak and he silently cursed himself for it. “I’m good at keeping secrets.”

His attempt at humour had not struck true. Elains brows further burrowed, a finger gently rubbing her knee. Self-soothing.

“I barely know you.” Her voice was but a whisper.

He supposed she was right. The two of them were barely more than strangers. For a couple of years now, he had done all he could to respect her and her boundaries. He kept his visits brief, words short, only coming and going when he was needed. There was nothing that caused him greater pain, but he had done it and done it well. The fact that the two of them were talking, albeit awkwardly and with tension, was more than could be said about the last few years. He was eternally grateful regardless.

“You could know me.” His offer was bold yet sincere. Gently, his heart thumped behind his ribs and he knew she could hear it. Elain turned to face him and he almost cried. The softness of her brown hair fell over her shoulder as she moved her head. It was angelic. He watched with eagerness as her eyes flickered through many thoughts and he silently prayed for an invitation. Please his mind willed. Her eyes turned back to the flames as she spoke.

“This house is so quiet at night…” She started.

“When the sun sets its like… it becomes a new place. The silence is so loud, it’s weird. With so many people here you’d never think it could be like this. To be awake at this time of night it…”

Hesitantly, she held a hand before the flame, letting it heat her palm. He noted the soft curves of her nails, the blushed skin of her fingers, and wondered how it would feel on his own.

“I know I should be grateful. Feyre has been so good to me, too good to me. She’s done everything she can to help me adjust, despite everything. But still…”

A small tear bubbled at the corner of her eye and he could not resist the hand that leaned to wipe it. She did not resist.

Elain

She was speaking before she could even comprehend what was happening. Somehow and for some reason, the words fell from her with ease, her heart opening in a way it hadn’t for so long. Perhaps it was because he was an outsider? Not a part of Rhys and his Inner Circle who had tried so insistently to ease her into their group. No it wasn’t that, it was… When she turned to look at him, she saw herself in the reflection of those gentle eyes and wanted to weep instantly. His gaze held such care, a sense of longing bubbling beneath its surface.

The matter of the mating bond had been so tricky for her for so long, and for good reason. Everything had been taken from her against her will and she was expected to just accept it? After everything she had lost? After every sacrifice she had made? Here was a man, handed to her and expected to be a companion to her. How could she ever be okay with that?

Lucien was not the fae she thought he would be, however. The fact she had little to do with him was proof of that. Where she had expected him to be forthcoming and insistent on their bond, he has been the opposite- out of the picture and respectfully so. Their distance had been a physical strain, one she knew to be purely biological but he had listened and demanded nothing from her.

Gazing at him now, she could see him for who he was. Feyre’s friend. Loyal, caring, dependable. Before her like this, he asked nothing of her, only offered an open ear, one she needed so desperately. Maybe it was because of that, because of his quiet acceptance and patience that she continued speaking, honestly and with a heavy heart.

“This isn’t my home. I don’t know if it can ever be. I don’t even think I know what the word means anymore.” Gods did that truth ache.

A flash of understanding passed through Lucien's expression and he appeared to think over his response for a second before speaking.

“What do you want home to mean?”

Elain was struck. What did she want home to mean? The heaviness of the question was unexpected and yet, it pulled on a cord so deep she couldn’t help but tug, searching for her answer. Home. Home should mean a place, should mean family, friends. The words that came up surprised her.

“Warmth.”

Now that she thought about it, when was the last time she had felt it authentically? Sitting here, before this fire, was different. Her chest didn’t hold the heat like it used to, surrounded by her two sisters and her Father, back before everything here. That was a past she could never return, no matter how much it ached; perhaps that’s why it had all been… so hard.

Lucien

Lucien held his breath as she spoke, every word quaint yet charged, filled with feelings so deeply personal he wondered why he had been privy to hear them. Not that he was complaining about it. The truth of it was, everything she was saying resonated so strongly with his own beliefs- the conflicts he had faced and continued to each day.

He should be satisfied with his life. He was safe, protected, surrounded by people who accepted him for who he was and yet… There was always that final piece missing, that yearning he felt to live rather than just exist. As a little boy, he had felt that same gap, even more so in his family home. His brothers were in name only, the weight of his outcast nature isolating him from the warmth he saw between his Father and siblings. Why was he so different? Why did they not love him in the same way? These questions had plagued him for a lifetime.

Feyre had been good to him also. His role in the Night Court was not something he turned his nose up at. It was a stable job that allowed him to do what he did best. He also took deep joy in celebrating with them all over the holidays, laughing alongside new friends and old but, it was never the sense of completeness that he was constantly longing for.

Warmth. There was a great irony in how deeply he related to her truth. Lucien was warmth personified. His upbringing had been surrounded by ‘warmth’ in the Autumn Court and yet, it was more like fire- something that burnt and stung those that fell victim to it. He supposed ‘warmth’ was nothing like that at all. His powers were different, they were innately him, his nature. At times, he felt shame at his abilities: they reflected his heritage in ways he never wanted to be entangled with. But, at its core, there was no element he knew better.

He could provide Elain with what she wanted. He could warm her with his powers, with his words, with his affection. What a painful thing it was to be on the brink of something so great and to withhold it like a forbidden truth. Clenching his teeth to stop the words from dropping from his throat, he watched her carefully. What would Elain want to hear right now?

“I think that’s beautiful…” He started, watching Elains interest slip with slow disappointment. She faced the dwindling flame, her head resting upon her knees.

“Yes…”

It struck him. She did not need to hear approving words, didn’t need someone to be agreeable and offer her no solutions. She had probably had a lifetime of it. He straightened his back, glancing to the ceiling as he recalled a memory.

“When I was a boy, we had this massive oak tree in our back garden.” He started and noted her eyes sliding to watch him.

“Its leaves were every hue of orange and red you could imagine. And its canopy looked like the tip of a mushroom. When I’d hold my hand up towards the sky…” he demonstrated for her, raising her palm upwards as he spoke.

“It wouldn’t even cover half of it- it was that large. It was my favourite tree by far, so grand and majestic and I would spend hours and hours in its shade.”

“What would you do beneath it?” She asked inquisitively.

“Oh, everything. Some days I would draw, read, sometimes even sleep under its cover. The best day I had was when I owned this little paper sword. I would swing it back and forth around it, pretending to fend off monsters from its trunk.” He scoffed at the memory, shaking his head.

“Did they win?”

“Did they win!” He chuckled, eyebrow raising at her sly sense of humour. “Now that is just cruel Elain. I think even I could fend off pretend monsters.”

The small painted smile on her face was all he could ever wish for.

“Anyhow, the tree was planted beside a big window into our home. It was always wide open to allow in the breeze and so, when I was beneath it, I could often… hear the comings and goings of the house.” His grin slipped.

“It was from that place, resting against that great oak that I overheard many things. Hushed talks of diplomacies, debates and arguments, dinner conversation and most poignantly…. celebrations.”

Elains brows sunk at this revelation, the confusion and hurt on her face evident. She went to speak but he continued.

“I was never not invited to those moments but… to say that things were different when I was around would be an understatement. I was just a kid and still, my family, my brothers especially resented me so strongly. It made me so confused.” The tears were caught at the back of his throat and he fought his resolve, trying to keep them from falling. He could not look towards her, in fear of his restraint slipping and the pain becoming too evident.

Elain

Elain could not believe what she was hearing. To know Lucien had suffered so much in his earlier life, had been so alone… her heart sunk for all that he had endured at such a young age. Her own life had not been so perfect as a child, but to be so isolated, in a family that large, she could not imagine the toll it would’ve taken. It was clear from the pained expression that overtook his features just how low the memory was.

A part of her had been relieved when he’d first started the story, grateful that he wasn’t just going to nod and move on from the openness of her confession. Gods knew she was sick to death of being coddled and agreed to. “Yes Elain.” “That sounds nice Elain” “What a good idea Elain”- she was sick of it. However, this was a different type of pain, one she felt within her own bones and chest. She could not help the hand that reached over to grasp his, tentatively and sheepishly.

His eyes were instantly upon hers, his body going deathly still. He did not move away however, only considered her in his gaze. A grateful smile tugged on his lips and it was so bright and warm that Elain was equally as frozen. How could such a small movement have such an effect on her?

“That means to say…” he carried on, “that on some levels and in some ways, I believe I understand. To be without warmth in your home, that is a scar that does not so easily heal and admittedly, makes it hard to find the right, true step forwards.”

“Yes.” Her reply was a little breathless, hardly believing someone else understood it as she did. The words were direct echoes of her own thoughts.

“Where do you go when you don’t know where to look or what to do?” It was a question she aimed less at him and more at herself. A question she had spent the last few years turning and turning in her mind.

“I’ll admit, I don’t have the answer for myself but I think you have to start somewhere.” He gestured to the room before them with his spare hand, signalling to the space.

“If this isn’t making you happy then, despite what feels right, what feels like the acceptable thing to do” he clarified, “then you should explore the alternatives. This world is a lot bigger than the Night Court, regardless of what your sister and the others like to believe.”

“I can’t just… up and leave.” There was a deep sadness to her tone.

“Says who?“

“Says… everyone. I think Nesta would have a heart attack.”

“This is your life Elain, not hers.”

“Then how do you suggest I go… where do I even start?”

Lucien

Lucien was determined. Elains true thoughts and feelings had been blown open wide to him and the doubt that plagued her so closely was fuelled by so many things that he knew to be untrue. She was not stuck here in the Night Court. Not on the level she thought to be. There would be some resistance from others, of course, but when wasn’t there in life? And if it was making her so unwell to be in this place…

A thought hit him. It was wild and childish and completely nonsensical, especially considering this was the most the both of them had spoken in all of those years but, when if not now would be the perfect chance to try? With a newfound determination, the red haired fae placed his free hand upon their joined ones, leaning towards her slightly.

“Come with me.”

“Lucien…”

“Not for long, for a single trip if that’s what you wish. I’m leaving in the morning for another court, relaying some messages and that is all. I could have you back here within the day.”

A small ember of light shone behind the woman’s pupils, it was hopeful and sparked with a sense of hope that he had not seen from her before. It was a stunning sight.

“But Feyre… Nesta…”

“Will be fine. I will even get on my knees and beg before Rhysand if you’ll accept.”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes at his playful nature but the small tug on her lips told him what she would say before she spoke.

“Fine.”

“Fine?” He had to be sure.

“Yes. Yes I will go with you. One trip.” She emphasised, holding her finger up with importance.

“You’d better pack your bags then, lady.”

Lucien grinned, ear to ear, the song in his chest ringing and ringing and ringing.

A/N: I wanted to say thank you for my support on my other fics and to ask for your patience while I figure out Tumblrs formatting- things like this really make me feel my age haha. AO3 will be my next big hurdle. Elucien is a ship I hold so dear and getting to write for them brings me a lot of joy. In the future, I hope to continue pre-existing fics and perhaps open to suggestions for one-shots! All the best :)

[theladyofbloodshed]

Chapter 6

(Sorry you had to wait 6 months)

Limbs aching from holding the heavy bow, Nesta was ushered into the home by Lucien as the sun began to set. If there was any sort of frostiness between her and Vassa as the queen emerged for the night, Lucien’s warmth melted it quickly. Although she did not know the mortal queen very well, Lucien ensured the conversation flowed easily amongst them then when Jurian arrived back, the conversation was taken up a notch. Nesta was happy to sit beside the stove as words were parried amongst the group although a deep longing for something like this began to grow inside of her. Somehow these three mismatched people had come together and a friendship had bloomed. Although she had Emerie and Gwyn, who she loved dearly, their interactions were always shaped by Cassian or he was always nearby as if to oversee it. Nesta did not have friends she could go and visit without assistance or Cassian lurking near.

She was broken out of her wistful dreaming by Lucien’s hands on her shoulders, encouraging her to get to her feet.

‘You’re a guest so do not need to help us to cook,’ he explained. ‘If you’d like a bath, I can run one for you or you can get comfortable in the lounge. Vassa has a few books you might like.’

‘There was one in your room actually that intrigued me with the burgundy cover.’

Lucien swept his head downwards. ‘Help yourself. Shall I run you a bath?’

Nesta stood rooted to the spot, blinking at him. Surely this was a trick of some kind? She waited for Lucien to lead into a line about massaging her or helping to wash – like Cassian would – but, instead, he merely waited for her answer.

‘A bath, please.’

When the water had been running for long enough, Nesta entered the bathroom with clean clothes bundled under her arm to find Lucien using his magic to heat it. He swirled his hand through the water, ensuring the heat was thoroughly mixed.

‘I wasn’t sure how hot you liked it. Vassa prefers it scalding.’

For a moment, Nesta had forgotten they were beneath the Wall where magic could not be employed to heat the water in the pipes. She remembered the days of heating buckets of water over the fire after pumping it from a freezing well – then the bath being cold by the time the second bucket had heated.

‘You do this every time?’

‘It’s good to let magic out.’ He added, ‘I don’t always do it for Jurian.’

With only the sounds of water hitting the metal tub, Lucien continued letting his fire magic crawl beneath the metal tub until steam rose up towards the white tiles.

‘That’s deep enough,’ she said.

There was only five inches in it, but that was deep enough for her.

‘It’s not a problem,’ replied Lucien. ‘My family have a strong streak of fire in them.’

‘It’s not- It’s not that.’ Nesta stared down at the shallow water. ‘It reminds me of that day. I don’t like the water very deep.’

To anybody listening, it ought to have sounded pathetic. It really was pathetic. After all this time, Nesta still could not take a bath without guiding herself through it with a constant inner monologue to reassure herself. But this was progress for her. Long gone were the days of standing in an empty bath and using buckets of water to pour over her bare body. Cassian didn’t understand. Couldn’t understand how she wasn’t over it yet.

Lucien glanced between her and the bath tub before realisation dawned on his face. The tap was turned off.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t think.’

‘It’s alright,’ she reassured him. ‘Nobody does. This is perfect.’

Lucien left her to bathe with an expression of hopelessness on his face that Nesta wished she could scrub away. None of this was his fault. Once, maybe, she blamed Lucien for the Cauldron but he’d been collateral damage, just as she had. Ever since, Lucien had made amends, serving another court, a different high lord than the one he’d pledged his life to.

Her arms and shoulders were sore from archery. The bath had done nothing for the ache except bring it to the surface. Thankfully, she managed to button up the last few buttons without assistant but her muscles burnt afterwards. From all of the trainings with Cassian, Nesta had presumed she was at the fittest she would ever be, but clearly her feeble arms required improvement.

At the bottom of the stairs, she caught the tail end of a conversation.

‘Give me one good reason.’

‘I’ll owe you,’ replied Lucien.

Vassa’s laugh sounded then, ‘Jurian, being in an Autumn princeling’s favour can’t be thrown away so easily.’

Jurian swore then she heard the back door creak open.

‘The things we do for love,’ said Vassa with a sigh.

‘It’s called being kind. Perhaps you can look into it.’

The kitchen door opened, flooding in light to the darkened hallway and both Lucien and Nesta jumped.

‘Oh. Dinner is cooking,’ said Lucien in greeting.

Instead of joining them in the kitchen, Lucien guided Nesta through the corridor to the lounge where pillows and blankets were piled onto the lurid couch. The book that she had been after was placed on the small table nearby with a freshly brewed cup of tea and Lucien encouraged her to take a seat. Without asking, he lifted her bare feet onto the other end and tucked a blanket around her lap.

‘Where are your socks?’

‘I knew I’d forgotten to pack something,’ she said. ‘I’ll wash the ones I have later.’

Lucien made a tutting noise. ‘We may not have a magical house that does the work, but you are a guest here.’

‘I don’t mind to help,’ she insisted.

Lucien gave a laugh. They came so easily from him but were never sarcastic. ‘I grew up amongst high lords. Vassa is a queen. Jurian is the best chef among us – but I doubt any help you can give will salvage our meal. It will be edible. That is all I can promise.’

There was something alluring about his expression that Nesta could not take her eyes from. Lucien had a way of making her smile. Perhaps because he wore his own readily that it encouraged her own one to make a shy appearance. Everything that he did was easy or carefree. Not in the way that Rhysand did what he wanted and damned the consequences, but in a more natural way that suggested he’d bloom no matter the season.

‘Enjoy your book.’

It was strange to be doted upon. Stranger still to not have to pay as a result. Cassian was offended if Nesta wanted a night in the library alone to read so had to make it up to him, or if she wanted to see Emerie, he’d want payment in the form of her body. Lucien did not expect anything. He’d sat her down here because he’d known that was what she wanted.

Nesta was two chapters deep into the book when Lucien returned. Without a word, he raised the blanket from her feet and began putting a pair of his own socks onto her feet.

‘I cannot bare to see cold feet.’

With a soft patter of rain and a belly full of tea, Nesta could not stop her eyes from closing tucked up on the couch. It had been so nice to just be her for the day. No mate to tip-toe around, no inner circle to disappoint, no training, no desperate need to prove she was worthy of being around them. Each moment that she was away from the Night Court made it more difficult to return. What did she have to look forward toby being there?

The sound of the front door opening had Nesta bolting upright in anticipation.

Surely, she’d receive a warning if it was Cassian?

Her fingers gripped the blanket, heart thudding louder.

Jurian, with hair damp from the rain, shucked off his boots and entered the room carrying a package in brown paper. He winked at her. ‘You are a lucky, lucky girl.’

‘Am I supposed to know why?’

The mortal man gave a rough laugh. ‘You’ll figure it out eventually.’

The dinner was ready minutes later. A roast of lamb had been prepared with buttery mashed potatoes, parsnips, carrots, and cauliflower. Whilst mortal food lacked the same strong tastes as fae food, it was still good. When her arms began to ache, Lucien wordlessly took her plate and sliced the meat for her to save her a job.

‘What a good little exile he is,’ mused Jurian.

Jurian wasn’t wrong. There were no other males like Lucien. She could not think of another male who would be willing to leave his mate well alone when his desire was likely telling him another thing. Elain had been granted space and patience while Cassian had encroached on her space and worn her down until she’d given up her choices.

Nobody protested when Nesta collected the dishes and insisted on washing them up – as a good guest should.

Vassa called, ‘Are you making the tea, Jurian?’

‘Oh-ho, I’ve got something better.’ Four bottles of wine were placed on the table. ‘None of this faerie-piss. And – as requested – for the silver witch.’

The brown package was unpeeled to reveal a cake smothered in thick frosting.

‘Uh, no calling her a witch, thank you.’

It took a moment for Nesta to realise that the cake was for her – and Jurian had decided upon a new nickname for her which Lucien promptly shut down.

‘The cake is for me?’

‘You better share it,’ said Jurian, pointing a knife at her. ‘Carrot cake. The good stuff.’

‘There’s a little mortal bakery in the village,’ explained Lucien. ‘You probably know it.’

‘He is obsessed with this cake,’ added Vassa.

‘And now Nesta needs to try it,’ he finished.

It was a marvellous evening with each one clutching a bottle of wine in one hand and a knife in the other to chop slivers off the cake. It was divine; the frosting complimented the sponge which melted on Nesta’s tongue. They reasoned that carrot being a vegetable meant the cake was healthy too.

‘If I wasn’t a faerie, I’d have my face pressed to the glass as soon as it opened,’ said Lucien before licking his knife clean of frosting once the cake had been demolished. Nesta was fascinated by his tongue. It took an effort to snap her eyes away from him.

They talked and joked with laughter coming easier and easier as the wine went down and inhibitions loosened. There was a camaraderie amongst them that Nesta was envious of. Lucien and Jurian were the butt of most of the jokes, but it never went too far. Occasionally, a joke was made about Vassa but never did they mock Nesta despite her having lots to prey upon. The mortal pair had taken Lucien’s lead when it came to approaching her, to which Nesta was thankful.

Late into the night, Jurian clapped his hands together and announced that he was headed to bed. There was a pointed look given to Vassa on his exit.

It did not take long for her to make her own excuses – that she needed to return to her room for a while – despite the curse being lifted for only a few more hours.

Above their heads, they could make out two sets of footsteps rather than just Jurian’s.

‘She can never resist his summons.’

Nesta’s mouth fell open. ‘They’re not?’

‘Oh, they are. For many months. But they refuse to acknowledge it. I’m not allowed to acknowledge it. There’s a silent agreement that we don’t speak about it.’

‘They’re good together,’ said Nesta.

Lucien snorted. ‘They’re good at each other’s throats.’

‘Sounds like my mating bond.’

Lucien pushed the last dregs of his wine towards her so she could drown her sorrows. There was no denying it that from the start, she and Cassian had been at each other’s throats. It had not eased. Arguments were their common currency.

In the dim light of the final candle still burning, Lucien’s golden eye shimmered. This was a male who had suffered enormously. The Night Court was the third court that he’d found a home in – and Nesta could not understand why he’d risk that safety for her.

‘Why are you helping me, Lucien?’

Say it’s because you’re my mate’s sister, she thought. Give me a reason to stop staring at you and longing for what you could offer.

Lucien tracked a finger against the scar on her thumb. ‘Because you deserve better than he gives you.’

‘And what do you deserve?’

He stopped stroking against her thumb. Their eyes snapped to each other. They had suffered, both of them. From the ashes of the flame, maybe there could be something new.

The temptation to lean and press her lips to his was growing stronger. Rather than let the thought take root, Nesta stood. ‘I should go to bed.’

‘Yes,’ he agreed.

In darkness, they both took to the stairs. She was painfully aware of the warmth of Lucien’s body behind hers as they moved through the house.

It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair. Elain always had the better luck. She had their father’s love, their mother’s blessing to be herself, and now a mate who would move the heavens if she asked. And she did not want him.

Not fair. Not fair.

It blared through Nesta’s head as she crossed through the doorway into Lucien’s bedroom.

This was a male worthy of love, a male worth loving. A male who had treated her better than her damn mate with nothing to gain.

Nesta fumbled on the dresser for a way to light the lamp. Her hands trembled.

‘Here,’ he murmured, stepping into the room. Fire kindled on his fingertips as he leaned across her body for the lamp. The lapel of his jacket swept against her ribs as his fire swirled about the wick. ‘It will burn all night – until you blow it out.’

‘And if I want to keep it?’

Lucien stood upright. Each time he inhaled, she felt the brush of his chest against hers, so close they stood. He was so handsome. Not a man from her mortal stories of dashing knights, but a faerie prince who could enchant her. He already had.

‘Then its yours.’

Despite the small voice in her mind that told her Lucien was off-limits, Nesta raised a hand to cup his face. Her thumb brushed against the knotted scar tissue. He leaned into her touch, eyes closing at the intimacy.

‘We shouldn’t do this,’ she whispered, still not lifting her hand away.

‘No,’ he replied. His hand went to her waist, tugging her the final few inches so their bodies pressed into the other. ‘But I still want to.’

Nesta did not know who moved first. It could have been her. It could have been him.

Their lips met and she saw stars.

[acourtofthought]

Message sent from @sanfangirl

“So I was thinking on Lucien’s buildup and how it will eventually relate to Elucien, when I noticed something. Now I borrowed the books from a friend and wasn’t able to reread or quote much, but I remember noticing how Feyre is constantly hinting as Lucien’s inferiority. Like, not in a bad way, but when she talks about Lucien winnowing in ACOMAF she says “Lucien couldn’t winnow as far as Tamlin or Rhys, but he was fast” or something along those lines. But she’s saying he’s not as powerful as these other High Lords. And later on in ACOWAR she was totally planning to leave Lucien behind despite knowing he was desperate to meet his mate and she should have been able to sympathize, since she was missing her own mate quite strongly. My slight issue with Feyre and Lucien’s friendship aside, Feyre doesn’t see Lucien as very powerful until he’s able to break free of his chains, and even that is kind of dismissed as a freak accident. But to me this draws a parallel of how she also sees Elain. Elain was always portrayed as weaker compared to Feyre and Nesta. And then she’s Made by the Cauldron and comes out a powerful Seer. Interestingly enough, her mate, her soul bonded equal, discovers or is unknowingly able to tap into a wealth of spell breaking powers that break through Hybern’s chains and it turns out his daddy is actually very powerful, knowledgeable, charismatic Helion and he’s a High Lord’s heir. Now again sadly I don’t have the books at hand right now but hadn’t Lucien compared his power to his brothers (or at least Eris) before? And been found lacking? Do I need to point out that with most of his potential somehow locked away his power was still plentiful enough it was clear he was a powerful High Lord’s son (just, you know, not that one). And we have already seen hints of Elain being stronger and more powerful than people give her credit, I mean, stabbing the King of Hybern, talking back to Nesta, being willing to scry for the Dead Trove, need I go on? I hope in Elucien’s book we’ll be able to see their true potential bloom, and the IC’s reactions to the polite pair’s scary powers will be fun 😂”

My response to the above (for some reason it didn’t give me the option of “Answering” this, only “editing”.  I didn’t change anything from your original submission though, I’m just adding here at the bottom.

For only having read through the series on borrowed books, I’m really impressed!  I don’t think I picked up on anything my first or second reads, I was just sitting there thinking that SJM told me all I needed to know not realizing she was putting clues throughout. 

I know Lucien mentioned that he wasn’t particularly wanted or needed in Autumn and no one paid much attention to him which gave him the opportunity to train as long as he liked.  But that even with that, no one worried he’d bother killing his way up the long list of heirs.  And I know he previously acknowledged that Tamlin’s powers were much greater than anything he could do (since he’s still in the dark as to being Helion’s heir and doesn’t seem to realize it would be possible for him to display the markers of being a High Lord).  

But yeah, there are many examples of Feyre and the others thinking Lucien could never measure up to the IC.  That he may have trained but the IC would wipe Lucien off the face of the earth in a single blow.  She seems surprised that he doesn’t back down from Rhys or the Illyrians staring him down.  Questions whether he’d sell them out.  Az thinking he’s not good enough.  Nesta having problems with him for awhile. 

And the exact same thing can be said of Elain’s character.  Anytime she does anything, people are shocked.  She helped save Briar, helped save Az, saved Nesta and Cassian by stabbing the King yet they still think she needs protected and handled with kid gloves.  

I think it’s pretty purposeful on SJMs part though.  That the entire narrative surrounding Lucien and Elain is the people around them doubt them as capable, that they’ll always be secondary to the “real” warriors.  I think that makes them perfectly suited as Mates because it’s a struggle they can both understand.  And just because they aren’t as outspoken or fighters in the traditional sense doesn’t mean they can’t play a role that’s just as important to anything the IC has done and doesn’t mean they aren’t just as powerful.  

[thequeenofnightmares]

The penultimate chapter of my ACOTAR fanfic is up on AO3, for those beauties following along! The very last chapter of the fic is posting later this week…in the meantime:

Feyre gives Rhys her decision regarding Tamlin's request to meet. Rhys is not happy about her plan, but doesn't protest.

While she's visiting the Spring Court, Tamlin and Feyre do the unthinkable; they forgive each other and themselves.

~~

Rhys leaned over the map of the continent that was sprawled across his desk. Cassian stood beside him, a hand lazily resting on the hilt of his sheathed sword.

Rhys knew he was only here out of obligation. He’d called the General to him—reluctantly—and expected Nesta to come in tow. But, she didn’t; Cassian came alone this time, informing him that Nesta was training with Gwyn. At Rhys’ raised eyebrows, Cassian reluctantly added that Azriel was overseeing her presence there. It was no small feat on his part, to yield that protective watch to his brother for the day, so that he could be here and fully invested in what Rhys needed from him.

Together, they gazed at the map. Cassian pointed to a mountain pass winding up the far left of the continent. “He sent scouts here, from what Lucien tells me. But they haven’t yet discovered the purpose to that mission. And I can’t for the life of me understand what they’d find there that would be of any interest to Koschei. Or the mortal queens.”

Rhys pursed his lips. “Does Azriel know of the area? Have his spies reported anything of note to be located there?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

Rhys breathed, contemplative. He pushed off the desk and crossed his arms. “I don’t like waiting around to find out.”

“Me, either,” Cassian breathed. They stood in silence for a moment, looking at the illustration of the snowy pass on the map, before the wind shifted in the room and Feyre’s pear and lilac scent swirled around Rhys’ head.

He turned in time to see her gently pushing the study doors open. Her eyes met his.

She was radiant today, in a simple gown of pale blue. But then, she was radiant every day. Regardless of what she was—or wasn’t—wearing.

Feyre smiled at him softly—at both of them, and clasped her hands in front of her. Rhys registered the words she did not speak, the words she didn’t have to speak because they were so evident from her demeanor. I have made my decision, everything about her seemed to say.

Rhys just waited, patiently. Cassian, on the other hand, shifted awkwardly on his feet. His eyes darted between the two of them, and he made to move out of the room. But Feyre stopped him with a look; it was soft, but commanding. “You don’t need to leave, Cassian. This isn’t a secret.”

Indeed, it wasn’t, but something in Rhys’ chest tightened, and he could tell that he probably wasn’t going to like whatever it was she was about to convey.

“I’ll be going to the Spring Court to meet with Tamlin,” she told her mate. And at the beat of silence that followed, she added, “alone.”

~~

Read the rest on AO3!

[abraxos-and-ataraxia]

The Resignation Letter

Pairing: Nesta x Eris

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: SMUT (but only at the end so like, you’re safe for the first half)

Summary: When Nesta finally has enough of her horrific boss, she hands in her resignation letter.  But Eris Vanserra isn’t going to accept it so easily.

I’m late because of some spontaneous inspiration, but here’s my submission for @nerisweek Day 5 🔥 many many many thanks to @tired-potter for reading this and saying “write the smut”

* * * * *

Eris didn’t make a habit of lying. Twisting the truth? Yes. Omitting pertinent details? Of course. But outright falsehoods always felt a bit…crass to him. He was above such simple behavior, too skilled to resort to basic evasions.

Yet every single day, he lied to himself by saying he hired Nesta Archeron for her outstanding resume.

“Sir? Mr. Vanserra, are you still there?” The voice on the line eventually snared Eris’ attention, dragging him away from the woman just outside his office.

“Forward any relevant information to my secretary,” Eris drawled, before dropping the phone back into its cradle. Then he settled in to wait, eyes focused on the frosted glass doors.

Not even five minutes later, a knock sounded. Wiping the smugness from his expression, Eris settled behind his desktop. “Enter.” He pulled up the notes from the latest board meeting, though he had no intention of reading them.

The door swung open so fast, he half expected it to shatter on impact with the wall. Nesta Archeron strutted into his office like a gale-force wind, heels clicking on the polished wood as she swept inside. The door swung shut behind her, just in time for the scathing remark she fired his way, “You had Weston forward me the lunch menu?”

Eris lifted a brow, focusing his attention on her. Blue-gray eyes flashed silver in a showstopping face, full lips pursed in irritation. Her glare alone had Eris hardening in his pants, but the slim fitted skirt did wonders for her flared hips. The real treat was the heaving breasts straining at her blouse. Eris had far too many fantasies about those breasts, not that he let her know it.

His disdainful expression must have worked, because Nesta straightened, chin lifting into the air as she mastered her expression. Wrath softened into begrudging obedience as she added the required address. “Sir.”

Eris fought back a smirk, tapping on his keyboard casually. “He was nattering on about the upcoming fundraiser, and you know how I feel about insignificant details.”

“I hardly think a million-dollar fundraiser is insignificant.”

“Two million, but besides the point. I can’t be bothered with deciding on meal options. You’re my secretary, isn’t that your job? Handling messes I don’t care for?”

He watched her jaw clench, biting back some retort or another. Likely, Nesta thought he would fire her for the offense. It was fortunate that she couldn’t see the length straining at his fly. “Yes, sir,” she finally said.

“So there isn’t a problem, is there?” Eris waited with bated breath, wondering if Nesta would snap at last.

“No, sir.”

He fought a frown. Perhaps he hadn’t pushed her hard enough. Yet. “Is there a reason you’re still in my office, Miss Archeron?”

Nesta straightened impossibly further, turning on one heel with the precision of a ballerina. Which—considering his rigorous background checks of all new employees—he knew she once was. The fact only fueled his fantasies, wondering what flexibility she might retain from her earlier years in dance.

“Close the door behind you,” Eris called after her, tearing his gaze away from her perfectly rounded ass. He did have some work to get done, and his secretary served as wonderful motivation.

“Sir,” Nesta ground out, slamming the door behind her with enough force to make Eris smile.

* * * * *

Nesta forced herself to click on the next email gently. She’d already broken two keyboards and three computer mice in her first year working for the Autumn Corporation. She was lucky that Eris didn’t know, though considering the smug expression on his face every day, she wouldn’t be surprised if he did and was waiting for the right moment to remind her.

Her face twitched as she read the contents of the message. All day, she’d been getting bullshit messages from everyone in the building, from the financial management office to the janitor. No doubt Eris’ doing. He must have decided her snappy comments warranted this…punishment. Fielding calls about the upcoming weekend event, the office supply levels, the building’s cleaning procedure, and so much more. If she got another stupid email, Nesta swore she’d finally print out her resignation letter and nail it to his desk. Or perhaps staple it directly to Eris’ chest.

Ding.

Nesta practically vibrated as she clicked the notification, bringing up an email chain from HR regarding staffing issues that had devolved into slander and gossip long before reaching her inbox. Nesta nearly toppled her chair in her haste to reach the printer, heels boring into the carpet as she waited for her letter to print. Fucking finally. She’d be done with this. Done with him. She didn’t care about a backup plan, she couldn’t stay in this office for another minute.

She didn’t even bother to knock when she barged into Eris’ office. His expression was calm, even as she stormed up to the desk, pinning her letter to its surface. “I quit,” she hissed.

His eyes flashed like amber flames. “Sit,” he said, gesturing to the chairs in front of his desk.

“No thank you,” Nesta sneered, turning on one heel.

“I insist.”

Nesta stopped, one hand on the door, and looked back at him with no small amount of disbelief. “And I don’t care,” she said. “Everything you need to know is in my resignation letter, which you can either read at your leisure or have a new secretary read to you, whenever you manage to hire someone.”

Eris pushed back from his desk, rising to his considerable height. Those long legs ate up the distance between them before Nesta could do much more than open the door. His hand wrapped around the handle, mere millimeters above her own. “Nesta,” he said lowly, dipping his head to look her in the eye. “I insist.”

She blinked. She couldn’t help it. All the Vanserras were terribly attractive, to Nesta’s dismay. And even though Eris was her boss, and a horrible person to boot, she wasn’t blind. His tailored suits fit him like a glove, the faint whiff of elegant cologne only adding to his expensive allure. But even if he’d been wearing garbage bags, Eris would be gorgeous. His face could make angels weep. High cheekbones, smoldering eyes, and luscious lips, all framed by fiery hair that belonged in a shampoo advertisement. And if Nesta managed to tear her gaze away, she’d only be ensnared by his broad shoulders and firm ass. She’d daydreamed of touching him too many times to count.

While Nesta fought to regain her breath, Eris pulled the door from her lax fingers, letting it fall closed again. “Come,” he murmured, extending an arm to direct her back to the desk. He didn’t touch her, but she swore she could feel the heat of his hand hovering above her lower back. She sucked in air, all but jumping away from him in her haste to sit.

Eris settled into the chair beside hers, rather than going back behind the desk. “Are you unhappy here, Nesta?”

She nearly jumped, still surprised to hear her first name. For the entire year she’d been working, Eris had never referred to her as Nesta. “Yes,” she bit out, wanting the whole ordeal to be over so she could leave. She didn’t want to lust over her boss any longer than necessary, yet here they were, alone in his office after most of the building had left for the night.

“Can you give me any feedback as to what made your experience a negative one?”

Her nostrils flared, rage overtaking her nerves. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I can,” Nesta said. “Your vengeful assignments, harsh criticisms, careless requests for overtime, and so much more. You are, without a doubt, the least hospitable boss I have ever worked for.”

Eris’ mouth twitched up. Was he smiling? “I sincerely apologize for my behavior,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Perhaps I should have set better ground rules at the start of your employment. Do you believe incentives would have improved your experience working here?”

Nesta scoffed, shaking her head. “I can’t believe this. Incentives? Like what, a pat on the head? You’ve never even managed a compliment in the entire time I’ve been here.”

“So praise would have been helpful, then?” Eris hummed, tapping his fingers on the desk. “Very good, Nesta. Thank you for the feedback.”

Despite her fury, the words settled in her gut. Very good. When was the last time she’d heard anything like that? And for it to be happening in Eris’ office, during a resignation discussion? Nesta gritted her teeth. “This isn’t funny,” she snapped.

“I’m not joking,” Eris said, brows raised. “I take feedback very seriously. Would any other incentives have helped you?”

Nesta stared at him, utterly lost for words. Was this some kind of dream? A polite Eris Vanserra asking for constructive criticism?

“Perhaps some extra attention from me would have enhanced your time at the company,” Eris said, tilting his head. “Do you agree? Would it have helped to have one-on-one time to go over your assignments?” His amber stare pinned her in place, burning with an intensity she usually associated with annoyance. But Eris seemed anything but annoyed.

She looked away, unable to hold his stare. “I doubt it.”

“Would punishments have been better?”

Nesta sucked in a breath, eyes flying back to him. “Excuse me?” Her voice was an octave higher than usual.

“I think you would have liked that, Nesta,” Eris said with a smirk. “A little praise, a little punishment. Nothing as vanilla as we’ve done thus far, hmm?”

All of the little innuendos started to add up, and Nesta watched, shocked, as Eris blatantly examined her from head to toe. His gaze lingered on her chest, her hips, her mouth. Nesta scrambled up and out of her chair, legs a bit wobbly. She ignored the pleasant tingle racing over her skin, forcing her expression to turn icy. “I’m leaving,” she stated.

“I’m leaving, sir,” Eris corrected. The harsh tone made her freeze halfway across the office. Nesta loathed the warmth blooming in her belly. “I don’t believe I gave you permission to leave.”

“I don’t need permission,” she gritted out, making her feet move once more. “I quit, remember?”

“Very well, I’ll accept your letter of resignation. But you have to look me in the eyes and tell me the truth,” Eris drawled.

Her fingers brushed the door handle, but that damned heat made her hesitate. What was wrong with her? Nesta couldn’t stand the man, but still she found herself turning to face him. One last retort and she’d be gone, she promised. “What truth?”

Eris lounged in the chair, legs spread wide. His smirk grew when he saw her hesitation. “Tell me you don’t want my cock,” he said.

Nesta’s lungs froze, her lips parting in shock. And Eris began to laugh, as though he could sense the wetness between her thighs, the thoughts that had been circling her brain for months.

“Go on. Tell me.”

She tried. Damn her but she tried. “I don’t want you.”

“You can do better than that, love.”

Nesta bared her teeth. “I don’t want you,” she snarled.

“Better, but I still hear the lie.”

Growling softly, Nesta stalked over to him, stabbing a finger into his chest. “I. Don’t. Want. You,” she ground out, punctuating each word with her nail.

Eris’ smirk only grew. He licked his lips, leaning forward. “Oh, but you do,” he whispered, running a finger up her forearm.

Nesta glared down at him, but her breathing stuttered again when she noticed the bulge in his trousers. “I don’t,” she said, but even to her ears, the words were weak.

“Prove it.” His finger disappeared, and Eris sprawled back in the seat. “Let’s see that pretty pussy. It better be bone dry.”

Her lip curled, seeking a worthy retort but finding none. She could either walk out, saving her dignity but losing the battle. Losing the war, really, since that’s what the last year had been. Or she could do what he said, be proven wrong, and likely receive the dicking down of a lifetime.

The sound of her zipper was almost too loud in the quiet office. Eris’ smirk faded into a look of predatory interest, his gaze unblinking as Nesta dropped her skirt to the floor. She rolled down her hose, drawing it out until Eris was shifting in his seat. Then Nesta was the one smirking, sliding her panties down and stepping out of them. She sat primly on the chair opposite Eris, victory heating her veins. She luxuriated in his stare, spreading her legs wide enough that she knew he could see every inch of her—dripping wet.

Eris actually growled, and Nesta widened even further, fingers playing with the hem of her button-down. “Am I a good liar?”

“Sir,” he corrected, eyes flashing.

She grinned. “Am I a good liar, sir?”

Eris loosed a long breath, running a hand through his hair, mussing the perfect strands. “I’m not sure. Are you a good liar, deserving a reward? Or are you a bad girl for lying to me?”

Nesta hesitated only a moment. But she had nothing left to lose. “I think I’ve been very, very good for a long time. I think I deserve a lot of rewards.”

* * * * *

Eris was kicking himself. Why the fuck had he waited so long? He should have thrown her on his desk ages ago. Nesta’s gleaming cunt practically sang his name, and he fought the animalistic urge to take her without preamble. But he refused to rush, refused to hurry the moment he’d been waiting for.

And as Nesta had pointed out, he did owe her a reward.

So he ignored his painfully stiff length in favor of kneeling on the floor before her. Eris ghosted his fingers up her leg, trailing along her calf. “What kind of reward does my good girl want?”

Nesta was so still, he wondered if she was still breathing. “What will you give me?”

“What you deserve,” he murmured, brushing his lips against the side of her knee. She twitched, sensitive. “I suppose you could come on my fingers,” Eris mused, sliding his hand up to her inner thigh. He watched her muscles tense at the touch, anticipating his next move.

“Yes,” Nesta said, though it sounded like a demand from her haughty lips.

“Yes, what?” To emphasize the point, Eris removed his hand from her, pulling away entirely.

Nesta huffed, rolling her eyes. “Yes, sir,” she said, mocking him. “Please make me come on your fingers, sir.”

She wouldn’t be laughing for long, Eris thought darkly. He skipped right over her thigh, plunging one finger into her without warning or preparation. Her slick channel parted around him easily, though Nesta gasped in surprise. He hummed, curling his finger up into her heat, his cock hardening further at the phantom touch of that glorious pussy. He could almost feel her around him, massaging his length. But not yet.

“Good girls ask nicely,” he growled, biting her thigh lightly. She jolted, tightening around his finger in response. Interesting. He pulled out of her, watching her hips lift a bit to chase his hand.

Nesta swallowed, looking down at him with hooded eyes. “Please,” she repeated, no hint of teasing in her tone. She bit down on her lip, watching as he pressed small kisses up her leg. He ran a teasing finger up her slit, but he avoided her nub. “Eris,” she snapped.

He traced wide circles around her clit, ignoring her mounting frustration. “Nicely,” he reminded her.

Eris nearly chuckled watching Nesta reign in her temper. “Please make me come, sir,” she said again, silver eyes piercing through him. “I’ll be a good girl.”

He smirked. “I bet you will,” he said, passing his thumb over her nub so gently, her hips arched off the chair, demanding more. Eris obliged, leaning in to press a kiss to her apex. Nesta moaned in response, making him grin against her. He gave her a long lick, stopping to taste her honeyed hole. His tongue dipped in briefly, enough to make Nesta arch off the chair, and then he sat back on his heels. “Take off your shirt,” he ordered.

Already needy, Nesta complied immediately, practically ripping the buttons in her haste. She was breathing hard, those bountiful breasts spilling over the cups of her lacy bra, heaving under his stare. Eris rewarded her with both tongue and fingers, delighting in the sounds spilling from her lips. Every twitch and shudder helped him learn, improve his technique. If he crooked his fingers inside her just so, he could make her scream. When he pulled her clit into the heat of his mouth, she writhed, practically sobbing at the attention. And when the stimulation became too much, pushing over the edge, Eris memorized the details of her pleasure. The expression as she came, the violent twitching of her thighs, the rhythmic spasms around his fingers.

But where those aftershocks began to slow, Eris sped up, working her harder, faster. He didn’t want to reward her, Eris wanted to ruin her.

She surfaced from her third orgasm with a choked gasp, legs clamped tight around his head. “Stop,” she said, voice hoarse. Eris heard the tears even before he looked up at her, still lapping at her sensitive folds. “Please, sir,” Nesta begged, her knuckles white where she gripped the chair.

Eris released her with a final kiss to her clit, and Nesta trembled in his grasp. Chuckling, he let her go at last, ignoring the pins and needles in his legs as he stood up. He was far more concerned with the aching length trapped in his slacks. “Good girl,” he praised, running a hand over himself for some small bit of relief. He was already leaking in his pants, anticipating what was to come. Nesta wasn’t leaving his office until he was satisfied, and he had plenty of fantasies to work through before they were done for the night.

Number one on his list was bending her over his desk, a punishment he’d longed for each and every time she’d come storming into his office. Soon he wouldn’t have to wonder how her dripping cunt would look wrapped around him.

“Get your ass on the desk. Now.”

* * * * *

Nesta’s legs wobbled, but she obeyed, practically stumbling out of the chair to lean against the solid wood furniture.

Then Eris was on her, hands at her waist, her hips, her back. Her bra disappeared, flung across the room somewhere while he devoured her. He licked into her mouth, utterly filthy, and she loved it. Loved the taste of him, spicy and hot. Loved the firm press of his lips against hers, the slide of his tongue, the desperate fingers tracing her curves. Her own hands pressed against him, feeling blocks of muscle beneath his tailored clothes.

Eris pulled away from her mouth, but only for a moment. Her pussy clenched when he swept an arm over the desk, sending piles of organized paperwork to the floor. His carelessness, driven by the same fierce need she felt, was the proof she’d been longing for.

Then he was at her breast, licking, sucking, pulling moan after moan from her throat. His fingers worked at her core, building a fast and furious need within her. “Eris,” she chanted his name, over and over, until he was panting against her. Nesta’s skin pebbled, her nipples hardening under his ministrations.

“You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you,” Eris murmured, seemingly unable to pry his lips from her body. “You’ve wanted me to take you for months.”

“God, yes,” she groaned, feeling his fingers biting into her hips, pulling her tight against him. She ground upwards, feeling the long length straining at his fly. “Every time you called me in here, I wanted to end it.”

“End it,” Eris repeated, smiling against her breastbone. He pressed kisses in a line up her chest. His hips rolled against hers, forcing her clit to accept the friction of his slacks. Nesta’s eyes rolled back, knowing she was making a mess of those sleek gray trousers. He wouldn’t be able to walk out of his office without everyone knowing. “End what?”

“Your stupid leering stare, your rude comments,” she panted. “I wanted to sit on your face to shut you up sometimes.”

“Perhaps you will,” Eris said, voice a dark promise. “But right now it’s my turn, my fantasy. And I plan on fucking you utterly stupid.”

The tinny sound of his zipper met her ears over the pounding of her pulse. She could barely think straight as she watched Eris pull himself out, every rigid inch of him. God, he was big. And unfairly pretty. Nesta bit down on her lip, unable to look away as Eris stroked himself, once, twice. Then his other hand pressed her down onto the desk, pinning her to the surface roughly.

“Beg,” Eris growled, running the head of his cock through her slick lips. He nudged her clit, rubbing over it on every pass, until she was clawing at the desk with numb fingertips.

“Fill me up, sir,” Nesta said darkly. Eris’ eyes flashed, and then he slammed into her, the force of his thrust sliding her up the desk. She groaned, luxuriating in the stretch of her walls, the throbbing length taking up every inch of space within her. “More,” she demanded, arching her back to thrust her breasts in the air. His gaze latched onto them, as expected.

“Be careful what you ask for,” was his only warning. Then Eris was pounding into her with long, strong thrusts. She gasped, reaching over her head to grip the edges of the desk. Eris gripped her hips firmly, pulling her back to meet every snap of his hips. He plundered depths she didn’t know existed, thumbing at her clit with each stroke. Nesta reached the precipice before she realized, coming around him so suddenly, she whined in surprise. Then one hand was wrapping around her throat, cutting off her air and abruptly ending the sound. “Again,” Eris ordered, teeth bared in feral pleasure. Nesta could do nothing but comply, shuddering in his hold as her pussy tightened around him.

Eris released her throat when she came, letting her suck down heaving breaths. Then he pulled out of her, leaving her gaping in his absence. “Eris,” she started, but he didn’t let her finish.

His fingers bit into her hips, moving her efficiently until she was bent over the desk, breasts pressed into the smooth surface. She panted, looking over her shoulder at him. The sight of Eris fully clothed while she was wholly naked before him had Nesta flushing all over. Anyone could walk in—she hadn’t locked the door. And all they’d see was Nesta, spread across Eris’ desk like a sultry feast.

Eris’ cock gleamed in the lamplight, coated with her juices. His lap was smeared with it, from where she’d pressed herself against him. But Eris didn’t seem to care, his dark gaze fixed on her. “You look so beautiful, laid out like this for me,” he said. He ran a hand over her ass, fingers skimming over her and up her back. “Ready for me to take, to use however I want. Do you like being my pretty cocksleeve, Nesta?”

“Yes, sir,” she said, shivering with anticipation. Eris held her down, keeping her upper body pinned to the wood. She could barely wiggle in the position, but Nesta found she didn’t mind, because then Eris was bucking his hips to impale her on his length once more.

Bent over the desk with Eris pumping into her from behind, Nesta moaned helplessly, lost in the sensation of her boss repeatedly filling her up. He somehow reached even deeper like this, hips pumping furiously. Each thrust resulted in a wet slap, the sounds speeding up as his thrusts turned sloppy, even rougher as he neared completion. “You take me so well,” Eris growled. “No one’s pussy is as good as yours. You were made for this, Nesta. Made to take my cock.”

With the way he stretched her so perfectly, Nesta couldn’t think of a single argument. “Please, sir,” she begged, moaning at a particularly deep thrust. He was hitting all the right spots to make her see stars.

“Please what? Does my good girl want to come again?”

“Yes, sir,” she practically sobbed, breasts rubbing hard onto the desk.

Eris slowed his thrusts, taking the time to grind against her when he was at his deepest. “Do you want me to fill you up? Should I make a mess of you?”

Nesta nodded, beyond words as he rolled his hips against her ass. “Please,” she managed.

He groaned, long and low, picking up the pace again. His cock dragged along her walls, running over the same spot over and over until she was sobbing on the desk. “My good girl,” Eris grunted. “You’re going to feel me for days.” Then his hips stuttered, and Eris banded an arm around her chest, hauling her up against him. Eris groaned, pressing fevered kisses to her neck, one hand finding her breast as the other found her core with unerring accuracy.

Nesta moaned at the first hot spurt within her, Eris’ fingers sending her over the edge one last time. She clenched around his twitching length, milking him for everything he was worth. The cresting pleasure overwhelmed every thought until she was gasping, hair sticking to her forehead as Eris softened inside her.

He pressed his lips to her temple in a surprisingly gentle kiss. “Good girl,” he repeated, holding her close. “Do you like your reward?”

[theladyofdeath]

The Viscount Who Loved Me {Five}

TVWLM Masterlist

An A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfiction, inspired by the first 2 seasons of Bridgerton.

Written alongside @snelbz

Ships: Nesta x Cassian x Elain (I said what I said) Feyre x Rhysand Elain x Azriel x Gwyn

Summary:

As the season begins, a new Diamond is named. She catches the eye of a prince whose feelings remain unrequited. However, the man who catches the eye of the Diamond remains off the market, refusing to get married as a jab to his late father.   Meanwhile, the Diamond of the Season’s sisters have found themselves in a bit of a quandary. The elder is pushing the younger to get married to help her move on from the horrid disaster that happened last season, but in the process, the elder catches the eye of the younger’s match, even though she is considered to be an old maid and far past her time to be wed at the age of six and twenty. As they say, all is fair in love and war. 

A/N: Let us know what you think! I always feel like this is the time that the story really gets going. BTW - send in prompts! I'm almost on summer vacation and want to try and fulfill a prompt every day!

Tag list is at the end. If you’d like to be added, please comment below or submit an ask. :)

Feyre wasn’t sure how she felt about Prince Tamlin of the Spring Court. He was a lovely dancer and his manners were immaculate, but there was something about him that Feyre just didn’t fully connect with. He would be a good husband, surely, but there were just no sparks.

It didn’t keep them from taking to the dance floor not once, but twice, which made every other gentleman in the ballroom green with envy.

By the time the ball was well into the night, Feyre was already exhausted from being charming and spun around the room. 

Once she was finished with one lord, she hurried from the room before another could approach. Perhaps the patio of every home she graced would become her favorite place this season.

She was grateful as the fresh air greeted her but it didn’t last long, not as she bumped into a tall, familiar frame.

He braced his hands on her shoulders as he steadied her and Feyre looked up into Rhysand’s smirking face. “I’m beginning to think last time wasn’t such a coincidence.”

She stepped out from under his hands immediately. “I assure you it was, just as this was.”

He huffed a soft laugh as his eyes looked around at the few people with them on the patio, before they found hers again. “Good evening, Miss Feyre.”

She curtsied, unable to look away from him. “My Lord.”

He slid his hands into his pockets and turned towards the dance floor, a lively quadrille escaping the open doors as people spun by. “I would have expected you to be on the dance floor with your betrothed.”

Her cheeks instantly heated and she was shaking her head. “He’s not— The prince and I are not betrothed.”

Rhys hummed. “I don’t see him dancing with any other ladies of the ton. In fact, he seems to be speaking with Her Majesty. I wonder if he’s discussing your upcoming nuptials.”

White hot anger rose in Feyre at the tone of his voice, as if she were already Tamlin’s property after just a few dances. “I have not yet decided who I’d like to marry. As the Diamond, I have just as much choice as the prince does, do I not?”

Rhysand’s eyebrows rose at her own tone. “I guess you’re right.”

“I am right,” Feyre said, a sense of satisfaction over the fact helping her calm her anger. “Don't you have something better to do, my lord, than harass me about who I am to marry?”

“Harass?” He repeated, having the audacity to look offended. “And here I thought we were simply having a pleasant conversation.”

“Pleasant?” She asked, scoffing. “Pleasant like the other night when you so rudely left me without so much as a goodbye the second I introduced myself?”

That offended look vanished and was replaced with a spreading grin. “Ah, so you’re angry with me, then. Forgive me, Feyre Darling, I had no intention of offending you.” 

Feyre was left gaping, caught somewhere between laughing about the fact that he believed he could so easily offend her or about the fact that he said her name so….nonchalantly. Flirtatiously. Offensively. Whatever it was. 

“I was not offended, my lord,” Feyre said, although her tone surely said otherwise. She turned to look back into the ballroom, looking for either of her sisters.

“You could’ve fooled me,” he said, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “Who’s trying to make an escape now?”

She hadn’t realized he’d been standing so close. People had to be staring. She wasn’t betrothed to the prince, or anyone for that fact, but for the two of them to be speaking in such close proximity…

She stepped away, turning back to him. “Are you trying to get people to talk?” She whispered, though her voice was so harsh it was hardly quieter than her speaking voice would have been.

Rhysand’s shrug was so irreverent, it was as if the movement were part of his soul, as he’d been doing it his entire life. “Let them talk.”

“Absolutely not,” she said, gaping. “My family has just managed to salvage our name after your refusal to marry my sister.”

“Oh, don’t try to put that all on me,” he waved her off, chuckling, as if she hadn’t just tried to wound him. And failed spectacularly. “Your sister was just as unwilling to marry me as I was her. And don’t take it personally, it was no slight against your sister or your family. I had no intentions to marry anyone that season or any season for that matter.”

Feyre blinked. “You…don’t?”

“Do you truly see me as a man that would make a fine husband?” He asked, his tone mocking. He didn’t give her time to answer. “There are people that are meant to marry, my lady, and people who are not. I know which one I am.” He let the words settle between them before he continued, quietly. “With that said, I’d like that kept between you and I. If the Queen found out, I would surely hear of it and as much as I adore Her Majesty, I prefer to keep my distance as much as possible.”

The amount of information he had just unloaded had Feyre at a loss for words. Feyre couldn’t imagine the Viscount never marrying, never producing heirs. What would become of his land? His fortune? His name?

“Now that you know of my intentions,” he continued, when it was clear that she wouldn’t be saying a word, “if you ever need a dance to appear as if you are doing something when you wish to be doing nothing, I hear I perform an excellent waltz. Good evening, Miss Feyre.”

He bowed and was gone, disappearing into the night as he had done before. She watched him go until he blended in with the darkness, utterly intrigued by the man she was learning the Viscount was.

He puzzled her, captivated her, infuriated her one moment and excited her the next. It made no sense. He made no sense. She had a thousand questions that she knew would be unladylike to ask, so she would not.

“Feyre!”

She turned towards the voice that called her name, finding Nesta standing in the open doorway. “What are you doing out here alone,” her sister murmured in her ear. “People could talk—”

“I wasn’t alone, there were others on the patio,” Feyre defended.

“Yes, but it doesn’t look good,” Nesta replied, with a sharp look. “Lord Helion has been asking about you, I believe he’d like to dance with you after Prince Tamlin.”

“The prince?” She asked, stopping and pulling her arm from her sister’s grasp. “Again?”

Nesta hushed her, looking around at the courtiers, stewards, and servants around them. “Of course, he’s been asking after you all night. If you play your cards right, if he comes to the house and we invite him to promenade with us, you may have a proposal by the next ball.”

Feyre’s swallow was audibly. “You really think so?”

Nesta’s eyes were bright. “I do.”

She let Nesta lead her back into the ballroom, to Tamlin, with his handsome smile and pretty compliments, which very well could be her future.

In a matter of weeks, she could be a princess.

She wasn’t sure why the thought was so disappointing.

<->

“Miss Elain, might I offer you a dance?”

Thus far into the evening, Elain had danced with a handful of older gentlemen that made her skin crawl so when Cassian Nazari came asking, she was relieved. 

“Yes, my lord, it would be an honor.” Elain set her delicate hand in his massive one and let him lead her away. 

Elain had always been fond of the quadrille. It was by far her favorite and Cassian was a lovely partner. Even though he was large and built far sturdier than other gentlemen, he was light on his feet and held a perfect frame.

“Tell me, Miss Elain,” he said as they began their steps, “what is it you do in your free time?”

The question caught Elain so off guard that she couldn’t help the quiet laugh that escaped her. “Well, my lord, I tend to my family’s garden. Gardening brings me peace. I feel this spring I have a lot to be proud of. You will certainly see all of my hard work when you attend our ball.”

Cassian lifted a brow. “Gardening? In the dirt?”

“Does that surprise you, my lord?“ Elain asked. “I assure you, I don’t mind a little dirt as long as I produce beautiful results.”

The smile he gave her was dazzling and she realized he really was quite handsome. “If someone as lovely as you is tending to the flowers, they have no choice but to be beautiful.”

Blushing, Elain ducked her head, but never lost her footing, lighting from one to the other. “You are too kind, my lord.”

“I assure you, Miss Elain, you are the most beautiful of all the eligible ladies this season,” he replied.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling up at him. “And you, my lord, what is it you do in your free time?”

“I’m a fair hunter,” he admitted and added, “I like to spend time outdoors, doing anything I can. I enjoy boxing, both participating and attending."

“I’ve never been to a boxing match,” Elain murmured, eyes wide. “My father says they're dreadfully violent and are no place for a lady.”

He laughed softly, not missing a beat as the song ended and a classic waltz began. “Well, he’s right. A sport where two men are meant to bloody each other up is rather violent; however, I know plenty of women who enjoy taking in a round or two every now and again.”

“I might just have to accompany you to one then,” Elain said, smiling up at him.

His hazel eyes were bright. “I’d be honored. Perhaps you cold join me for a promenade one day this week?”

“Of course, my lord,” Elain beamed. “My sisters and I love to walk by the Sidra after lunch.”

His eyes glanced around the room. “Speaking of your family, is he present tonight? I’d like to formally introduce myself to him, since I wasn’t able to at the Beddor’s.”

Elain shook her head. “Unfortunately, no. My father left for the continent last week. My sister is acting as my chaperone in his stead.”

The eldest sister, the one he’d heard so much about, yet still knew so little. Yes, he’d like to meet the former Diamond. To win her over would be to win the hand of her sister.

“If it wouldn’t be too much, I would love an introduction,” Cassian replied, spinning Elain around without losing sight of her eyes. “If she is to be the one I must win over.”

Elain’s cheeks heated, yet again. He was being awfully forward. Perhaps it was a good sign, perhaps it meant that there was hope for her to marry a young, rich man with a title after all. Otherwise, she would spend her days with a man thirty years her senior who smelled horrid and was losing his hair. “Of course, my lord.”

The second the song ended, Elain was being escorted from one side of the room to the other until she caught sight of her sister. “Ah, there she is.” 

Elain took one step forward but beside her, Cassian had hesitated. When she looked up at him, his shoulders had gone rigid and shock was written on his face. “My lord?”

“Apologies,” he said, quickly regaining his composure. He said nothing more, though, not as Elain pulled him along further until they were standing beside Nesta. 

Cassian watched as Nesta turned to meet Elain and the gentleman on her arm. The smile she had plastered on her face had faded as she looked into Cassian’s eyes and said, “My lord.”

“Miss,” he replied, shortly, bowing his head. 

“Nesta, I’d like to introduce you to Lord Cassian,” Elain replied, smiling brightly. “He’d like to have an audience with you.”

Nesta’s chin was lifted higher, even as she curtsied. “It is an honor, my lord, to make your acquaintance.”

Cassian blinked. Fine, they would be pretending as if they had yet to meet, then. 

“The honor is mine,” he replied, voice low. “Your sister tells me you are her chaperone this season. I was hoping to call this week. Perhaps join Elain for a promenade. She says you enjoy walking by the Sidra in the afternoons.”

“Yes,” Nesta replied, the word clipped. Elain’s smile wavered. “It would be lovely to have you join us, my lord.”

“This will be wonderful, maybe even Feyre and Prince Tamlin could join us,” Elain said, hopefully. Her excitement was mostly genuine but Cassian could tell she recognized the sudden tension and was trying to ignore it.

A man in his early thirties paused next to her and cleared his throat. Cassian looked down at the man and saw he was desperately trying not to make eye contact with him. He did his best not to smile.

“Lord Hopper,” she greeted him, curtsying.

“Miss Elain, Miss Archeron,” he addressed them both, bowing. His green eyes landed on Cassian. “Lord Nazari.”

Cassian gave him a smile that was more akin to a smirk. There was challenge in that smile.

He felt eyes on him and turned to find Nesta staring at him. He stared right back until Lord Hopped spoke again.

“Miss Elain, I was hoping to dance with you tonight,” he said, offering his hand. “I missed my opportunity last time and don’t want to make the same mistake twice.”

Elain smiled, but it was not nearly as bright as it had been before. “Of course, my lord, I’d be honored.”

Placing her hand in his, Elain was whisked away before Cassian could so much as utter an objection. Instead, he turned to Nesta, grin already sliding into place.

She was gone.

“Miss Archeron?” He asked, looking around. He spotted her just as she reached the back wall, close to the refreshment table. He made his way towards her. “I’d like a word.”

“No, I don’t think you would,” Nesta said, reaching for a glass of wine.

“And why is that?” He asked, an incredulous laugh coloring his tone.

“Because the word is no.” She drank from her glass and stared him down.

Cassian blinked. “No?”

“No,” she repeated. “I wasn’t going to turn you down in front of my sister, but like hell am I going to let her marry someone like you. Someone who looks at my sister like he owns her when another lord asks to dance with her.”

That was rage simmering in those blue-grey eyes, eyes she shared with her sister. It seemed their Diamond status was not the only thing they had in common.

“Your judgment is clouded,” Cassian replied, simply. “You already had decided that you do not like me, when in reality, I am the ideal candidate for a husband. If you’ve not heard, I’m one of the most eligible bachelors of the season. I have money, land, and a title. And, I’m young and handsome. Do you truly wish to neglect Miss Elain of such a catch?”

Nesta stared at him incredulously as she shook her head. “Truly? I know what it is that you expect of a wife, and Elain deserves better.”

Cassian arched a brow as a grin appeared. “I knew you were listening the other night, in the bushes. You were spying.”

“You are impossible,” Nesta snapped, her voice low. “I do not give my blessing, and that is final.”

“Do you expect me to give up now?” Cassian asked, his expression suddenly serious. “I fear you do not realize how persuasive I can be when there is something I want.” 

Nesta scoffed. “Something you want? Do you hear yourself? Elain is a lady that deserves love, not a prize to be won.” 

“Love comes in time,” Cassian replied, simply. “We are high members of society. We are expected to marry quickly. Most couples know each other for weeks, at most, before a proposal comes. Love…” Cassian shook his head. “I will be a good husband, Miss Archeron, and you should not neglect Miss Elain of that.” 

Nesta stilled as she watched, as she listened. Although she hated to admit it, most of what he said had been true, and his tone was sincere. “I will allow you one promenade, but that is not my blessing for you to marry my sister.”

The light in Cassian’s eyes returned. “I will call on Tuesday, then.”

He took Nesta’s hand and kissed the back of her gloved hand before bowing and taking his leave. Nesta watched him walk away as she sipped from her wine.

<.>

Azriel watched as Cassian walked away from Nesta Archeron. He had learned enough from Cassian and his previous conversation to connect the dots. Nesta must be the sister of Elain.

The thought was wild, surprising. From what he knew of the two Archeron sisters, they couldn’t have been any more different.

Yet, as Cassian walked away, something in Nesta Archeron’s eyes had Azriel’s heart feeling a little heavier than it had been before. 

Unfortunately, he and Cassian had one thing in common. They’d drank the past seasons away, not yet ready to settle down and find someone to live their life with. Azriel just vaguely remembered the season Nesta had been crowned Diamond.

She had been eighteen, the same age as Rhysand, who had just truly inherited his title and lands. He and Cassian had just returned from their first year at the university. They’d all been at each of the events, though he and Cassian had usually found the most scandalous girls they could and snuck off into the night before their mama’s could catch them.

It seemed that Feyre was living the life Nesta may have once seen for herself. 

He wondered what Nesta would do now, especially once her sisters were wed. The ton was not kind to unmarried women, not after they reached a certain age, and Nesta had passed the line. She could be a governess, Azriel supposed, as something told him that Nesta was the kind to be okay with a life alone. 

He was okay with a life alone, too. 

His was different, though, his reason. As a man, there was not an age that put Azriel off the market. He simply didn’t want to get married.

Or, perhaps, he wasn’t ready.

He wasn’t certain he would ever be, though. Ready. 

His childhood had been less than ideal. His father had died young, leaving Azriel his title at an early age. Not being of age, however, his mother was left to run his father’s legacy. When she remarried, Azriel’s stepfather had acted as if he held the title, the land, and the money. He wanted Azriel and his mother as far out of the picture as possible, and he made sure to make that wish possible. 

Azriel blinked, coming back to reality, not wanting to fall too deep into memories of the past. There was a certain line that, if Azriel passed it, would swallow him whole.

As he looked around the room, he couldn’t find either of his brothers, but he saw Elain, dancing the night away with one lordling or another. She had told him the other night that she enjoyed dancing, but watching her it was clear she loved it.

And you, my lord? Do you enjoy dancing?

He should have told her he did, he should have asked if she would honor him by allowing him to dance with her. Instead he’d lied.

I must admit that it’s not a strength of mine. I learned later in life.

His mother made sure his dances were impeccable, teaching him herself. 

“So you can impress the pretty girl that catches your eye one day,” she’d said, as she taught him step by step. He could still see her smile, could hear her gentle reprimand as he stepped on her toes once again.

Even Cassian and Rhysand didn’t know.

Nor would they ever. 

It was a secret Azriel would take to his grave, alongside a million others.

Watching as Cassian approached Elain on the dance floor and took her hand, kissing it softly, he added his feelings for Elain Archeron to that list as well.