#eat sweets in Elains honor

[cauldronblssd]

Time to dress in florals and lay out in the sunshine because it’s weekend of Elucien Week friends!

[the-lonelybarricade]

A Blaze in the Dark - (5/10)

Chapter Title: Tell Me to Run

Summary: On the eve of her wedding, knowing nothing about her husband besides his apparent disinterest in his soon-to-be wife, Elain uses a spell to meet her true love in her dreams.

A contribution to @elucienweekofficial Day 5: Nature

Read on AO3 ・Series Masterlist・Previous Chapter

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Lucien Vanserra was going mad.

When he was a child, his mother once told him a tale of a boy who went out into the forest intending to bring back food for his family. As he went, the boy happened across a blackberry bush, filled with berries that were oddly ripe for the season. He picked enough to fill his shirt and when he was prepared to take them home, he caught sight of another bush further down the path. Then another, then another. In the end, the boy picked far more than he could carry, and they spilled from his shirt throughout his journey home. Later that night, a pack of wolves followed the sweet scent of berries to his front door.

It was an unhappy story. Lucien had never much enjoyed it, though he couldn’t help feeling he was the boy, tangling his fingers through the bramble of thick hair that smelled of jasmine and honey.

Time passed differently in sleep. He could not tell if it had been hours or mere minutes that he’d spent holding his true love, savoring the silence that was disturbed only by her steady breathing.

A moment like this, so tender and quiet, should have been peace-giving.

Instead, he was holding his true love in his arms, and he felt nothing short of agony. It was so wrong—so wrong that she was married to another man, who had treated her so poorly on their wedding night that she’d come to him in tears. And equally it was wrong that he was with her at all, when his own wife was in the waking world, eating dinner on her own, sleeping in an empty bed.

He hadn’t expected to like Elain. That was the worst thing of all—that his wife was lovely. Beautiful and kind and disarmingly clever.

Lucien had meant to suggest to her that they take on lovers outside of their marriage. For weeks, he had planned what he would say to her, rehearsing it in the quiet so that when he finally came face to face with his wife, he would be prepared. Never, in his imagining, had she had such rich brown eyes that could cut through him to the very core. With one look he was no longer a prince, nor a scholar, nor a gentleman capable of articulating himself, all because she had pink, bow-shaped lips that curved into the sweetest smile he’d ever seen.

Not that it mattered, that she was beautiful. What mattered was that each time she spoke, he found himself hanging on to her every word, eager to know what she might say next, what insight she gleaned from the world when she thought no one was watching. Suddenly, it was excruciating to suggest she find fulfillment with another man, when he doubted that any living mortal could match her for wit.

He hadn’t said what he was planning to say—what he ought to say. She deserved honesty, and equity, especially given that she was a woman of grace and honor. And yet, here he was. Holding another woman on his wedding night.

And that muddied his feelings all the more. Because he knew this woman was his true love, his perfect match in every way, and he felt equally beguiled by her wicked temper and sweet soul. It was not that he wanted his wife more, it was that he wanted her equally. Greedily seeking a second berry bush when his shirt was already full.

The problem with the boy from the story, the problem with Lucien, was that he wanted too much. He wanted to allay his true love’s grief. He wanted to protect her from her husband. He wanted Elain to smile at him. He wanted to make her happy. He wanted his true love and he wanted his wife and he wanted so many things that he thought he might simply be torn apart by the number of contradictions he chased.

Lucien knew he could not have them both. Elain was not his true love and his true love was not his wife and he was going to die trying to decide which should matter more. True love seemed obvious, but there would be no escaping his marriage to Elain. It would follow him as long as they both lived. They could stay on separate sides of the palace, but she would be an ever-present fixture in his life and he thought, if they were both willing to give it a chance, they could be happy together.

His true love was… a dream. One he could chase, but never hold, not past daybreak.

She belonged to another man.

She was in so much pain.

She smelled like jasmine and honey.

Letting her go sounded as inviting as peeling off his own skin. She felt just as much a part of him. No. No. He had to be honest with Elain and tell her that he intended for them to take on lovers. And then he needed to get his true love away from her husband.

“Are you still awake?” his true love asked, voice soft and berry-sweet.

“No,” he said lightly. “You and I are both asleep.”

She laughed. It was the most wonderful sound he’d ever heard.

“Where are you from?” He couldn’t resist. Now that he’d made up his mind, he needed to move quickly. “What kingdom?”

From the fragments of information she’d shared with him, he had his suspicions, but he needed to know. If she was close enough, he could ride out to her as soon as he escorted Elain the rest of the way to his estate. In his head, he saw it playing out perfectly. He would pay off his true love’s husband and her back to the Eastern Kingdom, where she could live in a cottage nearby. He could visit her regularly without needing to offend Elain by putting them in company of each other.

His true love did not answer him. Lucien understood why she was scared to tell him. He had the capacity to ruin her by going to her husband and telling him what they’d done together. Even with good intentions, if he handled things inelegantly it would result in scandal. She didn’t know that he was a Prince, and he hesitated to tell her lest that terrify her, too.

“It can’t be the North,” he said. “There’s not much to farm up there this time of year, and certainly the conditions are too severe for a poor farmer’s daughter to get her hands on a butterfly. To me, that narrows it down to the West or the South. But I have a suspicion, from the way that you speak, that you must be from Carterhaugh.”

Carterhaugh, the land of eternal spring. He was just there, which was utterly predictable. Of course the Cauldron would put his mate and his true love in the same duchy. It felt like the Mother was mocking him.

When his true love tensed in his arms, that told him everything he needed to know.

“I’ve been to Carterhaugh several times,” he told her, pointedly excluding his most recent visit. “Did you know that there is a garden there open to the public that boasts every plant grown naturally in the Southern Kingdom? There’s a hedge maze in its center. Meet me there in two days time.”

“I can’t.”

“Name any sum of money.” He knew he was beginning to sound desperate. “However much you think you’ll need to make the journey, I will send it.”

“I can’t,” she sounded desperate now, too. He braced himself for the return of her tears.

“I understand.” And he did. The last thing he wanted to do was cause her distress. Seeing her in person was a selfish desire, and it would no longer be worth it if it would pain her in the process. “It will be difficult to escape from your husband so soon after marriage.”

“It will be impossible,” she corrected. “We’re on our honeymoon. Not to be disturbed for the next 30 days, at a minimum. What excuse could I possibly have to leave the house without my husband?”

Lucien was painfully aware. She would have as little excuse to the leave the house as he would. What would Elain think if he left for Carterhaugh only three days into their honeymoon? From the way that she’d looked at him just before she’d shut the door in his face, he wondered if she would even care.

“If I can ensure that your husband will be out of the house that day, and if I could send you the means to attend, would you consider it?”

“I don’t know how you would possibly—”

“Would you consider it?”

He could feel her silence like a chasm yawning open in his chest, some ever growing wound of rejection that flared at her uncertainty. He was teetering on a sharp edge, suddenly terrified that she would say no and he would be left to face the painful reality that even his true love had decided that she did not want Little Lucien Vasnerra.

Damaged, scarred, impure.

To think he could come to her stripped of labels, with no name or title to live up to, bearing only the truth of who he was at his core, and she would still find him insufficient. Well, he supposed that was to be expected.

“I’ll consider it,” she said finally, allowing him to breathe once more.

“Good,” he murmured, wishing he’d managed to sound composed, but his short breath gave him away. It hardly mattered. She would consider it, and for that he gently turned her chin so he could kiss her cheek. “Then tell me what you might say to me, so that I can know it’s you.”

“It has to be something so unusual that it couldn’t possibly be mistaken,” she said, sounding lost in thought. He allowed her a moment to consider it, patiently stroking his hand through her hair where she laid against hist chest.

“I know,” she said finally. “I will come up to you and I will say, ‘I can hear your heart beating through the stone. Can you hear mine?’”

Lucien smiled. Had she come up with that because she was, at present, listening to his heart beat? Did she hear it stutter with his affection for her?

“And how will you know it’s me?” He asked.

“Call me your sweet soul,” she hummed. “And perhaps I will bring some sweet alyssum with me, so that I may cure you of your wickedness.”

Lucien liked the way her voice warmed when she teased him. She could get him to do anything, so long as she spoke to him in that voice.

He lowered his mouth to her neck, crooning, “I fear it is too late to save me from my wickedness.”

“Then perhaps I can save myself,” she said. Now she sounded breathless, and he liked that, too.

“Hmm.” It was an effort to keep his hands off her. He knew he ought to, after what she had endured tonight, and yet she was so soft, so pliant beneath his touch. And when he kissed her neck, he could feel her arch further into his touch. “I have the sense you don’t want to be saved.”

Just as she was turning into him, finally beginning to take charge in the form of throwing her leg across his hip, the darkness around them began rippling. He groaned, sliding his palm to her cheek so he could steal one final kiss from her lips.

“Think on it,” he said against her mouth.

Then he was torn from her, startling awake atop the covers of a foreign bed, the oak door rattling beneath a pair of fists. He was still in his damn wedding clothes.

“What?” He called, too irritated to summon any eloquence. If he didn’t need to be awake, he would have appreciated a few moments longer with his true love.

“We need to leave at daybreak to make it to the manor before nightfall, your highness.”

Lucien cast his eyes to the window in the corner. It was tedious to travel in winter, when the length of daylight was so greatly reduced.

“It is not yet dawn,” he said in complaint.

“No, your highness. But neither you or the princess had any supper—”

“Elain didn’t eat?”

“No, sir. She has not left her room, nor responded to any knocking. We’ve left her trunk in the hall, but we thought perhaps the two of you would prefer to have breakfast before we depart.”

Lucien had known she was upset—though, truly, it perplexed him given that she had agreed to the arrangement. He hadn’t realized that would mean she would deny herself dinner, or even a fresh pair of clothes. He swore, thinking of the state of her dress when he’d last seen it. She hadn’t slept in the wet clothes, had she? Was she so stubborn that she would deny looking after her health as a means of spite?

Quickly, Lucien changed into a pair of fresh trousers and a white linen shirt. While he and Elain weren’t married in the traditional sense, he felt no compulsion to dress himself up as though they were strangers. She was his wife, and he could knock on her door in a loosely buttoned shirt without being improper. Or so he hoped.

She didn’t answer after one polite round of knocking, so he tried a second, then a third.

Losing patience, he called through the door, “Elain, I hope you haven’t attempted to escape out the window. I’d feel wounded to discover you’d sooner brave the winter than be my wife.”

“I am here,” she called, feintly.

“Can you come to the door, then?”

“I am indisposed.”

Her voice was small—embarrassed. Ah. Lucien turned his eyes downward, spying the trunk that rested just beside the door.

“I have a change of clothes out here,” he said. “Will you let me in?”

“Absolutely not!”

“I am your husband. It won’t be improper to assist you.”

When Elain said nothing, he sighed. “I promise to close my eyes?”

It was an absurd solution, and while he waited for Elain to snap at him for it, he pondered if there was a maid in the inn who might be able to assist.

“…okay.” It was a meek, defeated concession.

Lucien blinked. “Okay?”

He hadn't expected her to agree, and for all his assurances that it hardly mattered between a husband and wife, he felt his pulse jump the slightest bit.

“You’re going to need to unlock the door for me, then.”

Lucien leaned down to lift the trunk into his arms. As he straightened, the locking mechanism clicked, and the door handle angled downwards as though Elain were pulling it on the other side. But the door stayed shut.

“Close your eyes,” she said.

“As my wife commands.”

“Are they shut?”

“Yes,” he said, with a laugh.

The door creaked open. Lucien stepped through carefully. He was heaving the trunk with exaggerated ease, catering to some juvenile idea that Elain might be impressed at his strength. Though from the sound of it, she was scrambling to shut the door in such a hurry she wasn’t at all paying any attention to what he was carrying.

“Where should I set this down?”

“Just on the floor,” she said. “At your feet.”

He complied, trying not to entertain the thought that Elain was standing just before him in some state of undress—completely naked, if he had the liberty to imagine, but perhaps that was a step too far for the prudent Elain Archeron.

“Would you like me to go?”

When Elain didn’t immediately say yes, he straightened, surprised.

After what seemed like a great deal of consideration, she asked him, “Do you have experience lacing a corset?”

“I fear answering that question,” he said, but his sly smile would give an answer all the same. “Though I feel I could manage it competently.”

“Competent enough to do it with your eyes closed?” She challenged.

“I don’t like to boast,” he said.

Elain padded across the room to him. He could have been imagining it, but even her steps sounded haughty. A little vixen, set on proving him wrong. He liked that she was competitive. He hadn’t expected that from her.

“Go on then,” she said. Now, he could tell she was just in front of him. He could smell lavender, and also a hint of firesmoke, like she’d fallen asleep in front of the hearth.

Cautiously, Lucien extended his hand forward. He’d underestimated how tall she was. His fingers grazed the bare skin of her shoulder blade, and she gasped.

“I…” It was unreasonable to feel nervous. But her skin was so soft. He cleared his throat. “This may require a fair bit of touching. Is that okay with you?”

Elain’s voice was stern. “You may touch my waist and my back. Nothing more.”

Gods. Lucien reminded himself that he was a gentleman, though his thoughts were far from that variety. He’d just woken from a night of holding his true love, and one would think he’d be satiated, but all he could think as he gathered up her hair was how desperately he wished to pull, just to see what noise she would make. No wonder the Mother had punished him by marrying his true love to another man. He was not deserving of either woman.

Lucine shook his roguish thoughts long enough to follow the path of her spine down to the unlaced corset at her waist. After finding that Elain was securing both stays in place, he felt blindly along the edges for the first eyelet, before he began threading the lace through. It was clumsy at first. He needed to prod often with his fingers to verify he was looping through the correct hole, but as the stay tightened around her body it became easier. A shame, because he had less of an excuse to trail his fingers over the curve of her hip.

“Not bad,” she hummed, once he’d finished tying the knot at the top.

Lucien smirked. “I think I’d do a better job unlacing it, if you’d like to compare.”

“Rake. I thought you said you weren’t boastful.”

How could he not be boastful, when his hand was still on her hip and she was not stepping away from him? The recollection of what she tasted like flaunted through his mind. She’d kissed him back standing on that altar, lips honey sweet and petal soft. He felt dizzy at just the memory of it.

“What’s there to boast about in untying a corset? The compliment is the company of the woman wearing it.”

Elain snorted. “Do all princes have such smooth tongues?”

He needed to bite back a crude remark about how smooth his tongue could be. He had been honest when he’d said he wanted them to be friends, and the snide comments certainly weren’t helping.

“I could answer honestly, Elain, but I’ve already told you that I am not boastful.”

“How fortunate that my husband is so humble,” she said dryly.

“Can I open my eyes?”

“Not yet.”

Lucien couldn’t resist smiling, albeit ruefully. It would be a long journey to the Eastern Kingdom.

[queen--of--shadows]

Healing Shadows: Part 7

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Reader is a gifted surgical healer and water bender. Rhysand needs her help when he finds out about Feyre’s risky pregnancy. Azriel finds out reader is his mate.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2,916

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

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Part 7: Mate

It was the morning of Solstice. Azriel paced around his room, unable to sleep all night, unable to get you out of his mind.

From the moment Rhys introduced you to him before Feyre’s surgery, you seized every waking moment of Azriel’s life. He couldn’t even blink or sleep without you consuming his thoughts. He took any opportunity to be around you, brush his fingers against yours, his ruined hands aching to run over every inch and curve of your body.

Azriel had a suspicion as soon as you walked into the House that you were his mate. His shadows were annoyingly obsessed with you, always finding an excuse to swarm in your direction, and it took everything in his power to keep them leashed under his command. He and his shadows were entranced by you, and although he knew he should keep his distance, he couldn’t help himself as he kept finding reasons to be near you, talk to you, touch you.

But he knew better than to get his hopes up. Cassian and Rhys—they were deserving, more than deserving of mates. They were honorable, gentle, kind, strong. His brothers were the most noble and fiercely loyal men he had known his entire life. Azriel wished he could say the same about himself. His self-hatred ran deep, feeling no better than bastard-born murderous scum. He did nothing right to deserve someone like you in his life, and the Mother knew it. He had always wished for a mate, the desire becoming all-consuming when Feyre and Nesta came around. He was happy for his brothers but couldn’t contain the jealousy that would eat away at him in his loneliness.

And then you showed up, like a gift from the Gods, with your bright sparkling eyes, sweet honey-jasmine scent, the melodic sound of your laugh that skittered along his bones.

All night, he replayed his failed attempt at impressing you yesterday with a surprise flight when you returned from town with your shopping bags in tow. He thought the gesture was sweet, and he was delighted to be the first one to take you flying, but your grumbling had Azriel reeling all night.

He knew what you were thinking: that something was going on between him and Elain. He wanted so badly to explain that there was nothing; he simply had to play nice with his brother’s sister-in-law, per Rhys’s commands. Everyone knew Elain had been pining over him since they first met in the mortal realms, but Rhys didn’t want to risk any tensions between Feyre’s sisters, already traumatized from dealing with Nesta’s backlash after she was Made. Azriel had no choice but to keep the peace, even if it meant never setting that boundary with Elain. He knew it was wrong and that he should just be honest with her, but he was afraid of causing any disturbance with the sensitive female. He was caught now between placating Elain and allowing a misrepresented image of himself in your perspective, worsening by the day as Elain constantly barged into your private moments with him. Az cursed himself, but today would be the day. He would end everything with Elain on Solstice and confess his true feelings to you.

He left for town right before you, hoping to “casually” run into you in one of the stores or strolling through the streets, tracking your scent from shop to shop. Your gift was the last one he had to pick up. He knew the second he saw that they were perfect: soft black leather gloves, lined with fur on the inside to keep your hands warm during training in the morning, with the very tip of the fingers cut out so you could still waterbend and feel connected to the fluids as you trained. Azriel knew how much you hated the cold, evident from your adorably grumpy face and shivering body every morning when Cassian would drag you out to the roof. He wanted to wrap you in his arms and keep you warm, but for now, the gloves would do. Wrapping the gift carefully, he left it at the bottom of the stack of presents so it would be the last one you opened.

The guilt ate Azriel alive as he watched you try and fail to become friends with Elain. His heart sank as he watched her disregard your gift, throwing it towards her pile as if it were trash. It was his fault this was happening, and you were suffering the consequences. That was when he decided things had to change. He couldn’t stand the disappointment on your face.

He figured you would get everyone a gift since it was your first Solstice with the Inner Circle, but was still giddy with joy as he opened yours in the comfort and privacy of his room. It took him less than a few seconds to pick your gift out from the rest, his shadows circling it incessantly until he found it. He unwrapped the small package quickly, hating the contrast of his marred hands against your perfect wrapping. Finding the perfect place on his desk to set the mug, right within his view, it would be the first thing he saw when he woke up and the last before going to sleep.

Sleep that escaped him so often these days, just like tonight.

It was Solstice, and he wouldn’t let another day go to waste. He needed to make things right.

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Gods damn it, Mor, Azriel thought to himself while getting dressed for Rita’s. He wanted a moment alone with you so he could explain everything: that he didn’t care about Elain and knew how bad it looked, how he had been wanting to explain himself, to now give you the chance to get to know him and who he is behind the mask of the Night Court’s Spymaster.

But of course, Mor suggested Rita’s, and it was Feyre’s birthday. He had to go.

He tried his best to impress you, donning an all-black ensemble, cut perfectly to fit the strong, hard planes of his body and showcase the Illyrian tattoos swirling over his muscled chest. But then you emerged from Mor’s room, and he felt like absolutely nothing compared to you. You took his breath away, looking like a dream in the flowy blue dress, matching the color of his siphons. It took every ounce of Azriel’s control to refrain from tackling Cassian to the ground when he saw his brother twirling you around, your laughter like a salve that healed every wound in his heart.

But the night only plummeted downhill from there.

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“Hi, Az,” Elain started sweetly with a wide grin, looping her arm through Azriel’s. “Ready for a fun night?” she asked, batting her lashes as she looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes, and Azriel knew without her asking that he would have to be the one to fly her in. Like always. With a deep sigh, he nodded and scooped her up, Elain’s fingers playing with the silky strands at the base of his neck.

Get your hands out of my hair, he wanted to spit at her.

Rita’s was packed and vibrating with loud music, and Azriel wanted nothing more than to snatch you from the crowd and take you home. He couldn’t help the lump in the back of his throat that formed at Mor’s toast, raising his glass ever-so-slightly higher at your name. Even though it hadn’t been long since you entered his life, Azriel’s chest swelled with pride at your progress as a healer and waterbender. You overcame so much in your short time at the House, tackling your weaknesses one by one. He hoped you could feel the genuine love and adoration in Mor’s words; they were reflective of how everyone felt about you, not just him.

Azriel wasn’t one for dancing, so he returned to the table where he knew Elain would be waiting for him, legs crossed and leaning back in the booth, giving the seat next to hers a pat, an invitation for him to join her. Thank Gods Gwyn was there this time, too. The perfect buffer. And he knew by the look on Elain’s face she wasn’t pleased about it.

Azriel tried his best not to stare as he watched you mingle and drink and dance, tried not to let his wrath unleash as he saw his friends take turns with you: Mor, Nesta, Cassian.

But then he saw the way you looked at Lucien.

Saw Lucien make his way through the crowd towards you, drinking from your glass before you grabbed him by the collar and whispered in his ear.

No fucking way.

There was no way that you were interested in that egotistical snarky fox boy. Azriel loathed the entirety of the Autumn Court, including Lucien. He didn’t care if he was Helion’s son, and especially didn’t care now that Lucien had a hand around your waist. Even Elain went rigid next to him, a low growl escaping her lips that Azriel barely registered as—

Right then—it hit him.

Azriel couldn’t breathe. The pounding of his heart rang in his ears.

No no no no no

His mouth remained slightly parted as he stared you down, the entire world melting away into a blur of darkness, as he watched a tiny gold thread unravel itself, straight from his chest to yours. You danced and danced, twirling and spinning with your eyes closed, smiling wide, singing along to the music, your hair billowing around you as if you were underwater, skin glowing with the light of a million stars. Azriel had never seen a more beautiful sight. Tears lined his eyes, and he didn’t even realize he had gotten out of his seat, hand almost stretched out as if he could touch you from where he stood.

And then the world came back into focus, and all he could see was Nesta’s hands on you, Lucien’s hands on you, everyone’s fucking hands on you.

He was going to throw up.

Anger roiled through every single vein and he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs. Azriel saw red as his shadows began swarming around his neck in a frenzy. Mate mate mate they chanted, over and over, louder and louder. His lip curled back in disgust, baring his teeth with a low, feral snarl.

Elain said with a cool, delicate hand on his forearm, feigning innocence as if she wasn’t aware of what was happening, “Az, is everything okay? You seem tense.”

Azriel whipped his head towards her, anger and rage sparking in a frenzy in those deep hazel eyes. Elain’s eyes widened as she recoiled from his arm. Gone was the cool calm mask of the Spymaster. Cassian, sauntering over to the table with a round of shots, grabbed Azriel by the shoulder, ready to drink with his brother when he saw the look on his face and nearly dropped the glasses in his hand.

“Az, what’s wrong?”

Azriel ripped Cassian’s hand off of him. “She’s my mate, and Lucien’s got his filthy fucking hands all over her,” he seethed. Wrath and grief rolled off of him in near-palpable waves, and his serpentine shadows wreathed around his neck, ready to strike and attack: the portrait of a Prince of Darkness.

Snapped out of his drunken stupor, Cassian gaped at his brother, then at you, then back at his brother. Before he could think, Azriel’s feet were already carrying him to you. He couldn’t help it, he had to rip Lucien off of you. But when he saw the way you rolled your eyes at him as if he wasn’t even worth the dirt under your feet, as if he was nothing, his heart cracked in two. That golden thread shone brighter than ever, but… With the way you ignored him and kept dancing with Lucien, he knew that you didn’t know. The bond hadn’t clicked in for you yet. Cassian made his way through the crowd, making sure to avoid any hassle with Lucien, and winnowed you home. Azriel took to the skies to release his anger.

Mate. He had a mate. He had never even dared to dream of this day, the day he would meet his match, his equal, his Cauldron-blessed mate. All for it to end up like this. Had Cassian not intervened, you would’ve gone home with Lucien. Let him ravish and worship your body in the way that Azriel had been dreaming of since the moment he laid eyes on you. The thought made him blind with rage.

He landed on the balcony of the House with a loud thud, pacing back and forth to cool off. He had to check, had to make sure Lucien didn’t somehow slither his way into the House. He knew it was impossible, but… still.

He first sent his shadows toward your room to confirm. Safe safe safe, they whispered menacingly in his ear. Cracking open the bedroom door, he peered in and dropped his head in relief. You were alone, sprawled out on your bed, snoring softly. Azriel couldn’t help the small smile that graced his face, the first one all night. With a deep sigh, he walked silently over to you, covering you with a blanket. Az allowed himself to drink in the sight of you, sleeping peacefully and deeply, before winnowing into his room. He sat on the edge of his bed, head dangling in defeat. He had a plan, he was going to tell you everything tonight. But he ruined it. All because he couldn’t put his foot down with himself, with Rhys, with Elain. His shadows swirled frantically around his ankles, wrists, and neck, begging him to go be with you. Az didn’t have the energy to contain them anymore and let them find their way to you.

He hadn’t even realized how late it was, the low light of the early morning now peaking through his bedroom curtains. Fuck. It was already time for training. He took a quick bath, scrubbing himself in the scalding hot water to get rid of any trace of his shitty night. The tugging of the bond was intolerable. Please, it begged, please tell her. All he wanted was to grab your sleeping body and carry you into his bed, the safety of his arms where he knew no one would be able to touch you. How did Rhys last so long with Feyre in the Spring Court? he thought, unable to stand another second of you not being his.

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The chill winter morning air bit at his skin while he waited for Cassian and Nesta to join him on the roof. But to Azriel’s surprise, Rhys and Feyre showed up before anyone else.

“Az, is everything alright?” Despite perfecting his unreadable Spymaster mask, Feyre had gotten to know the small changes in Azriel’s demeanor over the years and could tell when something was bothering him.

“She’s my mate,” he whispered with a tired, distant look, one arm crossed over his chest, the other mindlessly tugging at his black stud earring. Rhys and Feyre didn’t need further details. They shared a panicked look, and Rhys quickly said, “Maybe it’s best if you sit out this training, then.” But before Az could answer, a bright flash of sunlight lit up the roof as Helion and Lucien appeared in the training ring. The High Lord of the Day Court sat atop a beautiful pegasus, its silky golden coat, mimicking the crown resting on Helion’s head, glowing in the morning sun.

No fucking way. Not again.

Az threw Rhys an incredulous look, one mixed with rage. Truth Teller was in his hand in an instant, angled with lethality, and in response, Helion let out a deep, seductive laugh. “Now, now, my beautiful wicked Shadowsinger. We come in peace. Our dearest Lord of Night has asked Lucien to help train Y/N with her waterbending. He is her opposite and will use his fire so she can begin her combative training against other skills. Unless, of course, you want to play with her and your shadows, a sight I would pay good money to delight in,” Helion said with a dazzling grin. Azriel’s lip curled back as he glared at Lucien, who simply held up his hands with a smirk. He would rip that smile right off his stupid fucking mouth.

“Rhys, you have to be fucking kidding me. Find someone else, anyone else except this asshole,” he seethed with stone-cold fury. Rhys pulled him aside, away from the group, as Cassian, Nesta, and Elain made their way outside.

“Please, Az. I’m sorry, I didn’t know, but Lucien and Helion are here now and graciously accepted my request to train with her. It’s going to be fine, I told Lucien to take it easy. Trust me, I know how it feels. But after training today, you can be honest with her. I won’t force you to keep worrying about Elain’s feelings. Feyre and I will deal with that. It’s time she gives her own mate a chance, anway” he said, glancing sidelong at Lucien. “We will convince her today to go spend some time in the Day Court.” Rhys offered a sympathetic look, which did nothing to calm the icy rage that exploded repeatedly in Azriel’s chest. He didn’t say another word as you finally stalked over to the edge of the ring, eyes wide.​

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

taglist: @cute-baby-ducks @brekkershadowsinger @iangelofmusic @j-pendragonx @foggypeanutmongeroaf @nxrvto @luckypersonmentality @eddiesbixch696 @davinaclaire16 @lexie1o9 @thewarriormoon @halfmeltedcandles @cartoonnerdgirl @wrensical003 @sparksandthorns @abigailrose98 @mrs-azriel @cafe-inaaa @sparklymiraclecheesecake @moonlightazriel @caosfanblr

[hellacioushag]

acotar characters as animated good guys

this is dumb af, enjoy.  

rhys: jack frost (rise of the guardians)

both hot af, both have painful pasts resulting in losing a loved one(s), both appear to be cold and flippant, but deep inside feel the need to make the world a more beautiful and wonderful place to be. jack constantly struggles through his movie to be seen for who he truly is and rhys felt that same pain until he and feyre healed together. 15/10 they can nip my nose anytime. 

feyre: robin hood (robin hood)

my girl feyre is the living embodiment of robin hood. she knows what it’s like to have to fight for survival so now she’s always looking out for those in need. both kickass archers, both say eat the rich, and both would risk their necks for their true loves. 14/10 feyre and robin hood can fucking get it. 

amren: archimedes (sword in the stone)

archimedes and amren are both wise and gruff sidekicks. they see everyone else as children barely able to speak full sentences and have no problem laughing in at their shenanigans. 12/10 would let them lecture me for hours 

cassian: flynn rider/eugene fitzherbert (tangled)

flynn falls in love with rapunzel after being beaten with a frying pan and dragged into enemy territory so she can watch the lanterns, not realizing if caught he would for sure to arrested and killed. what other himbo would risk everything he is for a woman who would beat him up on the regular? 15/10 no one does it like my bois flynn and cassian.  

nesta: anastasia (anastasia) 

ana and nesta both have sass for days, neither would run from a fight, and both end up being the hero of their own stories. ana and nesta also have that tough outer exterior that only becomes softened when they grow to love and trust their significant other. 16/10 would fight a zombie sorcerer for you any day

elain: aurora (sleeping beauty)

i love both elain and aurora, but we barely know either of them let’s be real. aurora has maybe 18 minutes of screen time in her entire film and now we’re 4.5 books into a 6 book series and know little to nothing about what makes elain tick. 12/10 they both deserve better than underwhelming development and fuck bois. 

lucien: hercules (hercules)

while lucien is a lot more clever than the himbo hunkules they both know the pain of feeling like they don’t belong, both have secret daddy reveals, both may not be very smooth but are sweet as fucking pie, and both would go to hell and back for their true loves. 14/10 would fight a hydra for both and that is the gospel truth. 

azriel: elsa (frozen)

both elsa and azriel do not deal with their emotions and instead bottle them up until they explode out in a force of power beyond their control. like elsa, azriel needs to learn to love himself before trying to get with anyone. he needs to deal with his trauma and pain, he needs to heal. 11/10 i’m never letting go

gwyn: rapunzel (tangled)

gwyn and rapunzel both lived very sheltered lives and desire the strength to take those first steps from their confinement and face the world with all it’s unknowns. they both have so much joy and wonder about life. while naïve about some things they have both proven they are determined, brave, and true. 18/10 you are my new dream

mor: mulan (mulan)

mor and mulan and both fierce warriors who struggled to be able to be their authentic selves. they would do anything to protect their loved ones, even if it put themselves in harms way. honorable, kind, and fierce they are the strongest gals i know. 14/10 they are a girl worth fighting for

emerie: moana (moana)

these girls do not need a man to save them. they are strong, fierce, and compassionate women. they didn’t always have strong support systems, but both girls persevered and followed their own path. both moana and emerie are brave and kind and know they do not need to be anything other than themselves to get the job done. 13/10 these girls know the way to my heart

helion: tinkerbell (peter pan)

both the hottest in any room, both full of sass, both full of light and clever plans, and both will die if they don’t get enough attention. 14/10 clap if you want to smash

tamlin: derek (the swan princess)

derek is the OG tool. 2/10 derek walked, so tamlin could run. 

[theladyofdeath]

Elain’s Pie {Part 3//Conclusion}

Part 1: Elain’s pov 

Part 2: Azriel’s pov 

NSFW. 18+. 

Shout out to Shelby for writing this with me!

Azriel stood outside of Elain’s apartment.

He had been standing there for five minutes, at least, unsure of what to do.

Well, he knew what to do.

Knock.

He should knock.

And, usually, knocking would not be a difficult task, but it was the first time he was seeing Elain since…

The incident. 

She had invited him to come over for dinner. Coincidentally, pie was for dessert. 

Azriel closed his eyes and took a deep breath before knocking on her front door, three times, avoiding the giant floral wreath that hung in the top center.

“Coming!” she heard him call.

His entire body flooded with nerves. As her footsteps approached along the wooden floorboards, Azriel felt like he was going to puke.

He should turn around.

He should go home.

He couldn’t stop imagining her breasts.

Damn it, Azriel, you’re a grown ass man, not some horny teenager with only his hand to-.

Elain opened the door, looking absolutely stunning in a lavender sundress. 

“Hey!” she beamed. “Come in, dinner’s almost ready.”

He nodded, and smiled, and walked inside, running a nervous hand through his cropped hair. “Smells good.”

“Yeah?” Elain asked. “Just a simple dinner of roasted chicken and carrots. Nothing fancy.”

Azriel nodded, and realized just how long it had been since he’d been in her apartment. Her pink roses must’ve died. In the middle of her kitchen table, lilies took their place. 

Elain chuckled as she swept past him, back into the kitchen. “Take off your shoes, get comfortable. You act like you’re a stranger.”

Azriel cleared his throat and quickly slipped off his Vans. “Sorry, I- I didn’t sleep well last night.”

It wasn’t a lie.

Knowing he was going to Elain’s, he didn’t sleep worth shit. 

“How come?” she asked, opening the oven to remove the pan within. 

Azriel hesitated. “Not sure,” he lied. “Air conditioning went out. I think I was just hot.”

Elain hummed as she put the hot dishes on top of the stove. The table was already set to perfection, in true Elain fashion, just for the two of them. “There’s a bottle of wine chilling in the freezer. Mind taking it out?”

Azriel nodded and did as she asked. After taking out the bottle of moscato, he found the corkscrew and popped it open. After filling the two glasses on the table, he set it to the side. 

“Can I help with anything else?” he asked.

Elain shook her head as she carried a dish of roasted chicken surrounded by vegetables to the table. “Sit. Make yourself comfortable.”

He did as she asked.

Once he was seated at the table, he continued to watch her. 

“You’re acting strange,” she said, bustling about the kitchen, adding the finishing touches to their meal.

No, not at all, I’m just wondering if you’re wearing that same scrap of lace under your dress tonight. I just keep thinking about it.

“Just tired, is all,” he lied, but then he slipped in a kernel of truth. “A lot on my mind.”

“Well that’s what dinners with your best friend are for,” she replied, rounding the corner and taking the seat across from him. A soft smile that was so quintessentially Elain bloomed in her lips. “So you can relax and get whatever’s on your mind off of it.”

Looking at those lips, he knew there was no chance in hell he’d be able to get the image of her wearing nearly nothing out of his mind. Or the images his mind had come up with, based on pure creativity of his own.

Luckily for him, she hadn’t left much to the imagination. 

“Help yourself, please,” she said, motioning to the plate between them. She took her glass of wine and sipped from the rim. Azriel tracked the movement. 

When it was clear he wasn’t moving, Elain set down her glass. “This is awkward, isn’t it?”

“What?” Azriel asked. “No. No, it’s not-.”

“I was afraid this would be awkward, and it’s so awkward,” she said, her cheeks turning pink.

Azriel laughed, quietly. “Elain, it’s not awkward.”

“Then why are you acting so weird?” she asked, meeting his eyes. 

Azriel hesitated. “I’m not acting weird.”

“I know you better than anyone,” Elain said, pointedly. “You’re acting weird.” 

Azriel looked down at his empty plate, then back up at her. “Maybe we should talk about it.”

They hadn’t talked about it since that first night, since the night Azriel opened his phone to see a sight he never thought he’d have the honor of seeing, and then it was just him joking around to make her feel comfortable and less embarrassed.

Elain nodded, slowly. “Okay. We can talk about it.”

He had suggested they talk about it, yet he had no idea where to start. What exactly to say. He went with the question that had been eating him alive since she explained it wasn’t the picture she meant to send him.

It didn’t explain why the picture existed.

“Why did you even have that picture?” He asked, trying to keep his tone light. He even took a sip of the sweet wine to appear like he wasn’t about to tear out of his skin. “Was it for…someone else?”

They told each other everything. As far as he was aware, she hasn’t been seeing anyone else. Her breakup with Greyson four months ago had been catastrophic enough that she had decided she wanted to be single for a while. Granted, it had been a while, at this point, but he hadn’t heard her talk about a potential beau during any of their dinners, texts or phone calls.

“No!” She blushed, covering her own face. “No, of course not. I never take pictures like that.”

He refrained from telling her that he had seen proof that was a lie, at least once, but let her go on. “I just… I thought I looked good while I was getting dressed that morning. I was…feeling myself.”

Azriel bit his lip to keep from laughing. “Feeling yourself, huh?”

“Yes, feeling myself,” she repeated, and Azriel noted her cheeks had turned a darker shade of pink. “I’d never even taken a picture like that...and I wanted to know what I’d look like on camera.” She shook her head and breathed a laugh. “It was stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” Azriel said, a little too quickly. Elain raised a brow, and he cleared his throat. “The picture wasn’t stupid. You looked…amazing. Incredibly attractive.”

Elain nibbled on her bottom lip as she said, “Of course you’d think that. I was nude and you’re a man.”

It was a joke, Azriel knew that, but Elain’s voice was far too quiet and insecure for the punchline to really hit.

Azriel just shook his head. “You always look amazing, Elain. I was attracted to you long before I saw you naked.”

There it was.

The confession.

Elain’s lip fell from between her teeth.

Before she could say anything back, he began scooping chicken and vegetables on his plate. “Smells amazing. I’m starving.”

That quickly, he tried to shove what he’d said under the rug.

For a second, she debated pushing him, those words, words she’d never expected to hear from him… They filled her with far more of a thrill than she expected.

So she let him steer the conversation to safer topics, let him drain his own glass and then refill it.

They ate.

They made small talk, talked about their weeks and work and what was going on with their friends. The conversation grew lighter with each word, and that awkwardness they had found themselves in had slowly faded away.

As dinner wrapped up and their plates were cleared, the wine bottle found itself empty.

Elain stood and cleared their plates only to return to the table a moment later with another bottle of wine and dessert.

“I hope you saved room for pie,” she said, setting it down in front of him.

His cheeks heated and he cleared his throat. “Absolutely. Always room for pie.”

The second the words left his mouth he wanted to take them back. Gods, his head was swimming. That was the dumbest thing he could have said, considering.

He could see the smile trying to form as she cut into it and placed a slice on his plate. “Good. I’m proud of this one. It’s a new recipe I found.”

As she leaned over, the dress she wore gave him an unintentional view of her cleavage and he forgot how to breathe. “I’m sure it will be the breast— I mean, best! The best you’ve ever made.”

Mother’s tits, he was hopeless. He was no better than a thirteen-year-old discovering the Internet for the first time. He couldn’t drag his eyes from her cleavage and knew drinking anymore of that sweet wine would land him in so much shit, he would have no idea how to get out of it.

Elain was looking at him. With the smallest, sweetest of smiles, she asked, “Breast?”

“I said best.”

“You said breast.”

“I did not.”

“Are you going to think about my boobs every time I offer you pie?”

Azriel opened his mouth, then shut his mouth just as quickly. “I’m trying not to, but it’s a little hard.”

“It’s a little hard?” she repeated, brows shooting up as she looked down, as if she could see through the tabletop to his jeans.

“No- not- I’m not….it’s hard not to think about…” Azriel sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “Nevermind.” 

Elain suppressed the smile on her lips, and when Azriel opened her eyes and met her gaze, the amused expression on her face had him laughing, quietly. She reached over and refilled his glass. 

“I’m not mad about it, you know,” she said, quietly.

“About what?” Azriel asked, indulging himself with more wine.

“That you can’t seem to get that picture out of your mind.” 

“Good, cause it’s not likely to go anywhere any time soon,” he admitted, thinking back to what else he’d admitted earlier in the night.

She took a drink of her own wine as she sat down next to him, in the spot closer, rather than the seat across the table. “So. Have you ever sent any accidental embarrassing photos of yourself?”

He nearly choked on the bite of pie he’d been taking, and he had to admit, it was pretty damn good. “Have I ever…accidentally sent a dick pic to someone?”

She laughed softly, the sound of it skittering across his bones, and said, “Well, a topless picture of you wouldn’t be nearly as scandalous. So yeah.”

“Never on accident,” Azriel replied, clearing his throat. “Almost did the other night though.”

As soon as the words were out, he wished he could take them back. Especially as he saw her eyes widen.

He was drunk. He must have been so damn drunk to be saying the dumb shit he was saying.

“To me?” she asked, as if she didn’t already know the answer and needed clarification. 

“That’s typically the response, isn’t it?” Azriel asked, unable to control the words coming out of his mouth. “You get a naked picture, you send one back. Until you texted saying it was an accident, I was…thinking about it, yeah.”

Elain nodded, slowly, pursing her lips. “And what would it have looked like?”

The words were quiet, hardly audible, but her deep brown eyes were lit up, waiting for his answer.

Azriel hesitated. “I’m not… I don’t know,” he laughed, and a giggle escaped Elain. “It looks like it looks, I guess.”

“That doesn’t give me a lot to create a mental picture,” Elain said.

“Are you trying to create a mental picture?” Azriel asked.

“It’s only fair, isn’t it?” she asked. 

Azriel simply lifted a brow.

She took another sip of her wine and shrugged, asking, “You said you thought I was attractive, right?”

He nodded, not trusting his mouth to not say something stupid anymore.

“What if I said I found you attractive, too?” She raised an eyebrow and waited.

Azriel waited, too, not saying a word.

Her grin grew. “What if I told you I’d thought about it before?”

He blinked and choked. “You’ve thought about— Really?”

She laughed, the sound bright and amused. “I showed you mine, you show me yours.”

Azriel stared at her, eyes narrowed. “I feel like this is a trick.” 

“It’s not a trick.”

“Are we drunk?”

Elain took a moment to think about it. “I don’t think so.”

Azriel chuckled, knowing full well that she was full of shit. “Fine, you win.”

She raised a brow. “Show me.”

“Patience,” Azriel crooned. “I’m eating my pie.”

Elain leaned over to his plate, dug her finger into the filling and brought it to her lips, sucking it off her fingertip.

Azriel watched her, his heavy breaths going shallow. 

“It is delicious,” she said, giving him one of those bright, heart-stopping smiles.

That smile spurred him into motion. Reaching over, he grabbed her wrist and tugged her towards him, meeting her in the middle. The kiss was soft and sweet and it took everything in Azriel not to nibble on that full bottom lip. He felt her fingers grip his collar, pulling him closer to her and he kissed her until she was breathless.

Pulling away, she stood, smirking, and asked, “Are you all done with your pie?”

In answer, Azriel stood and scooped her up, his mouth instantly finding hers, hungrily. Her legs wrapped around his waist, the skirt of her dress sliding up her thighs. 

She clung to him, and it felt...right.

He had felt Elain’s arms around him a million times throughout the years, but those were only simple, friendly hugs.

This was something entirely different. This was desperation, heat, an awkward situation had turned into years of emotion tumbling out of them.

I showed you mine, you show me yours.

Oh, he would, he would show her everything, anything she wanted. He was in her grasp, and he didn’t want her to let go.

Azriel stumbled into Elain’s bedroom, his lips still on hers. She bit his bottom lip and tugged and the low growl that escaped Azriel had Elain’s fingers digging into his back. 

Azriel dropped Elain onto her bed and she landed, perfectly, her hair spilling into a crown around her head. She watched him, eyes bright.

“Tell me to stop if you don’t want to-.”

“I showed you mine,” she interrupted. “Fair is fair.”

Azriel stepped forward and reached for the hem of his henley, quickly pulling it over his head.

Elain pushed herself up into a sitting position at the foot of her bed and reached out, her fingertips brushing along his inked abdomen. 

Azriel held his breath.

Moving her fingers up his abdomen, Elain studied him. When she reached his chest, she began to trace the lines of his tattoos. She would stop at every scar and brush her thumb along it, as if giving it extra recognition and appreciation. 

When her hands moved back down, she paused at the waistline of his jeans, riding low on his hips. She traced his happy trail until she ran into the button of his jeans, and slowly undid it, bringing his zipper down just after. 

She didn’t wait, didn’t want to waste any more time by teasing him, and tugged his jeans off. He kicked them off, left in just a pair of tight, black boxer briefs.

“You’re sure about this?” Azriel breathed. Not because he didn’t want it, gods, he’d never wanted anything more than he’d wanted Elain. He’d been falling for her for years. But he knew there was a line that was about to be crossed that there was no coming back from.

Smirking, she slid her finger inside the waistband of his underwear, slowly running it back and forth, hip to hip. “Something to hide in there? Is he shy?”

“Absolutely not,” he replied. He was straining against the fabric and he knew Elain could see that.

With a nibble on her bottom lip, she looked up at him beneath lowered lashes and said, “I want to see your cock, Az. I want this.”

The words were the most vulgar thing he’d ever heard from her, and he was so stunned and turned on by them that he could only nod.

She tugged his boxer-briefs down and he sprung free.

Elain stilled as her eyes widened, taking him in. She took a raggedy breath, and Azriel watched every single movement that radiated off of her. The way her eyes took in every inch, the way her lips parted, the way her chest rose and fell in heavy breaths. 

She wrapped her hands around his cock before leaning forward and brushing her tongue over the head. Azriel cursed, hardly able to breathe. There were many ways he thought this would go, but her mouth around him?

It wasn’t one of them.

Not that he was complaining.

He sure as hell wasn’t complaining. 

His hands were fisted at his sides, terrified that if he moved, if he did anything to frighten her, she’d stop, and right now needed to know what her mouth felt like. He needed to feel the warm wetness and thought he might die if she stopped.

And thank the cauldron, she didn’t.

Elain let her tongue pass over the swollen head again, once, twice, before those full, pink lips wrapped around him.

Azriel was unable to stop the groan as his head fell back, but he forced himself to look down, not wanting to miss a second of her mouth on him.

Her eyes were shut and she kept a hand firm around the base of him as she worked him.

“Fuck, Elain,” he breathed, letting his hand slip into the mass of her golden-brown hair. Her eyes opened and she looked up at him.

Azriel had always loved getting lost in the deep caramel depths of her big, brown eyes. However, there was an entirely different feeling those big, brown eyes gave him as they eyed him through her long, dark lashes while her lips were wrapped around his cock.

And with her lips wrapped around his cock, and her eyes on his, Elain slid the straps of her dress down until it was a pool of lavender fabric around her knees. 

Her lips let him go with a soft pop. “Do you want to fuck me, Azriel?”

With every word, her breath was warm against his sensitive skin. She slowly stood, her hands trailing along his skin as she did so. Once she stood, Elain slipped off her bra, then slid down her panties.

The only part of Elain he had yet to see was now on full display.

Quietly, she laid back on her bed and spread her legs open wide before motioning Azriel to come toward her. The breath was knocked out of him as he cursed, and his knees hit the bed as he studied Elain’s perfectly shaved, pretty pink pussy. 

With a growl he’d never heard come out of himself, Azriel lined himself up at her entrance.

She gripped the sheets beneath her, and Azriel gripped her hips.

“Ready?” he asked, quietly.

Her cheeks were rosy. “Yes, please-.”

There was a knock on the door.

Azriel’s head swung around. “The fuck was that?”

Elain blinked. “What was what? Azriel, fuck me-.”

That knock came, once again. 

“Azriel,” Elain pleaded. “Fuc-.”

That knock came again, and Azriel’s eyes shot open. 

Elain wasn’t spread out before him, begging him to fuck her. He wasn’t in her bedroom, he wasn’t even in her house.

No, as Azriel blinked, his surroundings became clearer and he sat up, looking around his own living room.

He’d fallen asleep on his couch after work, his quick, shitty dinner of frozen pizza and a Jack and Coke still sitting on the coffee table.

And his cock was incredibly, painfully hard.

He fell back against the cushioned arm rest, dragging a hand down his face.

It’s was dream. It had all just been a damn dream and—.

Another knock came from the door and he realized that that had been what pulled him from the most amazing dream he’d ever had, right before he’d been about to fuck Elain.

Before he’d been about to fuck his best friend.

“Az?” a familiar, high-pitched voice called. “Are you okay? I thought I saw your truck in the lot.”

Elain.

He looked down to the pitched tent just below the waistband of his sweatpants. “Fuck,” he muttered. “Hey! I, uh, I’m coming.”

No, he wasn’t.

And that was the real problem on so many different levels. He stood, and with his eyes closed, he took a couple of deep breaths. 

Dead puppies. The end of The Notebook. Bad whiskey.

As he walked toward the front door, Azriel continued to think of things that made him sad, hoping his dick would get its shit together before he opened the door.

“Az, it’s raining!” Elain yelled, and he could hear the laughter in her voice.

A sound that made all the sad things Azriel was trying to think about completely vanish.

When he decided that little Azriel was calm enough, he opened the door. Elain stood on his doormat, rain drops falling onto her hair, in jeans and a t-shirt. 

“Sorry,” he said, unable to control his grin. “I didn’t know you were coming by.”

“I texted you about an hour ago,” she said, as he stepped aside to let her in.

“I accidentally fell asleep on the couch,” he said, tossing a thumb over his shoulder. In the process, he highlighted his piss poor meal.

She laughed. “It’s a good thing I brought this then,” she said, lifting the dish in her hands.

He somehow hadn’t even noticed it, but he froze and asked, “Brought what?”

Elain’s cheeks turned a deep shade of pink as she set the dish down on his kitchen table. “It, uh, is an apology pie.”

Azriel stopped on the other side of his table and chuckled. “I’m sorry, it’s a what?”

Elain sighed and covered her face with her hands. “This is an I’m sorry I sent you a picture of my breasts pie.”

Azriel couldn’t help his laughter. “Do people usually make pies for such occasions?”

“I do,” Elain replied, taking the lid off her dish. “And be happy about it, because it’s apple, and it’s going to be delicious.”

Azriel watched her for a moment before he nodded and went to retrieve two plates and forks. When he turned back around, Elain was watching him. 

“I…thought this would be awkward,” Elain confessed as Azriel sat across from her at the table.

“Why?” Azriel asked, cutting the pie. “Cause I’ve seen your tits?” 

Elain’s face turned as red as a tomato as she kicked his shin under the table. “I just… I don’t want this to change anything, you know? You’re my best friend, Az. You’re the one steady thing in my life and I don’t want that changing.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, plopping a massive piece of pie onto his plate. “It’s already forgotten about, alright? I haven’t even thought about that picture once.”

Elain lifted a brow. “Are you lying?”

“I would never lie to you,” he said, lying through his teeth. He’d thought about that picture every day, both when he was awake and, apparently, while he slept, too. 

“Good,” Elain said, helping herself to the dessert. 

Without another word on the subject, Azriel helped himself to Elain’s pie. 

[snelbz]

The Ranch {11}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Nesta x Cassian, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Collaboration: @snelbz​ x @tacmc​

Summary: Nesta had spent years in Paris, living her dream and drowning in riches as a gourmet chef, capturing the hearts of the city and its people. But, after her father passes away unexpectedly and leaves his cozy, countryside B&B to his oldest daughter, Nesta is moving back home to the tiny town of Velaris, where the ranch, her sisters, and her father’s unfulfilled dream, awaits.

Sidenote: Being posted between two blogs, it is too chaotic to keep up with a tags list, so all chapters will be tagged with “#TheRanchNessian” & “#SharaCollab”.

Cassian awoke the next morning and snuck out of Nesta’s bed, careful not to wake her as he pulled on his jeans. He didn’t get far though, because as he took a step toward the door, his shirt tossed lazily over his shoulder, there was a sleepy, “Sneaking out without a goodbye?”

Cassian chuckled softly as he looked over his shoulder. “I wanted to let you sleep. Sun’s not up yet. I gotta get to workin’.”

The top sheet was the only cover left on the bed by the time they were through the night before. And it was currently draped low over Nesta’s back. She dropped her messy head back onto her pillow and mumbled what sounded like a goodbye.

He made his way back to the bed, pausing to brush her hair off her face, and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I’ll see you in a little bit.”

“I’m not getting up until it’s a reasonable hour,” she murmured.

He chuckled softly and he said, “Sounds good. I lo-.” The words nearly tumbled from his mouth, without even meaning to. He covered it by stuttering. “I’ll, uh, go into town later and pick up the materials we ordered for the stables.”

Nesta only nodded, already half back to sleep,  not even noticing his near miss.

He watched her for another split second before hauling ass out of the little house and across the way into his own little cabin. Beau was instantly alert, staring at him with daggers in his little puppy eyes.

“Sorry, Beau,” he said, giving the pup a good rub. “I’ll come get you first next time.”

Beau quickly forgave him, jumping up to rest his paws on Cassian’s thighs.

“Let me change and let’s go check on the cattle, huh?” 

Beau hopped down and followed Cassian into the bedroom as he changed, slipped on his boots, and took Beau out into the pastures.

It was over five hours later when he noticed the front door of the main house was open, as were all the windows. It was a beautiful day and he wasn’t surprised to see that Nesta had decided to let some fresh air into the house. He made his way up to the house, going around back to rinse the mud and horse shit from his boots. The storms had made the back pasture a swampy mess and he and Beau had spent most of their morning moving half the herd into the pasture closest to the house.

He opened the back door and froze, taking in the delicious smell. Nesta was at the stove, a large pan atop one of the burners. He rested his hands on her hips and pressed a kiss to her neck. “What’s for lunch?”

She leaned into him and flipped the sandwich in the pan over. “Croque monsieur.”

“I don’t know what the hell you just said, but I love the way you said it.” He kissed down her neck until he reached her bare shoulder.

She laughed and said, “It’s basically a fancy French grilled cheese, with ham.” She turned to kiss him and wrinkled her nose. She giggled and said, “You stink.”

He raised his brows before making a show of sniffing himself. “I smell fantastic.”

“You smell awful,” she countered.

“It’s called musk,” Cassian said. “The scent of a man.”

“It’s called shit,” Nesta laughed. “The smell of cow. And horses. Mixed with sweat.”

Cassian grinned. “Well, I’d shower but that would be a waste.” His work day was far from over.

“I suppose I’ll let it slide,” she said, sighing. “At least while I feed you.”

“I’m honored,” Cassian said, laughing as he sat down at the table while Beau laid by Nesta’s feet. “You painting?”

“Yes, I was hoping to get the living room, the dining room, and the downstairs bathroom done, but I’ve been working all morning on the living room and I’ve only finished half. So.”

“Want some help?” He asked, watching as she deposited the sandwich on a plate, then pulled two more out of the oven where they’d been warming.

She shook her head as she put the other two on the plate and set it in front of him. “No, thank you. You seem to have your hands full out there as it is.” She nodded her head in the direction of the back of the property and opened the fridge. She poured sweet tea into a glass and set it down in front of him.

He looked at the food in front of him. “You made me three sandwiches and you made sweet tea?”

 “Is three too many?” She bit her lip as he took a drink of the tea.

He set his glass down. “God damn it, that’s good. Marry me.”

Nesta blinked, stared at him for a moment, then began to laugh, uncomfortably. “Okay, it’s good, but it’s not that good.”

“Agree to disagree,” Cassian said, mouth full of food.

She rolled her eyes. “Brute. Mind your manners.”

Cassian just grinned as he took another bite. “Seriously, thank you. It’s delicious.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, sitting across from him with a sandwich of her own. “Now stop talking with your mouth full.”

“Yes ma’am,” he muttered, still talking with his mouth full. 

She smiled and ate her own sandwich. Nesta filled Cassian in on the plans she had for the upstairs rooms. He listened quietly, eating his sandwiches and nodding in approval or made suggestions occasionally, but always swallowing his food before speaking.

After they were done eating, Cassian volunteered to do the dishes, while Nesta made her way back into the living room and continued painting. He heard her phone ring from the other room and heard a one-sided conversation between Nesta and one of her sisters.

The conversation began very normally, with Nesta answering with a simple, “Hey.”

He immediately heard an elevated voice from the other end of the phone. It sounded as if she was yelling and he quickly dried his hands off on the dish towel hanging from the cupboard before rushing into the living room.

He found Nesta leaning against the stairwell, with the phone against his ear, slowly rubbing her temples. He walked closer and could hear Feyre through the phone.

Nesta finally found a break in the conversation to say, “I was going to call you tonight, but-.”

Feyre began to speak again, and Nesta tried to speak a few times before he heard his name. Her eyes flicked up to him, just as his eyebrow rose. She hung up a moment later and Cassian asked, “Everything good?”

Nesta sighed and said, “I hope you didn’t have plans tonight, because we’re expected to be at Rita’s at seven.”

Cassian blinked. “And Feyre demanded that through yelling?”

“Apparently she had a conversation with Elain...who told her we slept together then went out on a date,” Nesta explained, looking pointedly at Cassian.

He cleared his throat. “Oh, yeah, uh, my bad.”

Nesta snorted. “Well, can you come tonight?”

“Depends,” he crooned. “Does this count as a second date?”

She rolled her eyes. “No, we’re all going out.”

“Then I’m busy,” he said.

She laughed, quietly. “Fine. It’s a date.”

“Then I’ll pick you up at six-forty-five.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Okay,” she smiled and turned to climb back up the ladder by the front door.

Cassian couldn’t resist the urge to smack her ass as he walked out.

Nesta was staring at her closet with a scowl on her face. Before moving back to the states, she’d sold most of her belongings. That included the bulk of her wardrobe. Now she was left with what would fit in two suitcases and a duffle bag, and after a month in town, she was starting to have to repeat clothes. She sighed and pulled out two potential outfits she hadn't worn.

One was a light pink dress with soft lace that framed her breasts. It was tight and short and honestly something Nesta never would have picked out for herself, had it not been given to her. The other was a black lace bodysuit, paired with jeans, but she wasn’t sure whether or not it was Velaris appropriate.

Who was she kidding, it was borderline obscene, but she looked damn good in it and she knew it.

She sent a short text to Cassian.

Don’t think, just answer. Black or pink.

The little dots appeared that showed he was typing back. Then they stopped. Then he sent Black.

Good answer, she thought, pulling it out of her closet and tossing it onto her bed. She curled her hair and did her makeup once she’d gotten out of the shower. It was weird to think she was more nervous for tonight than she was the night before, on their first date. This time, it wasn’t just the two of them. Now, they were going out with her sisters, with his friends. Tonight seemed more...official.

And it freaked her the fuck out.

She had just finished zipping her boot up when she heard a knock at her door. She checked her phone, noticing that six-forty-five had snuck up on her. She grabbed her clutch off the bed and hurried to the door, swinging it open to find Cassian, holding a dozen long stemmed roses.

Nesta stilled.

He held them out toward her, smiling upon seeing her surprised look. “For you.” Then he saw her and a curse fell from his lips. “You look...fuck. How much trouble will we be in if we just don’t show up to the bar?”

“A lot,” she chuckled, taking the flowers from him. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

She brought them inside and into the kitchen where she found a tall glass and filled it with water before setting the bouquet inside.

When she turned around, Cassian was right behind her, blatantly staring at her ass.

“May I help you?” She asked, crossing her arms over her chest, which only made her breasts pop out more.

He slowly met her gaze as he said, “Yes, please.”

With a roll of her eyes, she was taking his hand and dragging him out the front door.

Twenty minutes later, they were walking into a packed Rita’s. Nesta’s eyebrows raised. This was much different than the last time they’d been here. This was more reminiscent of the clubs she’d avoided in the big cities.

“College night,” Cassian said, voice raised so she could hear him. “VU students get a free shot with every premium beer ordered until eight-thirty.”

“That sounds horrible.” She cringed, but was thankful that was only a little over an hour away.

Cassian shrugged. “She never has to worry about her well alcohol sitting. It’s smart, actually. Come on.”

They made their way through the crowd, bumping into bodies as they moved to the music.

“Your sisters are over at the corner table,” he said, putting his lips to her ear. “Why don’t you go deal with them and I’ll get us a drink.”

She nodded and as she turned to leave, he tugged on her hand. When she looked back at him, he gently cupped her cheek and pressed him lips to hers. Then he pulled back, winked and a smacked her ass.

She rolled her eyes and made her way over to the table.

As she scooted into the booth, Feyre and Elain paused the animated conversation they were having, both having taken advantage of Feyre’s VU ID card from the year before.

Nesta’s phone vibrated and she pulled it from her clutch, holding a finger up before one of them exploded.

I’m going to enjoy taking that off tonight.

It vibrated again.

Very, very, very slowly.

And once more.

With my teeth.

She texted back, watching him across the room as his phone was in his hand. He was leaning on the bar, casually talking to Azriel, but she saw the change on his face when he read her response.

My turn to surprise you with no panties.

She watched as he blinked and took a long, slow breath. Then he was typing away and a second later she received, Tease.

She snorted and shoved her phone into her pocket before meeting the interrogating gazed of her sisters.

Nesta waited, but when neither of them spoke, she asked, “What?”

Elain and Feyre both started talking at once.

“What the fuck?” Feyre asked, “Cassian? And you didn’t tell me?”

Just as Elain said, “He called me the other day and I got way too much info from him that I should’ve got from you.”

They stopped, and Nesta stared, and then Feyre said, “Bitch.”

“Are you two done?” Nesta asked, leaning back in the booth.

Elain nodded as Feyre grinned. “Details. Hurry. I give them less than two minutes before they’re coming this way.”

Nesta pursed her lips and gave them the condensed events, starting with their conversation in the morning, spending more time than was necessary on Emerie and limited detail on the sex itself.

Feyre groaned and said, “On the couch? Really?”

Elain looked at her, sipping her beer. “Says the one who let Rhys fuck her on the kitchen table.”

Feyre almost spit out her drink.

Nesta couldn’t help but laugh as Cassian plopped onto the booth next to her, sliding a cocktail in front of her.

Elain and Feyre’s eyes slid his direction.

He paused, bottle of beer halfway to his mouth.

“Why didn’t anyone make this big of a deal when you and I had sex for the first time?” Rhysand mumbled, practically falling on top of Feyre.

“Because you made it publicly known, starting the second after it happened,” Azriel added, pulling a chair up to the end of the table. “And it got really annoying, really fast.”

Feyre laughed, patting Rhysand on the knee, and Nesta said, “Can we please change the subject?”

The six of them all fell into conversations, flowing from one to another naturally, laughing and drinking and just enjoying spending time with each other.

“Baby,” Feyre slurred, laying her head on Rhys’ shoulder. “I wan’ dance.”

“Oooh!” Elain was already trying to pull Azriel out of the booth.

“Y’all go ahead,” Rhys said, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Come on, Nesta,” Elain demanded, as Azriel stayed put.

Nesta hesitated, then gazed longing at her drink. “But I haven’t-“

She was pulled out of the booth, unable to stop her laughter from sputtering out of her mouth as she fell into the middle of the dance floor with her sisters.

It had been a long time since she allowed herself to let loose, to dance. When she was younger, it had never really been her thing, but as she grew older, especially being with her sisters, it was freeing. 

The live band playing on the little stage was playing so loudly that she could feel the music thrumming throughout her body. She looked back at Cassian every once in a while. 

He was watching her, intently, with a hungry gaze. She turned, holding onto Feyre’s hand. They laughed and Feyre spun her. Her long empty drink was raised in the air and when someone took it from her, wrapping their arms around her, she settled back into the warmth of his arms.

She moved to the music, the feeling of his arms around her intoxicating, fueling the warmth of the alcohol in her veins.

Azriel was pulling Elain towards the booth, while Rhysand dramatically dipped Feyre. Nesta couldn’t help but smile as she felt the calloused hands grip her hips and grind her into himself.

Her hair was dragged back from her neck and lips nibbled on her pulse point, smooth skin dragging along her own.

She ran her hand up the back of Cassian’s head, grabbing for his long hair that she’d known he left down for her.

Only to feel close cropped hair slide across her fingers.

She stilled, only for a second, before spinning around to meet Tomas’s humored gaze.

His hands reached for her waist, once more, as Nesta asked, “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Come on,” he said, above the music as she swatted his hands away. “Don’t act like you didn’t feel it when we ran into each other the other day, Nes. Dance with me. It’s just a dance.”

“I don’t want to,” she hissed, and went to move around him, but he stepped into her path.

“One dance,” he crooned, his hand grabbing hers.

But a hand had reached up to grab Tomas on the shoulder from behind him. Nesta’s eyes connected with Cassian's hardened hazel eyes, which were watching the back of Tomas’ head.

“I’m pretty sure the lady said no.” The words were almost impossible to distinguish from the music, the growl nearly as deep as the bass

“Fuck off, Nazari.” He shrugged, pulling Nesta’s body into his. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

She pushed him off. “No, thank you,” she said, trying to distance herself from him, stumbling into a table.

Cassian caught her, steadying her. He got in Tomas’ face. “Don’t fucking touch her. You lost your chance.””

A light sparked in Tomas’s eyes: recognition. “Ah, she's warming your bed now, is she?”

Cassian's jaw locked but Nesta’s eyes had narrowed. “Fuck off, Tom.”

But Tomas was looking at Cassian. “Out of all the people in the world, she found the trashiest bastard in town.”

“Leave,” Cassian ordered. His voice was low, quiet, but his shoulders were tensed.

The little smile remained on Tomas’s lips as he looked to Nesta. “When you get bored of him, my number is still the same.”

He walked away, but even as Tomas reached the door, Cassian didn’t move.

Nesta turned. “You know Tomas.”

Cassian didn’t say anything, didn’t look away from his retreating form. He only nodded.

Nesta felt her walls rebuilding. She felt the cold chill shoot up her spine. “How.”

Cassian’s eye trailed him as he left, then he glanced down at her, the disdain clear. “He’s the reason my roping career ended.” The music continued playing around them and he said, “I hate him. I don’t want you around him.”

Nesta blinked once. She could barely think. Could barely put two words together, much less tell him that she had no interest in speaking to or seeing Tomas Mandray ever again.

Instead, the single word that left her mouth was, “What?”

“I don’t want you around him,” Cassian repeated.

Nesta nearly wanted to laugh, but there was no hint of laughter in her voice as she asked, “And who the fuck do you think you are to tell me what to do?”

Cassian stilled, but his lips were tight.

“Fuck you,” she spat, the anger inside of her growing until her hands began shaking at her sides. “I’m not your girlfriend. You can’t tell me what to do.”

She pushed through the crowd, reaching their table and retrieving her bag and phone, unwisely tossing back the rest of her drink. She turned and found him nearly to the table as well, but was darting down the back hall, towards that glowing red sign that would mean her escape from bodies that made her feel too hot, too close, too tight.

She burst out the door and turned, leaning her back against the brick wall across from the door, eyes closed as she swallowed as much air as she could. The alley was empty mercifully as she caught her breath, as she reminded herself that no one was forcing her to stay inside.

“What the fuck are we then.”

She hadn’t even heard him come out, wondered if he’d come out when she did. If he did, he’d let her have a moment until she didn’t look like she was going to fall apart.

“Leave me alone, Cassian,” she said, face in her hands.

“No, I want you to give me an answer,” he hissed.

She didn’t bother looking at him. “Take me home,” she whispered, exhausted.

“Well which is it?” He asked, his voice rising. “Leave you alone or take you home?”

Tears sprung in the corners of her eyes, and she hated herself for it. She didn’t take her hands away from her face.

“We’re not going anywhere until you tell me-.”

“Just stop!” She yelled, her hands falling away as she turned to face him.

He froze, jaw locking.

The door opened and Elain and Azriel came out into the alley. She frantically caught Nesta’s hand and asked, “Are you okay?”

She held Cassian’s stare and blinked, looking at her sister and nodding. The silent tears that began to stream down her face rooted Cassian to where he was standing.

“Come on,” Elain said, voice soft. “Let’s go.” She began to pull Nesta away and Cassian reached out, brushing his fingers against hers.

She looked at him, and that softness he’d woken up to this morning, the light he’d gotten used to…

It was gone. And in its place was the raging storm she’d been when he’d met her.

He didn’t understand.

Wanted to, but didn’t. 

Nesta walked away with Elain and Azriel, the latter looking over his shoulder apologetically.

He stayed put for a moment, mind whirling, as he watched her walk out of the alley and disappear around the corner before tumbling back to his own truck.

He felt confused.

Pissed. Frustrated. Upset. Hurt. But mostly confused.

“Cass!”

He turned and caught Rhysand’s eyes from the door. He and Feyre hurried to his truck. She demanded, “What the fuck happened?” Cassian didn't even have time to reply before she forged on. “I looked over and found the three of you in each other’s faces. And then that fucker left and she stormed away from you?”

“He was being an ass. Then I told her I didn’t want her around Tomas and she lost her shit,” Cassian mumbled. “I don’t know. I’m going home.”

Feyre reached out and grabbed his arm as he was about to pull himself into his truck. He stopped, and when he met her eyes, he was surprised to find her eyes soft.

“Don’t be too hard on her,” she whispered, even though from the look on Rhysand’s face, he knew enough about why. “She and Tomas… He… Just don’t be too hard on her.”

He didn’t bother to mention that he wasn’t sure if she’d even speak to him.

When he got home, he found her on his porch. She still wore that damn skin tight lace, showing every delicious curve he wanted to run his tongue along.

Every curve he had run his tongue along.

He got out of the truck and made his way up the stairs, his boots thudding with each step.

She sat on the top step, a lit cigarette between her fingers.

He leaned on the railing, crossing his arms, and said, “Didn’t know you smoked.”

She put it to her lips and took a drag, the end glowing in the darkness. She blew out a stream of smoke and shrugged. “I don’t. Just a nervous habit.”

He nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. He hesitated, but closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I think we need to talk.”

She nodded, taking another pull and stood, dropping the cigarette into a beer can that had been left on the small patio table he had. It went out with a sizzle.

“If I’ve…” he began, then stopped. He blew out a long breath before starting over. “If I’ve jumped to conclusions about what we are, I’m sorry.”

Nesta didn’t say anything, didn’t move for a moment. She stared at a spot on the deck for a moment before saying, “Nothing about tonight was about you.”

Cassian wanted to press her, but didn’t. He didn’t need to, though, because she continued.

“I didn’t realize you knew Tomas, it threw me off,” she said. “We used to date. For a long time. He was an ass. Made me feel….small. And then he cheated on me. That was almost ten years ago, and I haven’t been in a real, healthy relationship with anyone since. I don’t even know if I’ve ever had a healthy time relationship.”

Cassian didn’t say anything, contemplating just how much he should say. But this woman… this gods damned breath of fresh air that had blown into town, into his life and actually made him enjoy what he did again…

The woman that he’d fallen in love with… she deserved to know everything.

“I know.” She looked up from the deck and waited for him to continue. He sighed and closed his eyes, taking a moment before he went on. “You may not have remembered me from school, but Cauldron, I remembered you. I had the biggest crush on you, but when I found out you were dating Tomas Mandray, the only other header in our state that gave me a run for my money? The one thorn in my fucking side who only won because daddy bought him the fastest horse he could find?” He shook his head. “I knew that we never had a chance, regardless of the fact that you didn’t even know I existed. I could have introduced myself, I could have put myself on your radar, but what good would that have done? You were still with him.” Nesta stared at him unable to say anything. “And then I saw you in Guthrie.” He looked at her, looked into her eyes, letting her see the sincerity in them. “And I saw him make you cry. I knew it was none of my business, so I didn’t say anything. Rhys told me if I did anything to fuck up our chances at a title, he’d personally cut my balls off. We roped the first night, took the average. Roped the second, came up short by point zero four seconds. Still won the average so far, but Tomas was right behind me. Then on the third, I caught him running his mouth and bragging about how he was able to keep that side piece from you for months.”

Nesta felt like she was going to be sick. She’d never been sure, but she’d always assumed he’d been cheating on her for longer than she knew.

“So I beat the shit out of him, had my membership in the USTRC revoked and was told that I’d never rope professionally again. And I haven’t. I was turned away from every rodeo I tried to enter. So I gave up.”

Nesta stared at him, completely speechless. A thousand thoughts ran through her mind but they all sounded ridiculous. All she managed was a breathless, “You…” but nothing followed.

He looked up at her then, at her wide, misty eyes. They stared at each other for a moment, then she said, “You really did beat the shit out of him.”

Nesta remembered hearing about it the next day, feeling grateful at whoever gave Tomas what he deserved.

But never in a million years would she have thought it had been Cassian.

“You didn’t deserve to be disrespected like that, whether you knew or not.” His voice was quiet, still, cold.

She breathed, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He let his hands drop to his side and a frustrated chuckle left him. “What was I supposed to say? Oh, by the way, I assaulted your ex and had my dream ripped from me when it was within spitting distance?”

She didn’t say anything, knowing he was right. How would he have even brought it up, especially seeing her reaction to Tomas in the hardware store.

Her lips tightened but she said nothing. She should apologize, should try to tell him something comforting or reassuring, although that had never been a strength of hers.

Instead, she met him at the top of the stairs and laid her fingers against his cheek, forcing him to meet her gaze. And when he did, with eyes still half lit with anger, but dwelling with softness for her, she kissed him, softly, slowly.

He melted into the touch of her lips against his, his arms wrapping around her slender waist. 

She pulled back, and he was shaking his head. “I’m sorry I got pissed tonight,” he breathed, brows furrowed. “I acted like an ass.”

“You did,” she agreed, and the chuckle that left him slid across her skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “You were just trying to protect me, and I know that. You’ve apparently been doing that way longer than I’ve known.” She smiled softly and his lips turned up slightly in response, that anger diminishing with every second. “But… I can fight my own battles, Cassian. I’m a big girl and I promise I can handle myself on my own. Okay?”

He closed his eyes, sighed and nodded. “Okay. But only if you agree to let me step in if need be. I promise,” he began, his eyes sincere. “I won’t ever overstep my boundaries if I can help it, but if I feel like something is wrong, I’ll have to handle it.”

“You’ll have to?” She whispered, amusement lacing her tone.

He nodded, slowly, eyes bright as he cupped her face. “I care about you, Nesta.”

Words escaped her as she stared up at him, as his thumbs brushed across her cheeks. 

She knew he wasn’t lying, knew he wasn’t saying it just to say it. She could see the truth of his words in his eyes, could feel it in his touch.

The thought terrified her.

But it ignited her, too, set her soul on fire, woke her up.

“Kiss me,” she breathed, pleaded, needed to taste him to know this moment, these confessions, were real.

So he did. His hand curled into her hair, the other going to her lower back, holding her against him, and his lips devoured hers in a searing kiss. It took her breath away and made her feel alive. There was so much he couldn’t say that he poured into that kiss and Nesta could feel it, could feel herself falling.

This man, this impossibly frustrating, amazing, complicated man, he had thrown her world off its axis. Had made her second guess a lot of things about her life she’d never allowed herself to.

And he cared for her, for some ridiculous reason that she was trying so hard to understand but didn’t. They were polar opposites, two people worlds apart. She didn’t care, though, didn’t care that they didn’t make sense. 

Cassian lifted her up and her legs wrapped around his waist in silent acceptance. He carried her inside of the little cabin, where Beau looked up from his spot on the couch before snuggling back into the cushions. 

Neither of them said a word, their lips refusing to be parted, as they entered his bedroom.

Her back gently hit the mattress as he laid her down, his body covering hers. Her hands were in his hair, framing his face, pulling at his shirt, grabbing his ass through his jeans. He was all she could feel, all she could, taste, smell, see, hear. He completely overwhelmed her senses, but gods, she loved the disorienting haze his kisses dragged her into.

She bit his bottom lip, just like she had on the football field, and he growled quietly. Pulling back, his hazel eyes found hers and they were intense and she found herself wanting to push him, to see how far she could go before he lost control.

So she leaned up, brushing her lips along his jawline. His stubble was rough, scratching against her skin in an intoxicating way, and she trailed her kisses down his throat until she found that spot where his neck met his shoulder.

The hand bracing his weight that was next to her head balled into a fist, the sheets and blankets bunching up in it. The hand on her hip tightened.

Her gentle fingers slid beneath the hem of his shirt, feeling the warm skin beneath. Those teasing kisses along the base of his throat continued, sucking softly, brushing her tongue against his skin.

His eyes closed, his lips parted.

Nesta wanted to capture that moment, paint him in that light for all eternity, hardly holding on, dwelling in her touch as she worshipped him, patiently.

Her hands slid up his back, just beneath his shoulder blades as her lips trailed down between the collar of his shirt.

A shuddering breath left him and he leaned back, pulling the shirt over his head and went to lie back atop of Nesta. Instead, she pressed a palm to his chest and took a moment to look at him.

He was a fucking Adonis in human form. Her hand trailed down between his pecs, across his abdomen, over the dusting of hair beneath his belly button, and finger followed the deep groove of muscle at his hip down into the jeans that were becoming impossibly tighter with every touch.

She looked up at him through her lashes, and dragged that finger along the waistband of his jeans, finding the button and playing with it before she popped it loose.

He watched, lips pressed together. Nesta swore he held his breath as she pulled down his zipper and pushed his jeans down past his hips. Cassian’s body finally shook with a deep breath as he pushed himself off the bed and onto the floor. Nesta rolled onto her side and silently watched as he kicked off his boots and pushed his jeans onto the wooden floorboards, but when he took a step back toward the bed she shook her head, eyes bright as they admired him.

She scooted herself to the side of the mattress before pulling herself up into sitting position, her long legs draped over the sides. She reached down to unzip one of her boots and toss it to the side, then the other, and she stood in front of him before trailing her fingers down his body, once more. 

He was beautiful.

“You’re going to be the death of me.” His voice was rough. His fingers found her chin and when he grazed his thumb across her lips, she pressed the softest of kisses to it. When she heard his breath hitch, she pulled it into her mouth and sucked lightly, letting her tongue swirl around it. She looked up at Cassian, into his eyes, and she swore she was going to combust from the look he was giving her.

He removed his thumb, and though there was a ferocity in his eyes, he gently took her face in both of his hands and kissed her softly.

He pulled back and whispered, “Nesta, I-. Fuck…” His words trailed off as he kissed her again, nipping at her bottom lip. He pulled away abruptly, leaving Nesta breathless. He spoke in a rush, almost as if he knew that if he didn’t speak now, he wouldn’t speak at all. “Fuck, Nesta, I think I love you. And I know that’s insane, but you’re all that I think about. You’re the only thing I want, and I just-.” He dragged a hand down his face. “I had to tell you. I’m falling for you, harder and harder every day.”

Feeling breathless, her forehead fell against his chest. She closed her eyes, terrified of the next words to come out of her mouth. “I feel the same.” And she looked up at him, then, through her long lashes. “I love you, too.”

Four words, barely audible, even in the silence of the cabin. But the look in his eyes at those words was something so vulnerable and raw, with a hint of something almost like surprise, that Nesta could hardly breathe. 

She wanted to tell him not to hurt her, not to break her heart, not to make her regret those words. But as he took that little step closer to her, closing what was left of the distance between them, she knew he wouldn’t.

He didn’t need to tell her, because he would show her.

A hand reached around and found the small zipper at the back of her neck, and he slowly pulled it down. His finger skimmed along her skin as he dragged it along her spine and a chill ran through Nesta. He undid the button of her jeans and Nesta held her breath, unsure of why she felt so nervous. Cassian began to work her jeans down, but when they wouldn’t budge past her hips, he cleared his throat. “I imagined this being much more smooth, but, uhm, I can’t get your pants off.”

Nesta laughed, quietly, as she shimmied herself out of her tight jeans. He watched as she pulled herself out of her lace bodysuit, until she was bare before him. 

“Told you, no panties,” she whispered, and his answering grin had her toes curling.

“And I told you I wanted to take that off with my teeth…”

She smoothly replied, “Next time.” Cassian smirked.

With no warning, he picked her up and tossed her onto his bed, following suit and crawling up her body, pausing to taunt, tease and taste. He stopped at her breasts, unable to resist any longer as he took a peaked nipple between his lips, his fingers finding the other and rolling into slowly.

Nesta began to writhe, gripping his hair and tugging on the loose strands. The whimpers and moans falling from her lips were too much and he fisted his cock, stroking in time with the roll of his fingers. 

Her legs were wrapping up around his waist, and she pulled his body into hers. She had to be closer to him, the distance seemed too great, too far, after the words they’d spoken.

“Cassian.” She whispered his name, breathed it into the night. He looked up at her, his lips falling away from her nipple, and saw the desperate beckoning look in her eyes. He climbed up her body, covering hers with his. He moved the stray hairs from her face before taking her wrists gently into his hands and moving her arms above her head, his fingers slowly intertwining into hers.

He pressed his forehead against hers, his hardened cock pressed up between her folds. 

Her eyes remained locked with his as her fingers tightened in his own. “Make love to me, Cass,” she breathed.

His lips parted and a slow, shaky breath left his mouth, warming her own.

He slowly, torturously slowly, pushed into her, pausing when he was fully seated inside. The overwhelming fullness had Nesta breathing heavily, her chest heaving, and Cassian leaned down, pressing soft kisses to her lips. “Are you okay?” The question was no louder than a whisper, but Nesta nodded, eyes still closed.

She’d been with a few men since Tomas all those years ago. None more than a few times, as Nesta’s schedule was too busy for more than anything but a passing fling, but she’d never been dissatisfied with the sex she’d had, never been disappointed by the size of her partner.

She was ruined now, she realized as Cassian slowly pulled out and snapped his hips back into hers, for any other cock, because none could compare to the one currently inside of her. Or the man to whom it belonged.

He continued the slow, agonizing pace until Nesta began to squirm. He leaned down and kissed her, palming her breast, and asked, “What is it, sweetheart?” He never halted his thrusts, kept driving Nesta wild with each flex of his hips.

She was whimpering and groaning and writhing, and breathed, “Touch me, please.”

He picked up his pace, just barely, as his hand fell from her breast and slowly dragged down her side. Cassian pushed himself up on his knees, then, and pulled her ass onto his lap as that steady pace inside of her continued. His thumb found her clit and he circled it, slowly, as he thrust his cock in and out, his other hand gripping her ass as a guide.

Nesta threw her head back, her body flooding with that familiar warmth, and she didn’t try to quiet the moan that he pulled from her. One hand was fisted in the sheets by her head and the other replaced his, tweaking her nipple.

“God damn, baby,” he breathed, gazing down at her. Fuck, she was so beautiful, so perfect. Her full hips that he couldn’t get enough of grabbing onto. Those parted lips that drove him wild. But gods, those breasts.

Nesta reached out and ran a hand down his chest. He caught her fingers and sucked one into his mouth as she has before, biting down lightly. Her other hand had stilled on her stomach and she watched him with lust addled eyes. He gripped the other in his hand and pinned them above her head again, lifting his hips and roughly thrusting into her again and again.

She cried out, unable to form a sentence or even his name.

“You feel so good,” he breathed, fighting his growing orgasm. He wanted to bend her over his dresser, wanted to watch himself fuck her in the mirror, but she was so tight and he was so close.

A string of curses flooded his mind as his head fell back, his eyes closed, but only for a second. Nesta’s cries grew louder and he watched as her body tensed, her pussy clenching around him, squeezing his cock. He leaned back to get the perfect view as he grabbed her ass and pulled her into him as his pace quickened.

“I’m...close,” he grunted, voice straining. She was still riding out her orgasm, unable to speak, but acknowledging him with a nod. He kept pounding into her, watching the way her breasts bounced with her every thrust until his head fell back again and he grunted out, “I’m about to come.”

He expected her to scoot back so he could come on her stomach or her tits. He wouldn’t have even been surprised if she took him into her mouth to finish him off.

He didn’t expect her to tighten her legs around him and hold him in place. He didn’t expect the frantic nod she gave him when their eyes connected, question written clear across his face. He didn’t expect the quietly whimpered, “Please,” as he thrust into her one final time before his release barreled through him, vision going white as he came harder than he ever had before.

Cassian groaned as he came, filling her up, quick, hard thrusts continuing long after her pussy had milked him for his last drop.

He fell down against her, his cock still inside of her as his sweaty, hard body covered hers. She wrapped his arms around his neck as they tried to catch their breaths. Neither of them said a word in the silence as they clung to one another..

Cassian was about to get up when Nesta breathed, “No, just…stay here, please.”

He nodded, pressing his lips to her neck. He rolled them, so she was lying on top of him, rather than the other way around, and he dragged a lazy finger up and down her back.

“Shit,” he said, letting loose a deep breath. “That was the-.”

“Best orgasm you’ve ever had?” She finished.

He nodded, head sinking deeper into his pillow as he wrapped his arms around her tighter. “You took the words out of my mouth.”

One of his hands dipped lower, cupping her ass. They laid there in a careful silence, enjoying feeling each other’s body against the other, when Cass finally said, “Don’t you need to go…clean up?” He let his hand slip lower until he could feel their mixed essences dripping out of her.

He was still inside of her and she could have sworn that she felt him harden, just the slightest.

She shook her head, nestling into his chest. “In a minute. I can’t get pregnant.”

The hand on her back stilled. “Can’t? Or won’t?”

Nesta’s body tensed as his hand froze. She slowly leaned up to meet his gaze. “Can’t.”

She waited for Cassian to say something, anything, but he didn’t. Yet the hand on her back began to move up and down her skin once more.

She laid back on his chest and closed her eyes. “I was told years ago I won’t be able to have children.”

Her voice was quiet, and for once, she found herself afraid to say it. She hadn’t ever really wanted kids, hadn’t really ever thought about settling down and starting a family.

But when she said the words to Cassian, a little bit of a heavy feeling settled into the pit of her stomach.

Having a family hadn’t been in the cards for her before. If she was too busy to have a boyfriend, how was she supposed to figure out how to juggle a child and her restaurants? So when she found out at twenty-two that she would never be a mother, she didn’t even dwell on it, hadn’t given herself time to be sad about it, or think about what that really meant.

But for Cassian, the words were a blow. He’d grown up alone, in every sense of the word. Before his mother died, she was always working nights. She would be asleep when he left for school, and would have to be at work by five. He saw very little of her. Barely knew the woman who he’d laid in the ground before his thirteenth birthday.

He’d always dreamed of having a huge family, at least three kids, maybe even four. He’d even let himself imagine what their kids might look like, with his tanned complexion, and her striking eyes. But in a moment, that dream was gone.

“Please say something,” she whispered.

Cassian nodded, although she wasn’t looking at him. “Sorry. Just surprised.” He kept his voice quiet. “It’s okay.”

What else was he supposed to say? He loved her, still, and voicing his disappointment would just upset her, and what would erase all the progress that had just been made.

He turned her head to face him. She kept her eyes closed. “Look at me,” he whispered. She opened her eyes, and a tear slid down her cheek and landed on his chest. “I love you. Okay? It’s okay.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Why are you crying?”

She shrugged lightly and said, “I didn’t even think I wanted children. When I found out, I was in culinary school and I didn’t have time for kids, nor did I have a good relationship with my family, so I thought it was a blessing in disguise and…” She sniffled and closed her eyes again, as another tear fell. “Now, things are different and I feel...broken.”

Cassian let out a breath as he pulled her in closer, holding her tightly against him. “It’s okay,” he repeated.

She wiped at her eyes against his chest before burying her face into his skin. 

They laid like that for hours, clinging to one another, Cassian telling her that he loved her over and over again, as if he couldn’t say it enough, as if he was afraid that she didn’t believe her.

It wasn’t that she didn’t believe him.

It’s that she didn’t think she deserved it.

[perfectlyandrogynousbouquetworld]

Gilbert & Anne in Anne of green gables’ book

« That's Gilbert Blythe sitting right across the aisle from you, Anne. Just look at him and see if you don't think he's handsome."      Anne looked accordingly. She had a good chance to do so, for the said Gilbert Blythe was absorbed in stealthily pinning the long yellow braid of Ruby Gillis, who sat in front of him, to the back of her seat. He was a tall boy, with curly brown hair, roguish hazel eyes, and a mouth twisted into a teasing smile. Presently Ruby Gillis started up to take a sum to the master; she fell back into her seat with a little shriek, believing that her hair was pulled out by the roots. Everybody looked at her and Mr. Phillips glared so sternly that Ruby began to cry. Gilbert had whisked the pin out of sight and was studying his history with the soberest face in the world; but when the commotion subsided he looked at Anne and winked with inexpressible drollery.      "I think your Gilbert Blythe IS handsome," confided Anne to Diana, "but I think he's very bold. It isn't good manners to wink at a strange girl."      But it was not until the afternoon that« things really began to happen.      Mr. Phillips was back in the corner explaining a problem in algebra to Prissy Andrews and the rest of the scholars were doing pretty much as they pleased eating green apples, whispering, drawing pictures on their slates, and driving crickets harnessed to strings, up and down aisle. Gilbert Blythe was trying to make Anne Shirley look at him and failing utterly, because Anne was at that moment totally oblivious not only to the very existence of Gilbert Blythe, but of every other scholar in Avonlea school itself. With her chin propped on her hands and her eyes fixed on the blue glimpse of the Lake of Shining Waters that the west window afforded, she was far away in a gorgeous dreamland hearing and seeing nothing save her own wonderful visions. » « Gilbert Blythe wasn't used to putting himself out to make a girl look at him and meeting with failure. She SHOULD look at him, that red-haired Shirley girl with the little pointed chin and the big eyes that weren't like the eyes of any other girl in Avonlea school.      Gilbert reached across the aisle, picked up the end of Anne's long red braid, held it out at arm's length and said in a piercing whisper:      "Carrots! Carrots!"      Then Anne looked at him with a vengeance!      She did more than look. She sprang to her feet, her bright fancies fallen into cureless ruin. She flashed one indignant glance at Gilbert from eyes whose angry sparkle was swiftly quenched in equally angry tears.      "You mean, hateful boy!" she exclaimed passionately. "How dare you!"      And then--thwack! Anne had brought her slate down on Gilbert's head and cracked it--slate not head--clear across.      Avonlea school always enjoyed a scene. This was an especially enjoyable one. Everybody said "Oh" in horrified delight. Diana gasped. Ruby Gillis, who was inclined to be hysterical, began to cry. Tommy Sloane let his team of crickets escape him altogether while he stared open-mouthed at« tableau.      Mr. Phillips stalked down the aisle and laid his hand heavily on Anne's shoulder.      "Anne Shirley, what does this mean?" he said angrily. Anne returned no answer. It was asking too much of flesh and blood to expect her to tell before the whole school that she had been called "carrots." Gilbert it was who spoke up stoutly.      "It was my fault Mr. Phillips. I teased her."      Mr. Phillips paid no heed to Gilbert.      "I am sorry to see a pupil of mine displaying such a temper and such a vindictive spirit," he said in a solemn tone, as if the mere fact of being a pupil  » « When school was dismissed Anne marched out with her red head held high. Gilbert Blythe tried to intercept her at the porch door.      "I'm awfully sorry I made fun of your hair, Anne," he whispered contritely. "Honest I am. Don't be mad for keeps, now"      Anne swept by disdainfully, without look or sign of hearing. "Oh how could you, Anne?" breathed Diana as they went down the road half reproachfully, half admiringly. Diana felt that SHE could never have resisted Gilbert's plea.      "I shall never forgive Gilbert Blythe," said Anne firmly.  » « Mr. Phillips's brief reforming energy was over; he didn't want the bother of punishing a dozen pupils; but it was necessary to do something to save his word, so he looked about for a scapegoat and found it in Anne, who had dropped into her seat, gasping for breath, with a forgotten lily wreath hanging askew over one ear and giving her a particularly rakish and disheveled appearance.      "Anne Shirley, since you seem to be so fond of the boys' company we shall indulge your taste for it this afternoon," he said sarcastically. "Take those flowers out of your hair and sit with Gilbert Blythe."      The other boys snickered. Diana, turning pale with pity, plucked the wreath from Anne's hair and squeezed her hand. Anne stared at the master as if turned to stone.      "Did you hear what I said, Anne?" queried Mr. Phillips sternly.      "Yes, sir," said Anne slowly "but I didn't suppose you really meant it."      "I assure you I did"--still with the sarcastic inflection which all the children, and Anne especially, hated. It flicked on the raw. "Obey me at once."      For a moment Anne looked as if she meant to disobey. Then, realizing that « there was no help for it, she rose haughtily, stepped across the aisle, sat down beside Gilbert Blythe, and buried her face in her arms on the desk. Ruby Gillis, who got a glimpse of it as it went down, told the others going home from school that she'd "acksually never seen anything like it--it was so white, with awful little red spots in it."      To Anne, this was as the end of all things. It was bad enough to be singled out for punishment from among a dozen equally guilty ones; it was worse still to be sent to sit with a boy, but that that boy should be Gilbert Blythe was heaping insult on injury to a degree utterly unbearable. Anne felt that she could not bear it and it would be of no use to try. Her whole being seethed with shame and anger and humiliation.      At first the other scholars looked and whispered and giggled and nudged. But as Anne never lifted her head and as Gilbert worked fractions as if his whole soul was absorbed in them and them only, they soon returned to their own tasks and Anne was forgotten. When Mr. Phillips called the history class out Anne should have gone, but Anne did not move, and Mr. Phillips, who had been writing some « verses "To Priscilla" before he called the class, was thinking about an obstinate rhyme still and never missed her. Once, when nobody was looking, Gilbert took from his desk a little pink candy heart with a gold motto on it, "You are sweet," and slipped it under the curve of Anne's arm. Whereupon Anne arose, took the pink heart gingerly between the tips of her fingers, dropped it on the floor, ground it to powder beneath her heel, and resumed her position without deigning to bestow a glance on Gilbert. « but when she met Gilbert Blythe on the road or encountered him in Sunday school she passed him by with an icy contempt that was no whit thawed by his evident desire to appease her. Even Diana's efforts as a peacemaker were of no avail. Anne had evidently made up her mind to hate Gilbert Blythe to the end of life. « She flung herself into her studies heart and soul, determined not to be outdone in any class by Gilbert Blythe. The rivalry between them was soon apparent; it was entirely good natured on Gilbert's side; but it is much to be feared that the same thing cannot be said of Anne, who had certainly an unpraiseworthy tenacity for holding grudges. She was as intense in her hatreds as in her loves. She would not stoop to admit that she meant to rival Gilbert in schoolwork, because that would have been to acknowledge his existence which Anne persistently ignored; but the rivalry was there and honors fluctuated between them. Now Gilbert was head of the spelling class; now Anne, with a toss of her long red braids, spelled him down. One morning Gilbert had all his sums done correctly and had his name written on the blackboard on the roll of honor; the next morning Anne, having wrestled wildly with decimals the entire evening before, would be first. One awful day they were ties and their names were written up together. It was almost as bad as a take-notice and Anne's mortification was as evident as Gilbert's satisfaction. When[…] » « When Gilbert Blythe recited "Bingen on the Rhine" Anne picked up Rhoda Murray's library book and read it until he had finished, when she sat rigidly stiff and motionless while Diana clapped her hands until they tingled. » « Then, just as she thought she really could not endure the ache in her arms and wrists another moment, Gilbert Blythe came rowing under the bridge in Harmon Andrews's dory!      Gilbert glanced up and, much to his amazement, beheld a little white scornful face looking down upon him with big, frightened but also scornful gray eyes.      "Anne Shirley! How on earth did you get there?" he exclaimed.      Without waiting for an answer he pulled close to the pile and extended his hand. There was no help for it; Anne, clinging to Gilbert Blythe's hand, scrambled down into the dory, where she sat, drabbled and furious, in the stern with her arms full of dripping shawl and wet crepe. It was certainly extremely difficult to be dignified under the circumstances!      "What has happened, Anne?" asked Gilbert, taking up his oars. "We were playing Elaine" explained Anne frigidly, without even looking at her rescuer, "and I had to drift down to Camelot in the barge--I mean the flat. The flat began to leak and I climbed out on the pile. The girls went for help. Will you be kind enough to row me to the landing?"      Gilbert obligingly rowed to the landing and Anne, disdaining assistance, sprang nimbly on shore.      "I'm very much obliged to you," she said haughtily as she turned away. But Gilbert had also sprung from the boat and now laid a detaining hand on her arm.      "Anne," he said hurriedly, "look here. Can't we be good friends? I'm awfully sorry I made fun of your hair that time. I didn't mean to vex you and I only meant it for a joke. Besides, it's so long ago. I think your hair is awfully pretty now--honest I do.   « Let's be friends."      For a moment Anne hesitated. She had an odd, newly awakened consciousness under all her outraged dignity that the half-shy, half-eager expression in Gilbert's hazel eyes was something that was very good to see. Her heart gave a quick, queer little beat. But the bitterness of her old grievance promptly stiffened up her wavering determination. That scene of two years before flashed back into her recollection as vividly as if it had taken place yesterday. Gilbert had called her "carrots" and had brought about her disgrace before the whole school. Her resentment, which to other and older people might be as laughable as its cause, was in no whit allayed and softened by time seemingly. She hated Gilbert Blythe! She would never forgive him!      "No," she said coldly, "I shall never be friends with you, Gilbert Blythe; and I don't want to be!"      "All right!" Gilbert sprang into his skiff with an angry color in his cheeks. "I'll never ask you to be friends again, Anne Shirley. And I don't care either!"      He pulled away with swift defiant strokes, and Anne went up the steep, ferny little path under the maples. She held her head very high, but she was conscious of an odd feeling of regret. She almost wished she had answered Gilbert differently. Of course, he had insulted her terribly, but still--! Altogether, Anne rather thought it would be a relief to sit down and have a good cry. She was really quite unstrung, for the reaction from her fright and cramped clinging was making itself felt. » « Previously the rivalry had been rather onesided, but there was no longer any doubt that Gilbert was as determined to be first in class as Anne was. He was a foeman worthy of her steel. The other members of the class tacitly acknowledged their superiority, and never dreamed of trying to compete with them.      Since the day by the pond when she had refused to listen to his plea for forgiveness, Gilbert, save for the aforesaid determined rivalry, had evinced no recognition whatever of the existence of Anne Shirley. He talked and jested with the other girls, exchanged books and puzzles with them, discussed lessons and plans, sometimes walked home with one or the other of them from prayer meeting or Debating Club. But Anne Shirley he simply ignored, and Anne found out that it is not pleasant to be ignored. It was in vain that she told herself with a toss of her head that she did not care. Deep down in her wayward, feminine little heart she knew that she did care, and that if she had that chance of the Lake of Shining Waters again she would answer very differently. All at once, as it seemed« and to her secret dismay, she found that the old resentment she had cherished against him was gone--gone just when she most needed its sustaining power. It was in vain that she recalled every incident and emotion of that memorable occasion and tried to feel the old satisfying anger. That day by the pond had witnessed its last spasmodic flicker. Anne realized that she had forgiven and forgotten without knowing it. But it was too late.      And at least neither Gilbert nor anybody else, not even Diana, should ever suspect how sorry she was and how much she wished she hadn't been so proud and horrid! She determined to "shroud her feelings in deepest oblivion," and it may be stated here and now that she did it, so successfully that Gilbert, who possibly was not quite so indifferent as he seemed, could not console himself with any« belief that Anne felt his retaliatory scorn. The only poor comfort he had was that she snubbed Charlie Sloane, unmercifully, continually, and undeservedly. » « They had met and passed each other on the street a dozen times without any sign of recognition and every time Anne had held her head a little higher and wished a little more earnestly that she had made friends with Gilbert when he asked her, and vowed a little more determinedly to surpass him in the examination. « not a word could she utter, and the next moment she would have fled from the platform despite the humiliation which, she felt, must ever after be her portion if she did so.      But suddenly, as her dilated, frightened eyes gazed out over the audience, she saw Gilbert Blythe away at the back of the room, bending forward with a smile on his face--a smile which seemed to Anne at once triumphant and taunting. In reality it was nothing of the kind. Gilbert was merely smiling with appreciation of the whole affair in general and of the effect produced by Anne's slender white form and spiritual face against a background of palms in particular. Josie Pye, whom he had driven over, sat beside him, and her face certainly was both triumphant and taunting. But Anne did not see Josie, and would not have cared if she had. She drew a long breath and flung her head up proudly, courage and determination tingling over her like an electric shock. She WOULD NOT fail before Gilbert Blythe--he should never be able to laugh at her, never, never! Her fright and nervousness vanished; and she began her recitation, her clear« sweet voice reaching to the farthest corner of the room without a tremor or a break. Self-possession was fully restored to her, and in the reaction from that horrible moment of powerlessness she recited as she had never done before. When she finished there were bursts of honest applause. Anne, stepping back to her seat, blushing with shyness and delight, found her hand vigorously clasped and shaken by the stout lady in pink silk. » « I wouldn't feel comfortable without it," she thought. "Gilbert looks awfully determined. I suppose he's making up his mind, here and now, to win« the medal. What a splendid chin he has! I never noticed it before. I do wish Jane and Ruby had gone in for First Class, too. » « Gilbert Blythe nearly always walked with Ruby Gillis and carried her satchel for her. Ruby was a very handsome young lady, now thinking herself quite as grown up as she really was; she wore her skirts as long as her mother would let her and did her hair up in town, though she had to take it down when she went home. She had large, bright-blue eyes, a brilliant complexion, and a plump showy figure. She laughed a great deal, was cheerful and good-tempered, and enjoyed the pleasant things of life frankly.      "But I shouldn't think she was the sort of girl Gilbert would like," whispered Jane to Anne. Anne did not think so either, but she would not have said so for the Avery scholarship. She could not help thinking, too, that it would be very pleasant to have such a friend as Gilbert to jest and chatter with and exchange ideas about books and studies and ambitions. Gilbert had ambitions, she knew, and Ruby Gillis did not seem the sort of person with whom such could be profitably discussed.      There was no silly sentiment in Anne's ideas concerning Gilbert. Boys were to her, when she« when she thought about them at all, merely possible good comrades. If she and Gilbert had been friends she would not have cared how many other friends he had nor with whom he walked. She had a genius for friendship; girl friends she had in plenty; but she had a vague consciousness that masculine friendship might also be a good thing to round out one's conceptions of companionship and furnish broader standpoints of judgment and comparison. Not that Anne could have put her feelings on the matter into just such clear definition. But she thought that if Gilbert had ever walked home with her from the train, over the crisp fields and along the ferny byways, they might have had many and merry and interesting conversations about the new world that was opening around them and their hopes and« ambitions therein. Gilbert was a clever young fellow, with his own thoughts about things and a determination to get the best out of life and put the best into it. Ruby Gillis told Jane Andrews that she didn't understand half the things Gilbert Blythe said; he talked just like Anne Shirley did when she had a thoughtful fit on and for her part she didn't think it any fun to be bothering about books and that sort of thing when you didn't have to. Frank Stockley had lots more dash and go, but then he wasn't half as good-looking as Gilbert and she really couldn't decide which she liked best! » « Anne worked hard and steadily. Her rivalry with Gilbert was as intense as it had ever been in Avonlea school, although it was not known in the class at large, but somehow the bitterness had gone out of it. Anne no longer wished to win for the sake of defeating Gilbert; rather, for the proud consciousness of a well-won victory over a worthy foeman. It would be worth while to win, but she no longer thought life would be insupportable if she did not. » « Jane promised solemnly; but, as it happened, there was no necessity for such a promise. When they went up the entrance steps of Queen's they found the hall full of boys who were carrying Gilbert Blythe around on their shoulders and yelling at the tops of their voices, "Hurrah for Blythe, Medalist!"      For a moment Anne felt one sickening pang of defeat and disappointment. So she had failed and Gilbert had won! Well, Matthew would be sorry--he had been so sure she would win.      And then!      Somebody called out:      "Three cheers for Miss Shirley, winner of the Avery! » « I don't know it. I guess you're going to teach right here in Avonlea. The trustees have decided to give you the school."      "Mrs. Lynde!" cried Anne, springing to her feet in her surprise. "Why, I thought they had promised it to Gilbert Blythe!"      "So they did. But as soon as Gilbert heard that you had applied for it he went to them--they had a business meeting at the school last night, you know--and told them that he withdrew his application, and suggested that they accept yours. He said he was going to teach at White Sands. Of course he knew how much you wanted to stay with Marilla, and I must say I think it was real kind and thoughtful in him, that's what. Real self-sacrificing, too, for he'll have his board to pay at White Sands, and everybody knows he's got to earn his own way through college. So the trustees decided to take you. I was tickled to death when Thomas came home and told me."      "I don't feel that I ought to take it," murmured Anne. "I mean--I don't think I ought to let Gilbert make such a sacrifice for--for me[…] » « I guess you can't prevent him now. He's signed papers with the White Sands trustees. So it wouldn't do him any good now if you were to refuse. Of course you'll take the school. » « The beauty of it all thrilled Anne's heart, and she gratefully opened the gates of her soul to it.      "Dear old world," she murmured, "you are very lovely, and I am glad to be alive in you."      Halfway down the hill a tall lad came whistling out of a gate before the Blythe homestead. It was Gilbert, and the whistle died on his lips as he recognized Anne. He lifted his cap courteously, but he would have passed on in silence, if Anne had not stopped and held out her hand.      "Gilbert," she said, with scarlet cheeks, "I want to thank you for giving up the school for me. It was very good of you--and I want you to know that I appreciate it."      Gilbert took the offered hand eagerly.      "It wasn't particularly good of me at all, Anne. I was pleased to be able to do you some small service. Are we going to be friends after this? Have you really forgiven me my old fault?"      Anne laughed and tried unsuccessfully to withdraw her hand.      "I forgave you that day by the pond landing, although I didn't know it. What a stubborn little goose I was. I’ve« been--I may as well make a complete confession--I've been sorry ever since."      "We are going to be the best of friends," said Gilbert, jubilantly. "We were born to be good friends, Anne. You've thwarted destiny enough. I know we can help each other in many ways. You are going to keep up your studies, aren't you? So am I. Come, I'm going to walk home with you."      Marilla looked curiously at Anne when the latter entered the kitchen.      "Who was that came up the lane with you, Anne?"      "Gilbert Blythe," answered Anne, vexed to find herself blushing. "I met him on Barry's hill."      "I didn't think you and Gilbert Blythe were such good friends that you'd stand for half an hour at the« gate talking to him," said Marilla with a dry smile.      "We haven't been--we've been good enemies. But we have decided that it will be much more sensible to be good friends in the future. Were we really there half an hour? It seemed just a few minutes. But, you see, we have five years' lost conversations to catch up with, Marilla. » « Something about the firm outlines of Anne’s lips told that Mrs. Rachel was not far astray in this estimate. Anne’s heart was bent on forming the Improvement Society. Gilbert Blythe, who was to teach in White Sands but would always be home from Friday night to Monday morning, was enthusiastic about it; and most of the other folks were willing to go in for anything that meant occasional meetings, and consequently some “fun.” As for what the “improvements” were to be, nobody had any very clear idea except Anne and Gilbert. They had talked them over and planned them out until an ideal Avonlea existed in their minds, if nowhere else. » « I could never whip a child,” said Anne with equal decision. “I don’t believe in it at all. Miss Stacy never whipped any of us and she had perfect order; and Mr. Phillips was always whipping and he had no order at all. No, if I can’t get along without whipping I shall not try to teach school. There are better ways of managing. I shall try to win my pupils’ affections and then they will want to do what I tell them.” “But suppose they don’t?” said practical Jane. “I wouldn’t whip them anyhow. I’m sure it wouldn’t do any good. Oh, don’t whip your pupils, Jane, dear, no matter what they do.” “What do you think about it, Gilbert?” demanded Jane. “Don’t you think there are some children who really need a whipping now and then?” “Don’t you think it’s a cruel, barbarous thing to whip a child…any child?” exclaimed Anne, her face flushing with earnestness. “Well,” said Gilbert slowly, torn between his real convictions and his wish to measure up to Anne’s ideal, “there’s something to be said on both sides. I don’t believe in whipping children much. I think, as you say, Anne, that there are better ways of managing as a rule, and that corporal punishment should be a last resort. But on the other hand, as Jane says, I believe there is an occasional child who can’t be influenced in any other way and who, in short, needs a whipping and would be improved by it. Corporal punishment as a last resort is to be my rule.” Gilbert, having tried to please both sides, succeeded, as is usual and eminently right, in pleasing neither. Jane tossed her head. » « Anne gave Gilbert a disappointed glance. “I shall never whip a child,” she repeated firmly. “I feel sure it isn’t either right or necessary.” “Suppose a boy sauced you back when you told him to do something?” said Jane. “I’d keep him in after school and talk kindly and firmly to him,” said Anne. “There is some good in every person if you can find it. It is a teacher’s duty to find and develop it. That is what our School Management professor at Queen’s told us, you know. Do you suppose you could find any good in a child by whipping him? It’s far more important to influence the children aright than it is even to teach them the three R’s, Professor Rennie says.” “But the Inspector examines them in the three R’s, mind you, and he won’t give you a good report if they don’t come up to his standard,” protested Jane. “I’d rather have my pupils love me and look back to me in after years as a real helper than be on the roll of honor,” asserted Anne decidedly. “Wouldn’t you punish children at all, when they misbehaved?” asked Gilbert. “Oh, yes, I suppose I« shall have to, although I know I’ll hate to do it. But you can keep them in at recess or stand them on the floor or give them lines to write.” “I suppose you won’t punish the girls by making them sit with the boys?” said Jane slyly. Gilbert and Anne looked at each other and smiled rather foolishly. Once upon a time, Anne had been made to sit with Gilbert for punishment, and sad and bitter had been the consequences thereof. “Well, time will tell which is the best way,” said Jane philosophically as they parted. » « What is the matter?” asked Gilbert, who had arrived at the open kitchen door just in time to hear the sigh. Anne colored, and thrust her writing out of sight under some school compositions. “Nothing very dreadful. I was just trying to write out some of my thoughts, as Professor Hamilton advised me, but I couldn’t get them to please me. They seem so stiff and foolish directly they’re written down on white paper with black ink. Fancies are like shadows…you can’t cage them, they’re such wayward dancing things. But perhaps I’ll learn the secret some day if I keep on trying. I haven’t a great many spare moments, you know. By the time I finish correcting school exercises and compositions, I don’t always feel like writing any of my own.” “You are getting on splendidly in school, Anne. All the children like you,” said Gilbert, sitting down on the stone step. » « Gilbert had finally made up his mind that he was going to be a doctor. “It’s a splendid profession,” he said enthusiastically. “A fellow has to fight something all through life…didn’t somebody once define man as a fighting animal?…and I want to fight disease and pain and ignorance…which are all members one of another. I want to do my share of honest, real work in the « world, Anne…add a little to the sum of human knowledge that all the good men have been accumulating since it began. The folks who lived before me have done so much for me that I want to show my gratitude by doing something for the folks who will live after me. It seems to me that is the only way a fellow can get square with his obligations to the race.” “I’d like to add some beauty to life,” said Anne dreamily. “I don’t exactly want to make people know more…though I know that is the noblest ambition…but I’d love to make them have a pleasanter time because of me…to have some little joy or happy thought that would never have existed if I hadn’t been born.” “I think you’re fulfilling that ambition every day,” said Gilbert admiringly. And he was right. Anne was one of the children of light by birthright. After she had passed through a life with a smile or a word thrown across it like a gleam of sunshine the owner of that life saw it, for the time being at least, as hopeful and lovely and of good report. Finally« Gilbert rose regretfully. “Well, I must run up to MacPhersons’. Moody Spurgeon came home from Queen’s today for Sunday and he was to bring me out a book Professor Boyd is lending me. » « In the twilight Anne sauntered down to the Dryad’s Bubble and saw Gilbert Blythe coming down through the dusky Haunted Wood. She had a sudden realization that Gilbert was a schoolboy no longer. And how manly he looked—the tall, frank- « faced fellow, with the clear, straightforward eyes and the broad shoulders. Anne thought Gilbert was a very handsome lad, even though he didn’t look at all like her ideal man. She and Diana had long ago decided what kind of a man they admired and their tastes seemed exactly similar. He must be very tall and distinguished-looking, with melancholy, inscrutable eyes, and a melting, sympathetic voice. There was nothing either melancholy or inscrutable in Gilbert’s physiognomy, but of course that didn’t matter in friendship! Gilbert stretched himself out on the ferns beside the Bubble and looked approvingly at Anne. If Gilbert had been asked to describe his ideal woman the description would have answered point for point to Anne, even to those seven tiny freckles whose obnoxious presence still continued to vex her soul. Gilbert was as yet little more than a boy; but a boy has his dreams as have others, and in Gilbert’s future there was always a girl with big, limpid gray eyes, and a face as fine and delicate as a flower. He had made up his mind, also, that his future must be worthy of its goddess. Even in quiet Avonlea there were« temptations to be met and faced. White Sands youth were a rather “fast” set, and Gilbert was popular wherever he went. But he meant to keep himself worthy of Anne’s friendship and perhaps some distant day her love; and he watched over word and thought and deed as jealously as if her clear eyes were to pass in judgment on it. She held over him the unconscious influence that every girl whose ideals are high and pure, wields over her friends; an influence which would endure as long as she was faithful to those ideals and which she would as certainly lose if she were ever false to them. In Gilbert’s eyes Anne’s greatest charm was the fact that she never stooped to the petty practices of so many of the Avonlea girls—the small jealousies, the little deceits and rivalries, the palpable bids for favor. Anne held herself apart « from all this, not consciously or of design, but simply because anything of the sort was utterly foreign to her transparent, impulsive nature, crystal clear in its motives and aspirations. But Gilbert did not attempt to put his thoughts into words, for he had already too good reason to know that Anne would mercilessly and frostily nip all attempts at sentiment in the bud—or laugh at him, which was ten times worse. “You look like a real dryad under that birch tree,” he said teasingly. » « Gilbert Blythe was probably the only person to whom the news of Anne’s resignation brought unmixed pleasure. » « But there’ll be so many clever girls at Redmond,” sighed Diana, “and I’m only a stupid little country girl who says ‘I seen’ sometimes…though I really know better when I stop to think. Well, of course these past two years have really been too pleasant to last. I know somebody who is glad you are going to Redmond, anyhow. Anne, I’m going to ask you a question…a serious question. Don’t be vexed and do answer seriously. Do you care anything for Gilbert?” “Ever so much as a friend and not a bit in the way you mean,” said Anne calmly and decidedly; she also thought she was speaking sincerely. » « Then she locked the door and sat down under the silver poplar to wait for Gilbert, feeling very tired but still unweariedly thinking “long, long thoughts.” “What are you thinking of, Anne?” asked Gilbert, coming down the walk. He had left his horse and buggy out at the road. “Of Miss Lavendar and Mr. Irving,” answered Anne dreamily. “Isn’t it beautiful to think how everything has turned out…how they have come together again after all the years of separation and misunderstanding?” “Yes, it’s beautiful,” said Gilbert, looking steadily down into Anne’s uplifted face, “but wouldn’t it have been more beautiful still, Anne, if there had been no separation or misunderstanding…if they had come hand in hand all the way through life, with no memories behind them but those which belonged to each other?” For a moment Anne’s heart fluttered queerly and for the first time her eyes faltered under Gilbert’s gaze and a rosy flush stained the paleness of her face. It was as if a veil that had hung before her inner consciousness had been lifted, giving to her view a revelation of unsuspected feelings and realities. « Perhaps, after all, romance did not come into one’s life with pomp and blare, like a gay knight riding down; perhaps it crept to one’s side like an old friend through quiet ways; perhaps it  « revealed itself in seeming prose, until some sudden shaft of illumination flung athwart its pages betrayed the rhythm and the music, perhaps…perhaps…love unfolded naturally out of a beautiful friendship, as a golden-hearted rose slipping from its green sheath. Then the veil dropped again; but the Anne who walked up the dark lane was not quite the same Anne who had driven gaily down it the evening before. The page of girlhood had been turned, as by an unseen finger, and the page of womanhood was before her with all its charm and mystery, its pain and gladness. Gilbert wisely said nothing more; but in his silence he read the history of the next four years in the light of Anne’s remembered blush. Four years of earnest, happy work…and then the guerdon of a useful knowledge gained and a sweet heart won. » « They were leaning on the bridge of the old pond, drinking deep of the enchantment of the dusk, just at the spot where Anne had climbed from her sinking Dory on the day Elaine floated down to Camelot. The fine, empurpling dye of sunset still stained the western skies, but the moon was rising and the water lay like a great, silver dream in her light. Remembrance wove a sweet and subtle spell over the two young creatures. "You are very quiet, Anne," said Gilbert at last. "I'm afraid to speak or move for fear all this wonderful beauty will vanish just like a broken silence," breathed Anne. » « Gilbert suddenly laid his hand over the slender white one lying on the rail of the bridge. His hazel eyes deepened into darkness, his still boyish lips opened to say something of the dream and hope that thrilled his soul. But Anne snatched her hand away and turned quickly. The spell of the dusk was broken for her. "I must go home," she exclaimed, with a rather overdone carelessness. "Marilla had a headache this afternoon, and I'm sure the twins will be in some dreadful mischief by this time. I really shouldn't have stayed away so long." She chattered ceaselessly and inconsequently until they reached the Green Gables lane. Poor Gilbert hardly had a chance to get a word in edgewise. Anne felt rather relieved when they parted. There had been a new, secret self-consciousness in her heart with regard to Gilbert, ever since that fleeting moment of revelation in the garden of Echo Lodge. Something alien had intruded into the old, perfect, school-day comradeship -- something that threatened to mar it. "I never felt glad to see Gilbert go before," she thought, half- resentfully, half-sorrowfully, as she walked alone up the lane. "Our friendship will be« spoiled if he goes on with this nonsense. It mustn't be spoiled -- I won't let it. Oh, WHY can't boys be just sensible!" Anne had an uneasy doubt that it was not strictly "sensible" that she should still feel on her hand the warm pressure of Gilbert's, as distinctly as she had felt it for the swift second his had rested there; and still less sensible that the sensation was far from being an unpleasant one -- very different from that which had attended a similar demonstration on Charlie Sloane's part, when she had been sitting out a dance with him at a White Sands party three nights before. Anne shivered over the disagreeable recollection. But all problems connected with infatuated swains vanished from her mind  » « Gilbert Blythe and Charlie Sloane, both trying to keep as near the elusive Anne as possible » « She enjoyed the evening tremendously, but the end of it rather spoiled all. Gilbert again made the mistake of saying something sentimental to her as they ate their supper on the moonlit verandah; and Anne, to punish him, was gracious to Charlie Sloane and allowed the latter to walk home with her. She found, however, that revenge hurts nobody quite so much as the one who tries to inflict it. Gilbert walked airily off with Ruby Gillis, and Anne could hear them laughing and talking gaily as they loitered along in the still, crisp autumn air. They were evidently having the best of good times, while she was horribly bored by Charlie Sloane, who talked unbrokenly on, and never, even by accident, said one thing that was worth listening to. Anne gave an occasional absent "yes" or "no," and thought how beautiful Ruby had looked that night, how very goggly Charlie's eyes were in the moonlight »« worse even than by daylight -- and that the world, somehow, wasn't quite such a nice place as she had believed it to be earlier in the evening. "I'm just tired out -- that is what is the matter with me," she said, when she thankfully found herself alone in her own room. And she honestly believed it was. But a certain little gush of joy, as from some secret, unknown spring, bubbled up in her heart the next evening, when she saw Gilbert striding down through the Haunted Wood and crossing the old log bridge with that firm, quick step of his. So Gilbert was not going to spend this last evening with Ruby Gillis after all! » « They started gaily off. Anne, remembering the unpleasantness of the preceding evening, was very nice to Gilbert; and Gilbert, who was learning wisdom, took care to be nothing save the schoolboy comrade again. Mrs. Lynde and Marilla watched them from the kitchen window. "That'll be a match some day," Mrs. Lynde said approvingly. Marilla winced slightly. In her heart she hoped it would, but it went against her grain to hear the matter spoken of in Mrs. Lynde's gossipy matter-of-fact way. "They're only children yet," she said shortly. Mrs. Lynde laughed good-naturedly. "Anne is eighteen; I was married when I was that age. We old folks, Marilla, are too much given to thinking children never grow up, that's what. Anne is a young woman and Gilbert's a man, and he worships the ground she walks on, as any one can see. He's a fine fellow, and Anne can't do better. I hope she won't get any romantic nonsense into her head at Redmond. I don't approve of them coeducational places and never did, that's what. I don't believe," concluded Mrs. Lynde solemnly, "that the students at such colleges ever do much else than flirt. » « Gilbert and Anne loitered a little behind the others, enjoying the calm, still beauty of the autumn afternoon under the pines of the park, on the road that climbed and twisted round the harbor shore. "The silence here is like a prayer, isn't it?" said Anne, her face upturned to the shining sky. "How I love the pines! They seem to strike their roots deep into the romance of all the ages. It is so comforting to creep away now and then for a good talk with them. I always feel so happy out here." "`And so in mountain solitudes o'ertaken As by some spell divine, Their cares drop from them like the needles shaken From out the gusty pine,'" quoted Gilbert. "They make our little ambitions seem rather petty, don't they, Anne?" "I think, if ever any great sorrow came to me, I would come to the pines for comfort," said Anne dreamily. "I hope no great sorrow ever will come to you, Anne," said Gilbert, who could not connect the idea of sorrow with the vivid, joyous creature beside him, unwitting that those who can soar to the highest heights can also plunge to the deepest depths, and that the natures which enjoy most keenly are those which also suffer most sharply. » « But there must -- sometime," mused Anne. "Life seems like a cup of glory held to my lips just now. But there must be some bitterness in it -- there is in every cup. I shall taste mine some day. Well, I hope I shall be strong and brave to meet it. And I hope it won't be through my own fault that it will come. Do you remember what Dr. Davis said last Sunday evening -- that the sorrows God sent us brought comfort and strength with them, while the sorrows we brought on ourselves, through folly or wickedness, were by far the hardest to bear? But we mustn't talk of sorrow on an afternoon like this. It's meant for the sheer joy of living, isn't it?" "If I had my way I'd shut everything out of your life but happiness and pleasure, Anne," said Gilbert in the tone that meant "danger ahead." "Then you would be very unwise," rejoined Anne hastily. "I'm sure no life can be properly developed and rounded out without some trial and sorrow -- though I suppose it is only when we are pretty comfortable that we admit it. Come -- the others have got to the pavilion[…] » « Gilbert did not love any of them, and he was exceedingly careful to give none of them the advantage over him by any untimely display of his real feelings Anne-ward. To her he had become again the boy-comrade of Avonlea days, and as such could hold his own against any smitten swain who had so far entered the lists against him. As a companion, Anne honestly acknowledged nobody could be so satisfactory as Gilbert; she was very glad, so she told herself, that he had evidently dropped all nonsensical ideas -- though she spent considerable time secretly wondering why. » « Gilbert, to be sure, was still faithful, and waded up to Green Gables every possible evening. But Gilbert's visits were not what they once were. Anne almost dreaded them. It was very disconcerting to look up in the midst of a sudden silence and find Gilbert's hazel eyes fixed upon her with a quite unmistakable expression in their grave depths; and it was still more disconcerting to find herself blushing hotly and uncomfortably under his gaze, just as if -- just as if -- well, it was very embarrassing. Anne wished herself back at Patty's Place, where there was always somebody else about to take the edge off a delicate situation. At Green Gables Marilla went promptly to Mrs. Lynde's domain when Gilbert came and insisted on taking the twins with her. The significance of this was unmistakable and Anne was in a helpless fury over it. » « You mustn't work too HARD," said Anne, without any very clear idea of what she was saying. She wished desperately that Phil would come out. "You've studied very constantly this winter. Isn't this a delightful evening? Do you know, I found a cluster of white violets under that old twisted tree over there today? I felt as if I had discovered a gold mine." "You are always discovering gold mines," said Gilbert -- also absently. "Let us go and see if we can find some more," suggested Anne eagerly. "I'll call Phil and -- " "Never mind Phil and the violets just now, Anne," said Gilbert quietly, taking her hand in a clasp from which she could not free it. "There is something I want to say to you." "Oh, don't say it," cried Anne, pleadingly. "Don't -- PLEASE, Gilbert." "I must. Things can't go on like this any longer. Anne, I love you. You know I do. I -- I can't tell you how much. Will you promise me that some day you'll be my wife?" "I -- I can't," said Anne miserably. "Oh, Gilbert -- you -- you've spoiled everything." "Don't you care for me at all?" Gilbert asked after a very dreadful pause, during« which Anne had not dared to look up. "Not -- not in that way. I do care a great deal for you as a friend. But I don't love you, Gilbert." "But can't you give me some hope that you will -- yet?" "No, I can't," exclaimed Anne desperately. "I never, never can love you -- in that way -- Gilbert. You must never speak of this to me again." There was another pause -- so long and so dreadful that Anne was driven at last to look up. Gilbert's face was white to the lips. And his eyes -- but Anne shuddered and looked away. There was « nothing romantic about this. Must proposals be either grotesque or -- horrible? Could she ever forget Gilbert's face? "Is there anybody else?" he asked at last in a low voice. "No -- no," said Anne eagerly. "I don't care for any one like THAT -- and I LIKE you better than anybody else in the world, Gilbert. And we must -- we must go on being friends, Gilbert." Gilbert gave a bitter little laugh. "Friends! Your friendship can't satisfy me, Anne. I want your love -- and you tell me I can never have that." "I'm sorry. Forgive me, Gilbert," was all Anne could say. Where, oh, where were all the gracious and graceful speeches wherewith, in imagination, she had been wont to dismiss rejected suitors? Gilbert released her hand gently. "There isn't anything to forgive. There have been times when I thought you did care. I've deceived myself, that's all. Goodbye, Anne. » « Phil," pleaded Anne, "please go away and leave me alone for a little while. My world has tumbled into pieces. I want to reconstruct it." "Without any Gilbert in it?" said Phil, going. A world without any Gilbert in it! Anne repeated the words drearily. Would it not be a very lonely, forlorn place? Well, it was all Gilbert's fault. He had spoiled their beautiful comradeship. She must just learn to live without it. » « Life was very pleasant in Avonlea that summer, although Anne, amid all her vacation joys, was haunted by a sense of "something gone which should be there." She would not admit, even in her inmost reflections, that this was caused by Gilbert's absence.  » « Gilbert would never have dreamed of writing a sonnet to her eyebrows. But then, Gilbert could see a joke. She had once told Roy a funny story -- and he had not seen the point of it. She recalled the chummy laugh she and Gilbert had had together over it, and wondered uneasily if life with a man who had no sense of humor might not be somewhat uninteresting in the long run. But who could expect a melancholy, inscrutable hero to see the humorous side of things? It would be flatly unreasonable. » « Fred and Diana drove away through the moonlight to their new home, and Gilbert walked with Anne to Green Gables. Something of their old comradeship had returned during the informal mirth of the evening. Oh, it was nice to be walking over that well-known road with Gilbert again! The night was so very still that one should have been able to hear the whisper of roses in blossom --  « the laughter of daisies -- the piping of grasses -- many sweet sounds, all tangled up together. The beauty of moonlight on familiar fields irradiated the world. "Can't we take a ramble up Lovers' Lane before you go in?" asked Gilbert as they crossed the bridge over the Lake of Shining Waters, in which the moon lay like a great, drowned blossom of gold. Anne assented readily. Lovers' Lane was a veritable path in a fairyland that night -- a shimmering, mysterious place, full of wizardry in the white-woven enchantment of moonlight. There had been a time when such a walk with Gilbert through Lovers' Lane would have been far too dangerous. But Roy and Christine had made it very safe now. Anne found herself thinking a good deal about Christine as she chatted lightly to Gilbert. She had met her several times before leaving Kingsport, and had been charmingly sweet to her. Christine had also been charmingly sweet. Indeed, they were a most cordial pair. But for all that, their acquaintance had not ripened into friendship. Evidently Christine was not a kindred spirit. "Are you going to be in Avonlea all summer?" asked Gilbert. » « It was filled with lilies-of-the-valley, as fresh and fragrant as those which bloomed in the Green Gables yard when June came to Avonlea. Gilbert Blythe's card lay beside it. Anne wondered why Gilbert should have sent her flowers for Convocation. She had seen very little of him during the past winter. » «  On the accompanying card was written, "With all good wishes from your old chum, Gilbert." Anne, laughing over the memory the enamel heart conjured up the fatal day when Gilbert had called her "Carrots" and vainly tried to make his peace with a pink candy heart, had written him a nice little note of thanks. But she had never worn the trinket. Tonight she fastened it about her white throat with a dreamy smile. » « Say, Anne, did you know that Gilbert Blythe is dying?" Anne stood quite silent and motionless, looking at Davy. Her face had gone so white that Marilla thought she was going to faint. "Davy, hold your tongue," said Mrs. Rachel angrily. "Anne, don't look like that -- DON'T LOOK LIKE THAT! We didn't mean to tell you so suddenly." "Is -- it -- true?" asked Anne in a voice that was not hers. "Gilbert is very ill," said Mrs. Lynde gravely. "He took down with typhoid fever just after you left for Echo Lodge. Did you never hear of it?" "No," said that unknown voice. "It was a very bad case from the start. The doctor said he'd been terribly run down. They've a trained nurse and everything's been done. DON'T look like that, Anne. While there's life there's hope." "Mr. Harrison was here this evening and he said they had no hope of him," reiterated Davy. » « Marilla, looking old and worn and tired, got up and marched Davy grimly out of the kitchen. "Oh, DON'T look so, dear," said Mrs. Rachel, putting her kind old arms about the pallid girl. "I haven't given up hope, indeed I haven't. He's got the Blythe constitution in his favor, that's what." Anne gently put Mrs. Lynde's arms away from her, walked blindly across the kitchen, through the hall, up the stairs to her old room. At its window she knelt down, staring out unseeingly. It was very dark. The rain was beating down over the shivering fields. The Haunted Woods was full of the groans of mighty trees wrung in the tempest, and the air throbbed with the thunderous crash of billows on the distant shore. And Gilbert was dying! There is a book of Revelation in every one's life, as there is in the Bible. Anne read hers that bitter night, as she kept her agonized vigil through the hours of storm and darkness. She loved Gilbert -- had always loved him! She knew that now. She knew that she could no more cast him out of her life without agony than she could have cut off her« her right hand and cast it from her. And the knowledge had come too late -- too late even for the bitter solace of being with him at the last. If she had not been so blind -- so foolish -- she would have had the right to go to him now. But he would never know that she loved him -- he would go away from this life thinking that she did not care. Oh, the black years of emptiness stretching before her! She could not live through them -- she could not! She cowered down by her window and wished, for the first time in her gay young life, that she could die, too. If Gilbert went away from her, without one word or sign or message, she could not live. Nothing was of any value without him. She belonged to him and he to her. In her hour of supreme agony she had no doubt of that. He did not love Christine Stuart -- never had loved Christine Stuart. Oh, what a fool she had been not to realize what the bond « was that had held her to Gilbert -- to think that the flattered fancy she had felt for Roy Gardner had been love. And now she must pay for her folly as for a crime. Mrs. Lynde and Marilla crept to her door before they went to bed, shook their heads doubtfully at each other over the silence, and went away. The storm raged all night, but when the dawn came it was spent. Anne saw a fairy fringe of light on the skirts of darkness. Soon the eastern hilltops had a fire-shot ruby rim. The clouds rolled themselves away into great, soft, white masses on the horizon; the sky gleamed blue and silvery. A hush fell over the world. Anne rose from her knees and crept downstairs. The freshness of the rain-wind blew against her white face as she went out into the yard, and cooled her dry, burning eyes. A merry rollicking whistle was lilting up the lane. A moment later Pacifique Buote came in sight. Anne's physical strength suddenly failed her. If she had not clutched at a low willow bough she would have fallen. Pacifique was George Fletcher's hired man, and George Fletcher lived« next door to the Blythes. Mrs. Fletcher was Gilbert's aunt. Pacifique would know if -- if -- Pacifique would know what there was to be known. Pacifique strode sturdily on along the red lane, whistling. He did not see Anne. She made three futile attempts to call him. He was almost past before she succeeded in making her quivering lips call, "Pacifique!" Pacifique turned with a grin and a cheerful good morning. "Pacifique," said Anne faintly, "did you come from George Fletcher's this morning?" "Sure," said Pacifique amiably. "I got de word las' night dat my fader, he was seeck. It was so stormy dat I couldn't go den, so I start vair early dis mornin'. I'm goin' troo de woods for short cut. » « Did you hear how Gilbert Blythe was this morning?" Anne's desperation drove her to the question. Even the worst would be more endurable than this hideous suspense. "He's better," said Pacifique. "He got de turn las' night. De doctor say he'll be all right now dis soon while. Had close shave, dough! Dat boy, he jus' keel himself at college. Well, I mus' hurry. De old man, he'll be in hurry to see me." Pacifique resumed his walk and his whistle. Anne gazed after him with eyes where joy was driving out the strained anguish of the night. He was a very lank, very ragged, very homely youth. But in her sight he was as beautiful as those who bring good tidings on the mountains. Never, as long as she lived, would Anne see Pacifique's brown, round, black-eyed face without a warm remembrance of the moment when he had given to her the oil of joy for mourning. Long after Pacifique's gay whistle had faded into the phantom of music and then into silence far up under the maples of Lover's Lane Anne stood under the willows, tasting the poignant sweetness of life when some great dread has« been removed from it. The morning was a cup filled with mist and glamor. In the corner near her was a rich surprise of new-blown, crystal-dewed roses. The trills and trickles of song from the birds in the big tree above her seemed in perfect accord with her mood. A sentence from a very old, very true, very wonderful Book came to her lips, "Weeping may endure for a night but joy cometh in the morning." XLI Love Takes Up the Glass of Time "I've come up to ask you to go for one of our old-time rambles through September woods and `over hills where spices grow,' this afternoon," said « Gilbert, coming suddenly around the porch corner. "Suppose we visit Hester Gray's garden." Anne, sitting on the stone step with her lap full of a pale, filmy, green stuff, looked up rather blankly. "Oh, I wish I could," she said slowly, "but I really can't, Gilbert. I'm going to Alice Penhallow's wedding this evening, you know. I've got to do something to this dress, and by the time it's finished I'll have to get ready. I'm so sorry. I'd love to go." "Well, can you go tomorrow afternoon, then?" asked Gilbert, apparently not much disappointed. "Yes, I think so. » « Is that the dress you're going to wear tonight?" asked Gilbert, looking down at the fluffs and frills. "Yes. Isn't it pretty? And I shall wear starflowers in my hair. The Haunted Wood is full of them this « summer." Gilbert had a sudden vision of Anne, arrayed in a frilly green gown, with the virginal curves of arms and throat slipping out of it, and white stars shining against the coils of her ruddy hair. The vision made him catch his breath. But he turned lightly away. "Well, I'll be up tomorrow. Hope you'll have a nice time tonight." Anne looked after him as he strode away, and sighed. Gilbert was friendly -- very friendly -- far too friendly. He had come quite often to Green Gables after his recovery, and something of their old comradeship had returned. But Anne no longer found it satisfying. The rose of love made the blossom of friendship pale and scentless by contrast. And Anne had again begun to doubt if Gilbert now felt anything for her but friendship. In the common light of common day her radiant certainty of that rapt morning had faded. She was haunted by a miserable fear that her mistake could never be rectified. It was quite likely that it was Christine whom Gilbert loved after all. Perhaps he was even engaged to her. Anne tried to put all unsettling hopes out of her heart, and reconcile herself« to a future where work and ambition must take the place of love. She could do good, if not noble, work as a teacher; and the success her little sketches were beginning to meet with in certain editorial sanctums augured well for her budding literary dreams. But -- but -- Anne picked up her green dress and sighed again. When Gilbert came the next afternoon he found Anne waiting for him, fresh as the dawn and fair as a star, after all the gaiety of the preceding night. She wore a green dress -- not the one she had worn to the wedding, but an old one which Gilbert had told her at a Redmond reception he liked especially. It was just the shade of green that brought out the rich tints of her hair, and the starry gray of her eyes and the iris-like delicacy of her skin. Gilbert, glanc« ing at her sideways as they walked along a shadowy woodpath, thought she had never looked so lovely. Anne, glancing sideways at Gilbert, now and then, thought how much older he looked since his illness. It was as if he had put boyhood behind him forever. The day was beautiful and the way was beautiful. Anne was almost sorry when they reached Hester Gray's garden, and sat down on the old bench. But it was beautiful there, too -- as beautiful as it had been on the faraway day of the Golden Picnic, when Diana and Jane and Priscilla and she had found it. Then it had been lovely with narcissus and violets; now golden rod had kindled its fairy torches in the corners and asters dotted it bluely. The call of the brook came up through the woods from the valley of birches with all its old allurement; the mellow air was full of the purr of the sea; beyond were fields rimmed by fences bleached silvery gray in the suns of many summers, and long hills scarfed with the shadows of autumnal clouds; with the blowing of the west wind old dreams returned. "I think," said Anne softly« that `the land where dreams come true' is in the blue haze yonder, over that little valley." "Have you any unfulfilled dreams, Anne?" asked Gilbert. Something in his tone -- something she had not heard since that miserable evening in the orchard at Patty's Place -- made Anne's heart beat wildly. But she made answer lightly. "Of course. Everybody has. It wouldn't do for us to have all our dreams fulfilled. We would be as good as dead if we had nothing left to dream about. What a delicious aroma that low-descending sun is extracting from the asters and ferns. I wish we could see perfumes as well as smell them. I'm sure they would be very beautiful." Gilbert was not to be thus sidetracked. « I have a dream," he said slowly. "I persist in dreaming it, although it has often seemed to me that it could never come true. I dream of a home with a hearth-fire in it, a cat and dog, the footsteps of friends -- and YOU!" Anne wanted to speak but she could find no words. Happiness was breaking over her like a wave. It almost frightened her. "I asked you a question over two years ago, Anne. If I ask it again today will you give me a different answer?" Still Anne could not speak. But she lifted her eyes, shining with all the love-rapture of countless generations, and looked into his for a moment. He wanted no other answer. They lingered in the old garden until twilight, sweet as dusk in Eden must have been, crept over it. There was so much to talk over and recall -- things said and done and heard and thought and felt and misunderstood. "I thought you loved Christine Stuart," Anne told him, as reproachfully as if she had not given him every reason to suppose that she loved Roy Gardner. Gilbert laughed boyishly. "Christine was engaged to somebody in her« home town. I knew it and she knew I knew it. When her brother graduated he told me his sister was coming to Kingsport the next winter to take music, and asked me if I would look after her a bit, as she knew no one and would be very lonely. So I did. And then I liked Christine for her own sake. She is one of the nicest girls I've ever known. I knew college gossip credited us with being in love with each other. I didn't care. Nothing mattered much to me for a time there, after you told me you could never love me, Anne. There was nobody else -- there never could be anybody else for me but you. I've loved you ever since that day you broke your slate over my head in school. » « I don't see how you could keep on loving me when I was such a little fool," said Anne. "Well, I tried to stop," said Gilbert frankly, "not because I thought you what you call yourself, but because I felt sure there was no chance for me after Gardner came on the scene. But I couldn't -- and I can't tell you, either, what it's meant to me these two years to believe you were going to marry him, and be told every week by some busybody that your engagement was on the point of being announced. I believed it until one blessed day when I was sitting up after the fever. I got a letter from Phil Gordon -- Phil Blake, rather -- in which she told me there was really nothing between you and Roy, and advised me to `try again.' Well, the doctor was amazed at my rapid recovery after that." Anne laughed -- then shivered. "I can never forget the night I thought you were dying, Gilbert. Oh, I knew -- I KNEW then -- and I thought it was too late." "But it wasn't, sweetheart. Oh, Anne, this makes up for everything, doesn't it? Let's resolve to keep this day« sacred to perfect beauty all our lives for the gift it has given us." "It's the birthday of our happiness," said Anne softly. "I've always loved this old garden of Hester Gray's, and now it will be dearer than ever." "But I'll have to ask you to wait a long time, Anne," said Gilbert sadly. "It will be three years before I'll finish my medical course. And even then there will be no diamond sunbursts and marble halls." Anne laughed. "I don't want sunbursts and marble halls. I just want YOU. You see I'm quite as shameless as Phil about it. Sunbursts and marble halls may be all very well, but there is more `scope for imagination' without them. And as for the waiting, that doesn't matter. We'll just be happy, waiting and working for « each other -- and dreaming. Oh, dreams will be very sweet now." Gilbert drew her close to him and kissed her. Then they walked home together in the dusk, crowned king and queen in the bridal realm of love, along winding paths fringed with the sweetest flowers that ever bloomed, and over haunted meadows where winds of hope and memory blew. » « Gilbert lifted Anne from the buggy and led her into the garden, through the little gate between the ruddy-tipped firs, up the trim, red path to the sandstone step. "Welcome home," he whispered, and hand in hand they stepped over the threshold of their house of dreams. » « Anne, this is Captain Boyd. Captain Boyd, my wife." It was the first time Gilbert had said "my wife" to anybody but Anne, and he narrowly escaped bursting with the pride of it. » Extrait de: L. M. Montgomery. « The Complete Anne of Green. » iBooks. 

[uppastthejelliclemoon]

so, @queencurlycrown suggested that I sit down and watch the 2019 movie all the way through while typing out my thoughts about it, and I thought that was an absolutely BRILLIANT idea (she’s a genius, so I shouldn’t be surprised).

So please, enjoy my (very long) ramblings!

Overture:

- I love how echo-ey the music is. It’s not as strong or intense, but it gets the job done, and gets me excited for the movie.

- Cat shadows are kind of creepy, not gonna lie

- OH SHIT MUNKU MY BOY GET YOUR GIRLFRIEND HONEY!!

- The music getting so intense as soon as Victoria is thrown just gives me chills, honestly. Also, can I fight an old lady? Because I want to fight an old lady.

- I kind of like how all the cats immediately surround the bag as soon as the old lady leaves oH HI CASSANDRA I LOVE YOU QUEEN ...where was I? CORI MY SON I LOVE YOU

- All of them surrounding Victoria and circling her is super intense and wonderful and UGH YAY MUNKU HELP YOUR GIRLFRIEND

Jellicle Songs:

- Hi, I’m in love with Robbie Fairchild

- All of them popping out of random places just makes me feel so immersed in their world and I love it. Also, is Alonzo the one who sings “can you say of your bite that it’s worse than your bark?”

- PLATO SOCRATES I LOVE YOU BOYS

- Jfc Cori stop flirting with Victoria and give mISTO HIS HAT BACK also you’re an absolute dumbass and I absolutely adore you, you little baby boy

- Misto adjusting his hat with his tail? I’m in love. But also, the way that the music picks up makes it such a bop, and it really starts to get you into the movie.

- Gosh, Tantomile, how do you keep track of the braincell? Because Cori most definitely does not have it.

- Misto, you absolute fucking DORK that face during “Were you Whittington’s friend” GETS ME and Cassandra is just so unimpressed. They have such sibling energy.

- Syllabub, honey, please get out of the toilet.

- Okay, I’m honestly getting sibling vibes from Plato, Socrates, and Coricopat, so that’s my new headcanon for those three, plus Tantomile. Plato and Socrates are Cori and Tanto’s big brothers.

- Gosh, if any Munkustrap smiled at me like that I’d follow him into an alley too.

- Misto, HOW DID YOU GET CAUGHT ON A CLOTHESLINE??

-  Cori, your HIPS. And, going off of the choreography, I actually really enjoy it? It’s very modern, and while it’s nothing like the Broadway choreo, I think it definitely gives the movie its own feel while still staying true to the original vibes.

- Gosh, I love how the sign changes from Moriarty to Macavity. Also, please Mr. Macavity sir. Keep your coat and hat on. You look much better.

-  Ugh, I love all the looks that Munku and Victoria share. And how he’s guiding her around and keeping her close? Excuse me while I cry.

- WHO SAYS “ORATORICAL CATS” BECAUSE I LOVE HIM? Also, Misto, pls, calm down. I know you’re already in love, but you’ve just met the queen. JERRIE PUT THAT BOX DOWN

- CORI JUMPED ONTO PLATO/SOCRATES’ BACK THEY’RE BROTHERS OKAY?? (sorry, this entire one song turned into “liv’s in love with coricopat”)

- “a-and magical cats!” oh sweetheart...

- Francesca’s dancing is just stunning. She did an amazing job as Victoria, and I will fight for her honor.

- OOF the way it just trails off just as Victoria’s getting into the song and how everyone runs off and she’s just standing there confused. It’s perfection.

- Macavity with the hat and coat is just so much better than nakey Macavity. But the way he obviously tries to hypnotize Victoria is so well-done. 

Naming of Cats/Victoria’s Dance:

- Cassandra and Demeter are girlfriends. I don’t make the rules.

- Still not 100% on their characters and their reactions to Victoria, but I do appreciate some protective ladies. Them hissing at Misto gives me more “We don’t know her, so you can’t talk to her just yet, so let the big sisters do the talking” vibes.

- Hi, I love Robbie Fairchild

- The different cats saying the different names, the setting being a graveyard, the very faint soundtrack in the back, it’s all just so creepy and I love it.

- I still hate that they skipped talking about the second part of the First Name, and the Second Name. It still doesn’t make sense, and I wish they had kept it because MUNKU DESERVES TO SAY HIS NAME DAMMIT (it would also give cats like Plato, Jelly, Cori and Demeter a chance to introduce themselves as well)

- HOOO BOY THAT TENSION BETWEEN MUNKU AND VICTORIA WOW THEY’RE ALREADY IN LOVE (also I’m just picturing Misto freaking out about the pretty cats)

- It’s almost as if Munku is teaching Victoria how to truly feel like a Jellicle/dance, as if she’s never danced before.

Invitation to the Jellicle Ball:

- oh... oh my poor anxious boy... (laurie I love you)

- Misto: *is anxious* JUGGLING TIME BABEY

- Munkustrap be like: *internally panicking at how adorable Misto is*

- Munku you smooth bastard. He lifts Tori so easily.

- The expressions, and the CGI of the ears and tails just makes everything 10 times better.

The Gumbie Cat:

- Oh... oh god here we go.

- Robbie’s voice is angelic, I love him, and he’s the only good part of this entire cursed scene.

- I hate Rebeldots. I’m sorry, but I do. I don’t enjoy anything about her. It’s just... awful. WHY THE CROTCH SCRATCHING??? JUST STOP PLEASE

- WHY THE CGI MOUSE CHILDREN PLEASE NO

- Munku leaning over the rocking chair with his arms crossed? Baby boy...

- These expressions are absolute gold, though. Everyone is absolutely terrified and confused. 

- Plato and Socrates are helpful boys, and are just happy to be there.

- WHY THE CGI COCKROACHES STOP IT

- DON’T UNZIP YOUR SKIN PLEASE

- Misto helping out the cockroaches? Also baby boy...

The Rum Tum Tugger:

- MY BOY I LOVE YOU VERY MUCH!! I really love Derulo Tugger and the rebellious teen-vibes he gives off. 

- LOOK AT HIM COMPLIMENTING THE MICE!!! WHAT A RESPECTFUL BOY!

- Munkustrap just. adopting all the cockroaches. I can’t with him sometimes. He’s just such a dad to everybody.

- I can’t believe I didn’t realize that Misto and Tugger are ex-boyfriends when I first watched this movie. It’s so obvious now.

- Plato, Socrates, and Tugger are BFFs. They even have matching necklaces. Someone come and collect these dorks please because oh my god I love them. 

- Rebeldots, please take your nasty “funny” comments and leave. They’re so uncalled for, and it really makes the scene kind of uncomfortable. Especially when she LOOKS DOWN AT MUNKU. But his expressions are the best part, so that’s all I pay attention to. 

- Ugh, I really love Jason’s voice during this whole song. This entire song just made me fall in love with him as Tugger, and his dancing and just how he portrays Tugger is amazing. 

- Wow, I love Cassandra. So much. I would die for her. 

- The way he sings “Victoria”? AMAZING (but that whole foot thing is just kind of weird so yeah)

- I know people have their feelings about his accent, but I find it totally adorable and I think he does a really good job of maintaining it throughout the song, except for a few moments. 

- Misto is ready to magic the hell out of Tugger at the end. Pls leave your ex-boyfriend alone and figure out your feelings, sweetie, before you do anything rash.

Grizabella the Glamour Cat:

- I really feel like Grizabella is Cassandra’s mother. That’s honestly the feeling I get, or she has to be a sister of some sort. The contempt that Cassandra sings with is just too intense. 

- Okay, unpopular opinion time: I wasn’t completely blown away by Jennifer as Grizabella. She was really good, but I just didn’t get the “wow” factor that I got from watching Elaine for the first time, or hearing Mamie singing “Memory” for the first time. I feel the same way about her Grizabella that I felt about Leona’s Grizabella. She’s good, but now insanely good.

- Demeter is protective of her girlfriend and stands with her against her mother/sister. 

- Plato/Socrates (I’m still not sure which one is which) standing in front of Victoria just makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. They’re already so protective of her!!

- MUNKU AND MISTO ON EITHER ISDE OF VICTORIA!! I’M SOFT!!

- Why did we need another plothole about Grizabella’s past with Macavity? We didn’t need that!!

Bustopher Jones:

- Oh god, here we go again.

- Listen, I don’t hate Bustopher Corden’s voice. He has a good voice, I just really don’t enjoy his portrayal of Bustopher. He’s just a fat joke like Rebeldots, and I hate that. 

- Plato and Socrates have giant hats on, and they’re just sweet baby boys, okay?

- Cori!!! I love you!!! You’re so curious!!

- Misto’s so enamored with Tori. Honey, just tone it down a tiny bit, please.

- The entire “jumping onto the piece of wood” part is kind of cringey. The “gather up a few more of the... cats” line seems like it was a blooper/mistake they left in, because it almost seems like he forgot his line for a moment and they just didn’t catch it before sending the movie out. 

- Munku: *has his arms around Misto to help lift Bustopher* “don’tpanicdon’tpanicdon’tpanic”

- Mistoffelees, feeling Munku’s arms around him: “fuckfuckfuckfuck he’s really strong someone help pls”

- Demeter during this song is me. Confused, a little disgusted, and would rather be with Tugger and Cassandra during the song. 

- Just saying, Bustopher Jones would NEVER dig through trash. He’s a high-society cat, and only eats the best. 

Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer:

- Hoooo boy those accents. And the music in the background just is everything.

- Jerrie, you’re an absolute devil, and I’d die for you. Teazer, you’re just an angel and a cheeky sweetheart.

- I do love this version. I think it’s really cool, it has a really fun sound to it, and I’m glad that they went back to the original London recording. I do prefer the Broadway version, though, but I’m not angry at this version. It’s really cool, and the feel of the song gives you old-time crime-heist vibes. 

- Jerrie being gentler with Teazer than he is with Tori? What a good brother. 

- This song is basically just “Which twin can seduce the pretty cat the fastest”

- “Hello police officer! Bought these for her myself.” “You did what?” “Wait-” YOU HIMBO JERRIE I LOVE YOU

-  2019 Jerrie and Teazer are very chaotic, and a bit darker than the other twins we know, but I really do love their portrayals in this movie.

- Oh... oh no... I’m having flashbacks to my short. Now I’m crying over Misto again. Why did I kill Misto? (because I can, that’s why)

- Growltiger’s just kind of meh, and I guess he’s kind of a cool addition, but it’s just eh.

- Misto covering for Victoria when they get to the theater just makes me so soft, and Munku’s just kind in awe but also just like “what is happening with the pretty cats?”

Old Deuteronomy:

- Munku is such a sweet boy and he’s just the best son!! He loves his mom!!

- SKIMBLE!!!! WITH HIS TAP SHOES!!!!

- CORI YOU’RE AN ANGEL (this has also just turned into “liv is looking for any appearance by Cori”)

- I love this song just for the interactions that they all have with each other and with Old D. The way that they all look so happy and excited to see her is just so cute!!

- MUNKU’S FACE MAKES ME WANT TO CRY HE’S SUCH A SWEET BOY!!

- I think Judi Dench is a fine Old Deuteronomy, but part of me thinks that the main reason she was brought in for the movie is because she never got her shot to be in Cats, as she had the injury that then caused Elaine Paige to be brought in, so when they were trying to figure out the cast, she was probably one of the first ones to pop into their heads. (nothing against her or her portrayal of Old D. Just a thought.)

The Jellicle Ball:

- Skimble and Munku helping Old D into the theater is probably the sweetest thing ever. They’re Very Responsible Boys who Respect everyone.

- I love Gus very much.

- “Jellicles jump like a jumping jack” their little hop!!! What a mom and son!!

- I do like the chanting that they all do, but there’s just something about everyone having their moment, and their own delivery of a line that’s just so great about this scene on stage, and that’s really something I wish they had kept in the movie. 

- I actually really like the idea that their dancing is influenced by the moon. The way they all react to the moonlight, and how Victoria is at first confused as to why she’s also reacting how they are before accepting it and dancing with them just shows how important this night is to them. It also goes with the title of Act 1, “When Cats are Maddened by the Midnight Dance”, and this scene definitely makes you feel like they’re all just being controlled by the moon. Also, Grizabella dancing along with them in the corner is absolutely heartbreaking.

- Skimble... and Munku... they’re husbands... they’re doing a mating dance... fight me...

- The way that Grizabella kind of perks up curiously during the couples portion of the dance makes me think that she probably raised Mistoffelees, at least for a little bit. He arrived at the theater young, and Grizabella already had Cassandra, so she raised the two of them together, so she’s now seeing her boy dancing with a pretty queen and now I’m sad over Grizabella again.

- TUGGER YOU RESPECTFUL BOY YOU’RE WONDERFUL

- CORI YOU’RE AN ABSOLUTE ANGEL AND WE’RE ALLL HAPPY TO HAVE YOU HERE BECAUSE YOU DESERVE EVERYTHING GOOD IN THIS WORLD

- I can’t remember who made the post about this Ball being Cori’s first, but I absolutely see it now, because everyone’s so excited and happy to just watch him dance, and he’s so hopeful, and Old D’s just so proud of him, and oh my god my heart can’t take this I love him. 

- PROTECTOR CASS AND PROTECTOR DEMETER!!!! ALSO Protectors Plato and Socrates who won’t let anyone interrupt their little brother’s dance!!!

- I love Les Twins as Plato and Socrates, and their dancing is absolutely insane. 

- You can definitely tell that, during Victoria’s solo, Francesca had pointe shoes on, but they did a good job at blending everything together and not making it seem jarring or out of place!

- ROBBIE I LOVE YOU

- Again, the whole thing about them being controlled by the moon to an extent is really interesting, and I love how they played that part of being so overcome by the moon’s power that they just can’t help themselves. 

- I really love that they incorporated the Victoria lift from the stage production into the movie.

- I also really like that Victoria gets very overwhelmed and needs to step back from everything. Because everyone else knows what’s happening. They understand. This is her first night as a Jellicle, so everything is new and unfamiliar to her. of course, the strange power of the moon would scare her slightly. 

Memory:

- I do like how Jennifer sings “Memory”, but I just wish that she would hold out the notes for longer. It’s very choppy, and you don’t really get to immerse yourself into the emotion like you can with Elaine or Mamie’s version. 

- She does an excellent job at conveying the feeling of pain and longing that Grizabella has, as well as the pride that comes back for just a few moments at points in the song. 

- I also really like her appearance, but at the same time, I think she looks too clean. On stage, Grizabella is haggard, torn, and scarred. Her fur is matted, she’s limping, and her makeup is smeared around. Jennifer’s Grizabella looks too clean to have been on the streets and abandoned for a while. 

Beautiful Ghosts/Moments of Happiness:

- “Beautiful Ghosts” is a lovely song. It really is. it’s actually one of my favorites, but it just does not fit in with the movie at all. But something that I’ve actually just realized while watching this is that this song represents Victoria. It doesn’t fit in with the rest of the music, just like Victoria feels she doesn’t fit in with the rest of the Jellicles.

- But ignoring symbolism and all that stuff, I really don’t think this song works. As beautiful as it is, I just feel like it puts the brakes on and slows the movie. Especially with the stark contrast in style. 

- Judi Dench is a wonderful Old Deuteronomy. The confusion, but slight acceptance on her face really shows how much she wants to help Grizabella, but she can’t. 

Gus the Theater Cat:

- I love how Misto fanboys over Gus. He’s just so excited to meet his idol, and Gus just smiles and indulges him. I love how MIsto kind of copies Gus’ good luck motions. He’s just such a sweetheart. 

- There is some kind of history between Gus and Old D. The looks that they give each other are... something else. 

- oh my GOD CORI YOU’RE JUST A SWEET BABY!!!!

- The trio of kittens looks so ashamed and sad and I just want to snuggle the three of them because they deserve all the love in the world. 

- Misto being very helpful during the song is adorable, and he just wants to do his best!!

- Ian McKellan is an icon and he must be protected. 

- ALSO SKIMBLE WITH HIS TAP SHOES IN THE BACKGROUND!!!

Skimbleshanks the Railway Cat:

- “Hey Liv, do you ship skimblestraps or mistoriastraps?” “Yes”

- Munku loves his husband!!!!

- *shoves jerrie and teazer away* “move, fours, an eleven is arriving soon”

- I LOVE the excitement in this number. You can just feel how much fun everyone is having, and I sweat, every time I listen to this or watch it, I can’t stop smiling. 

- Skimble, we get it, you’re a smooth, suave boy.

- TAPPING!!! The entire beginning portion of the tap sequence is just so satisfying, and as he picks it up and it gets faster, I’m just in absolute awe of Steve McRae. 

- SIR YOU DO NOT HAVE TO MOVE YOUR SHOULDERS LIKE THAT JFC

- Plato and Socrates are really just happy to be included and I love them. 

- Munku and Skimble doing their little toe tap makes me very soft and I love those boys. 

- Steve McRae doing the spin by himself while being lifted into the air? Iconic.

Macavity:

- Okay, Taylor Swift as Bomba was really underwhelming. I knew going in that it wasn’t going to be the same, but I really just did not enjoy her Bomba at all. It’s more helpful to see her as a different character, especially since they never say her name, but still, it’s just a bit annoying that they changed her character so much.

- As Bomba’s coming down, Tugger has his hand on Munkustrap’s back while they’re all looking up. Just something I thought I’d point out. 

- I will say, the entire catnip sequence is really something else to watch. Especially Munku with a martini glass.

- Bomba and Teazer are girlfriends. That’s what I’m getting, and that’s what I’m sticking with. 

- PROTECTIVE CASS!!!!! I LOVE PROTECTIVE CASS

- EWWWW NAKEY MACAVITY NO THANK YOU BYE BYE

- I really don’t like the whole “henchcat Bomba” storyline, but I guess it works in some way?

- “We didn’t know he was gonna take Old Deut!” NO you’re not supposed to be baby! Also, GO PROTECTIVE ALONZO!!!! GOOD BOY!!!

- I do miss the Macavity/Munkustrap fight, absolutely, but I really love Skimble just. aggressively tap-dancing to take down Growltiger. 

Mr. Mistoffelees:

- I really have mixed feelings about this entire song. On one hand, I like Munkustrap singing to Misto, and everyone encouraging him, but on the other hand, I really don’t like the very uncertain and awkward Misto. However, he’s still baby, so that’s all that matters.

- Munku: “how do I make this cat fall in love with me” *gently tilts the chin of every cat he meets* “perfect”

- I love Robbie’s sweet, angelic voice so much. 

- Munku’s very confused expression throughout the song is just absolutely hilarious for some reason, and I love how done Cass looks the entire time. 

- The small moments with Tugger watching, and Tugger singing int he background just makes me really happy, and again gives off the energy that Misto and Tugger are ex-boyfriends. 

- But I really love the little Mistoria moment at the very end, when they’re dancing together. It’s just so sweet. 

- This version of the song definitely has not grown on me, and I definitely don’t enjoy it as much as the other songs, but it’s still pretty fun to listen to. 

- MUNK DANCING WITH OLD D!!!!!

- Skimble snuggling Gus. That’s all that matters.

Memory (Reprise)/Beautiful Ghosts (Reprise):

- I definitely enjoy the second version more than the first, but it still doesn’t have that same impact. She does an amazing job, but there’s just something about her version of the song that I just can't connect with it as much. 

- Munku crying is NOT okay and he needs a cuddle immediately. 

- I think it’s the fact that Grizabella didn’t approach the Jellicles that gets me. It was Victoria who brought Grizabella in, Victoria who told Grizabella to sing. It kind of wasn’t really Grizabella’s choice to compete. 

- She doesn’t hold the notes out for very long, just like with the first version, so that definitely takes something away from the performance of the song. 

- I do love how she sings lines, like “I must think of a new life”. I made a post about this, but she just spits those words out, and you can feel her anger and feel how tired and done she is with everything.

- The “touch me” line was really powerful, though, and I definitely got chills at that part. 

- The look that Grizabellla gives Cass right before the song ends, in that small pause, really hints that they have some kind of connection, and I really get the feeling that Grizabella is Cass’ mother. 

- I really don’t like that there was a reprise of “Beautiful Ghosts”. I think they should have just let Grizabella have her final big moment, and they really didn’t need that reprise. It was unnecessary and took away from the impact of “Memory”.

Journey to the Heaviside Layer/Ad-dressing of Cats:

- Of course, we all know the massive plothole with what happened to the other contestants, so I’m not even going to get into that. 

- THE MISTORIA NUZZLE

- MUNKU CRADLING GRIZABELLA’S HAND!!!! I’M SO SOFT!!!

- Misto lighting the candles and just being a confident boy with his magic. I’m so proud of my anxious baby boy. 

- I really love the setup of the final shot at the end of “Journey to the Heaviside Layer”, how there’s the chorus cats on the street level, the named/recognizable/secondary cats on the pedestal, and then the four main cats sitting on top of the lion. 

- MISTO AND MUNKU’S EXPRESSIONS DURING AD-DRESSING OF CATS ARE JUST THE ABSOLUTE BEST AND THEY’RE JUST SWEETHEARTS!!!!

- The two of them running off together right at the end, and being just so playful with each other... angels...

- Victoria and Old D having their sweet little moment together while watching Grizabella go to the Heaviside Layer is a really sweet scene, and I think a really good end to the movie. 

alright, there you have it! my 1:30 am ramblings and thoughts about the 2019 movie, bring it back around once again!!

I’ve been wanting to do a more in-depth look at my own thoughts about it since it came out, but I haven’t had the chance, but @queencurlycrown and I were talking, and she mentioned this idea to me, and I knew I had to do it. 

so yeah!!

i will have some sleep now because it is late

[radientwings]

Of New Beginnings (Elriel Fluff)

Inspired by two prompts from the wonderful @julesherondalex​ and @queen-archeron: they both wanted to see a version of Azriel returning injured from a mission to a very worried Elain. Went a bit more fluffy with this one than planned, but hope you both like it!

Elain was used to being left behind while the other members of the Inner Circle went off on missions or into battle. Elain was no warrior; this was well known among them all. Oh, she’d had some training; she was a part of the High Lord and Lady’s family, after all. Some fight training was essential when so much of the world wanted your immediate family dead; or worse, captured.

Azriel had ensured she knew enough self-defense to get by, that she knew how to handle a blade as well as she was able when she really had no talent for it. That didn’t mean they wanted her anywhere near sanctioned missions, however. Especially as her powers were already coveted by their enemies.

So Elain waiting in Velaris was nothing unusual. She served her Court and its leaders better there, ensuring that all her visions were taken down and recorded for interpretation later. Ensuring that her life and her power remained safe.

Still, she worried. She worried a lot. How could she not? Her friends and family put themselves at risk – mortal risk – all the time. Elain hated that she herself was too weak to contribute in that way; it was a constant point of contention for her. On the one hand, she knew her presence would likely only be a distraction to them, would be more liable to get them killed. On the other… well, her fae instincts screamed at her to protect what was hers. 

Today’s mission in particular gnawed at her stomach. Azriel and Cassian had left that morning, intent on subduing some rogue Illyrian war-bands, while the rest of the Inner Circle were off on a diplomatic mission in the human realms. Elain had been left to watch Velaris; to keep the city running smoothly in their absence. An honor, to be sure, but an empty one.

Even the mountains and mountains of paperwork her sister and brother-in-law had left her weren’t enough to distract her from her worry. She wasn’t too concerned about the meetings in the human realms; it wouldn’t be the first time they’d had peace talks there and, while they were never exactly smooth, they very rarely ended in violence.

The Illyrians, however, that was especially worrying. She knew most would have absolutely no compunction about hurting either Azriel or Cassian; two bastard-born Illyrians most considered unworthy of their wings.

Cauldron, Elain hated that they had to go off on their own.

It was made a thousand times worse when a vision suddenly blind-sided her, hammered its way into her head. Elain fell to the floor with the sheer force of it, with the way it overwhelmed her every thought, screaming at her.

She catalogued each image as they flashed across her eyes.

Cassian. Azriel. The Illyrian camps. A group of captured females. An ambush lying in wait. Azriel setting off a trap when he tried to free the females.

An arrow shot from the trees, meeting its target with horrific accuracy.

Blood. Blood everywhere as a winged body was shot down from the sky, the arrow stuck in a broad chest, too close to the heart. Far too close to the heart.

Azriel again. His broken body splayed on the forest floor.

Blood. Blood everywhere.

Elain came to with a terrified gasp. Azriel was in danger.

By the mother, no, Elain thought desperately.

She forced herself to her feet despite the residual dizziness from her visions. She needed to find a way to stop it. Azriel… he couldn’t be hurt like that. He couldn’t die like that. 

Not on her watch. She wouldn’t let him. She wouldn’t.

But how to stop it? He was all the way in the Steppes and Elain had never developed the power to winnow. She cursed under her breath, uncharacteristic of her but Elain hardly cared at that moment, not with the utter futility of it all staring her down.

She couldn’t give into the panic that was threatening to take her over though, not now when she needed to be able to think, to find a solution.

And then it clicked, so obvious she’d nearly overlooked it. But then, she supposed that was Nuala and Cerridwen’s purpose: to be forgetful, to be overlooked. They were sure to have some way to get in contact with Azriel, however; they were some of his most trusted spies, after all.

Elain found herself running down to the kitchen, hoping to find one of her friends there. As luck would have it, she practically crashed into Nuala, who was just exiting the kitchen upon her arrival.

“Azriel’s in danger,” Elain immediately blurted, barely sparing the time to right herself. “I’ve seen it.”

Nuala, for her part, didn’t make the mistake of not believing Elain, instead asking for every little detail. As soon as Elain was done talking, the so-called lesser faerie disappeared into shadow like she was borne from it. 

The next ten minutes were probably the longest of Elain’s entire life, mortal and immortal. Her entire stomach churned with worry, anxiety eating away at her. The vision played over and over again in her mind, plaguing her thoughts. 

Cauldron, what if Nuala couldn’t get to Azriel in time? What if she did but the vision’s events happened anyways?

What if… what if Azriel’s injuries would be fatal? 

Sweet mother, Elain could barely bear the mere thought of that, let alone the reality. Please, she prayed to whatever deity might listen, please let him live. Let him live. 

Finally, finally, Nuala returned, saying only that Azriel and Cassian had been warned, and that all they could do now was wait for them. She tried to distract Elain in the meantime, coaxing her into the very same kitchen that had brought her so much comfort in the first months of her immortal life. But Elain could not be swayed away from her thoughts of Azriel. 

(A part of her felt guilty for that. Guilty because Azriel wasn’t the only one on this mission; Cassian was too. Cassian, who had welcomed her into his family with open arms and a huge smile. Cassian, who had become a brother to her. But still, it was the quieter of the two Illyrians that stayed on Elain’s mind.)

(Azriel… Stars, Azriel. Elain sometimes felt that words weren’t enough to describe him. He might live this immortal life in shadow, but the world would truly be a darker place without him in it.)

Hours later, Elain heard the telltale sound of two huge Illyrian males landing on the rooftop. She abandoned the work she’d been trying to distract herself with, running up the stairs and outside with all the speed she could muster.

The sight of Azriel standing there – alive – sent her heart racing with sheer relief. She found herself sprinting towards him, uncaring of the impropriety of it all.

“Azriel!” she exclaimed, flinging her arms around his neck, burying her head into his crook of his shoulder. He smelled of sweat and blood and war but it was still Azriel. Her Azriel, her best friend in this life. “You’re alive,” she whispered. “Thank the Cauldron.”

He hugged her back readily, arms banding around her waist with such strength that she should have felt crushed by him. But she didn’t. Couldn’t. Because this was Azriel.

“Yes, I am,” he replied, lips pressed against the top of her head as he spoke. “Thanks to you. Smart of you to find Nuala to bring me the message.”

Elain pulled back from him then, shocked to find that she’d shed a few tears in her relief. She wiped them away, pulled herself together. “Yes, well,” she said, unsure of what else she could possibly say to that, unused to taking compliments.

She allowed herself a brief moment to drink him in, however, standing there in front of her and not laying slain like he had in her vision. He was standing. Thank the mother and the Cauldron and all those holy things.

And then, suddenly, without warning, anger rushed through her. It was the anger of extreme worry, red-hot and all-consuming. Irrational. But she couldn’t help it.

“I wouldn’t have had to do any of that if you been more careful!” Elain found herself saying, voice rising. “How could you be so reckless?”

Azriel’s brows furrowed. “Reckless? There were innocents in danger, Elain.”

“I know that. It doesn’t mean you should plan to sacrifice yourself just like that!” She poked him in the chest with a single finger, hard. 

He rubbed at the spot, looking at her with confusion. “If not me, then who?” he asked, as if that was an acceptable response.

(It wasn’t. Never would be, in Elain’s eyes. Nothing was worth Azriel’s sacrifice. Nothing. Not even her own soul.)

“I don’t know! I don’t. But you could have planned it better, you could have made sure you didn’t lose your life when it could have been avoided.” 

He tapped her temple lightly, fingers warm against her skin. “That’s what I have you for,” Azriel finally said with a small smile, obviously trying to lighten the mood. 

Elain slumped a little, anger giving way to the fear that had caused it in the first place. “But what if I hadn’t seen? What if– What if I hadn’t been able to get you the message?” What if you had died anyways?

Azriel dropped his hand to take hers. “Elain. I’m fine. I swear it. It’s just a scratch.”

Her eyes widened. “A scratch? What? Where?”

He gestured to his right leg, where there was a deep cut in the meat of his thigh, blood disguised by the darkness of his Illyrian leathers; it looked like an arrow wound. Elain’s anger immediately turned inwards; how hadn’t she noticed that? Her fingers fluttered over the injury, like she wanted to heal it with a simple touch. She stopped herself just in time from actually making contact though; Cauldron, what if she hurt him more?

Elain looked back at Azriel, finding his eyes already on her, dark with something she didn’t recognize. (When did he get so close?) 

“You’re hurt,” she whispered, voice tremulous. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize… I can’t believe just ran at you.” Stupid, stupid Elain.

But Azriel shook his head, suppressing a smile, eyes full of incredible fondness. “It’ll heal. And I liked the greeting.”

A flush rose on Elain’s cheeks. She looked down at their linked hands, played idly with Azriel’s fingers. “I wish… I wish you wouldn’t get hurt all the time. I know it’s for a good cause, I know it’s for a purpose, but I– I can’t–” she trailed off, words choking her.

Azriel went completely still in front of her, like he was holding his breath. “You can’t what?” 

She flicked her eyes back up to his hazel ones; the very same that always seemed to be able to see through to her soul. 

“I can’t stand to see you hurt,” she admitted. It was more than just that, she knew. But she wasn’t quite ready to say the rest out loud. Not yet. 

“Elain,” he said, like her name held all the answers in the world.

“Azriel, I–” she shook her head suddenly; mother, but where were the words? In lieu of something to say, Elain found herself lifting his scarred hand, pressing a kiss to his palm. She peered up at him shyly, found that he looked shocked, this tips of ears slightly red. “Please. Just be more careful? I– There are people here who care about you.” 

He seemed to consider something, watching her with an inscrutable expression. “Like you?”

Elain couldn’t deny it. Didn’t want to. “Yes, like me.”

A smile, small but utterly beautiful. “In that case… can I try something?”

The deep gruffness of Azriel’s voice sent a shiver through Elain’s spine, his closeness making her heart flutter almost uncomfortably. Yet Azriel tugged her closer, his free hand coming up to frame her face, to tilt it upwards. She nodded then, words caught in her throat.

And then he kissed her, surprising her utterly. It was no soft, chaste thing either, like she might have expected from him. No, this was full of burning passion, as red-hot as her anger had been earlier. It was the kind of kiss that forced gasps out of her, that left her breathless. A clash of tongues and teeth and pure want.

When he tried to pull back – probably to bring sense back to them – Elain pushed herself to her tiptoes, chased his lips with hers. She tightened the fingers she had in his hair (how did that happen?), not allowing him any further from her. That was clearly enough encouragement for Azriel, who wrapped her tighter in his embrace, surrounding her completely.

Elain loved it. Couldn’t get enough. Her body sung for more, her mind hazy with it. And her heart. Well, her heart was full to the brim of a feeling she didn’t want to name just yet.

And then, like a splash of ice-cold water, Cassian’s voice interrupted them. “Alright, lovers, as much as I’m happy for you both – especially for Az here, who really needs to loosen up – he does still need to see the healers,” he said loudly, clearly laughing at them.

Elain flew back from Azriel, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Stars, she’d completely forgotten that Cassian was right too, hovering at the edge of her vision.

Even worse, she’d forgotten that Azriel was still wounded.

She eyed his injury now, safely a few steps away from. “I’m so sorry,” she babbled, “I didn’t hurt you more, did I?”

Azriel still wore that small smile of his, full of delighted fondness. He was probably a bit delirious from all the blood loss, she thought. Cauldron, but Elain could be so stupid.

But Azriel stopped that path of thought before it could get too far, shouldering past Cassian to get closer to her again.

Elain looked up at him, wide-eyed, suddenly overwhelmed by him, how big he was next to her. He reached out to tuck some loose hair behind her ear, cupping her cheek gently. The softness of his actions sent her heart aflutter, made her feel even more flushed than when he had been kissing her.

“I’ll be more careful,” he promised. He leaned in once more, pressed his lips against her forehead briefly, an indescribably sweet gesture. His voice was low, a whisper only for her ears. “Especially if I have you waiting for me.”

With that, he grinned at her – a full, wide grin – and pulled away, heading back to where Cassian was watching them both with a knowing smirk. 

“Not a word,” Azriel commanded of his brother.

Cassian’s smirk only widened. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Your face says it all,” Azriel grumbled, protesting as Cassian pulled one of his arms over his shoulders.

“I’ll bring him back in good health,” Cassian called back to Elain, that wolf’s grin still in place. “Can’t have him sweeping you off your feet with an injured leg, now can we?”

Elain spluttered, wanting to say something about not being swept anywhere, but Cassian never gave her the chance, only winking before he forced Azriel to walk away, leading him to the healer’s. 

It took Elain a long, long moment to gather herself and go back inside. And even when she did, she was sure her face looked like it was on fire. But, for once, she found she couldn’t care much about her embarrassment, not with how her cheeks hurt from all the smiling. Besides, her thoughts were more caught up on what might have happened if Cassian hadn’t been there… if Azriel hadn’t been injured at all.

Well. Maybe next time. Maybe they’d have a hundred more opportunities. Maybe a thousand more.

Elain certainly hoped so.

Tagging @rosehallshadowsinger, @ben-roll-io, @poisonous00, @alicethelonerabbit @charmed908 and @flxwer-petals

Message me if you want to be added to the tag list! If you want to read more of my elriel stuff you can do that here or on my AO3.

[rhysanoodle]

Into the Light

A/N: In which Elain has two mates, Lucien and Azriel, and has to deal with the results of feeling the bond with Az snap into place before dinner at the townhouse.

Tags: Elriel, smut, fluff

Rating: E

Word count: 3539

AO3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Part 8: Elain

In the weeks since that fateful night, Elain and Azriel had stolen as much time together as they could. Elain had cherished the moments where they’d just been free to talk all day. She had always known that the Shadowsinger was rather reserved, but he’d been opening up to her more about his past life these five centuries. They’d even discussed the topic of Mor, as awkward as that was for both involved. He’d admitted that he’d fallen hard for her at seventeen and thought she was the one, her light helping to alleviate his shadows. Az had even choked up a bit as he pondered whether or not he was just flocking to the traits that would first endear him to his future mate without realizing it. Perhaps that’s why he hadn’t been able to let go of her for centuries, even though Mor had obviously done her best not to give him any real hope. He’d never once truly experienced hope until Elain, when her light had begun not to just shine on him but invite him into it.

As wonderful as he was at helping to keep their relationship a secret, she was growing tired of hiding it. She began to feel guilty when she’d tell Feyre she’d been out shopping for the new riverfront estate or running errands to pick up ingredients whenever she’d be caught upon returning to the townhouse.

Not that Feyre and Rhys noticed much. The two seemed so busy with the art studio, the new estate, and their formal duties that they were hardly around the townhouse nowadays, and when they were, they usually chose to spend most of their time alone anyway. She’d even spent the night at the House of Wind a handful of times when she’d been assured that Feyre and Rhys were definitely staying in the cabin or Illyria, or when it was just well-known that they’d been so deprived of each other lately that they couldn’t be bothered to notice a missing sister in the middle of the night.

Technically speaking, she and Az hadn’t lied about their task today. She did need a little extra muscle to help her pick up her new gardening tools, and they did have a massive delivery coming in at the estate. They may have just eagerly volunteered to handle it by themselves to give them some much-needed extra alone time.

She smiled to herself. He had no idea how much they needed that time tonight. She’d been careful to hide her movement this past week, even from the half-wraiths. She had a feeling Az had ordered them specifically not to spy on her, to report back to either him or Rhys about her movements, her day-to-day life, since they’d officially gotten together. Perhaps even longer than that.

She packed up her satchel with money and some supplies need for their efforts today. Grabbing a large slice of quiche from the spread Nuala had set out this morning and a mug of tea, she took a seat next to Feyre at the breakfast table.

“Big plans today?” Elain inquired sleepily, sipping the blessed energy-providing beverage.

“Actually, for the first time in a long time, we’ve both got the day off,” her sister grinned. “Ressina is handling today’s classes, I won’t make much more progress on the estate until our paint shipment comes in next week, and our other official duties have given us a light reprieve, at least for the time-being.”

“That sounds lovely,” Elain beamed.

“If I have anything to say about it, I’ll be in my night clothes all day.” The blush that crept up Feyre’s face as she slipped into her head — well likely Rhys’ head — for a split second though made Elain highly doubt that’d last very long.

She’d often wondered if her own mating bond would be like that. If they could have silent conversations, feel each other from rooms away. Her only experiences feeling the bond had been that one time she’d let Lucien in at Feyre’s request and the split second she’d felt it lock into place with Azriel months ago. He hadn’t brought it up, and so Elain had decided to leave the subject off the table. She hadn’t been sure how she felt about sharing that tether with someone before she was fully mated and hadn’t even known whether she wanted to accept the bond with either male.

A knock on the door interrupted her private musings. Finally. Elain got up slowly to answer the door, trying not to appear over-eager.

As she opened the door, she was once again struck by how handsome he was. He’d chosen one of her favorite sets of leathers to wear today, despite the fact that they were supposed to be doing dirty-work. “Good morning Elain, Feyre.”

“Good morning,” Elain parroted, a grin spreading across her face.

Feyre popped her head into the hallway. “Good morning, Az. You two have fun today. I can’t wait to see how the garden is coming along!” Feyre replied. “Since I haven’t had much cause to be there this week, I’m starting to miss out on the progress. Hmm. Do you two need help today?”

“No!” both Elain and Az blurted perhaps a bit too quickly.

“Relax, and enjoy your day off for once. You don’t need to do everything around here. Trust us to help you out,” Elain added hurriedly before turning towards the door. “Ready?”

“After you,” Az gestured, letting her lead the way into Velaris.

They spent an hour or two wandering around the city, picking up her new tools and grabbing a bite to eat at a cafe on the Sidra before heading over to the estate where they intercepted the delivery of an enormous load of fertilizer and some starter plants Elain had ordered to begin her landscaping. Between the two of them, they managed to make decent progress on the gardening that would adorn the front of the mansion, deeming it most important to give it a fresh face before focusing on her larger garden that would eventually make up a majority of the backyard.

Late in the afternoon, as the sun was beginning its descent, Az noticed her stomach grumbling and declared that it was definitely time for a break. He flew them back to the House of Wind to clean up.

She was really learning to love the flying. At first, it had made her stomach drop, and she had trouble keeping her eyes open, but lately, he’d taken her flying with such frequency that she found herself longing to feel the soft breeze against her face, to take in the sights of Velaris below them during days when they were apart. To silently crave the strange sort of closeness she felt with him, flush against his body, only the two of them, cut off from the rest of the world.

As they were landing on the balcony, Elain realized she couldn’t wait any longer. Without giving him a moment to pause and catch his breath, she grabbed Az’s hand and pulled him into the dining room. “I wouldn’t have taken my sweet time flying here if I knew you were so ravenous, dear,” he joked — still apparently believing she was just starving for a meal.

Before he could pull out her chair for her, she rushed to the table and pulled out one for him.

“Sit.” It caught him off guard, and he eyed her warily as he took his seat.

“What’s with all the fuss? We have supper here all the time nowadays.”

Elain cleared her throat. It was now or never.

“I have something I’d like to tell you,” she squeaked, barely recognizing her own voice in her nervousness. “I’m in love with you, Azriel. I’ve been falling more and more in love with you everyday for the past few months.”

He looked confused. They’d been dating for months, and she’d told him that she loved him many times now. He still didn’t seem to get where she was going with this, he probably didn’t dare to hope it was true.

“I know our relationship began on uneven ground. I know I’ve still been holding back. That I’m distant sometimes. That even though I’ve told you I love before, I’ve never told you how much.” A small tear seemed to be welling in his eyes.

“You’re the only one for me now. I’ve been fighting my feelings for too damn long now. I let my former love for Graysen blind me for months, but I can honestly say that there’s nobody as worthy of spending the rest of my life with as you. You’re worth it. More than worth it. When I’m with you, the rest of the world fades away.” Her own watery eyes were betraying her as she struggled to get the last bit out.

“It’s no secret that I had a hard time adjusting to my life here. I felt like I was always in the dark, desperate to find the light and joy I’d had in my past life. I no longer feel like I need to hide from the shadows. When you’re walking side-by-side with me, I can embrace them. You’ve helped me embrace every part of myself, the good and the bad, and there’s nobody else I’d rather spend my immortality with.”

Az’s mouth was still gaping in shock, the tears now cascading down his face. She moved to sit in his lap, satchel still in tow. She kissed him on the temple before deftly reaching into her bag and removing a small paper-wrapped parcel. “That is, if you’ll have me?”

Gently he took the package from her, unwrapping it to reveal a homemade blackberry tart inside.

“Your favorite,” she grinned. She had decided she was ready to take this step earlier in the week and had been using every ounce of her spare time practicing this recipe, drilling herself until the end result was utter perfection. She’d been on-the-edge of her seat all day, waiting for the opportunity to surprise him with this.

“Thank you.” The words were so soft, even her Fae senses barely picked them up. “I love you too, Elain. So much. I would be honored to devote every fiber of my being, everything I am, to you for the rest of my days. You’ve brought me a peace and happiness I’ve been missing in my life for centuries. I’ve been blindly walking through my life unfulfilled, hoping but never truly believing I’d find my other half.” He kissed her. “I would love nothing more than to be able to call you mine for the rest of my days.”

“Eat up, then.” Elain couldn’t stop beaming.

Az tenderly brought the tart to his lips, savoring the moment. He took a bite, and something inside him turned feral at the action. He feverishly stuffed the rest of the small treat in his mouth, now desperate to finish his mating gift as soon as possible.

The gleam in his eyes as they locked with Elain’s and the bond clicking into place undid her. Turning to straddle him, her lips crashed against his in a frenzy. More. More, more, more. She needed all of him. Chuckling to herself, she realized that the thought which had scared her months ago was the only thing that mattered to her now. For the first time in over a year, she was whole again. It’d been a difficult journey, but her mate had coaxed her out of her depression, back into the light.

She clawed at his back, reaching for the buttons which held his leathers in place around his wings. She felt his breath hitch, his body tensing, as she grazed the base of a wing in the process. Interesting, they felt so soft and leathery. She paused to find the source of his bodily reaction to find him panting heavily. “Not yet, dear,” he managed to get out. “Those are extremely sensitive, and I’d prefer to last a little longer than this.” He turn his attention to feverishly licking up the column of her neck, unable to keep himself away from her either.

Oh. Nobody had ever told her that particular tidbit. She filed it away for later tonight. Hopefully she could tease him with it after they’d had some fun. First thing first though, she ached to feel him inside of her. “I need you,” she moaned as he sucked the tender spot at the base of her throat. “All of you. Please.” He worked his way back up toward her ear, taking the lobe gently between his teeth. Bastard. Az knew what he was doing to her. Could surely hear her heart beating frantically, scent the wetness between her thighs as he taunted her.

“Hold on tight.” He paused his relentless assault only long enough to slip them both through the shadows into the bathing chamber. Steam was already rising from the tub, inviting them in. She pawed at his buttons in earnest this time, making sure to avoid the wings for now. Slipping his leathers over his head, she took in his tattooed chest — the markings she knew he sometimes resented were beautiful nonetheless. She dropped kisses on his chest, tracing the designs she loved so dearly, allowing him access to the ties at the back of her dress. He deftly undid them, giving her a moment to step out of the gown pooling at her feet. Her lips met his once again as her hands trailed down to his waistband. She fumbled with the button for a moment before finding the catch and letting them drop to the floor, along with his undergarments. She felt his impatience flicker as he couldn’t be bothered to remove her own undergarments and let his shadow tendrils do the work, sweeping her into his arms, mouth never leaving hers. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he pushed her up against the wall. He still hadn’t entered her yet. He was taking his damn time, much to her chagrin, as she impatiently grinded against him, the sheer contact not satisfying her intense desire.

He cupped her breast firmly in one hand, heavily massaging it, eliciting a moan from deep inside her — still writhing her hips desperately, digging her nails into his shoulders. “I’ve waited for this moment for what seems like years. I have no intention of rushing anything, dove,” he whispered in her ear. 

“I need you inside me,” she whined. In protest, she removed a hand from his neck, and dragged it lazily down starting at the apex of his wing. She didn’t try to hide the wicked grin on her face as his head jerked back, and he stared at her, aghast.

He quickly schooled his expression, and pulled them away from the wall, stepping into the tub. “If that’s how you want it, love,” he growled. Her submerged them both in the water, wings spread behind him, and flipped her around so her backside was flush with him. She blushed at the feeling of the evidence of his pleasure pressed into her. He grabbed a breast in one hand, her other slipping two fingers inside her. “Is this what you wanted?” he purred, fingers thrusting ever so slowly in and out, tauntingly, before returning his attention to her neck. Despite the step in the right direction, it still wasn’t enough for Elain. She ground her hips against his hand, frantically trying to increase the rhythm, just as his thumb slid to her clit. Mother above. He circled it lazily, timing it with his strokes. Release found home as he increased the tempo, finally matching her strides. She let out a series of small sighs, back arching, electricity coursing through her, before going limp against him as he gradually retreated.

“Have I told you how sexy that noise is?” Az growled as he flipped her back around to face him. Indeed, the evidence of how much he enjoyed pleasuring her was plain to see. He breathlessly kissed her and leaned back on the corner of the bench, slowly guiding her onto him, knowing it was her first time.

Gods, he was enormous. She’d been imagining this moment for weeks, never letting it get this far as they fooled around, but her daydreams couldn’t do it justice. She gritted through the pain as he assisted her with mounting him. “Take all the time you need,” Az murmured, pressingly kisses to her temple and rubbing soothing strokes down her spine to help her relax.

Finally, when she had taken in all of him, he grinned and restarted his affections. Breathing hard, lips pressed to hers, he began to writhe beneath her, guiding her into a motion, making small thrusts into her. Helping her loosen up. As she adjusted to the feeling, she began to ride him, cautiously moving up and down in time with his rhythm. Shit. She hadn’t been fully prepared for the sensation, fingers being nothing in comparison to this. The ache was welcome as he filled her completely, sliding in and out. Her fingers dragged through his hair, breath hitching as she moved on him, repeatedly massaging that sensitive spot in her core. She was going to shatter. Almost there. She took her hands and brushed her fingertips sensuously down the center of both wings as she thrust down one final time, and they both found their release together.

They sat together, out of breath, for a minute before he gently slipped her off him. “You’re mine,” she whispered. “For the rest of our lives. I’ll never get enough of this. Of you.” He held her tightly to his chest.

“I love you, El. I can’t tell you how much this means to me, how long I’ve dreamed of it. I’ll do my best to be worthy of you for as long as we both shall live.” A pause. “What say you we clean up a little?” He gave a coy grin.

An hour later, they’d successfully extricated themselves from the tub, reluctantly found something to eat, and were now cuddling in his bed. To combat the slight chill, she had donned a black tunic of his which smelled heavenly, but they were still mostly unclothed. There had a been a few distractions between now and then, and the temptation to take him for a third time was looming over Elain. She had the sense that Az was fighting it as well, as he gazed longingly into her eyes. After a long while of silence, he pulled a small box out of nightstand and opened it. “Elain, dear, would you do me the honor of also becoming my wife?” Holy shit. She was awestruck as she stared at the delicate rose-gold band. The stone in the center was an opal, with diamonds studded around it, almost looking like an iridescent flower. It was exactly what she would’ve chosen for herself.

“I know marriages are big deal in the mortal world, and I would love the opportunity to give you your special day surrounded by all our friends and family. As soon as I feel like sharing you again of course.” He flashed her a cocky grin.

“I’d be honored, Az.” She kissed him greedily.

“And I’d love for you to meet my mother. She still lives in Illyria, and I’ve told her all about you — The woman who’s utterly stolen my heart.” He gave her a peck. “I want to show you off to the world, light of my life.”

“I can’t wait.” And she really meant it. This male, her mate, was the best thing that had ever happened to her. For him, it was all worth it, losing her old life, being thrown in the Cauldron, struggling to regain her sense of self. It had all led her here.

She was shaken from her contemplation by Az chuckling. “It seems our cover has been blown, love.” She looked at him questioningly. “Rhys just contacted me, asking if you were okay. It seems a certain red-haired prick showed up on their doorstep worried about you. I might have been a little territorial in my response, and I might have quickly growled out my claim on you and shut the bastard out of my head. But I don’t think anyone will be bothering us here anytime soon.”

She frowned at the thought of Lucien. Honestly, he hadn’t crossed her mind in awhile.

“None of that now. Even if there are tendrils of a bond between you still, you’re mated now. He won’t be bothering you again.” She felt a tinge of remorse for not even considering Lucien’s feelings in this arrangement or outright rejecting him before accepting Az, but as she was lying next to her true mate, it was hard to focus on anyone else.

Not as desire continued to stream through her. This. With him. She’d found her happy ending. Now she ached to give him his. Again. She pounced before he could sense her intentions, pinning him to the bed. Coyly, in a voice she’d never heard herself use before she crooned, “Now it’s my turn to claim you.”

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[flowerflamestars]

Three Blessed Sisters: Part Two

Cassian was frozen, so still he might shatter. His grip was so hard on the bread basket Nesta was surprised nothing broke.

A part of her was pleased to have surprised him. Had never before seen him freeze, not in life or in battle. But a bigger part, a growing part as the silence stretched on and on, was horrified. Cassian was going to reject her. The choices made in life and death situations didn’t always hold in the light of day. Hadn’t his months of silence proved that? Her mate didn’t want her, and she was going to have to become a damn shark hunter to live it down. Maybe once she wore out her welcome in Summer, Rhysand would take pity of her and find a permanent diplomatic post elsewhere. Nesta would rather go into exile than see her families faces when they learned of this rejection.

He just kept staring.

Cassian set down the basket. This time she let him, the sick horror rising to a fever pitch inside of her. Of course she’d ruined this. She’d called him a bastard. Had seen where words would hurt the most and used them, because his knowing gaze had touched her, scared her like nothing else in the world. Cassian had seen her, all of her, from the very start.

Slowly, gently, as though approaching a wild animal, Cassian raised his hands to cup her face.

Callouses scraped at her skin as he traced her cheekbones with his thumbs. For a split second, Nesta was a lifetime away. Cassian’s hands were still on her face, but slick with his own blood now. Smoke and battle and ruin surrounded them, but just like now, from the moment he touched her nothing else in the world had existed. Had mattered. While she had been far away, he had been staring. Nesta couldn’t imagine what Cassian saw in her eyes, didn’t want to.

“Tell me you mean it, Nesta.” His voice was rough, but Cassians gaze never left hers.

She wanted to hit him at the implication. Wanted to pound her fists on his chest and rage that she would never allow him so close falsely. That he could think that of her. But his eyes were so serious, that golden amber so very heartbroken.

Nesta plucked up a single roll and held it up between their bodies. Offering what she couldn’t say properly. But still, he didn’t take it. The moment spooled out, fragile and crystalline. When the faintest tremble raced through the hands on her face, Nesta found her fury. She couldn’t say it, but she could- slowly, like stumbling through the dark she spiraled down. Not into her power, but out along that fiery chain that lived inside her. Pulling and grasping, throwing herself against it’s confining spaces until it was open wide, until it did what she wanted.

Nesta felt more than saw Cassian jolt back. Slam into the counter hard enough to break things on the shelves. She held herself resolute, looking down upon him as steadily as she could. Down, because he’d slammed back and kept sliding, those great wings flaring out, until he was crumbled to the floor.

The feeling that cleaved through Nesta at that hurt more than the cauldrons dark, touched her deeper than the loss of her human life. Cassian was afraid.

Love, she thought. Love, she thought hard as she tried to spear it along the incomplete bond. With a gentleness she didn’t know she sank down, grasping his forearms, love, she thought, trying to pull him all the way into the fiery heart of her.

“How?” he choked out. Cassian’s face looked like heartbreak. “I failed you.” He snarled it. “I made you a promise, and failed you when it mattered. I felt you die, Nesta. I felt the water in your lungs, and the pain screaming through you, I felt when your heart stopped.”

A tear raced down his face to snag over full lips. Nesta wanted to kiss it away, to give him every piece of comfort imaginable to make him understand. “I came back,” she said, very quietly.

He twisted to grasp her hands, shaking his head. “To a life you didn’t want, in a body that wasn’t yours. I couldn’t take another choice from you. You didn’t deserve’-

“You do not get to choose what I deserve, Cassian.”

She could have sworn her sharp tone almost made him smile. “No, I don’t. I just keep failing you,” Cassian saw her mouth open and raced ahead, like he was confessing. As though this were the only chance he’d get to tell her the truth. “I was raised for that battlefield, Nesta. It’s what I am, not matter how far I go, how much I love my brothers. I’m a bastard in dirt. My worth is my wings and arm and strength, and I couldn’t save you. Couldn’t save the one, most precious gift in my life. Centuries of fighting, and you were going to go down with me.”

Even as the bitterness is his tone cut, Nestas mind was racing. Precious. Not even her sisters, no one, she thought, had ever looked at Nesta and seen value quite like that. She’d never thought anyone could, with her fearful walls so high.

Nesta was crying, but before the tears could make her rage Cassian had gathered her to his chest, with that same terrible gentleness. It made her rejoice. His chest, whole. His heart under her ear, and his body warm and alive and close. Cassian. How had she resisted touching him these long months?

He must have felt some of it, something, because when he started again Cassians voice was thick. “In the camps, they say bastards don’t have mates. That there’s never been one.” That finally, had her snapping.

“Someday,” Nesta growled, pushing back from his chest to meet his dark gaze. “You are going to tell me the name of every single one of those camp lords, and I am going to kill them.”

Cassian huffed a startled laugh, but his eyes were still so sad.

“You stupid prick,” she continued. “If you’d had any idea that Hybern were in the human lands would you have left me in that house? Left Elain or anyone else?”

“No,” Cassian said, firmly. “I would have carried you all the way to Velaris, even if you screamed at me the whole way.”

Nesta gripped his leathers too tightly, the immortal strength she usually controlled so easily hurting her. “You would have done anything to keep me safe. You didn’t fail.” She was burning, a plains wildfire ready sweep all the way to the horizon. “Why even listen to those fucking piece of shit lords? You’re better than them. Not because you could kill them easily, because you’re a better person. A better male.”

Cassian opened his mouth, but she cut him off. “No! I didn’t need you to save me, I needed you alive. If that’s so cauldron damned shameful to you, you’re not the male I know.”

Cassian kissed her.

It was every strung out moment of tension she’d felt since the very first day she’d met his gaze. His lips were soft, so soft, but urgent on hers. Nesta found herself burying her hands in his hair, pulling him closer to her. Oh, this was the fire. She couldn’t get him close enough, couldn’t breath deeply enough to catch enough of his scent. Cassian.

Nesta, he was saying. Nesta, Nesta, Nesta. He groaned it, said it, the bond and his voice both.

They kissed until her lungs were burning. Even then, Cassian only stopped to drag her more firmly on top of him, to bury his face in the crook of her neck.

They were silent for a long time. Nesta didn’t trust her racing heart to measure the time as Cassian breathed her in. She was vividly aware of his body beneath hers, those strong shoulders slumped forward as he leaned into her completely. Aware of his magnificent wings splayed out, swallowing the space entirely. Her mate.

Nesta only really came back to the matter at hand when she felt his lips on her neck, just like that day so long ago.

Cassian’s voice was both hesitant and amused, “Were you really going to accept the bond, just like that?” He hadn’t moved from the shelter of her neck to say it, so he completely missed her glare. Nesta narrowed her eyes anyway.

“You wouldn’t talk to me, you prick. And I am accepting.” She laid a hand on his jaw, nearly completely obscured by the hair she’d pulled loose. “I have accepted, you just have to eat the cauldron damned bread.”

Cassian sucked in a breath, the noise too close to a wounded animal for Nestas comfort.  Finally he pulled away to look at her, a soft protest at the loss of contact escaping her mouth.

He was smiling, just a little, like he couldn’t believe it. “Nesta,” he growled.

“Cassian,” she taunted back. Let him rise to her sharpness, Cassian knew exactly what she was feeling. She had to touch him again, she couldn’t help herself. It would have scared her, that vicious want, but she quite sure she’d never have to stop again if she had anything to do with it. Nesta framed his face.

“I love you,” she said. It wasn’t soft, or sweet. It was the knifes edge that started the spark, Cassian’s happiness a supernova inside her chest.

“Nesta,” he said, the reply there in his voice. Cassians arms had locked around her again and he was roaring, laughing with joy as he crushed her to him. “Do have any idea how much I love you?”

“Yes,” Nesta hissed, smug into his leathers. Because she did. Because as the bright joy of Cassians laugh echoed around the room the tie between them tightened and grew, from a string to a tether, infinite and golden. Forever. 

She could feel a love just as unyielding as she was, sharp as a sword and infinite as the sky. Her mated loved her.

The wonder didn’t stop when she wriggled out of his arms to retrieve a roll, the sweet lavender scent suddenly overwhelming.

Cassian took it tenderly, pausing to eye her in way that made Nesta feel as though she’d burst out of her own skin. “Before,” He gestured vaguely, grin growing on his mouth. There wouldn’t be a before if he kept looking at her with that predators gaze, because she was going to burst into flames. “I know you don’t care about mortal convention, but Illyrians marry too. Handfast, actually. I’ll get tattooed, you don’t have to take the marks as well”-

“Yes!” Nesta blurted.

Cassian looked as though he were trying not to laugh again, in happiness or disbelief. Instead, he said, “It would be an honor to be your husband, Nesta Archeron.”

“No greater honor,” Nesta drawled, raising her hands to link into his hair again, “than to be your mate, Cassian.”

[halsteadproperty]

Halstead Agents’ Favorite Small Businesses

Last Sunday marked the end of National Small Business Week, and there is no better way to honor this past week than to highlight the very businesses that keep our markets unique and special. As neighborhood experts with a plethora of knowledge, our Halstead agents leverage small shops and restaurants to show what makes their areas of business distinctive. In honor of this past week, we decided to share with you the exact places that make NY, NJ, CT and the Hamptons the best areas to live.  

Tipsy Scoop

217 East 26th Street, New York, NY  

Ice cream and liquor are two hot commodities on their own. Now, imagine them together. Agent Elizabeth Abbott knows just the place. “Tipsy Scoop is New York’s first ice cream ‘barlour’ that serves liquor infused ice cream that is not only delicious but visually creative,” Elizabeth says. Owned by a young entrepreneur, Melissa Tavss Beranger, the Kips Bay shop has a high enough alcohol content to actually get you buzzed.

(Recommended by Elizabeth Abbott of our Park Avenue office)

The Momogram Shop

19 Newtown Lane, East Hampton, NY

According to agent John Scott ‘JT’ Thomas, The Monogram Shop has been a staple in the Hamptons for more than 10 years. “It’s family owned by a mother and daughter, and it’s my go-to place for all gifts,” JT says. “Whether it is for a closing, dinner party, wedding, new baby, etc., The Monogram Shop is somewhere to provide a warmer, more personal touch to your gifts. Everyone loves to receive something personalized!”

(Recommended by John Scott ‘JT’ Thomas of our East Hampton office)

Kirby and Company

1029 Post Rd, Darien, CT 06820

Run by a motivated, strong, talented role model named Elaine Kirby, this adorable gift shop is agent Amanda Davenport’s favorite place to buy closing gifts. “Their assortment isn’t the only draw, as the owner always has a bright smile on her face and she knows how to create the perfect gift,” Davenport says. While the shop appeals to anyone who searches for boutique decor and other adornments, Elaine believed Darien needed something for a younger group of residents. Thus, Kirby Girl was introduced as a sister shop to celebrate being kind, witty, smart, fierce, unapologetically awesome, confident, fast, athletic, creative, and proud of what makes each girl different and unique. Kirby Girl is located at 14 Brook Street.

(Recommended by Amanda Davenport of our Darien office)

Mediterraneo

1260 Second Avenue (Corner of 66th Street), New York, NY

“With a relaxed European ambiance, simple interior décor, and charming café details, I feel like I have taken a trip back to Rome,” agent Jennifer L. Hoxter says. Mediterraneo, an Italian restaurant on the Upper East Side, is known for their thin crust pizza and wood-burning pizza oven. Jennifer’s favorite Roma-style pizza is the Pizza Al Portobello, with Portobello Mushrooms, tomatoes, mozzarella and garlic and fresh basil. “The ingredients are so fresh,” she says. “There are many varieties of thin crust pizzas, such as, Pizza Mediterraneo with shrimp, tomato sauce, capers, garlic and scallions. I would also recommend the homemade pastas, and Grilled Calamari.” Mediterraneo’s outside seating has just opened for the warmer months so enjoy your favorite pizza and an ice cappuccino, and maybe run into Jennifer!

(Recommended by Jennifer L. Hoxter of our East Side office)

Taszo

5 Edward M Morgan Place, New York, NY 10032

“Taszo is just one of those neighborhood joints you grow to really love and appreciate,” says agent Erik Freeland. Owned by a Tunisian who grew up in Sweden and Paris, Taszo offers the highest quality espresso, craft beer, and wine in a relaxed brick-walled setting. They have delicious bites to compliment your favorite beverage. “They have great coffee and pastries (from Balthazar) in the morning. Then, in the evenings it switches over to a great, cozy wine/beer bar and the owner makes an amazing lamb tagine and Swedish meatballs,” Erik explains. With very reasonable prices, this double-edged sword is a Washington Heights staple.

(Recommended by Erik Freeland of our West Side office)

Columbus & 74th Thrift Shop

306 Columbus Avenue at 74th Street, New York, NY

Known for their large inventory of clothing, shoes, and accessories, this Housing Works thrift shop will soon take over your closet. “For over 20 years this store has provided unique deals on clothes, furniture and bric-a-brac that I never would imagine I wanted until I saw the item,” says agent Ed Herson. Most of the staff have been working there for many years and I always get a friendly smile when I go there.”

(Recommended by Ed Herson of our West Side office)

Birch Coffee

171 E 88th St, New York, NY 10128

“You know it’s the place to be when the baristas know all the locals by name and the coffee is strong enough to keep you awake all day – even in the city that never sleeps,” says agent Nicole Hay. Birch Coffee, is intentionally situated mid-block directly across from the magnificent new development 188 E 88th Street. It is a cozy nook among the hustle and bustle of New York, with a Brooklyn vibe on the Upper East Side.

(Recommended by Nicole Hay of our Park Avenue office)

White Gold Butchers

375 Amsterdam Ave, New York , NY 10024 

“This artisan butcher/restaurant has the best quality meat out there,” agent Keith Marder says. “To top things off, they allowed Olga and I to do our lifestyle photoshoot inside the restaurant.” White Gold Butchers is a place where you can eat and also buy meat at the butcher counter. This restaurant has been featured in Fobres, Viceland, New York Times, Vogue and Eater NY, to name a few.

(Recommended by Keith Marder and Olga Bidun of our West Side office)

The Ballfield Café

65th St Transverse, New York, NY 10019

This hidden gem in Central Park is surely mistaken for just another annex/shack in the park for those who don’t know it. “Across from the baseball diamonds in Central Park is a small cafe with umbrella shaded tables where lunch and a light supper are served, plus delightful summer cocktails,” explains Christine O’Neal. This café boasts a good beer/cider/wine list and delicious, quick comfort food. You can order to-go at the counter or sit down for a full-service experience outdoors. “The baseball diamonds are just south and the carousel is within sight,” Christine says.

(Recommended by Christine O’Neal of our West Side office)

Round Swamp Farm

184 Three Mile Harbor Road, East Hampton, NY 11937

“Beloved by its loyal clientele, Round Swamp Farm is a throwback to days gone by,” says agent Philip Judson. “Originally started over 50 years ago by Carolyn Lester Snyder in a small red wagon to peddle her family’s vegetables grown on their farm, now four generations continue the tradition. The produce grown on the 20-acre, 250-year-old farm is picked by hand and used to make carrot cakes and zucchini breads, chutneys, sweet and hot pepper relishes, pickles and salsas, fruit jellies and jams, cobblers, pies and muffins. In addition, the farm has an eye-popping array of local seafood caught by family members and dozens of made-from-scratch-daily prepared foods that change with the seasons. The stand is charming and quaint – kids will love visiting with the chickens and rabbits out front – and goods are displayed old style in wicker baskets and baked goods are ties with gingham ribbon. Carolyn and her extended family have become family to us over the 20 years we have been shopping there and we always look forward to their opening (May 11th this year) and to almost daily visits during the summer and fall. In fact, we stock up on homemade soups and dinners before they close after Thanksgiving and freeze them so we can enjoy Round Swamp Farm all winter.”

(Recommended by Philip Judson of our East Hampton office)

Riverdel

820 Washington Ave, Brooklyn, NY 11238

Riverdel offers the widest variety of artisanal vegan cheeses around, and a well-curated selection of non-dairy yogurts, nut milks, and gourmet foods. You can sample fresh breads, pastries, and made-to-order sandwiches! “I love getting the ham and cheese croissant but they also have great desserts like Cinnamon Snail, and lots of vegan grocery items too,” says agent Kris Sylvester. “The store owner Michaela is almost always there when I go in and they carry more vegan cheeses than any store in the city. They’ve been in business for 3 years and I am happy to see they are thriving,” Sylvester explains.

(Recommended by Kris Sylvester of our Village office)

Kick Axe

622 Degraw St, Brooklyn, NY 11217

Looking to release some stress, or maybe just some thrills? Agent Marta Quinones-McCarthy recommends trying out a new axe throwing venue in Gowanus. “At Kick Axe, you rent a lane and get an experienced axe thrower who organizes games and gives you instructions on how to throw an axe,” explains Marta. Sounds like a kick ‘axe’ time to us!

(Recommended by Marta Quinones-McCarthy of our Cobble Hill office)

[mariamuses]

Tumblr Friends

Chapter 3 ~ It’s a HE

I woke up tucked in my bed like a burrito, which could only mean one thing: Elain had come home late from her date with Azriel and had found me asleep sitting in the bed with the computer on, and had shut it off, only to wrap me up with my comforter and leave me that.

I fought for a good minute, trying to get out of what felt like a straitjacket. When I was finally out, I picked up my laptop and turned it on. Or tried.

Oh, come on!

I tried for the hundredth time, but it didn’t turn on, so I figured that Elain had just closed it without shutting it off, so the battery was dead.

Great.

That meant that until I plugged it in and left it for a good half an hour, I wouldn’t be able to use it.

So, I decided to download Tumblr on my phone, so I could see how my drawings were doing. I didn’t expect them to have many notes or likes, because my account was made less than a week ago and I literally had zero followers, but maybe the tags had helped people to find them.

I logged in and accepted to get the notifications. A second later, I regretted it. My phone started beeping and making weird noises, only to shut down instantly.

What. The actual. Fuck? Did tumblr put a virus on my phone or did I just get so many notifications that my phone went berserk?

I stared my phone up again, and… Yup, there were exactly 394 notes on the drawings. Most of them were from people with usernames related to Brandon Sanderson (as I predicted), and they had also reblogged with very nice and encouraging messages. I had, as well, a few messages from people suggesting more characters to sketch and sharing their reactions to the fanart. There even was one girl who told me that my drawing of KaIadin and Syl had made her day. I answered every single one of them, trying to give good advice when they asked for it, and thanking all for sharing it. It was Sunday, so I took my sweet time with it.

However, there was a message I ignored until I was done. I wasn’t being mean, I just was on full fangirl mode because stormblessed-radiant had contacted me. When I saw the name on my inbox I squealed so loud I scared myself.

At long last, I opened it and read:

stormblessed-radiant: Hello! I just saw the three drawings you posted last night. I loved them all, but I’m exceptionally honored for the Aadya one. I don’t know how you managed it, but it’s exactly the way I picture her... I would be very grateful if you tagged me on every piece you uploaded from now on.

I gawked at the message for a long time until the noise of my computer returning to life from the dead startled me into motion. I decided to write him back, and not to worry myself too much.

Also, turn the fangirling down a few notches.

I started typing:

fey-oathbringer: OMG! Hi!!!! Sorry for not answering sooner, I fell asleep. I can’t actually believe you saw the drawings!!! It was actually my pleasure to draw Aadya. I fell in love with her the minute she appeared in your fics (which btw are fantastic and helped me get through a lot this past week) and couldn’t help myself but to draw her. I will absolutely tag you.

I pressed sent. And then I horrified myself.

Great work keeping the fangirling down, Feyre. Great work.

As I was chastising myself, he wrote another message.

stormblessed-radiant: Hello, darling. No worries, I just woke up too. We must be in similar time zones ;) I’m glad it helped you through tough times, bc I wrote it so it would help me through some. 

fey-oathbringer: Wait, where do you live?? Shit, no, don’t tell me personal information through here. What time zone are you in? And I’m NOT your darling.

stormblessed-radiant: Hahahahahaha, you are hilarious, darling. I live in Prythian. It’s a pretty big city, so no real danger in someone suddenly finding me and selling my address to tumblr-papparazzis ;)

fey-oathbringer: You are a snarky little thing, aren’t you? Well, for your information I also live in Prythian. Now, I am trusting you not to sell my information yeah?

The conversation went on and on, and our knowledge of each other grew with it. We started asking simple but quirky, questions, such as our favorite color, favorite Brandon Sanderson book, favorite music artist... Only to move on to deeper territory. Everything with Tamlin came up, my parents, his parents...

Yes, he’s a HE. Just like I told you. 

Why would that matter, though? It’s not like he’s going to be my boyfriend, is he?

Nope, definitely not a boyfriend.

Altough we DO live in the same city... 

STOP! Too fast Feyre, too fast.

We only stopped messaging the right amount of time for me to go from my phone to my computer after breakfast, and to make and eat lunch and dinner.

My sisters weren’t home, again, because they went on a double dinner date (yuck!) with Cassian and Azriel, and at lunch the had a normal date with them. So, I didn’t have to worry about keeping the appearances of being a sane person not hooked up to the computer talking to a stranger about the darkest secrets of her life.

As the night was closing in, I said goodbye to my Tumblr friend (we hadn’t exchanged names just yet, because we wanted to leave that, in case we met in person) and went downstairs with a blanket around my body as if I were a superhero. Then I went to the kitchen, made myself some popcorn and hooked myself to Netflix. I browsed for Stranger Things, their latest show, which was making a breakthrough, and started Chapter One: The Vanishing of Will Byers.

Only when the third chapter was at the beginning did my eyes get heavy and I fell asleep on the couch.

There’s a hazy feeling about that night. I remember voices, deep voices, which weren’t my sisters’, and then I was flying, and then on very soft clouds... And out again.

Okay, we’re getting to the good part guys!!! Thank you for reading ;)

I’m tagging these magnificent people @songbirdsbooks @kaliejane26 @personpersonper @turtlesnook @highladyfxyre . If you want to get tagged, message me!!

Read it on AO3

[lady-therion]

At Second Sight: Part 1 [Elriel]

Summary: Elain accidentally turns Azriel into a dragon.

(Post-ACOWAR)

A/N: Whoops. 

***

   Amren often kept a running list of things she didn’t like—not because she was petty, but because she was practical. At the top of this list were guests and surprises. So when she returned to her apartment with the hope of finding solitude, she was less than enthused to find a clearly distressed Elain instead.  

   A clearly distressed Elain with a small dragon coiled in her lap.

   “I can explain.”

   Amren pursed her lips.

   “Not until I’ve had my wine.”

   Then she tossed aside her coat as well as whatever expectations she had for a quiet evening.

   “I���m sorry for troubling you. I just didn’t know where else I could—”

   Amren held up a hand as she poured herself a glass of scarlet red, then poured another for the doe-eyed intruder sitting in the middle of her living room. Elain took the offered glass with about as much eagerness as a child receiving a tonic for sickness, but she took it nonetheless.

   Amren took one long gulp before assuming her place in a wingback chair, crossing her legs as she leveled her most discerning gaze. To her credit, Elain didn’t squirm. But perhaps that had more to do with the dark scaly beast, no bigger than a newborn pup, curling its tail around Elain’s wrist as if in reassurance.

   “All right, little Seer. From the beginning.”

   Elain swallowed. “It…it all started with a book.”

   “Not just any book, I imagine.”

   Elain reddened. “No. Yes. I mean…I was looking for a spellbook. At the House of Wind. Something to help me understand my Sight better.”

   Amren’s gaze softened. None of them escaped from the aftermath of Hybern’s war unscathed, but at least Elain had finally emerged from her dreamlike stupor to face her new future. She had such difficulty shedding the mantle of her old life—and no wonder. She had been happy. Or at least, she thought she was.

    “So I take it you found a spellbook,” said Amren. “And rather than consult your sisters or myself, you decided to try your hand at a bit of magick and wound up summoning a new pet instead?”  

   The beast growled at her as though it understood—and perhaps it did. Dragons could not be so easily domesticated like their wyvern cousins. This one, however small, would have only submitted to Elain because it chose to.

   “In a manner of speaking,” Elain went on, trying to calm the wretched fiend by stroking its spindly horns.

   Oddly enough, the creature seemed to…shirk at her touch, as though it was embarrassed at being coddled so. Amren blinked. Surely, the effects of her wine wouldn’t overcome her so quickly? Then again, she still had no idea what the limitations of her new body were.

   “Stop talking in circles, girl,” said Amren. “It’s late and I grow weary.”

   Elain bit her lip, as though it pained her to give voice to her folly. “I wasn’t alone when I decided to try the spell. Azriel was with me.”

   “Was he?” Amren cast a glance at the long shadows about her. “And where is our notorious spymaster now?”

   Elain bit her lip again. Then she gathered the little beast in her arms as gently as she could before proffering it to her. “This is…he’s right here.”

   The sound of Amren’s wine glass rolling across the floor was the only thing that penetrated the ensuing silence.

   Then the shadowsinger did everything in his power to scowl at her—actually scowl at her—as if to say, “Don’t you dare…”

   Amren dared anyway.

***

    It was a while before Amren stopped cackling—close to an hour, in fact. Enough time for Elain to finish her own wine and mop of the remains of Amren’s. Enough time to reflect, once again, on what an awful, awful mess she made.

   She hadn’t meant for any of it to happen. Though she supposed that her intentions didn’t matter. Good lord, it was as though she were four years old again and was caught eating all the sweets in cook’s kitchen. Except this was obviously a thousand times worse. And poor Azriel! He had always been so kind to her, so gentle, so brave.

   And how did she repay him? With her own stupidity and selfishness.

   She glanced at the other end of Amren’s couch where Azriel had perched on one of its arms. He was testing the weight of his wings, stretching the left one and then the right. It must be so disorienting—this new body of his. Her heart sank as he began to flap them both, barely able to lift himself a few inches before tumbling back down. She resisted the urge to set him aright, as it would probably only embarrass him further.

   What have I done?  

  “There’s no need for hysterics,” said Amren, eyes scanning through the spellbook that Elain had found. “The shadowsinger is whole and hale. He can brood in this body with just as much gusto as he did in his last one.”

   Azriel tittered.

  “Oh shut up.”

   Elain wrung her hands. “Can it be reversed?”

   She couldn’t bear the thought of dooming Azriel to live the rest of his life in a form he didn’t choose. Not when she knew, firsthand, how terrible a burden that could be.

   Amren huffed. “Well, fortunately this tome is child’s play compared to the Book of Breathings. Though I’m rather impressed you were able to unlock its secrets with barely any training. Tell me girl, how did you come by it?”

   A tingle raced up her spine. Azriel peered up at her worriedly.

  “I’m not sure,” she said. “I felt…it just called to me, somehow.”

   “Called to you?”

  “Yes.”

   “Hn. Like calls to like, I suppose.”

    Elain had told her the truth. Most of it anyway. Though she had begun her search for books on other Seers, what she had been hoping to find was…a way to reverse her power. Or nullify it, even. Make the visions in her head go quiet so that she could live in peace.

    The things she had Seen during Hybern’s war…where time itself seemed to split into realities as varying as branches on a tree…it was horrible.

   So yes, she found the book because it compelled her to. Because when her fingers stroked its spine, it felt as though it belonged to her. And if she closed her eyes, she could have almost sworn it sung to her…

   Then Azriel appeared.

   “What are you doing Elain?”

   She started as he emerged from the shadows. How could an Illyrian so tall be so silent? But he had looked so apologetic that she forgave him instantly. He eyed the book in her hands, then glanced at her face, which she was sure looked more guilty than guileless.

   “What are you doing Elain?” he asked again.

   She had always been such a terrible liar.

   “I imagine that you already know.”

   “Elain…”

   “Did my sisters send you? I don’t need a minder,” she said hotly, her words much sharper than usual. She didn’t know why. Azriel had been nothing but compassionate towards her. But she was angry. She was frightened. And she needed answers. “I’m not an invalid. You don’t need to look after me.”

   He almost looked almost…disappointed. As though she had belittled him in some way.

  “I know you don’t need a minder,” he said. “I came here because I thought you would be lonely. I came because I care for you as a friend.”

  A sharp sting in her chest.

  “If you care for me as a friend, then you’ll let me do this. Look, I found a spell. Some of it’s written in the Old Tongue, but the translation here could—”

  Concern flooded his hazel eyes.

  “Elain, you have no idea what kind of magick like that could cost you—and there’s always a cost.”

   “I know there might be.” Her eyes watered. “Azriel…please try to understand.”

   There was no judgment in his voice. Only softness. “Understand what?”  

   “It’s just…your world is so beautiful. Your family is so kind. There’s so much joy here. Joy as well as sadness. I can see why Feyre fought so hard for it. I just wish that…. Azriel, this isn’t the path I wanted to walk. But it’s the only path that horrible Cauldron left for me. Does your Court not honor being given a choice? Didn’t your own High Lord let my sister choose?”  

    Was she merely telling him the truth? Or was she being underhanded? Elain didn’t know, her emotions coiling within her like thorns and bramble.

    “Let me help you, Elain.”  

    Just once, she wished she was as brave as Feyre. Or as iron-willed as Nesta. But she could never be like her sisters. Elain was just Elain.

   “If you want to help me, then you have to let me choose.” She took a step forward. “Let me choose, Azriel.”

   A stalemate followed by a moment of unearthly quiet. Then the page beneath her hand began to….shift. The words alighting one by one, burning with preternatural fire. White fire. Cauldron fire.

   She gasped, backing away.

   “Wha-what…”

   “Elain!”

   Light and the smoke filled the room in a maelstrom that could surely could be seen throughout all of Velaris. And Elain was utterly helpless to stop it. Helpless again.

   And when the smoke had cleared, the damage was done.

   “You said it was this spell that caused the transformation?”

   Elain nodded as Amren scanned the yellowed page from back to front, then back to front again.

   “Interesting.”

   “Interesting how?”

    Amren flicked the tip of Elain’s nose in admonishment. “Fretting will get you nowhere, girl. I suggest you and the shadowsinger retire for the night.”

   “But the others—”

   “The others won’t return from the Court of Nightmares until tomorrow evening. That should give me plenty of time to decipher the spell’s inner-workings. I hope. Until then, here’s a basket.”

   Elain furrowed her brow. “What for?”

   Amren’s grin was positively manic. “Why, for Azriel.”

***

   “You…you don’t have to ride in the basket.”

   Elain sat on the last step of the stoop outside Amren’s apartment. Azriel sat next to her looking positively sullen. Or at least as sullen as he could be, given the circumstances. Strange, how she could still read him even though he was…not himself.

   “Can you still winnow?”

   It was how they managed to arrive at Amren’s home in the first place. Though the weary gleam in Azriel’s eyes—still hazel—told her that he was far too drained now to manage it. She supposed she could always carry him back to the townhouse. But she also couldn’t bear adding more insult to injury.

   She sighed, growing teary again. “I’m so sorry, Azriel. I should have listened to you. I was so foolish—”  

     A quiet huff from Azriel, as though he were chastising her. He was probably right. What good would her self-pity do?

    He crept close to her side, leaning against her in a way a cat would. Even now, he was trying to comfort her. In a way, it almost made her feel worse.

   “It’s a long way home. You can ride on my shoulder, if you wish.”

    Azriel stilled, as though weighing his options. She supposed she was thankful that he chose not to glare at her in the same way he glared at Amren, no matter how much she would have deserved it.

    Eventually, Azriel made a soft growl, beckoning her to lean forward until he could cling to her arm. His movements were awkward, clumsy, and not at all like the shadowsinger she had come to know. Eventually he settled onto her shoulder, tucking in his wings as he adjusted his talons—which gripped her firmly, but not sharply.

   She smiled, perhaps for the first time that night.

   “You know, you’re still very handsome. Even like this.”

    It was true. He was. His dark scales gleamed obsidian in the glow of the faelights above the cobblestone streets. And if she looked closely, there were hues of that gorgeous cobalt blue—the color of his Siphons—winding along the spines on his back. But his forelegs and talons…they still bore the leathery burn scars from his childhood. But even so, he was such a beautiful creature.

    He squirmed a bit, looking away from her. She imagined that if he could blush, he would. In fact, he often did, whenever she paid him a compliment. Though she never understood why. Surely, he must get them often from other females.

    “I’m going to fix this Azriel,” she vowed quietly. “I promise you. I will.”

    And though the shadowsinger could not speak, he bowed his head, as though he believed her. It did much to lift her spirits; Azriel had never once lied to her, not even to protect her. The fact that he had once given her Truth Teller spoke volumes about his confidence.

   She was an Archeron, after all. And an Archeron almost never broke a vow.

***

Thank you for reading, my loves.

Other chapters be found in the Masterlist in my Bio / I am Lady_Therion on AO3

[theladyofdeath]

Time of Our lives {Nessian - Chapter 1}

Word Count: 2,431

Summary: A Dirty Dancing inspired AU, mini-series, based off a prompt sent in by @highladyfxyre.

Author’s Note: I haven’t decided just how many chapters this is going to end up being. I keep thinking of new ideas and adding to my outline.....So, let me know what you think of chapter one! I hope you all love sexy, dancing Cass just as much as I do....

p.s. Excuse my gif usage. I saw an opportunity and I took it.

Nesta hated nature.

Not so much sitting in it, for it truly was beautiful, but walking in it, doing activities in it…..

Not her thing.

“Let’s go, girls!” Their dad slammed the driver’s side door, sending the small Toyota wobbling back and forth.

“Let’s get this over with,” Nesta mumbled. To her surprise, neither of her sisters disagreed, not even Elain.

Dad was already lifting bags out of the trunk and tossing them onto the pavement. Nesta wanted to scowl, she had just bought that suitcase the day before, and it was expensive. Now it was scratched. But, she took a deep breath, and lifted it off the blacktop, keeping her anger reigned in the entire time.

“Hello, friends!”

Ugh. Nesta hated that voice. She heard it every year, and every year, it made her feel annoyed. Instantly.

“Helion!”

Their father shook hands with the Head of the country club’s son, as Nesta quickly lowered her head, hoping she wouldn’t make eye contact.

“Your girls have grown so much in one year,” Helion observed, although he only had five years, at the most, on Nesta.

“I know it,” Mr. Archeron agreed. “I couldn’t be more proud.”

Bullshit, Nesta thought to herself.

“I’ve got you set up in your favorite cabin,” Helion said, giving Nesta the side-eye as he handed her father the key.

What a kiss-ass.

“Thank you,” Mr. Archeron smiled, pocketing the key to the cabin while tossing the Toyota’s keys to the valet. “As always, your warm welcoming is appreciated.”

“Only the best for the Archerons,” Helion beamed. “I’ll see you all at dinner tonight.”

He said his farewells, and Nesta let out a breath as he walked away. He was handsome, she supposed, with his dark skin and amber eyes. She would be foolish to deny it. But the way he spoke, his happiness……it drove her insane.

“You should seek out Helion while we’re here, Nesta,” her father said, as the four began their walk. “He would be good company.”

Nesta didn’t answer. Her parents had always attempted to set up their eldest daughter with the country club owner’s youngest son since Nesta’s early teens. She assumed it had something to do with the fact that the Spellcleavers were incredibly wealthy. Nesta wouldn’t have any part of it, though. Although Helion was handsome, he was being forced on her, and he was wildly annoying. Nesta could choose her own love. And she would. Maybe. Someday.

The sun was shining, radiant heat causing Nesta’s skin to glisten as they walked from the parking lot down to the lake. The place was already packed, not that she had expected anything less. People lived for it – the summers they could spend together, away from technology and jobs and school. The time they spent as a family.

It used to be that way for the Archerons, when the girls were young. Nesta remembered their first year at the club, when she was only four, and Elain three, when their mom was only pregnant with Feyre. Their father used to have so much life, so much inner joy. Her parents were in love – madly, deeply. And it showed. Nesta remembered the time they spent on the lake, the time reading together on the deck, overlooking the lake. She remembered walking through the woods, collecting small twigs and leaves, and actually enjoying it.

It was a different world, before everything happened. It was a different life, before her mother’s life ended.

Now, after all those years, they still spent their summer at the country club, and all it was, was a reminder of what had been lost.

At least that’s all it was to Nesta. A reminder.

She saw her mother everywhere.

She saw the sickness that took her away, too soon, with every step they made toward the cabin on the lake where so many memories were made.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Elain sighed.

Nesta simply nodded. For Elain, it was a place where she felt closest to their mother. Nesta tried not to ruin the experience for her, though she often failed. Feyre, on the other hand, didn’t seem to care either way. She never talked of their mother, only her hate for what had become of their father.

The cabin was just as Nesta remembered it. It was made of logs, of oak and walnut, as was all the furniture strung throughout. It wasn’t huge, but big enough to be cozy, yet small enough to be intimate. There were two bedrooms, the girls shared one and their father kept the other to himself.

“Get comfortable,” Mr. Archeron said, just before he went into the bedroom on the right and shut the door behind him.

Nesta wasn’t surprised when their father didn’t come out for dinner. He certainly did put on a good front, though, when they arrived only hours before.

“I suppose he’s not joining us,” Feyre mumbled, looking at herself in the mirror. She wore a royal blue sundress, which was the opposite of the one Nesta wore in white.

“You look beautiful,” Nesta said, with an attempt at a smile.

Feyre raised a brow.

Nesta shrugged. “I can be nice.”

Feyre raised both brows.

“Ready?” Elain came around the corner, dressed in a floral skirt and a fitting blush tank top. She didn’t bother to talk of their father’s current status as she grabbed her clutch on the way out the door.

The sun was beginning to sink behind the lake, which meant that, to Nesta’s pleasure, the heat was dying down. She’d braided her hair down her side, the golden-brown strands were getting so long that the braid almost reached her waist. 

The club wasn’t far away, sitting on the lake itself. It held the main dining hall, and countless rooms for every class the country club had to offer.

Which, according to Elain’s brochure, was a lot.

It looked like a small school of sorts, only fancier and full of snooty old people.

“Archerons!” Helion Spellcleaver came around the corner, forcing a groan out of Nesta. “Where’s your father?”

“Not feeling well,” Elain answered, without missing a beat. “We told him he should rest it off.”

Helion nodded, a frown gracing his typically joyous features. “Very well. Follow me, I’ve reserved you a table.”

The tables were covered in white table cloths and gaudy decorations. There was a vase in the middle of each one holding red roses, surrounded by small, scentless candles.

“I like what you’ve done with the décor,” Elain smiled, the sweet soul.

“Thank you, Miss Archeron,” Helion smiled, just as a gentleman should.

People stared as they followed Helion through the maze of tables. Nesta was grateful for the dim lighting, at least it hid them a little bit as he led them to a table in the front, right at the foot of the small stage.

“I wonder who will entertain tonight,” Feyre pondered, gesturing to the platform as she took her seat.

“A waiter will be with you ladies shortly.” Helion gave the girls a nod before dismissing himself.

“He’s nice,” Elain said, eyeing Nesta. “Maybe you should give him a chance.”

Nesta was sure to give her sister a pure look of death before opening her menu.

The house lights went down before Nesta could decide on what to eat, and Helion came out on the stage, giving Nesta a wink before he tapped the mic. “Hello, guests of the Spellcleaver Country Club! My family and I are honored to have each and every one of you joining us for a Summer of fun. We have a long list of classes that are available for all ages, and tonight we would like to share with you all on of our most popular activities. If you would, join me in a round of applause for our lead dancers, Mor Garrett and Cassian Nazari.”

Everyone clapped as Nesta watched Helion leave the stage, winking at her again as he did so.

Following his own dismissal, a couple took his place. The girl, Mor, wore a knee-length red halter-top dress. Her golden hair was wrapped perfectly in a bun at the back of her head, and her lips were painted just as bright as her gown.

But it was the man who truly caught Nesta’s attention. He wore simple black pants and a white button down shirt…..although only half the buttons were actually buttoned. His wavy, dark-brown hair hung limply around his shoulders, his hazel eyes grazing over her as she silently ogled over him.

He looked familiar. 

He pulled his partner closer to his body as the music began. Nesta was never too fond of ballroom dancing, but there was something sexy about watching him tango - the way his hips moved, the way his hand rested gently on her lower waist, the hunger in his eyes as the music led his every move.

“That’s Cassian Nazari,” Elain mentioned. “He’s new this year. The instructor from last year got fired for trying to steal from the company.”

Nesta simply nodded, unable to take her eyes off him.

As if noticing how she was watching him, Elain grinned. “Want to rethink taking dance classes with me this Summer?”

Nesta scoffed. “No. Absolutely not.”

“I think you’d be good at it,” Feyre said, giving Nesta a side glance. “The dress looks like something you’d wear, anyway.”

“I don’t dance,” Nesta snapped.

Feyre shrugged in surrender.

The music stopped as Cassian had Mor dipped low to the ground, the dinner-goers erupting into a fit of applause. The band started up again, playing soft background music, as the couple ran off the side of the stage.

“What are your plans for tomorrow, Miss Archeron?”

It took Nesta a moment to realize that Helion had appeared, and he was standing beside her chair, looking down at her.

“Oh, uh,” she sputtered, looking to her sisters for help.

Feyre and Elain just watched.

Silently cursing her own blood, Nesta shrugged. “Reading by the lake, I suppose.”

“Meet me for breakfast,” Helion offered. “At nine by the docks.”

Nesta hesitated.

She would have typically said no, and walked away without any guilty feeling at all.

But there was a look on Elain’s face that Nesta read as, Do it, Nes. Just to see. At least try. What will it hurt?

Nesta cringed as she agreed. “Okay.”

Helion smirked, surprise in those amber eyes. “Wonderful. I’ll see you there. Goodnight, ladies.”

“I feel like I’m going to vomit,” Nesta said, once he was far enough away.

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Nesta needed air.

Dinner was good, as it always was - grilled chicken marsala cooked to perfection, just as she’d remembered from the year before.

She couldn’t believe she had agreed to spend alone time with Helion, though. The thought had her ready to pass out. Damn Elain for making her feel guilty for pushing people away all the time – didn’t she know it’s what Nesta did best?

Twelve hours. She had twelve hours before she would have to meet him by the docks for breakfast.

Nesta took a walk.

She trudged out of the main hall and took to the sidewalk, following wherever it led.

Nesta walked past extravagant cabins, ignoring the people that sat on their porches, watching her curiously as she strode by.

Big, red oak log cabins became smaller and smaller as she followed the sidewalk further away from the main hall. The sidewalk followed alongside the lake, enough so that Nesta could never become lost, no matter how dark and unknown it became. She’d never gone this way. It was refreshing, the further she went away from people.

Nesta could only stand other people for so long.

And yet, the further she went away from the stir of the country club, it didn’t get any quieter. No – the further she continued, the louder it got.

Music.

The thrum of the bass was the first thing she heard, the first thing she felt. Then, the electric beat carried from its origin to the sidewalk, where Nesta decided to follow the tune.

She’d never been a fan of hip-hop or R&B or dubstep, or whatever it’s called – the pounding that came from the cabin she was now heading toward.

But it was loud, electrifying…..almost exciting.

Nesta typically preferred quieter melodies. A soft guitar, the piano, even the occasional violin. Nothing like what her ears beheld as she reached the cabin, and glanced through the window.

It was a party. It must have been the workers’ cabins, Nesta thought, as she noticed that most of them were still wearing bits and pieces of their uniforms.

And he was in the middle of it all – Cassian, the dancer from dinner.

His dress pants were still hugging his backside, but his chest was bare, sweat gleaming under the faint light. He was dancing with her – his partner, in a provocative display. Nesta watched as his body rolled, and his hands roamed that of his partner’s body.

Nesta’s pale cheeks heated from outside the window.

“Want to join?”

With a curse, Nesta jumped. She hadn’t even heard him come up behind her, his footsteps too quiet, or maybe she had been lost in his movements.

He looked innocent enough, wearing the uniform of a waiter. His lavender eyes observed her keenly.

“Oh, no, I just –“ Nesta hesitated. “I heard the music. I was only curious.”

“Right,” the stranger grinned.

When Nesta turned back to the window, he was looking at the pair – hazel eyes lit, one eyebrow raised.

The oldest Archeron sister quickly turned away. “Right, well, I should get going.”

“We’re here every night,” the stranger offered. “We’re a fun lot. I promise. If you ever want to join….”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Nesta declared, taking a few steps back, back toward the sidewalk.

Cassian was still watching them, his eyes on Nesta, as if he was trying to figure her out – as if he had seen her before, and he was trying to remember who she was.

Nesta left before he could figure it out.

[nehetisingsforhekate]

Janus and Hekate, and the New Year

Janus is a Roman God, the Gods’ God, divom deus. The lord of doors, transitions, beginnings. When His temple gate was open, it signaled that the Romans were to war. All of the rituals in honor of the Gods honored Janus first. He is the God of the days of the year, the doorkeeper of Heaven and Hell, and who looks upon all the corners of the world. He can have two faces or four. His primary symbol is the door, but he carries a key and a staff. He is a keybearer, and a guide. Like Hecate, Janus is also a God of childbirth, of generation, and even called the Good Creator.

His most common offerings are wine and incense along with cakes, called strues. For the private cult of Romans, Janus receives the first offering, before all others. Burchett believes that His placement at the forefront of the Gods invoked in ritual indicates that Janus is the God who serves as a passageway to the rest of Them. Ovid mentions a cake Ianual, and Cato mentions one called strues, which may be the same thing. Ovid only mentions it was of meal and salt, and Paulus-Festus says strues is strips of bread laid crosswise. Perhaps a good replacement would be hot cross buns, or a braided bread loaf, as we know little enough about the original recipes.

On the first day of the year, sweetmeats were served to encourage sweetness in the year ahead. (Yeah… I’m not eating sweetmeats, which are, historically, the thymus or pancreas of an animal.) He is Father of the Morning, and yet may have had purview over Dusk as well. He could also oversee harbors and waterways.

Martial describes him in a way that makes him the beginning of time, of the universe and the first receiver of prayers. He could even be said to be the Chaos at the beginning of time. Surviving sources also mention twelve altars to Him, but few have been uncovered.

Needless to say, Hecate and Janus share many of these traits. They both carry keys, are associated with doors and childbirth. Though He is absent Her underworldly character, they are also both associated with the road and travel. Though Janus appears to be native to the Romans, and Hekate is an adoptee from the East, the overlap is fascinating to me.

But it is Proclus who gives us their clearest connection in one of his hymns. There, we see Hekate and Janus as Creator Gods, and treats Janus as a form of Zeus.

Hail, many-named Mother of the Gods, whose children are fair Hail, mighty Hekate of the Threshold And hail to you also Forefather Janus, Imperishable Zeus Hail to you Zeus most high. Shape the course of my life with luminous Light And make it laden with good things, Drive sickness and evil from my limbs. And when my soul rages about worldly things, Deliver me purified by your soul-stirring rituals. Yes, give me your hand I pray And reveal to me the pathways of divine guidance that I long for, Then shall I gaze upon that precious Light Whence I can flee the evil of our dark origin. Yes, give me your hand I pray, And when I am weary bring me to the haven of piety with your winds. Hail, many-named Mother of the Gods, whose children are fair Hail, mighty Hekate of the Threshold And hail to you also Forefather Janus, Imperishable Zeus, Hail to you Zeus most high. -Proclus Diadochus (5th c. CE), Hymn VI: To Hekate and Janus, trans. Vogt, as printed in Ronan.

Ronan rightly points out that Proclus’ hymn is Chaldean in philosophy, and Janus stands as a Demiurge known in the Oracles as Hadad. This accounts for the ascetic, world-denying tone of the prayer, for the Chaldean Oracles emphasize utilizing their practices to ascend mortality and rejoin the Divine Ultimate Reality that Had, Hadad and Hekate represent.

By the 4th c. CE, Arnobius is speaking of Janus as Hekate’s son, by Ouranos, which can reasonably be said to refer to the Chaldean triad again, though we know of no other genealogy that defines their relationship as such.

When I sat down to research this, I had in mind writing a ritual to perform on New Year’s Day. It would be based on the Roman celebrations, but lo and behold, that’s basically the same as what we do now. The Romans didn’t really celebrate Janus on January 1st, indeed, the original opening of the year was in March with the Kalends, until the Julian Calendar was created. Often a Consul was taking office, and so there would be some oath-taking ritual for him, but otherwise, the New Year was welcomed mostly with rich food and drinking. Revelry in other words, much like we do today. They did give small offerings to Janus, but nothing formal with processions or temples. Gifts were given to friends and neighbors to honor the day, and they made sure to do some work that day, because sloth was considered a bad omen.

For myself, I have always simply read Proclus’ Hymn, and offered a brief acknowledgement of Hekate and Janus before beginning my simple celebration and cooking the foods that are traditional in my area. And, it appears that for now, I will be continuing that tradition. I’m really looking forward to my hoppin’ john, pork, and cornbread, not to mention the swiss roll I’m going to have to share. Not every occasion calls for a complicated ritual.

Happy New Years! May the year to come shower you with health, happiness, and peace!

  Sources:

http://www.livius.org/articles/religion/janus/? http://penelope.uchicago.edu/~grout/encyclopaedia_romana/imperialfora/nerva/geminus.html

Burchett, Bessie Rebecca. Janus in Roman Life and Cult, George Banta, 1912. Dunn, Patrick. The Practical Art of Divine Magic: Contemporary and Ancient Techniques of Theurgy, Llewellyn, 2015. Gagarin, Michael and Elaine Fantham. The Oxford Encyclopedia of Ancient Greece and Rome vol.1, Oxford, 2010. Harland, Philip A. Travel and Religion in Antiquity, Wilfrid Laurier, 2011. Johnston, Sarah Iles. Hekate Soteira, Scholars, 1990. Ronan, Stephen. The Goddess Hekate, Chthonios, 1992.

Images:

De Montfaucon, Bernard. “Janus,” from Antiquity Explained, and Represented in Sculptures, Tonson & Watts, 1722. Via wikicommons: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Janus.xcf