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pellucid-constellations · 1 year ago

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Of Oblivious Minds (3)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: You're positive Azriel is in love with Elain. It seems so obvious. But Cassian is laughing at you and suddenly nothing makes quite so much sense anymore.

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: Azriel's POV (it's a warning here), angst

a/n: I am blown away by all of you and your support!! I really love writing for this fandom omg. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy ♡ Let me know what you think!! I'll get the next update up soon!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

Azriel was losing his ever-loving mind.

A few weeks ago, everything was fine. Not optimal, but fine.

He knew his mate, and that was more than could be said for most of Prythian. But even more than that, he could love her from afar. He could make small remarks and catch the smiles they would elicit. He could send his shadows after her on her walks home, protecting her even though she had the entire Inner Circle looking out for her wellbeing. He could buy the ridiculously expensive pastries she loved and stock the kitchens with them, listening for the small gasps she let out each time she found them.

He could talk to you, listen to you, love you in his small ways, even if it wasn’t the ways in which he longed for.

Because it wasn’t the right time yet. You hadn’t felt the bond for yourself.

So, yes—admittedly, Azriel had not been in the most optimal position with you. But it was leaps and bounds better than the purgatory you were subjecting him to now.

He mulled over his current reality as he sat opposite to you at the dining table. He had had to snag the seat from Mor, ripping the chair from her hand in an uncharacteristic show of aggression, and you hadn’t so much as looked up from your plate. He would’ve rather fought for the seats beside you, but Rhys and Cassian had been sitting before he even entered the room. So now he fought for your eyes and was too far away to offer any lingering, accidental touches.

Not that you would reciprocate either.

You were avoiding him, and Azriel was at his wit's end trying to decipher why.

His shadows had relayed dismal reports, only whispering the words sad and alone and contemplative into his ears each morning. He could have guessed as much, if the display of emotions he had tried to comfort you through all those days ago told him anything.

But Gods, did they really tell him nothing, because you hadn’t spoken to him since.

“—that is certainly something to consider. Y/n, would you be open to the job?”

“Hm?” you hummed, and Azriel watched as your eyes flickered over to Rhys in one abrupt movement. “Sorry, what?”

Rhys raised a brow lined with humor, and Azriel realized he hadn’t been listening to the conversation either. “Helion has extended an invitation to the Night Court—for diplomatic relations and all. It’s mostly a weekend stay for show, but he has quite an extensive library. Feyre and I went last time so it would only be fair if—”

“Yes,” you nodded, the most emotion Azriel had seen on your face in days blooming into a joyous array. “Of course, I would love to go. Are you kidding?”

Rhys chuckled. “I figured. Helion has been quite eager to get you to come as well. Seemed like the perfect time.”

Azriel didn’t miss the way the High Lord’s eyes shone with something other than mirth as he looked closer at the scholar… as he inspected your facade the same way Azriel had been for the past week.

“When can I leave?”

Something in Azriel scratched to a halt. “She’s to go alone?”

Feyre offered the spymaster a soft smile from the other side of the table. “If she wishes. Helion’s invitation was open-ended.”

“Take the vacation, I say,” Mor piped in, wine glass raised in a solitary toast.

“Or… you could take me,” Cassian grinned beside you, jostling you in a playful grip.

You sent a scoff his way. “Aren’t you banned?”

“No, actually. I’m banned from Summer Court, which is completely unrelated.”

A short laugh trickled from your lips. It wasn’t a full one, not like the ones Azriel was so used to—the ones he basked in—but it was a laugh, nonetheless.

He felt the way his eyes seemed to follow the crescendo of it, his blinks in time with the sweet sound.

He committed it to memory.

“Right, well let’s keep you away from neighboring courts as much as possible so we can avoid a repeat of that, okay?”

Something like a grin fought at the side of Azriel’s mouth at your quip.

Cassian prattled on. Something about unjust rules or ridiculous high lords—Azriel wasn’t paying attention. He was too caught up in you and the way you were so close to meeting his gaze.

“Perhaps she shouldn’t go alone,” Azriel spoke up, interrupting his brother’s spiel. You still didn’t look at him, instead turning to catch Rhys’s response.

“Azriel, I can assure you this is a safe visit,” Rhys offered. He knew. Everyone seemed to know but you. “It’s hardly even business. It’s more of a vacation. I’ve been shoving century-old relics in her face for the past few months. She deserves time to herself, don’t you think?”

His High Lord was speaking in code. A terrible, frustrating code that really meant, “give her some distance.”

Azriel had had enough of distance.

He nodded his head all the same.

And then, despite all odds, you looked at him.

You looked at him and it was as if the air had been knocked from his lungs. As if he had been wrung out and stretched thin and every bone in his body forced him to sit up straighter. You were looking at him and Azriel couldn’t conceptualize the way the spectrum in his chest moved so quickly from utter relief to the brink of desolation.

Because you looked at him as if you were broken. A sad—such a sad—smile graced your face, one he had never had the displeasure of seeing before, and he wanted to wipe it away. He wanted to kiss it from your face with soft touches and reassuring whispers and that was startling for Azriel because he usually kept his overwhelming urge to kiss you at bay.

“I’ll bring you back a souvenir,” is all you said. Such simple words to accompany an expression that sent him reeling.

“Thank you,” he replied, with the most sincerity he could muster.

And then he held your gaze as it became downcast. He craned his neck to catch every last second of your eyes as they turned back down to the table.

It was hours later that Azriel found himself in the townhouse, boots creating an indent in the office carpet. Rhys sat just feet away from him, leaning back against the desk, waiting for the Shadowsinger to erupt.

“I would like for you to position your spies further into Autumn. I know you have a few that have integrated into the court, but I need more intel on Eris and his plans.”

“Of course.”

“You can take out any currently residing in Day. Just for the next week or so. With y/n going, she can report any happenings.”

A muscle in Azriel’s jaw jumped. “Would that be wise?”

Rhys stared back at his brother, expression giving nothing away. “Why wouldn’t it be? Do you not trust y/n’s word?”

Azriel’s wings were taut against his back. In truth, he hadn’t felt relaxed in days. With you leaving, that tension would surely pull him into thin compliance.

“Obviously I trust her word, Rhysand.”

“Rhysand? What have I done to earn your grievance?” the High Lord asked, crossing his arms over his chest, still the perfect picture of calm.

Azriel was a juxtaposition before him as he clenched his hands and replied, “You already know.”

“Do I know? I’m not sure you’ve been clear or honest with anyone. Y/n especially.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Rhys bent at the elbow and rubbed a restless hand across his jaw. Azriel ignored the movement in favor of holding eye contact with the High Lord. Azriel was being stubborn, he knew that, but there was no other way to be.

He needed to be consistent and reliable. He needed to be a pillar for his family to lean on, and you were part of that. He wasn’t going to take that away from you—to be selfish and call upon a mating bond you hadn't even been made aware of yet.

He wasn’t going to squander your friendship in the hopes of something more.

There was a chance, no matter how much the prospect pained him to consider, that you wouldn’t want the bond. You had never hinted at wanting more with the spymaster, so there was no telling how you might react to the cauldron blessing you with a union. You could reject it, and with it would go your friendship.

Just the thought sent ice through Azriel’s veins.

Truth be told, he had never shown you many signs either. When the bond snapped months ago, it had taken time for Azriel to come to terms with the truth. He had ruminated on it amidst many sleepless nights, watched you from a new perspective over many dinners, and contemplated the path that had led him to you.

And then he had regretted. Cauldron had he regretted.

The feeling still lingered, a reminder of each woman he had taken to his bed before you. All of the fae that had meant nothing, and even the ones that had boarded on something, he wished he could do away with.

Because you had been privy to them all. He knew you had witnessed a few late-night trysts, and even worse, that you had watched him pine after Mor for a century. It all seemed so frivolous now; it all paled in comparison to you.

And the absolute worst part of it all is that he knew.

He knew how easy it would be to fall in love with you from the start, so he pretended not to notice.

He threw himself into impractical longing and meaningless lovers and he pretended that it didn’t hurt to look at you.

The bond had only cemented his foolishness.

He hardly had a chance with you by the time it snapped.

“Late night then, Az?”

You had teased him over breakfast just days before the bond had snapped for him, a small smile on your face as you lounged at the table early in the morning. At the time, Azriel had bit the inside of his cheek and reeled in his snarkiness. He had avoided your gaze, avoided the robe that barely covered your nightgown, and made himself toast in silence. He had already coaxed the blonde fae out of his bed, and he hadn’t needed a reminder of the woman he had been imagining all throughout the night.

Because that had been something else he opted to ignore—that he pictured you, imagined you, at all times.

It snapped three days later. He had been accompanying you through Velaris. “Shopping for fun,” you had said, “and I hate to go alone.”

The only thing Azriel had taken home that day was a gaping hole in his chest and the knowledge that lying to himself had brought him nothing but pain.

The months following were different.

Everything was different.

But for you, he had come to the grim realization, nothing was different at all. He was still Azriel, your friend Azriel, who was secretive and private and cared from afar. You still pictured him as a man who chose his lovers based on convenience and quick practicality even though he hadn’t so much as looked at another woman since your emotions began flowing through his chest.

Gods, your emotions. They were so positive, so addicting, he could sit back and live his days through you until the end of time. You had so much unrestricted joy coursing through you—so much curiosity and delight. Part of Azriel dreaded the day you did recognize the bond; it would dim the connection to you.

That day in the library had been the first time the bond had chafed against his lungs. He had felt the earthquake beneath his feet and thought nothing of it, but then your fear punctured his being and he had run so fast his wings ached.

And then you started having nightmares, ones he couldn’t fix, and Azriel began to feel like he was losing you. Like the bond was withering and eroding within him and you along with it.

“How long, Azriel?” Rhys’s voice cut through the air with a harshness.

The shadowsinger breathed through his nose, jaw tight.

“Tell me. Tell me how long you’re going to keep this up for.”

“You don’t understand, Rhys,” came Azriel’s low reply. “None of you do.”

The High Lord scoffed. “Right, because I had it so easy with Feyre. Az, mates are complicated—”

“Don’t,” Azriel breathed. A dangerous shakiness accompanied the word.

“Explain it to me. Help me to understand how—”

“There was nothing for you to lose!” The rise of the shadowsinger’s voice sent Rhys into silence. “There was nothing! You hadn’t known Feyre for three centuries—hadn’t known what it was like to see her cry over worthless males or laugh until she was doubled over. You didn’t have time to memorize the sound of her voice or understand how it felt to lose that small piece of her. Because she won’t even talk to me anymore and—”

Azriel cut himself off, moving for the first time since he entered office. He paced, the motion of his feet doing little to dispel the tension from the air or from his body. Azriel tugged a hand through his hair, his shadows following the aggressive pull and weaving through the strands.

“How long?” Rhys asked again, but this time, Azriel knew that he was asking a different question. One that even he himself had avoided answering.

The shadowsinger paused. His next words were tainted and his voice cracked.

“I think forever.”

Part 4

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fanfic #acotar fanfiction #azriel #azriel angst

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readychilledwine · 1 month ago

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Like A Boy

Summary - After putting up with Azriel's behavior for far too long, you begin to match his energy

Warnings - unhappy fated mates, toxic relationship, use of negging a partner, reader is slightly abusive but so is Azriel, implied cheating, based on the women in male fields tiktok trend, loose editing

A/N - This trend currently has me in a choke hold. It is so toxic. It definitely would not solve anything in a relationship, and I am blessed not to be in this type of relationship, but it is fun to see women serving these dishes back.

💙Azriel Masterlist💙Master Masterlist💙

Azriel wondered if you knew how smug you looked. In a booth with two males fawning and drooling over you while you casually manipulated them into thinking they had a chance. You had left your hair to fall in loose waves, flirty and framing your face. Make up was applied to highlight your best features: those soft lips and siren spell eyes. You'd even used your body butter that left your skin with a glittering bronze sheen. You hardly glanced his way while you played these two males. You were letting them buy you drinks, letting them compliment you.

It'd been going on about a week since you started this type of behavior. You not home when you said you would be, you'd come home smelling like other males, you’d come home and bathe before greeting him.

Each time he asked, you played it down, telling him you were tired, caught up at work, or he was imagining things. You were so smooth about it, so confident as you told him he was wrong, that Azriel believed you, nodding as you offered him lies and comfort before pulling him into bed with you.

He was seeing first hand now, though. As was his family. Cassian was clearly uncomfortable, Nesta and Feyre whispering to each other, and Rhys just smirking as if he knew what was going down. Azriel knew he wasn't innocent in this. Hell, he wasn't even innocent right now. He had a priestess hanging on his arm, attention he normally loved, but now, it was sitting like a rock.

While he continued to wonder if you knew how smug you looked, you smirked, knowing he was slowly becoming more and more angry based on his grip closing the bond slipping, allowing it to open.

He was angry. He was embarrassed. He was hurt. Hypocritical considering Gwyn was hanging on him as he watched you, teal eyes just begging for a moment of his attention. He smelled like her every day when he came home for lunch and then he smelled like Elain on the nights you beat him home.

You'd brought up his transgressions constantly, asking him to prioritize you and the relationship and mateship you two shared. But you two had gone from intense honeymoon phase love to roommates with benefits after the creation of Elain Archeron and the sudden appearance of Gwyneth Berdara. Anytime you mentioned moving back out, being just friends, he'd beg you to stay and lure you into false comfort until you caved. You felt trapped, but you'd found a way to push back with Rhysand's encouragement.

A messy bitch, that High Lord of yours.

It had happened by accident, Azriel finding you in an odd position with Rhysand after something had knocked over the ladder you were on in the House of Wind's library. The High Lord had caught you, but barely. He'd had one arm around your waist, the other behind your neck, his knee and powerful thigh supporting below your butt. It looked far more romantic than it was, a lover dipping their partner for kiss. Though Azriel knew deep down Rhysand would never step out of his marriage with the lovely Feyre, it did not stop him from starting a fight with you the second you arrived home that night.

And your response, “He's just a friend, Azriel.” Something he'd said to you many times in the past 4 years about Gwyn, about Elain.

You had told Rhysand about Azriel's reaction, the male originally joking about you beginning to flirt with other males to end this situation between you and the spymaster. The High Lord paused when he made that joke, though, looking at you with gleaming eyes.

The plan was born then. You would matching Azriel's energy at every turn and you played him off mastering his own tactics after being the victim of them.

You knew tonight may have pushed it. You looked good, you smelled good, you felt good. You left Rita's without so much as looking his way, putting your jacket over your tight short dress before walking through the still lively streets of Velaris.

You slipped off the high black heels you had worn, stretching and curling your toes before heading into the apartment you and Azriel shared to make yourself tea.

The biggest difference between what you and Azriel had done was that you never fully cheated. You never welcomed another male into your bed the way Azriel had been welcoming multiple females. But he didn't know that. He wouldn't care if he did. The males putting hands on you was enough.

You began the 5 second course down under your breath, leaning against the counter when you hit one and the door flew open before slamming shut.

“What the fuck was that,” he was fuming, hazel eyes almost blazing with his fury. “You didn't even look at us! You didn't come say hello! Do you know how embarrassing it is for your mate to be in the same place as you but act like they don't know you?”

“You said we weren't going out as a couple tonight,” you shrugged casually. “You said you didn't care if I went out and had some fun. I just went out. What's the big deal?” Another of his favorite lines.

Azriel made a stunned face, “The big deal is my family just saw my mate with two males all over her! My family-”

“I genuinely don't know what you are talking about. I had some drinks with some friends and came home. Sorry I didn't see any of you.”

“Are you being serious right now?”

“I am. You are acting crazy,” you watched as another of his lines landed. “I think this is a you issue. Are you feeling okay?”

He realized it then, nodding, “You think you're slick, don't you?”

You only sipped the hot tea, shrugging again, “I think you're overreacting and being emotional over nothing.”

“You don't get to play this game with me,” he glared. “We are mates, you don't get to sit here and-”

“Treat you like you treat me? Oh, but I do, and I will until you either stop and we go to a priestess of my choice to work on us, or you get out of my apartment.”

“If I left, you'd have not-”

“I'd have a new male within seconds. You're here by my choice, Azriel. Stop forgetting that. You aren't that pretty, you aren't that bright, and no one will want a mated male long term. Comes with too much baggage. At least, that's what you tell me all the time, isn't it?”

His face fell further as the weight of what was happening hit him, “Baby-”

You hit him with the last of his favorite lines, “No, no, you think on that. I'm tired of fighting with you. Let's just go to bed. Maybe you will wake up less emotional.”

He watched in shock as you walked away, a gentle sway of seduction in your hips as you did. He moved to the living room, sitting down like you had many nights after a fight like this, and his brain switched from picturing you so smug to picturing you so small. Picturing you in the same position you'd just put him into.

Rhysand had warned him that if he didn't stop playing with you, Azriel would make you a monster.

And he couldn't help but wonder if he finally did and if it was too late to change it.

General Taglist:

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#elizabeths.updates #send asks #acotar #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #acotar x you #acotar x y/n

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lovelygwyneth · 4 months ago

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Elain Week Day 4: Home 🌼 @elainarcheronweek

"The suite was filled with sunlight.

Every curtain shoved back as far as it could go, to let in as much sun as possible.

As if any bit of darkness was abhorrent.

As if to chase it away.

And seated in a small chair before the sunniest of the windows, her back to us, was Elain."

For this day I would like to bring this scene from the book, as Elain is a character full of hope and who showed interest in traveling the continent, I like to think about how she admires the landscape outside the window and thinks about a future, about what discoveries come with it.

I hope that in her book we can participate in her discoveries and that she finally finds her home.

I'm hoping it's full of sunshine just like her soul 🤍✨

Thank you @majuandrad for this beautiful piece 🫶

#elain week 2024 #elain week #elain #elain archeron #pro elain archeron #sjm books

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flowersandshadows112 · 4 months ago

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Elain Archeron week Day 4- Home💖🦇

(Art by: @artbyemmilinne)

And home's not home unless you're there

And I'll never be ready but I don't care

Wide awake all night thinking about you

Do you think of me too?

I hate to let you go, but if I don't then we both know

I'll bury us both, fed to the night (as ghosts)

#elain archeron #acotar #azriel #elain x azriel #elriel #pro elriel #azriel x elain #elain week 2024

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nikethestatue · 4 days ago

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Not Another Hallmark Christmas Story

@sirenarts

My dear Siren, happy Solstice, Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year! I am your Secret Santa!

Please enjoy this dark Christmas story.

Summary:

Azriel Singer is my boss. My harsh, unpleasant, demanding boss. A boss that I want to avoid at all costs, but it's proving harder than I imagined. He's infiltrated almost all aspects of my life and there is no escaping him. Now, it's Christmas, and what I did not expect was having him in my house, uninvited and unwanted. But Azriel Singer doesn't care. He takes what he wants. And I fear that perhaps, he wants me?

A dark Christmas story where the hero is more of an anti-hero and consent is dubious.

*this fic is inspired by 'If I Can't Have You' by deathsdoll

Chapter One

There she was.

Beautiful.

Perfect.

Exquisite.

Soft and full, and just the right height.

She was everything I was looking for and if I couldn’t have her, I didn’t want anything else.

My fingers itched to touch her.

I wanted to bring her home with me immediately and adorn her in all the finery that I had prepared for her.

I’ve been waiting. Waiting for the right moment. Waiting for the opportunity to snatch her. Waiting to make her a part of my home, eager to have her greet me every time I stepped over the threshold and to be the first thing that I saw in the morning. She’d scent my apartment with her delicate aroma and would sparkle with a million lights.

I rubbed my hands excitedly.

This one was mine!

All About Last Christmas

The blustery wind of Chicago winter was unforgiving today. It was only 4:53 pm but it was already pitch dark outside and soft snowflakes swirled lazily in the glare of streetlights. I had all but clawed my way out of the office this early–was it early? –requesting a 4:30 pm leave weeks in advance.

My dreadful manager, Azriel Sebastian Singer, pursed his lips, like he was sucking on a lemon, when I encountered him in the hallway on my way out of the office.

“Leaving early, Elain, is not how you get ahead,” he told me then.

“Sorry, Azriel,” was all I said. Why did I say that I was sorry? I wasn’t sure. I didn’t do anything improper or incorrect, but somehow, under his scrutiny, I always felt the need to apologise. For what? I didn’t know.

“Have a good day then,” he tossed dismissively.

Day. Not night. Because unless I left before 7 pm, it was ‘day’ to him. And therefore, I was ‘slacking��.

“Thank you, Azriel,” was all I said. “You too.”

He strode off without further glance, his hand in his pocket, his perfect dark navy suit barely creased.

God, how I detested him. Avoidance has been my preferred and best option when it came to interacting with Mr. Singer, but as he was my direct supervisor, that often proved challenging. However, this time around, I did my due diligence. I’d emailed him weeks in advance–weeks, for god’s sake–only to request a reasonable leave on a Friday in early December. It was frustrating when he didn’t respond for four days and that forced me to ping him again, sending a gentle reminder.

His response was predictably terse: If you must.

That’s how he responded, if you must. Well, yes, I must. Problem was that it wasn’t exactly an answer. Was it a ‘yes, if you must’ or ‘I’d rather you didn’t, but if you must…’? He was impossible to read and I had no idea what his answer actually meant. The most logical assumption was that it was a ‘yes’, however, when it came to Azriel Singer, assumptions were a death trap.

Hence, I was forced to face him, and ask the question directly.

I really don't know why he filled me with so much anxiety. Perhaps, it was because of his superior bearing, and how he seemed to judge everything I did. Maybe it’s his look, intense and scrutinising, the eyes that seemed to be always watching. Maybe it was because he was always…excellent, at everything. No matter what, he just had It–as far as I knew, he jumped from promotion to promotion with remarkable ease, and nothing seemed impossible for him. He dressed well. He smelled delicious. He knew everything there was to know about sports, wine, whiskey, eating, cars, art, music, politics. He knew how to speak to anyone, about anything. He was never awkward, or unsure. And if he was–though I refused to believe it–he never showed it.

But with all that excellence came arrogance, and unreasonable demands, and impossible standards. He didn’t tolerate imperfection at work. He didn’t accept sloppiness. I’d seen him send more than one associate home in the middle of the day because they weren’t wearing suits. ‘We are Night Capital Management, not Sizzler’ was his favourite expression when he berated someone for untidiness or incorrect data. And gosh, have I been on the receiving end of that critique!

Redo, and pages marked up in red.

You are better than this

Sloppy work

Yep, that was pretty typical feedback from Azriel Singer. He never offered an explanation willingly. Never provided guidance.

He just…waited.

He watched me and he waited.

And when my tongue wouldn’t move in my mouth, and tears pricked my eyes, and I couldn’t bear to ask him for help, he simply ordered ‘Fix this’ and left me to break my head trying to figure out what the issue was.

On Monday, I couldn’t wait any longer. ‘If you must’ wasn’t cutting it. I’d wracked my brain all weekend long trying to figure out how to avoid him, and still get the ‘early’ leave permission, but ultimately, I decided to man up and just ask directly. And still I stalled until almost 5 pm, before finally mustering enough courage to walk to his office.

He was seated behind his large desk–devoid of any personal items, of course–staring at his computer. Uncharacteristically, his suit jacket was off, and the sleeves of his pale blue shirt were rolled up almost to the elbows, exposing his thick, muscular forearms. And the scars. Of course everyone was aware of the scars, though not the story behind them, but when I glanced at his arms, I realised just how far the burn scars extended. It wasn’t just his hands. Streaks of glossy scar tissue reached almost to the elbow.

He glanced at me, and then followed my gaze and when he saw me looking at the scars he actually shifted in his chair. Didn’t say anything, but his expression hardened.

“Azriel, sorry to bother you,” I told him, because he hasn’t said a word just watching me stand there. “But, do I have your approval for Friday, the 5th. To leave a little earlier?”

“Didn’t I already give it to you?” he asked indifferently.

“Ummm, I guess,” I responded stupidly.

“You guess?” he repeated. “Did you not get my email?”

“I did,” I stammered. “I just wanted to confirm.”

“Well, perhaps if you need verbal confirmation to emails, then you might as well not bother with them and just run back and forth asking me in person,” he suggested.

I flushed.

God, he was an asshole.

“Okay then,” what else was I supposed to say to him, other than call him names? “Thanks.”

Just as I turned to leave, he suddenly asked, “Where are you going?”

“What?” That was a weird question. “I am…back to my cube?”

“No, I mean on the 5th? Are you going somewhere?” he asked, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms on his chest, effectively covering the scars, though I saw the gesture for what it was–he was uncomfortable.

“No, not really. I just have some things to do,”

“And the weekend isn’t enough time for you to do those things?” he pressed.

I didn’t know why he suddenly decided to interrogate me about this.

“I just…” I sighed. “Just things, for Christmas,”

“You are taking time off work to do Christmas shopping?” he actually raised a brow in my direction.

“Is it so unusual?” I demanded at last, losing my patience with him. Why was this any of his business anyway?

“So you are going Christmas shopping? Alone?” he repeated.

Alone? Why did he care if I was going alone? “Um, yes. I have things to take care of, alone.”

He hummed under his breath, sizing me up with his heavy gaze.

“Is that so?”

His probing questions drove me crazy. What did he want?

“Are you going to tell me then that Graysen Nolan taking the same day off has nothing to do with this?”

Graysen?

This was about Graysen? I was bewildered by the mention of our co-worker. Graysen Nolan was an analyst on the team, and yes, he’d been flirtatious with me during meetings and lunches, and had even attempted to ask me out, but I wasn’t particularly interested.

There was nothing wrong with him–he was handsome, in a preppy boy sort of way. Tall, but not as tall as Azriel, fit, with a heap of brown hair on top of his head which made him look like a llama. Great teeth and blue eyes. I had nothing against Graysen, but I was too mentally exhausted and stressed out to really consider any kind of dating right now. Especially someone from my own team.

And I guess that I was right to do so, considering the interrogation that Azriel was putting me through currently.

“You know that interoffice romances aren’t encouraged,” Azriel reminded me sternly, watching for my reaction.

“I know that,” I said quickly. “I am not…I am not with Gray. I am not with anyone. I am not dating,” it all came out in one sentence. IamnotwithGrayIamnotwithanyoneIamnotdating. I sounded deranged. But I wanted to make sure that Azriel didn’t think that there was any impropriety happening on his team and that I wasn’t involved with a coworker.

He sighed at last, seemingly relieved.

“Good to know. We wouldn’t want you dating. Anyone…”

“No, no,” I agreed quickly.

He sighed again and finally nodded, “Alright then, have fun.”

“Thank you, Azriel.”

He didn’t mention it for the rest of the week, but as I was leaving today, he just happened to appear in the hallway and offered his unhelpful rebuke about leaving early and my career.

It’s not that Azriel Singer was an awful man. He wasn’t. It would be unfair to characterise him that way. In fact, to most, he was irresistible: at a towering 6”5, he was muscular and extremely fit, his expensive dark suits always bespoke and made to accentuate his excellent physique. He carried himself confidently and with natural ease, and despite being a quiet man, who never said more than necessary, I also watched just about everyone at the office gravitate towards him. He was magnetic in how he moved about, his head bobbing above the line of cubicles, his voice distinct and attractive because of its deep, gravelly quality and timbre. But it was the face that really was unforgettable. Listen, I might not like him, but I am realistic. The man is devastating. Cheekbones that could cut glass, and a jawline as sharp as a knife’s edge. Big hazel eyes, more green than brown and full lips which softened the cruel set of his mouth.

He was the kind of man who succeeded in everything, it would seem. Men were desperate for his approval and women were desperate for his attention.

I don’t really know when it started. I suppose a year ago, last December.

At the last Christmas party, held at the enchantingly lovely The North Pond, there was a trivia game that our Senior Managing Director Rhys Darling had organised, and insisted that everyone partake in. There were groans and moans of discontent and no one wanted to go against Azriel, until they pushed me forward and told me that ‘you are so smart, you can take him’. It’s not that I am exceptionally smart, though Azriel and our Director seem to think so, but the questions were relatively easy, and if you had a good memory, you could take Azriel on. I didn’t want to. I really didn’t. I didn’t want to be scrutinised by those hazel eyes and I didn’t want to see that tiny smirk on his lips. I would’ve rather disappeared completely. But I played along and both of us received the same scores. I think that he was surprised that we came head to head. I wasn’t surprised, but I didn't let him or anyone know that. Azriel only won because of ‘sudden death’ and he shouted the correct answer a fraction of a second before me. The question was tricky–what country that doesn’t directly border the US (aka Canada and Mexico) is closest to America? Everyone was shouting their incorrect answers, most assuming that it was Cuba. A good guess, but an incorrect one. Apparently, only Azriel and I knew the right answer–and he was just a hair faster than I. In case you were wondering, it’s Russia. Only about two miles separates Russia and the US. I know, it’s a fun fact–use it at your own holiday party next.

My colleagues seemed surprised, but they yelled excitedly and High Fived me, like we were at a frat party and not at the North Pond. I supposed that considering the amount of money the company was plunking into this party, a little yelling was allowed. Besides, we rented out the whole restaurant.

It was then that he’d approached me, after a good fifteen minutes of humble bragging about how he is ‘just a dilettante’. I mean, who even uses ‘dilettante’? I noticed a few confused glances, and spotted a couple of people reaching for their phones to check on the meaning of the word.

In case anyone's wondering, a dilettante is a person who cultivates an area of interest, such as the arts, without real commitment or knowledge. A dabbler.

“Elain, a word.”

I remember how I shuddered back then. It was involuntary. I couldn’t help it.

The dreaded expression. It haunted me. Haunts me to this day, really.

Let me explain a little about my background.

I am twenty-seven years old, born and bred in Chicago. I didn’t go away to school, but attended Northwestern, before being accepted to the Kellogg School of Business. I received my MBA and at 26 joined Night Capital Management–one of the top five investment firms in the world. The fancy description of what we do is that we provide investment, advisory and asset management solutions. The short of it is simple–we manage money. Everyone’s heard of BlackRock, Vanguard, State Street, Citadel…We are like that, only more exclusive.

I was hired as a Senior Financial Analyst, in Asset Management specifically. Obviously investments have to do with how to invest the money, advisory is where to invest it and asset management is all about growing the existing funds. And that’s what I do–I run reports, analyse risks, look at projections and calculate the best possible financial option for my clients. Well, our clients. I am not a hedge fund manager. I am just an analyst.

The actual manager is Azriel Singer.

When I was interviewing for the position–seven rounds, no less! –thankfully, he wasn’t in his role yet. He was still a senior manager, a step below what he currently is, which was the manager of an entire fund. For lack of a better term, Azriel Singer 'inherited’ me, and he’s been tormenting me ever since his promotion back 13 months ago.

“Elain, a word.”

And that’s how we met.

I didn’t know who he was. I was in my role only for two months, so I was still getting my bearings and learning who was who and what was what. We received an email regarding him being promoted and that it would be effective in 90 days. We then received another email, this time from him, stating that he was looking forward to meeting us and that we’d be part of his team. He’d schedule individual introductions with each one and discuss ‘deliverables’ and ‘performance expectations’.

I raised my eyes from my screen and was faced with an enormous looming presence, which threw a shadow over my cubicle. He stood there, like some warrior of old–huge, broad-shouldered, pristine, but also wild somehow, his arms so big, they were like tree trunks. He was just so big. And I caught myself thinking that I’d never met a man more handsome than him ever in my life. It was almost obscene.

I blinked at him.

He just looked down, his gaze both disinterested and intense. His eyes, forest-green and brown like hazelnuts, considered me for a long time, as he assessed me wordlessly. I didn’t know what to say, or who he was, and why he was standing here.

“Elain?” he asked at last.

“Yes?” my voice came out sounding thin and small.

“A word,” he said impassively.

I swallowed. Suddenly, my throat felt impossibly dry.

“Yes?”

“Better be done in my office,” he ordered curtly, and then turned around and headed down the hallway, expecting me to follow him.

I jumped up from my seat, still unsure of what he was and who he was, though I suspected that this was my new boss.

His wide, powerful back flexed with muscles beneath the dark charcoal suit that he was wearing. I could see that the suit was bespoke, and British. My younger sister Feyre is a fashion designer and I know all about various styles and cuts of suits, because menswear has very rigorous schools of design. You could never mistake a Caraceni for a Henry Poole.

He didn’t look back to see if I was following. I suppose he just expected me to.

The name plaque outside the door said Azriel S. Singer, Esq.

So he was a lawyer too. Great.

By the time I reached the office, he was already inside, seated behind his bare desk, a wall of windows behind him, overlooking downtown Chicago.

Quite the corner office he got.

“Sit,” he told me. I sat.

He folded his hands on his stomach, lacing the fingers together and I noticed the scars. Obviously I said nothing. He made me nervous. His presence was dark and overwhelming, like he swallowed the air around him.

“Elain Archeron, a Senior Analyst,” he stated the obvious. “You started in Investments, worked there for three months and then were recommended to Asset Management. That’s quite a quick promotion.”

“I wasn't promoted,” I argued quietly.

He shot me an unamused glare, silencing me and making it known that he wasn’t pleased with my interruption.

“Nevertheless you are here now.”

I nodded just once.

“I usually don't do this with my subordinates,” he said meaningfully, implying that I was the exception. “But I will do this for you. Ask me anything.”

“Pardon?”

“You have two minutes of my time. Ask me anything.”

I felt hot and was sweating beneath my black jumper. I had no idea what his game was and why he was bothering me, and I certainly didn't have any questions for him, but I knew that he was expecting something. Something smart. Something that he wouldn’t consider a waste of his time.

“What’s the secret to achieving success?” I asked at last. My heart was beating wildly in my chest and my palms were sweaty.

A small smirk touched his mouth, as if he was pleased with my question.

“In this company?” he said and then rubbed his chin. “Come in first and leave last.”

That seemed deceptively simple.

“That’s all?” I repeated.

He nodded.

“They basically want to see how much pain you can take. How dedicated you are. How bad do you want it.”

Then he peered at him with his penetrating eyes and asked, “And do you want it bad, Elain?”

I looked behind him, at the stunning view behind the windows–the blue waters of Lake Michigan, the greenish ribbon of the Chicago River, the gleaming skyscrapers all around us.

“I do,” I said at last.

His handsome face changed and turned cold and unreadable.

“Are you sure?” he pressed.

“I am,” I insisted.

“Well, we’ll see if you will tell me the same thing in a few months,” he stated menacingly.

I wasn’t sure what he meant, but then he spread a stack of reports on his desk and said,

“Let’s start with this. Because you are not going anywhere with a report like this. This is pathetic. I expect better from a Senior Analyst.”

And that’s how it began.

Three months later, we were at the North Pond, champions of the trivia game. And just like I did every day prior, I heard the cursed expression ‘Elain, a word’.

What did he want? Again?

He already won! I lost. There was nothing else to talk about.

I was hoping that I could sneak out soon-ish and disappear and go home and get into my sweats.

Listen, I am an ambivert. I don’t mind socialising with others, it doesn’t bother me, but I was running on empty and the trivia game took a lot out of me because of the pressure. Not only did I have to lead my team (who were useless), I needed to do that against Azriel, my terrifying boss.

And now, he was yet again, looming over me, probably here to berate me or gloat. Again, in his defense, he has always been reasonably respectful to me, and didn’t put me down publicly. When we were in our 1:1 that was a different story. He never lost his temper, was never unprofessional, was never outright mean or improper. It’s just that he had this ability to destroy everyone’s self-esteem and pride with two-three well-placed words. And it usually began with the words ‘Elain, a word’. I knew that I was about to be annihilated. That my reports would be red marked all over the place. And that I was going to get a dispassionate ‘you can do better’ comment, with him expectantly waiting for me to ask him ‘how’. I never did. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. I didn’t care that this job sucked the life out of me and that I spent most of my weekends working. I didn’t want his help. I didn’t want him near me. I didn’t want to see his stupid gorgeous face and hear this stupid gravelly voice. I didn’t want any of it.

“Good job out there,” he said suddenly.

Y’all. I just about fell over.

What was this?

Did I just transport to the Bizarro World? Azriel Singer giving an unsolicited compliment out of his own free will?

I forgot how to speak for a moment or two. I really had no idea what to say and he expected me to say.

“Thank you?” I managed at last, desperately looking around to see if anyone was available to save me. But of course no such luck.

“Please don’t say that you were surprised,” I begged him suddenly. I am not sure where it came from, but I desperately wanted him to acknowledge that I was…good. At something. I was good at trivia, at least.

He looked at me with genuine surprise and even took a step back.

“Why would I?” he asked.

I sighed.

“Because…because…I don’t know,” I truly didn’t. I didn’t know what he actually thought.

“Contrary to whatever you are thinking right now, or in general about me, I respect you, Elain,” he told me and his expression was sincere and kind. Something in his face softened at that moment.

“Do you?” I confirmed.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he raised his dark brow at me.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what to think most of the time, if I am being honest,” I admitted.

He looked at me, and then, shockingly whispered, “You look beautiful today, Elain.”

I gasped.

Did he just actually say this to me right now or was I hallucinating?

He smirked and then offered, “let me buy you a drink! We fought valiantly and we came out on top. As expected.”

“As expected,” I whispered.

Smiling conspiratorially, he moved closer to me and suddenly, I felt his large, warm palm on the small of my back. He never touched me before. Even when we first met, when he ambushed me at my desk, we didn’t shake hands because we were not properly introduced. I was used to him and his nearness because he often stood behind my desk or sat near me while showing me something, or when we prepared for meetings together. However, this was the very first time when he touched me and I remember feeling very warm and very secure at his side. He was so large and I knew that if anything, this is the man who’d protect me from anything. I mean, who’d even challenge him? But still, the feeling was pleasant and novel. He smelled good, his cologne clearly expensive–Armani? Tom Ford? –and I scented him like a loon, like I always did when he was near. I am not exactly sure why and what compelled me to smell him, but there was something alluring in the combination of his masculine musk and cedar.

He guided me towards the bar and out of the main dining room, his hand never leaving my back. It wasn’t just his fingertips that touched my burgundy dress–he had his whole palm planted just above the curve of my behind. It felt intimate. Possessive, in a way a boyfriend or a husband might touch his woman. But I wasn’t his. And he didn’t want me to be either.

“What would you like to drink?” he asked, leaning over the bar. With one hand, he pulled a bar stool closer and then handed his card to the bartender, opening a tab. “Whatever she wants,” he jerked his chin towards me.

“You don’t have to!” I exclaimed hurriedly. “I am not much of a drinker,”

“I am,” he winked at me. “What’s your poison, Elain? Whiskey? Tequila? Vodka? Gin?”

“An Aperol Spritz?” I blurted, even though I didn’t want one. But it seemed like a safe, cheap choice. It wasn’t a winter drink.

“She’ll have a dirty martini,” Azriel said easily, ignoring my lame order. “Gin. Two measures of Gordon’s. One measure of Gray Goose. Half a measure of Kina Lillet. Olive brine. A spritz of lemon zest and three anchovy olives.

“And I’ll have a Macallan, neat.”

“You got it,” the bartender nodded, clearly impressed by Azriel’s order. I didn’t even know half of the things he said. Also, I didn’t like anchovies, I don’t think.

“Trust me on the anchovy olives,” he said, obviously reading my mind.

“What if I wanted the Aperol Spritz?” I insisted, not liking him taking all the control away from me.

“No one wants a spritz in December in Chicago. But if you insist…should I get you one?”

I pouted.

“No.”

He smiled at me and while we were waiting for the drinks, he unexpectedly wrapped his arms around me and lifted me off the floor, placing me on the stool.

“Wait, wha-,” he began saying, but he just smiled at me again.

The drinks were set in front of us, and I couldn’t finish my thought. Azriel picked up his tumbler and raised it, lightly clinking it with my martini glass.

“To the victors go the spoils!” he announced and then watched me take a sip of my martini.

Oh god. Even now, I think of it and I can’t forget how lovely it was. Crisp and sharp and enticing. Kind of like the man who’d ordered it.

He didn’t sit down and remained standing, still towering over me, his hazel eyes keen and penetrating.

“I want to ask you a question, Elain. And I’d like an honest answer,” he requested, taking me aback.

“Yes?”

“Why don’t you like me?”

“No! What?” I scrambled for answers “I am…I don’t,”

“I asked for you to be honest,” he cut me off and then sipped his whiskey.

“It’s not true,” I argued, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable and overwhelmed. It wasn’t a fair question and he shouldn’t have asked me that. What was he expecting me to say exactly?

He didn’t wait for me to continue, but instead, said,

“Because the thing is that I like you.”

I swallowed my drink hard, stunned into silence by his admission. He didn’t seem fazed and continued,

“I think that you are brilliant. You are sharp, intelligent, highly accomplished. You are the best analyst on my team–by far. Look, I have a few reasonably good people on the team, and a few who aren't worth my time.”

“Then if you think so, why are you so harsh with me?” I asked boldly.

His brow furrowed and he shook his head, “No. I am not.”

“I think that you are,” I insisted. “You criticize me viciously. You are mean. You berate me for every little infraction,”

“I am doing my job,” he said plainly. “Which means getting the best results and the best work out of my associates. I am not going to baby you, if that’s what you are asking. And I don’t ‘berate’ you. I correct you. There is a difference, you know. In fact, I will expect even more from you.”

“Why? How much more can I give?”

Coldly, he said, “you’ll give as much as I take, until I am satisfied.”

“And when is that going to be?”

He chuckled darkly.

“Not any time soon, Elain. Not anytime soon. In fact,”

My heart dropped.

I was vaguely aware that his palm was pressing to the small of my back again. I felt his thumb stoke the few lower knobs of my spine.

“It’s not official yet,” he said at last. “But I wanted to tell you and give you a heads up.”

I swallowed the rest of my martini. I drank it too fast. It was going to my head. I was feeling hot and mellow.

Azriel snapped his finger and said to the bartender ‘another one for her’.

“Nooo,” I protested. “I am buzzed…”

“I know,” he said calmly.

“What do you want from me?” I whined, emboldened by the alcohol that I had consumed.

“You know that I am officially moving into my role on January 1st,” he stated.

I nodded. I hoped that he wouldn’t be my manager anymore.

I hated hearing ‘Elain, a word’. I hated the red Montblanc pen that he used on my reports and calculations. I hated his critiques. I didn’t want to hear him tell me how I messed up and where I went wrong. I wanted a nice boss, who’d be kind and supportive of me.

“And I have the opportunity to build my own team. And I want you, Elain.”

I got another drink handed to me. He was staring at me, his hand now on my shoulder, squeezing lightly. My shoulder was bare and his hand was hot and dry. The silvery scar tissue on his palm felt smooth and if he had calluses, I couldn’t feel them. His fingers were long and strong. His hand was very heavy.

My heart dropped.

He wanted me.

“On my team,” he added. “Under me. My...tutelage.”

I looked up at him. There was something like triumph blazing in his eyes.

His hand tightened on my shoulder.

And I knew then that I wouldn’t be escaping any time soon.

All About This Christmas

I approached her, huddling into my scarf, wanting to do this quickly and get back in my car.

Typically, I took the Blue Line downtown where the office was located, but today, I drove, spent $56 on parking, which made me sick to my stomach, but it was worth it.

She was so fluffy.

I smiled to myself.

Perfect size.

I hurried over to the seller and pointed,

“I want this,”

“One,” to my horror, utmost, undiluted horror, Azriel Singer’s voice sounded behind me.

I had to be hallucinating. This was PTSD, right? I was hearing his voice everywhere! Right? After a year of working with him, and him being the dominant man in my life, whom I saw more than I saw anyone, including my sisters, I was just hearing his voice in my head.

I couldn’t…I couldn’t turn around. It was impossible. I was definitely hearing things.

Maybe, maybe it was Cassian?!?

A little glimmer of hope lit up in my chest. Yes, it had to be Cassian. Obviously. How didn’t I guess that? Azriel would never leave work early and wouldn’t be here, buying a Christmas tree.

Cassian Wilbur Singer, Esq. was Azriel’s younger brother.

After Azriel casually handed me my indefinite sentence that promised that I would remain under his control and on his team for the foreseeable future, I had to grin and bear it. Short of quitting the company, which is something I was absolutely unwilling to do, I resigned myself to serve at Azriel’s feet for lack of a better term.

I’d learned a few things about my new boss fairly quickly. He was incredibly patient–surprising, I know, but also ruthless. But mostly, he was just demanding.

Elain, redo the projections for the 4th quarter

Elain, did you consider the new data? I sent it to you yesterday

Elain, you are using too much finance jargon in this report

Elain, walk me through your analysis

Elain, send me the numbers before 10 am

Elain, let’s walk through this together before the meeting

Elain, what are you doing for lunch? Let me know if you have time to discuss?

And on and on and on.

My sister Feyre said that I was ‘the victim of my own success’ and that I’ve made myself ‘indispensable to him’ and that he grew to rely on me too much.

My other sister Nesta was harsher in her assessment and said that ‘he uses you like a crutch’ and ‘he knows you are a pushover, so he is taking advantage of your inability to say ‘no’ to him’.

I didn’t really want to say ‘no’ to him. And maybe I was a pushover, but I just felt that it was easier to let him guide the team and be responsible for the decision-making. At work, Azriel Singer was a star, and I trusted him. As hard as he was, he was also fair. And maybe, just maybe, I liked hearing his praise, or when he hummed under his nose and smirked to himself. I knew then that he was pleased with my work. Receiving his approval was incredibly difficult, and when it came, I was going to take advantage of it and enjoy every morsel of his good will.

What did not create any good will with him was when he caught me a couple of times asking my team members for assistance, or an explanation. Especially if it related to something that he sent back or corrected on my report.

I wasn’t sure why, but for whatever reason that set him off. He wouldn’t say anything. He never confronted me, and if I hadn’t learned how to read him, I might have missed it entirely. But I did pick up on a few scoffs, the subtle changes in his expression, the annoyance that he tried to hide. What was an even better indicator of his displeasure, was how rough he became afterwards, and how harsh his critique and his demands were towards me. I knew that he wanted me to ask him for directions, and I knew that he liked to make decisions for me, but I couldn't bring myself to do it most of the time. Firstly, I liked figuring things out myself, and secondly, he was intimidating as hell.

I met Cassian Singer one morning, following an early call with a client, which was held in Azriel’s office. By the time the call ended, I was tired, hungry and cranky. While Azriel did most of the talking, I needed to speak to some of the numbers and explain two parts of the report. It wasn’t difficult, but the client was asking a lot of questions, and while Azriel was helpful and guided the conversation, I was expected to deliver my part flawlessly.

“Good job, Elain,” was all he said when I got up and unplugged my laptop.

I smiled. I pressed the laptop to my chest and left his office, heading to the break room with a pep in my step.

A very tall, very handsome, very muscular man was in the break room, laughing with the other men from my team. He was broad, his shoulders spanning nearly the width of the fridge. He had the same bronze skin tone as Azriel, the same hazel eyes and the same black hair, though his was longer. And the voice was the same. It was jarring to hear–watching another man speak in Azriel’s voice.

He looked at me, while I went to pour myself a cup of coffee. By the time I was done with the cup and tossed the creamer in the bin, when I turned around, I saw Azriel standing in the doorway, arms crossed on his wide chest. He was watching me with his typically unreadable expression. I thought that I looked good that day–I wore a dusty pink dress, a little flowy, so it didn’t hug my body too closely, and my brown suede pumps. My hair was smooth and sleek, tied in a high ponytail.

“Az, care to introduce us?” the man swaggered towards me.

Azriel pursed his lips and then simply said, “Elain Archeron, this is my brother Cassian Singer.”

“And the pleasure is all mine,” Cassian murmured and extended his huge hand to me. I hesitated for a moment, and he urged me on, saying, “come on, Ellie, I don’t bite. Unless you want me to.”

“Cass!” Azriel snapped at him, almost angrily. I wasn’t sure why. Cassian ignored him and pumped my fist in his.

“So, this is the brilliant Elain that I’ve heard some much about,” he added. “Nice to meet you, Elain. Finally I am putting a face to the reputation.”

I had a reputation? Also, brilliant?

“Cassian, you are being weird,” Azriel sneered, while he went to grab a bagel off the tray. Cassian argued,

“Why? Poor Ellie is stuck here with you bunch, the drollest and the dullest finance bros of all finance bros,”

I snorted a laugh at that and Azriel didn’t look amused, while the others booed and shouted.

“Come work for my department, Ellie,” Cassian offered. “We are rich and successful and we are all lawyers!”

“Sounds like a nightmare,” Azriel hissed through his teeth. “What are you doing here? Don’t attempt to poach my best analyst either,”

At that, Cassian snatched my cappuccino muffin from my plate and saluted me, before swallowing the muffin top all in one bite.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he whistled. “My glum brother is not fond of many people, Ellie, but he is fond of you,” he winked at me and then sauntered away, devouring the rest of the muffin.

I sighed and went to get another muffin, before rushing back to my desk. As I was walking, I overheard Azriel and Cassian whispering to each other.

“I see it now,” Cassian said to him.

Azriel didn’t respond right away, but then warned him, “Back off and don’t piss on my territory.”

Cassian laughed, “Wouldn’t dream of it. Seems like you fully staked your claim.”

I didn’t know what they were talking about, but that’s how I met Cassian.

“I’ll take this one,” he said again.

I whipped around and shouted, “Cassian, that’s mine! I saw it first!!!”

And then I was frozen in place by a pair of hazel eyes.

Azriel Singer stood right in front of me, so close that I figured that he was able to put his chin on my head if he wanted to.

His expression was bland, but I could see the vein bulging and ticking in his temple. Slowly, he crossed his arms on his chest and glared at me from his height.

“Expecting Cassian, are you?” he asked slowly.

My cheeks flamed and I took a steadying breath.

Why was Azriel here???

It made no sense for him to be here. We were in Wicker Park, and surely he didn’t live anywhere near here. Not with his money and status. Surely he lived in River North? Lincoln Park? He was too young for the Gold Coast, but Wicker Park? There was no logical explanation for his presence here.

“Waiting for Cassian?” he repeated, his voice cold.

“Why are you here?!” I cried out instead.

He stepped even closer, and suddenly got in my face, all but snarling,

“I swear to god, Elain, if you are fucking my brother behind my back, I will,”

He didn’t finish his threat, because the seller stepped forward and exclaimed, “whoa, whoa, buddy! Chill!”

Then he looked at me and asked, “Miss, is he bothering you? You want me to,”

“Am I bothering you, Elain?” Azriel asked sarcastically. “Do you need to be rescued? The gentleman here is ready to spring up and fight for your honour,”

The venomous expression on his face took me aback. His vein kept bulging, though he appeared normal outwardly.

“No,” I stammered, and looked at the seller, “he is…he is okay. He is my boss…”

“Your boss?!” the man scoffed. “Maybe you should look for another job.”

Azriel shrugged, and then said calmly,

“I’ll be on my way. Let me get the tree and I’ll leave you to meet Cass.”

“No!” she snapped. “NO!”

Azriel seemed confused for a moment and looked at me quizzically.

I clarified, “it’s my tree! I found it first. You aren’t getting it.”

He huffed an incredulous snicker.

“Excuse me? I am taking the tree,” he insisted. “You can get that one,” and he waved towards a bunch of ugly trees stuck in the corner. “I am not getting another tree. Go away, Azriel,” I dared to say, tears pricking my eyes.

I know it was absurd. I know that I was acting petulant and ridiculous. But I wanted that tree. It wasn’t fair that he could just sweep in and take it. He already demanded and took too much from me. And I wanted the tree. I wasn’t going to let him have it.

“Go away?” he repeated, eyes popping open wide.

I propped my hands on my hips and resorted to a fighting stance.

“Yes, go away. You are not my boss here.”

“I am always your boss,” he argued snappily.

“No, you aren’t! I am not working right now and I am going to buy this specific tree. You can step aside and leave me alone.”

“I am not leaving, Elain. And I am getting the tree,” he pressed.

I was shaking my head.

“No. You're not my boss out there and you can’t have it. I was here first!”

Before the seller could interfere again, Azriel wrapped his massive hand over my upper arm and carefully, but firmly pulled me aside.

“Don’t sell that fucking tree to anyone,” he ordered the man, and the guy just stared, but didn’t say anything.

I’ve never heard Azriel curse before. He was always highly, scrupulously professional at work. Was it something that I unexpectedly liked? Perhaps.

Once we were out of the way, Azriel didn’t release my arm, but I felt his thumb making small circles over it through my jacket sleeve. He was very close and his crisp scent invaded my nostrils. His eyes assessed me, but they weren’t cold and disdainful right now. There was warmth in them. Amusement too. And I couldn’t think of why that was.

“I think that we need to reevaluate your attitude, Miss Archeron,” he semi-whispered in my ear. His lips were so close, they were almost touching me.

“What?” I stuttered, not sure what he meant and feeling overwhelmed by his nearness. He was too close. Like last Christmas party. Which I preferred not to recall or think about.

“What do you mean?” I finally managed to ask.

“It means that you will respect me always, at work and outside of work. At work, I am your boss and out here, that doesn’t change. Just like I will respect you always, regardless of your… imperfections.”

Imperfections? Screw him.

I tried to jerk my arm out of his grasp, but it was like an iron claw around my sleeve.

“Furthermore,” he continued, ignoring my movements, “please do remember that I am the one who makes all the decisions. You follow my guidance. Because I know what’s good for both of us.”

“No you don’t!” I argued instinctively.

“Oh no?” he challenged. “Who’s been helping you with everything at work? Guiding your career? Offering you advice? At times protecting you from mistakes and scrutiny? Yeah, me,” he snapped. “Not that you’d noticed!”

I blushed.

He wasn’t wrong.

He has been incredibly helpful and patient with me, even when he was harsh and demanding.

“Not that you’d ask me for help,” he ground out under his breath.

Defensively, I argued, “I asked you many times! All the time!”

He scoffed,

“Yeah, only when there is no one else left to ask!”

The back and forth was exhausting me.

I was tired and he still hadn’t explained what he was doing here.

“I need to get the tree and go home,” I told him at once.

His grip on me finally eased up a bit and he said thoughtfully,

“Hmmm,”

“Not hmmm,” I taunted. “Let me go. I will see you on Monday.”

“No.”

“No?” I repeated. “What do you mean, no?”

“No means that I have something else in mind,” he offered. “And I suggest that you take me up on my generous offer to you.”

I was feeling a bit hysterical and laughed, my voice dry,

“Oh, how gracious of you. And what is this offer that I cannot refuse? Pray tell!”

“I’ll let you have that tree,” he pointed at my perfect tree.

“Let me?”

“Stop interrupting me every sentence!” he didn’t look amused. “Yes, I will even help you hoist it up on the roof of your car. Then, we’ll go to your house, you will be a gracious hostess, we’ll have dinner and we’ll decorate the tree together.

“That’s the only offer you are getting. If you reject it, you aren’t getting the tree. Your choice.”

What the hell?

What. Is. The. Actual. Fuck??

He was inviting himself to my home? Or, more like, forcing himself, and ordering me to cook him dinner and decorate my tree, with him there?

“We can’t do that!” I cried out.

“Why?”

“Because…because…We can’t! You are my boss,”

“Glad to see you remembered, finally,” he snorted a chuckle.

“You can’t be at my home. People will talk!”

Not to mention that I didn’t want him there.

I didn’t want him inside my sanctuary. The only place that was actually free of him. My god. This was the worst idea in history!

“Take it or leave it,” he shrugged callously.

I attempted to dissuade him again, “Azriel, I cannot let you–it’s improper,”

“Is it? I was in your apartment last year,” he reminded me and my heart jumped in my chest. “And somehow, we managed.”

He tapped his feet on the pavement and said,

“Let’s go. I am freezing.”

“You said that I get to decide,” I tried feebly.

“I did. And you decided that I will be coming along and we’ll be decorating your tree together. Come on.”

He extended his hand to me.

I just stood there, trembling.

He flexed his long, powerful fingers in the space between us. His arm was a bridge. And somehow, I knew that if I took his hand, if I crossed the bridge, nothing would ever be the same.

#elriel #azriel and elain #elriel fanfic #Not Another Hallmark Christmas Story #dark romance fic #elain archeron #azriel #pro elriel #elain #elain x azriel #my writing

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multi-fandom-imagines8 · 8 months ago

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A Song of Ice & Shadow

Part 4

You can read previous chapters here.

Summary: Y/n is intrigued by a certain illyrian. They open up to one another one night, but she stops it from getting out of control. With Feyre’s return, things get more tense.

Warnings: some angst.

Word count: 2.95K

Like every day, today was no different. Y/n would wake up, stand in front of the mirror for five minutes, bottle up her feelings and go on about her day.

“How’s Elain?” She asked Nesta, who was sitting in the same armchair as always, a book in her hand.

“Same as she’s been since she got turned” Nesta replied.

“How are you?” she asked, her tone serious and low.

“Never better. I’m free to do whatever I want”.

“Are you? All I’ve seen you do is sit in that armchair, reading books every day since we’ve gotten here”.

“I’m immortal now, what difference does it make if I sit here for one or twenty years? Not everyone wants to venture into the world like you”.

“You’re upset with me” Y/n observed.

“With you, with everyone” Nesta sighed.

“I understand. What can I do to help you?”.

“Nothing. No one can do anything about this”.

Y/n closed her hands into fists, clenching so hard she almost broke her bones “at least we’re all together” she tried to find words to comfort her sister, knowing she's suffered as much as she did, but these were the only words she found, the one she’d tell herself every time she’s about to break down “we’re all together, we made it” she repeated, to which Nesta only nodded.

Taking a deep breath to compose herself, Y/n plastered on a smile, masking the turmoil beneath before entering Elain’s room.

“Elain? How are you feeling today?”.

“I want to go home” Elain repeated, as she had been for the past couple of weeks.

“I know. I want to go home too. Let’s just wait until Feyre gets back” she stroked her sister’s hair and kissed the top of her head before leaving.

Luckily, no one was in the dining room when she entered. The house offered her food, which she ate very slowly.

“Are you alright?” a voice interrupting her trail of thoughts, catching her off guard.

“What?”.

“Are you alright?” Azriel repeated, concern evident in his voice.

“Yes, why?”.

“You’re holding your fork midair” he shifted his eyes to her hand, where was holding the fork.

“Oh, I was just lost in my thoughts” she explained, lowering the fork back onto her plate.

He slid a chair two seats away from her and sat down, a plate full of food appeared in front of him as he dug right in. Her eyes trailed him all the way.

She took another bite of her food, but with a lot on her mind, she had no appetite. She wanted to stand up and leave, but seeing he just got here, she didn’t want him to think she’s leaving because of him and she did not want to be rude. Since when do I care about what other people think? she thought to herself.

“You’re doing it again” Azriel remarked, emitting a soft chuckle.

She placed her fork back down “how’s spying going?” She inquired, distracting herself from her thoughts, but also out of curiosity, not that she’d admit it.

“‘The spying’ is going slow, but we’re making progress” a smile remained plastered on his face.

“Why are you smiling?”.

“No one has phrased that question like that before”.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything”.

As they sat in silence, Azriel hesitated before speaking again “how are you coping? I can only imagine how you must feel, it’s not easy becoming fae when you hate our kind” it wasn’t a confrontation, but acknowledgment of what he’d observed.

“No, it’s not. But as you can see, I’m doing well” she lied. Not wanting to push her further, he only nodded.

“Do you sleep upside down like bats?” she spontaneously asked, making him choke on his drink from the peculiar question.

“No. No, I do not. I sleep like normal people” his eyes furrowed with curiosity as he turned to face her.

“How would I know” she shrugged “you do have wings of a bat… I just thought you had other characteristics of a bat as well” she added.

“Like what?”.

“Do you bite- or drink blood?”.

“Only when asked to” a smile tugged at his lips “and no, I don’t drink blood. Any other clarification I can assist you with?.

“No, not at the moment” she struggled to hide her amusement.

“Oh, you poor thing! But don’t worry, I’ve come to rescue you” Cassian said to his brother, as he strode in, noticing the two of them sitting alone.

She rolled her eyes at him “I was just leaving”. “And just for the future, when you want to rescue someone, maybe do it before the end” she advised before walking out

Azriel kept a stern expression before standing up himself.

“Where are you going?” Cassian asked.

“I finished eating”.

“You’re just gonna leave me alone?”.

“You’ll do fine on your own” he patted his brother’s shoulders.

—-

Y/n had always had trouble sleeping at night, but ever since her new life at the Night Court, her nightmares increased. Unable to sleep, she went upstairs to the roof. This space had become her comfort place when she needed to escape the things that plagued her sleep. Seeing as Cassian trained in the morning and Azriel being away most of the time, she thought no one would be here at night time. Reaching the training ground, occupied by her thoughts, she paid no attention to who was there. Fiddling with the blue celestite necklace around her neck, she reached the edge and looked up at the sky. Three bright stars decorating the visibly huge mountain, Ramiel.

“What’s on your mind?” sleek like the shadows, Azriel approached, snapping her back to reality.

Blinking rapidly, she muttered “don’t you ever sleep? Even bats do” Y/n quipped, attempting to deflect.

“In the morning”.

“Are you referring to the bats or yourself?”.

“Both” he let out a soft chuckle.

“As I recall, you’re awake in the early mornings, so how many hours do you sleep?”.

“Enough to keep me going. What about you? You’re awake”.

“But I do sleep in the morning. In case you haven't noticed, I eat breakfast when you’re all having lunch or dinner” Y/n reminded.

“I have noticed... You still haven’t answered my question” Azriel persisted.

“What question?”.

“What’s on your mind?”.

“Nothing”.

“If that were true, you wouldn’t be staring into nothingness all day” he pointed out.

“I’m fine. It does not concern you”.

“Alright, how about I share something personal about me, and you can tell me what’s bothering you?” Azriel offered.

“And why would I want that?”.

“Out of curiosity. I’ve also noticed you like knowing things, especially when it concerns your sisters and yourself. So, go ahead, ask me anything you want? Anything you want to know”.

She contemplated for a while. “What happened to your hands?” she blurted out, one of her hands remained fiddling with the necklace.

He did not anticipate her question, but still, he answered “my brothers” he cleared his throat “my half-brothers thought it would be fun to see what’d happen when you mix oil and fire with our quick healing gifts” he explained, and shadows wrapped tighter around him.

“How old were you then?” she asked, her voice low and soft.

“Eight” a hint of darkness gleamed in his eyes.

“Were they punished?”.

“Eventually”.

“So, your father did nothing, as his flesh and blood was set on fire?” her tone shifted, her face contorted with anger.

“I am a bastard, while my half-brothers are his legitimate sons. In his eyes, they are his flesh and blood” he clarified.

“It makes no difference. You’re his son, nonetheless” she shook her head, tightening her grip on her necklace.

“It did to him”.

“What about your mother? Is she-”.

“That’s another personal question. We agreed on one. Now, it’s your turn”.

“What do you want to know?”.

“What’s been bothering you? And don’t say transitioning, you’re more concerned today”.

“I went to see Elain today. I know it takes time to heal, and I know I shouldn’t interfere with her healing process, but it- it ‘s so hard to just stand by and do nothing. I want to help her, and she doesn’t want my help. Even if she did, I don’t know what to do and how to help her. Her wedding was supposed to be in a few weeks” she sighed “ I worry about Nesta, too. Although she seems fine, I know she’s not. She used to tell me everything, and now she’s hiding from me” she opened up for the first time. Realizing that, she regretted it immediately and didn’t know why she agreed to that stupid deal. With the shadows whispering into his ears, Azriel discerned her discomfort “that necklace, do you always hold it when you’re feeling… a strong emotion?” Azriel asked, attempting to change the subject.

“I-” she looked down at her hand wrapped around the necklace ”I suppose. I never gave it a thought” she lowered her hand,releasing her grip on the necklace.

“That necklace, where did you get it from?” his eyes narrowed as he recognized the stone. She never took off that necklace, but today was the first time he'd spotted it. After all, it’s not polite to stare down at a lady’s chest, and being the gentleman he is, he never looked.

“It was a gift from my mother, why?”.

“It’s a rare stone, only found in certain places” he explained.

“You recognize it?”.

“I’ve seen something similar once or twice, but I could be mistaken”.

“I don’t think it’s from anywhere in Prythian. My mother hated your- our kind. She’d never take or gift me anything related to us” Y/n stated and his shadows danced around her.

“Why do you hate our kind so much?”.

“That is another personal question. We agreed on one” she repeated his words to him “and I’m not making another deal with you. I’ve already said way too much” Y/n retorted.

“What are you so afraid of?”.

“More questions” an amused smile crept onto her face.

“Fair enough” he raised his hands in surrender “don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about tonight”.

“Good night, shadowsinger” Y/n said, heading swiftly towards the stairs and his shadows slowly retracted.

“Good night, Y/n” he murmured in a subdued tone as he watched her leave. That night, for the first time in a very long time, Azriel slept peacefully.

The following day, Y/n didn’t go out to eat breakfast or lunch but she went out for dinner. Upon arrival. She found Cassian seated in his usual spot. Ignoring his presence, she took a seat, hoping for a peaceful meal.

“No mean comments tonight?” Cassian quipped.

“I was literally minding my own business. What do you want, you brute bastard?” Y/n replied sharply.

“There we go” he smirked.

“Your brother won't be joining us?”.

“Which one?”.

“The somewhat civilized decent one”.

“I’m assuming you mean Az. He left early this morning. He’ll be gone for a while. Why do you ask?... Aw, don’t tell me you have a thing for my handsome brother” Cassian teased.

She huffed “you wish…without him here, a war would start and I’d rather not get my hands dirty” she retorted, taking her plate and heading for the exit.

“It’s cute that you think you can take me. Perhaps if you trained with me long enough, you’d be a worthy opponent, but still, even then I doubt you’d defeat me” he taunted, his smugness evident.

“Piss off” Y/n snapped.

“Did I hurt your feelings?” he mocked.

“It would take much more than that to do so, especially coming from you” Y/n replied dismissively.

“And why is that?”.

“You simply don’t matter enough to me, to even consider anything you say, good or bad” she shrugged before leaving.

“Ouch” he murmured.

—

Being aware that Feyre was returning today, Y/n went to check on Elain before her arrival. However, what she found when she got to her sister’s room left her in shock.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Y/n spat out, her voice seething with anger. Lucien was standing in the doorway as Feyre left Elain’s room and closed the door behind her.

“Y/n, wait. I can explain” Feyre interjected.

“You brought him here? To see Elain? The fucking monster who sold us out to Hybern” her words were laced with deep-seated hatred.

“It’s more complicated than that, and he is her mate” Feyre reminded.

“He’s no such thing to her”.

“I just wanted to see her” Lucien tried to clarify.

“You don’t get to speak” Y/n pointed her finger at him.

“Y/n, he’s our guest. He will be staying with us” Feyre declared.

“You would let the man who ruined our lives, who ruined our sister’s marriage stay here with us?” she took a deep breath, trying to control her rage.

“If you would calm down and let me explain, you’ll understand-” Feyre urged.

“I’ll calm down when he’s gone. Do not let him near Elain, if you want him to stay in one piece” she warned, shooting Lucien with a glare before storming out.

“I take it you weren’t thrilled to see your sister?” Cassian smirked as Y/n passed him.

“Not in the mood today for your bullshit, brute”.

—-

The next time Y/n saw Feyre was at dinner, attended by Rhy’s inner circle, her sisters if they desired, and Lucien. She was reluctant to go, but fearing Elain might attend and be in the same room as that monster, with no one seemingly having a problem with him, she decided to go. She had arrived slightly later than everyone else. Feyre was sat next to Nesta, Rhys on her other side, Amren across from her, Cassian next to Amren, Azriel beside him, Mor opposite of him and Lucien across from Nesta, leaving two seats vacant, one next to Az and the other next to Mor. They were talking about flying lessons when she entered, dressed in a long-sleeved black gown with silver glitter that exposed her collar bones and back. Only the metal part of her necklace was visible. The upper part of the dress embraced her curves, while the lower part flowed like liquid silk as it draped over her figure. Knowing her temper, everyone stopped talking, if only to see what she’s about to say or do or who she’d pick a fight with. To their surprise, she did neither as she glanced at Azriel and took a seat beside Mor.

“What happened to you?” Y/n asked Azriel, gesturing to the wine splattered across his chest and neck. He looked down, only noticing it when she pointed it out.

“Mor spewed her wine when she heard Feyre wanted to learn how to fly” Cassian explained with a grin.

“You have wings?” a question directed at her sister.

“Yes, I can shape-shift”. At that, the conversation continued.

“I can teach you” Azriel offered, elaborating that the other two Illyrians had been trained at such a young age that they barely remember it. To which Cassian countered they still teach the younglings the basics, which ended with Azriel explaining that it’s not the same for older individuals, and that there are fears and mental blocks. Everyone fell silent and something inside of Y/n stirred. She wondered if he was talking about his experience, not forgetting the conversation they had where he told her about his past. She did not know a lot, but seeing as his own brothers burned his hands, they probably restricted him from flying or participating in anything that would give him any kind of power.

Feyre proceeded to ask her sisters for help against the king of Hybern. Explaining that with training they could potentially close the holes expanded by the cauldron. Amren offered to train the sisters, which Y/n refused, unwilling to take part in any of this. Despite the growing frustration among the others, Feyre was grateful that at least one of her sisters was willing to help. She explained that they might need their assistance during the meeting with the high lords and this time, both sisters rejected.

“People’s lives might depend on your accounts of it. The success of this meeting might depend upon it” Feyre clarified.

“Don’t talk down to me. My answer is no” Nesta asserted, while Y/n remained silent, watching the exchange between her sisters before Nesta stormed out. Now all eyes were on her.

“Y/n, please. We need your help” Feyre begged.

“Do you know what you're asking of me?” Y/n narrowed her eyes.

“I do. And I understand your hatred of our kind, but we-”.

“You understand nothing. All my life, I have helped you. I have dedicated my life to you, to Nesta, to Elain, and never have I once asked for anything in return. But helping you and your new found family is what got us into this mess. And now what? You expect us to go to that meeting that is full of entitled bastards who did nothing all these years, who don’t care about us, about mortals and beg them for help? I would rather see them all burn and their kingdoms or courts reduced to ashes” Y/n delivered the chilling words with an unsettling calmness, her voice devoid of any hint of emotion “and just as Nesta said, if you dare bring Elain into this, I’ll be the one delivering your throat to her” she glared at everyone in the room before leaving and slamming the door shut behind her.

Taglist: @st4r-girl-official @judig92 @5onedirection5 @nayaniasworld @blackgirlmagicforever @stained-glass-eyes0708 @slytherintaco @aehllitas-blog

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hellodarling1357 · 10 months ago

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Tiny Toes: Part 4 - Cassian x Reader

Finally here with Part 4! I've been in an angsty mood so have struggled with writing anything fluffy but hopefully this works 🥰

Summary: Sleepovers + blanket forts + lots and lots of cuddles

Word Count: 3.3k

You can read the previous part here!

It had been two weeks since telling Ottie that you and Cassian were together, and she had been ecstatic from the news ever since. You were still easing your presence into her day-to-day life, although, given the amount of time you spent with her as her babysitter, it wasn’t much of an adjustment.

Every morning the three of you would have breakfast together, either at your apartment, at Cassian’s house, or, when Cassian had the morning off, you would make your way into Velaris and spend the morning at a cafe followed by a walk through the park of along the river.

You also started joining Cassian at his family dinners and found yourself easily slipping into the group and becoming closer with the Inner Circle. Both Nyx and Ottie were overjoyed at your presence, excited by the prospect of having someone new to play with, especially after Ottie had talked you up so much which made Nyx also want to befriend you. It was like clockwork, the minute you set your fork down, two sets of hands would be pulling you towards the lounge room as they explained what you would be playing that evening. Eventually, the others would filter into the room, Elain happily taking your spot on the floor so you could rejoin Cassian on the couch and curl up against him.

An hour ticked by as Ottie and Nyx continued playing while the rest of you chatted away and shared a bottle or two of wine. Eventually the late night seemed to catch up to Ottie as she made her way over to where you and Cassian sat, reaching up her hands for him to lift her up and settle her on his lap. You smiled as you watched her fight to keep her eyes open then let out a laugh as her little legs stretched out to rest across your lap, leaving her sprawled over the two of you.

“Looks like someone’s ready for bed,” Rhys mused from Feyre’s side, smiling softly at the three of you as everyone took in the scene playing out.

“I think so,” Cassian pushed some of Ottie’s hair away from her face, “what do you think, Otts? Ready to go home?” The room filled with laughter as Ottie violently shook her head whilst letting out a yawn.

“Come on, home time.” But Ottie, apparently not liking what her dad had to say, squirmed in his lap so that she was upright again and then quickly moved over to kneel in your lap, her arms coming up to wrap around you as she hid her face in the crook of your neck. You looked at Cassian, amusement filling your eyes as he let out a sigh.

“She clearly has a new favourite.” Feyre laughed.

“Hmm, apparently she now thinks that if I say no, Y/N is going to say yes,” Cassian shot you a mock look of annoyance, “which isn’t helped by the fact that the two of you keep ganging up on me.”

“Aw, feeling a bit left out, Cassie?” Cassian chucks a cushion at Azriel in response to the taunt, shooting him with a glare that had the Shadowsinger grinning.

“You would be too. They have secrets- See, look at that, they’re whispering.” For at that very moment, Ottie had lifted her head away from your shoulder, leaning up to whisper in your ear, a hand cupped over her mouth to block out the others.

You looked up at the silence that filled the room to find everyone watching the two of you. With a smile you lean down to whisper into Ottie’s ear, making her look around the room before turning back to you with a definitive nod of her head.

Amusement coating your voice, your eyes meet Cassian’s as you announce, “Ottie says she doesn’t want to go home and that we’re staying here forever and ever.” Ottie nods again, giving you a pat on your back for a job well done.

You grin at Cassian as he lets out a groan, ignoring the snickering from the others, “Well, how about we go home now and then next time we can stay forever and ever?” He tries coaxing her away from where she’s hidden herself in the space between your neck and shoulder, one of his hands resting on your back as you shift against him with Ottie still in your arms.

She finally peeks up at him, looking like she’s seconds away from falling asleep against you as she fixes him with a calculating look. “Is Y/N coming with us?”

“Of course, sweetheart. If we leave now I’ll even have time to tuck you into bed before going home. Maybe even read you a bedtime story?” Cassian mouths a silent thank you at your intervention, knowing that with the mood Ottie is currently in, she’s not very likely to want to listen to him.

However, it seems she doesn’t want to listen to you either, or she’s unhappy with what you said, as her lower lip pouts out and tears begin to fall down her face as she holds onto you even tighter.

“Ottie, what’s wrong?” Cassian quietly asks, rubbing a hand down her back.

“Y/N- Y/N never stays,” she says between small sobs, hands balling up as they hold onto you. “She always goes home. I want her to stay.”

Well that had your heartbreaking in two.

You press a kiss to the top of her head, looking at Cassian with a questioning look. The two of you have a silent conversation before Cassian speaks up, “Well, how about Y/N has a sleepover tonight?”

You had been talking about when the best time was for you to start staying over for a few weeks now, it seemed, however, that Ottie wanted to get the ball rolling.

Almost immediately her sobs softened, and she quickly scrambled in your lap so that she could look at the two of you. “Okay,” then she was jumping off the couch, running around the room to give everyone a hug goodbye before racing out of the door.

Startled, you and Cassian blinked at each other before turning to look at the doorway she had just disappeared through.

“I think the two of you just got played,” Rhys laughed as he got out of his seat to give Cassian a pat on the back and you a hug goodbye. Before either of you could answer, Ottie was running back into the room, carrying all three of your coats. Honestly, you were surprised she managed to make it back given how they piled up above her face.

“Come on, it’s home time.” She impatiently repeated Cassian’s words from earlier.

“Alright, we’re coming, we’re coming,”

You finished saying goodbye to everyone as Cassian knelt to help Ottie into her coat, doing up the buttons and pulling a wooly hat over her head to keep the cold out before wrapping a scarf around her neck. Then he was crossing the room to where you stood saying goodbye to Azriel. You let Cassian help you into your coat, smiling softly as he leans back to pull your hair out from where it was caught down your back.

“Ready to go?”

“Yep,” you replied, eyes fluttering shut as Cassian places a soft kiss to your lips.

You frown slightly as you feel him tense up, noting how his eyes scrunched together in confusion. “Ottie,” he starts, turning around to face her from where she stood, basically jumping, in the doorway. “How did you reach our coats? They were hanging on the hook…”

Ottie fixes him with an unimpressed look, clearly not happy with the holdup when she has a sleepover with you to get to. With a roll of her eyes, holding more attitude than what should be allowed for a near-three-year-old, she says “like this.”

Her face contorts in concentration and then she’s flapping her little wings up and up and up. Your mouth falls open, Azriel and Rhys both let our surprised laughs, and Cassian… He is staring at his daughter in shock before racing over to tug her into his arms.

“Ottie… How- How long have you been doing that?”

“I don’t know, a few weeks. Now come on, we have to go.”

“Okay, okay,” He still seemed stunned, a slight panic washing over his features. “How did you learn to do that?”

“I just copied what you do.” Ottie, seemingly done with the conversation, grabbed her dad’s hand and tried to pull him out the door, waving for you to follow.

“Hang on a minute, princess,” Cassian knelt to face her, tucking some hair out of her impatient little face. “Why didn’t you tell me that you started… Ottie, you need to promise me that there will be no more flying by yourself, okay? You could get hurt –”

“But Daddy –”

“At least let me show you how to fly properly, okay? This weekend, the two of us can practice flying, how does that sound?”

Ottie cocked her head as she contemplated his offer before her face broke into a wide grin, all previous signs of sleepiness were long gone. “Okay, but only if Y/N is there too.”

Cassian scoops her into his arms, turning to face you and the rest of his family with a look of exhaustion.

“Well, it’s a good thing you’ve got Y/N now, Cass. She’s going to be a handful, aren’t you Ottie?” Mor teased, swooping in to press a kiss to her cheek. “I’m going to head off now too, want me to winnow you all home?” You gracefully accepted her offer; as much as you loved the feeling of being in Cassian’s arms, the thought of him flying you and Ottie through the freezing winter night air was not something you were looking forward to.

*****

“Daddy?” Ottie drawled once the front door was shut behind you and Mor had disappeared. “Can we please have a hot chocolate?”

“Princess, it’s well past your bedtime. How about tomorrow?”

“But a hot chocolate now would be really nice. Y/N wants one too, don’t you, Y/N?” You squeezed Cassian’s hand, trying to hide your laugh at Ottie using you against him.

“I don’t know, sweetheart. I’m pretty tired… How about we get ready for bed and then I’ll read you a bedtime story?” Ottie grinned up at you as though you were the best person in the world before turning on the spot and running down the hallway, yelling something about being a big girl and brushing her own teeth.

Cassian let out a long sigh as he pulled you tightly against him and buried his head in your hair, your arms eagerly coming up to wrap around him.

“You, my love, are cauldron sent,” You pulled back just enough to be able to reach up on your tiptoes and slant your lips over his. “I’m serious, if it was me saying no to hot chocolate, she would’ve cracked it. But one word from you and she’s running to get ready for bed. I think I might just have to keep you.”

“Hmm,” you murmured against his lips, “I don’t think I have any complaints if you do decide to keep me.”

“Well, isn’t the convenient.” Cassian’s voice was gravelly against your ear, his breath fanning across the sensitive skin of your neck. He caught your lips in another kiss, deepening it with a sweep of his tongue that had you pressing even closer against him. The pitter patter of footsteps had you reluctantly breaking apart, Cassian rolling his head back at the sudden interruption.

“Y/N? Can you please read to me now? I’ve done everything to get ready for bed.”

“Of course, sweetheart. Do you want to pick out a book? I’ll meet you upstairs in a minute.” She ran off with a grin. You turned to face Cassian, smiling at the sight of him watching Ottie climb the stairs, clad in her pyjamas and tightly holding onto her teddy bear, a soft smile gracing his features.

“She’s a pretty special kid,” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Yeah, she is,” He bends down to softly kiss you, leaning his forehead against yours as he says, “She used her manners and everything. I think Feyre was right, you’re definitely her favourite…” His words awkwardly trailed off as if he had to suddenly stop himself from saying something that had been on the tip of his tongue. You gave him a questioning look but let it go when he grabbed your hand, with a quick clear of his throat he continued, “Well, we better get up there and read her that story, hey?”

*****

You and Cassian stumbled in the doorway of Ottie’s bedroom as you took in the sight before you. Ottie was in what looked like a nest of blankets and pillows spread out on the floor beside her still made bed.

“What…?”

“You can have my bed, Y/N. I don’t want you to sleep on the floor, you won’t be very comfortable.” The way she was looking up at you with so much excitement and unabashed joy had your heart clenching as you turned to Cassian, amusement lacing his features as he raised his eyebrows at you – this was your situation to navigate and clearly Ottie hadn't realised that you didn't plan on sleeping in her room.

“Oh, that’s very sweet of you, Ottie,” you pulled Cassian along with you as you sat down on her bed. “How about you come up here too. That way we’re all comfortable.” Without so much as a second of hesitation, Ottie was scrambling into her bed, settling herself between you and Cassian as she handed you the book she had picked out.

It was a tight fit but somehow the three of you managed to get into a comfortable position that accommodated for both Cassian and Ottie’s wings, as well as Cassian’s bulking frame. You were nestled into Cassian’s side, his arm and wing, wrapped around your shoulders to hold you to him. Ottie was on his lap, curled up against his chest as she faced you, watching with wide eyes as you read to her. Eventually, a soft snore filled the room making you turn to find Ottie fast asleep with her mouth open, drool soaking into Cassian’s shirt as he rubbed a hand up and down her back.

“She asleep?” He quietly asked, giving your shoulder a soft squeeze.

“Yeah, she is. Snores just like you.” You poked your tongue out at his offended expression before resting your head on his shoulder.

“Let’s stay here for a minute before we head to bed,” he mumbles, head leaning down to rest atop yours, “Don’t want to accidentally wake her.”

You murmur your agreement, feeling your eyes grow heavy as the warmth and comfort and love from the two people beside you help you drift into a peaceful sleep.

*****

Your back is aching, and you have no idea where you are. Blearily cracking your eyes open, you take in the soft light coming through the windows from the rising sun, lighting up the soft pinks of the bedroom you’re in. With a groan, you turn your head and come face-to-face with Cassian’s chest, slowly rising and falling with each breath, his arm wrapped tightly around you.

You’re in Ottie’s room. You clearly both dozed off after she fell asleep and had spent the rest of the night cuddled up on her small bed. It was definitely a sight you would be holding onto: a fully grown Illyrian male, sprawled across a small child’s bed wrapped up in a pink comforter covered in flowers. You might just ask Feyre if she could paint the scene for you, you knew she would at least get a laugh out of it.

Yet, the one thing missing from the scene was Ottie. You sat up, slowly wiggling out of Cassian’s grasp, not wanting to disturb him. You looked down at the pile of blankets Ottie had set up for herself, but there was no sign of her, or of the blankets and pillows she had dragged in. Standing up, you turned back to Cassian and pulled the blankets up around him before pressing a kiss to his cheek, just as he let out a loud snore that sent you into a fit of silent giggles. Quietly shutting the bedroom door behind you, you set off down the stairs in search for the young Illyrian, surely she hadn’t gotten too far?

You didn’t need to look for long. As soon as you entered the living room, a smile spread across your face at the throws that were draped across a huddle of chairs she seemed to have dragged in from the dining room. Kneeling in front of the small opening of Ottie’s blanket fort, you knocked on the floorboards before poking your head inside.

“Hello,” Ottie looks up from her picture book, her teddy bear sitting on her lap as she gives you a sleepy smile. “You’re up early. Can I join you?”

Ottie silently nodded, shifting over a bit to make more room. You smile as she pulls a blanket out and drapes it over your legs before readjusting herself to lean against your side. You sat in silence for a while, Ottie clutching her teddy to her chest as she looked through the pictures in her book while you sat beside her, letting your hands tangle through her curls, lost in thought.

Closing her book with a snap, Ottie turned to face you, before shifting so she could rest her head in your lap, teddy bear still clutched tightly in her hands.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” It had been a late night and was currently very early in the morning, so she was probably just tired, still, you wanted to check all the same.

“Daddy snores,” You laugh, nodding your head in agreement. “Really loudly.”

“Yes, he does, doesn’t here. He’s still up there snoring now.”

“No, he isn’t. And, no, he doesn’t,” Ottie sheepishly looked up at you, letting out a giggle as Cassian’s face appeared in the tent’s entrance. “Well, this is cozy.”

You laugh as Cassian sprawls out on the floor, the upper half of his body fitting inside the small space while his legs stick out of the gap in the blankets.

“Move over, Otts. Sharing is caring and all that.” The husk of his voice sending butterflies through you. “Woke up without my girls and couldn’t get back to sleep.” Ottie wiggled as she made room for Cassian to rest his head in your lap.

He blindly searched for your hand, bringing it up to his lips once he had hold of it before settling it on top of his chest, not once letting go. Then he was turning his head to face Ottie and planting a big kiss on her cheeks that had her letting out a shriek of laughter, “Stop it, Daddy. That tickles.”

You laughed as Cassian proceeded to smush his face against hers, the stubble prickling against her skin before wrapping his other arm around her and pulling her in closer against him. Soothingly rubbing your thumb across Cassian’s hand, you let the other one trail through Ottie’s hair, watching with amusement as they both drifted off to sleep in your lap.

Given the rare moment in which they were both still, and silent, you took the time to properly compare their features, marvelling at the many similarities they shared. You had to hold back a laugh when Cassian shifted slightly as he let out a snore, followed by the sound of Ottie’s, much quieter, snore.

Leaning against the back of the chair that helped prop up the blankets, you continued watching your two favourite people sleeping soundly in your lap, and couldn’t help but think this was something you wanted to get used to.

*****

Part 5

*****

PSA: Cassian was going to say “parent” – “You’re definitely her favourite parent” but caught himself because is it too soon?? What does he even think about it?? What would Y/N even think about it?? It just *almost* slipped out and sends him spiralling!

*****

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