#i wish they would stop also but unfortunately

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

One bed

Azriel x reader

Word count: 3000+

Summary: Due to unforeseen circumstances, you end up in the same room as Azriel

Warnings: none

I'd love to say I have solved the Frozen thingy, but I haven't yet. I've started writing part 3 and that's where I stopped because of the madness around. I was so close to making a solid plan for it. Unfortunately, the work happened, then Christmas at work baking f***ing chicken farm. Then husband got fever🙄and he couldn't live without getting someone else sick as well, so now son has high fever too and I'm the last one somehow surviving here. At least I have whole week of holidays next week. I hoped to relax and write more, but we'll see. Wish me luck🥴

Anyway here's something small and not so angsty that just popped up suddenly. Hope you enjoy it.

And for everyone who celebrate, have a peaceful holiday 💕

"I thought I've reserved enough rooms," Rhysand sighed. The last hour he was talking with the owner of the inn we were staying at, trying all possible tactics to persuade him to find us one more room. Impossible task from the very beginning as the inn was full.

We were on non-official official mission. At first, there were only six of us supposed to go as Amren declined, intending to stay with Mor in Velaris, protecting it. However, the two of them had yet another quarrel recently, which led to Amren suddenly appearing with a packed bag in hand a few seconds before intended departure. Nobody, not even Rhys, had balls to tell her no. And that's why we ended up in this situation. Rhys had everything perfectly planned, as usual, but he couldn't have known this would happen. And now we were one room short, but again - nobody dared to tell aloud whose fault it was. Amren was like hungry bulldog, ready to tear to shreds anyone and anything at the best of her days. Now, she was pissed off.

Feyre and Nesta took their keys, Feyre giving me an apologetic look. From the start, they were supposed to share rooms with their mates. This was also kind of vacation for us, so it was only logical they wanted to be with their partners.

That left Rhys with last two keys in hand. Amren snatched one and without looking at anyone or even a small mumbled sorry, she left. We exchanged look and whole group finally relaxed.

"Sorry," Feyre murmured as she headed to her room with sorrowful expression.

Before she left, Nesta gazed at me with silent question and I nodded. I would be fine, for sure. Cassian winked at me as he followed her. They both knew about the feelings I had for Azriel for quite some time, each supporting me in their own way. At this point, probably everyone around knew, except for the mentioned Shadowsinger and I didn't plan to be the one to break the news. I knew my limits and he was off them.

Rhys turned to me and Azriel with sorrowful expression, brows furrowed. "I'm sorry, Az, but you know.. Ladies first," he offered me the last key. Spymaster didn't even as much as blink, no protests at all. He looked as his usual self, unbothered by the problem at the hand.

"Thankies," I smiled, took the key and looped hand to Azriel's arm. "Come."

They both opened mouth in surprise, none of them expecting this from me. Rhys recovered as first.

"Enjoy yourself," he smirked and I rolled my eyes.

"Ha ha ha, how funny," I stuck out tongue at him. He chuckled and hurried after his mate, leaving the two of us alone. I raised brow at Shadowsinger who was still too shocked to speak. He didn't even notice Rhys' teasing.

"What? Did you think I would let you sleep on roof or what?"

"B-b-but," he stammered, his cheeks dusted with pink.

"No buts. Come!" I had to pull reluctant Azriel down the hallway.

"I can try another inn-"

"Nonsense! You would miss all the fun. Plus, I really don't mind. We are friends after all. I have nothing to be afraid of, right?"

I came to a sudden stop, realizing something.

"Wait! You mind staying with me in the same room?"

Before, it didn't occur to me that he could be against. I thought we were getting along pretty well, given the fact that we tended to seek out each other's company, sitting together and talking. The two of us even often hung out in the city, venturing cafes and bakeries. I thought he liked to spend time with me, but it could be only my mistaken impression. I knew I couldn't hope for more than friendship and I was fine with that as long as I could be close to him. He could feel differently though.

"No!" he hurried with an answer, eyes wide. "No, nothing like that. It's just.."

"What is it?"

"It's just.. you are female and I'm male."

I was so relieved to hear that, that I wanted to laugh, but I didn't. "That means that you will pounce on me like an animal as soon as door close?"

He flushed fiercely, averting his eyes. "You know I will do no such a thing. It just means that you might be uncomfortable because of that."

"I'm fine. Believe me," I said softly and took his hand. "So come on, silly."

He chuckled and this time, he willingly followed me.

The room, we got, was quite a nice one for an old inn, but it was rather smaller one. Most of the space was occupied by bed big enough to accommodate Illyrian wings. It was one of the reasons Rhysand chose this place, thinking about the comfort of his brothers. We were supposed to spend here whole week, maybe longer, so it was necessary.

Except of bed, there was only small table with two old chairs, hearth and connected bathroom.

After we settled down, the air had somehow thickened, both of us suddenly embarrassed. And so I did what I could to lighten the atmosphere a bit, but every try for a conversation died out soon after it started. At last, I gave up.

"It was long day," I stretched out, all my joints making a satisfying cracking sound and Azriel grimaced. He didn't like when I did it. "I'm tired. Do you want to use the bathroom as first?"

"No, go ahead," he offered and started to line up on table all the daggers he had on him. I paused and watched him, amazed. How could he hide so many? I thought he had only two, max three. He noticed me and smiled shyly.

"I'll clean them while you take shower. Don't worry, I'll put them away afterwards."

"I don't mind them at all," I mumbled, ashamed I got caught. "I'm just stunned you managed to sneak in the whole arsenal. Seeing it now, I would bet that not only do you have one for each of us but also even one spare."

At that he finally laughed, the rich sound warming my heart. I already missed that sound. Corners of my mouth curled into satisfied smile and I quickly gathered all necessary things and went to the bathroom.

When I came out, the daggers were gone from the table. Azriel was seated on the same chair he occupied since we came, pyjama in hands. He was staring into space, looking somehow troubled. Shadows gathered around his ear and he looked up at me, faking smile. Without a word, he stood up and hurried to the bathroom.

While I was waiting, I shoved my used underwear to the bottom of my bag and climbed to the bed, snuggling up in a warm blanket. It was quite cold here, old window hardly blocking the cold wind from outside.

Azriel took quite long to finish. By the time bathroom door creaked open, I was almost asleep. He rustled around for a while and adding big log to the fire, he turned off lights. I waited. The room went completely silent.

I opened eyes. "Are you kidding me," I sat up, sighing. "Az, I thought, we already talked it out." I glared into a dark corner by the hearth.

"Don't worry about me and sleep," he replied from his place on the old chair.

"You can't sleep on that old crap. It will most likely give in soon." The only answer was silence.

"C'mon, Az. It won't do you any good if you're sleep-deprived. To none of us in fact. What if something happens and you won't be able to fight because you are too tired and sore?"

Again silence.

"Do you want me to help you to the bed? I warn you, I'm going to drag you here not by arm but by ear this time."

He chuckled. His wings rustled and mattress dipped under his weight. "Fine then. Have it your way."

I tucked him in like a small child, mindful of his wings and settled down, heart pounding in my throat.

"That wasn't necessary."

"Believe me it was. And don't try to fake it. I'm light sleeper. I will know if you get up in the middle of the night."

"Fine, fine." He sounded amused. He was lying on his back, wings folded and tugged close to his body.

"Relax. The bed is enough big for both of us. Even if you touch me. I'm not made of sugar, I won't melt into puddle," I assured him as I curled up on my side of bed with back to him, taking as little space as possible so he had enough comfort. He made a sound at the back of his throat.

I thought I wouldn't be able to sleep at all with him being so close. But as bed warmed up with his presence and his calming scent wrapped around me as another blanket, I fell asleep in no time.

* * *

Azriel didn't even blink an eye. He was just lying there, stretched on his back, gazing at ceiling. He wasn't used to falling asleep next to someone. After she reassured him, he relaxed a bit but only his body. He was too nervous and excited at the same time. He was scared to even breath, not wanting to wake her up. How could she sleep so soundly? Didn't she feel the same? Didn't his presence stir her nerves?

Shadows curled on pillow near his ear, whispering. They described him in detail how she drifted off with sweet smile on her lips. Smile that she was still wearing. He wished he could see it with his own eyes.

He dared to turn his head to the side to watch her back, her shoulder slightly rising with every breath. Even at place like this in the middle of nowhere, she kept smelling like field of spring flowers, delicate and sweet. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the moment.

He felt so lucky right now and thanked the Mother for sending Amren at last minute, giving him this opportunity. For years, he was trying to get closer to Y/N. No matter how many times, he was ready to tell her about his feelings, he always gave up in the end, not daring to even suggest it. She was everything he wasn't, beautiful, kind and perfect. She deserved better.

He watched her entire night, mesmerized. It was strange. She was always so energetic during the day, yet at night she didn't move at all. It made him wonder whether it was because of him or it was normal.

It was after the sunrise when he finally calmed down and dozed off for hour or two.

* * *

Three days later, a knock sounded on our door. We were just finishing off the lasts of our breakfast. We looked up in time to see Rhysand's head peeking in. He held hand over his eyes with sassy smirk on his lips.

"Can I come in? I wouldn't like to see something inappropriate."

I rolled my eyes while Azriel bid him in, unaffected by his teasing. Honestly, everyone was making fun of us for no reason. After the first night, Nesta pulled me aside to ask me how it went and how I felt. I had nothing to tell her. At least nothing interesting anyway. I slept like a baby and not only the first night, but every night after.

Every evening, Azriel dutifully took his side of bed and I curled up on mine. No touching, only a pleasant small chat between friends. It was noticeable that he didn't sleep much the first night, however after that, he didn't seem to have such troubles. I was glad for that.

"I came to inform you that finally one more room is available. If you want, one of you can take it," he grinned and waited for our reply with one brow raised.

Out of the corner of eye, I looked at Azriel who was already eyeing me with unreadable expression. It seemed he wouldn't speak and it was up to me to decide.

"Well.. I don't mind to share room with Az at all. But if you'd like to have your privacy.." I turned to him.

His eyes widened slightly and his lips moved without making a sound.

"I don't mind, too," he managed.

"So," Rhys dragged the word. "You want to stay together? Really?"

We nodded as one man, not willing to give him what he hoped for. He was visibly disappointed.

"Fine then," he sighed, "as you want. I'll inform the owner."

* * *

A week later we were so used to this situation and each other's presence that we returned to our usual selves, rambling about anything, laughing, even touching lightly.

Our mission was over and this was our last night of sharing room. Azriel was spread on bed next to me, his wing gently touching my back. I was slowly falling asleep while we did small talk. Somewhere between dream and reality I got idea. Crazy as it was, my sleepy brain didn't find anything strange or wrong with it and my body acted on its own.

With closed eyes I rolled to his side, wrapped arm around his waist and rested my head on his chest. Azriel made a surprised sound and stiffened, but he didn't try to push me away. His smell filled my nose, his warmth seeping into me. Frantic but steady melody of his heart lulled me deeper into sleep. Last thing I felt before I completely drifted off, was his body relaxing under me and his arm holding me close.

* * *

Azriel was so surprised, he couldn't think straight. What was happening? He touched Y/N lightly, yet she didn't mind. She was almost asleep, relaxed and seemingly comfortable with him as her pillow. He felt her smiling into his chest and that gave him courage to wrap his hands around her. She hummed with satisfaction and dozed off completely.

Azriel gazed at her, unsure what to think or feel. Naturally, it made him happy, a dream-come-true kind of situation, but was it really okay? Was it really happening? It seemed to him just like a figment of his imagination, fed by amazing week spent by her side, so close to her.

He pinched himself, really painfully, leaving a bruise on his forearm. It was real. He swallowed hard. Slowly small smile spread on his face. He could get used to this.

When the initial surprise and embarrassment had passed, he found himself enjoying this. His heart was pounding fast, as he touched her hair and pushed them aside to see her face. He couldn't help it and traced a single finger down her face and jaw, mapping her full lips, lovely nose and soft arches of her brows.

He chuckled lightly. Y/N didn't even stir. So much to a light-sleeper.

As he watched her, his fantasy took over, offering him all kinds of imaginary situations that could lead to them ending up in this position; from innocent snuggling together for the night to them being naked, covered in sweat and spent after good sex. His heart squeezed in pain. He loved it and wanted it all. He didn't even realize that he was tugging her closer and closer, holding her so firmly there was no space left between them.

Despite everything, the scenario of innocent snuggling immediately became his favourite one. It held a certain kind of peace and warmth, something he longed for the most. He kept replaying it again and again until he fell asleep, too. The fantasy followed him even to his dreams where it became so real that it was unbearable.

* * *

I woke up unusually early at dawn. Still drowsy I looked around, not comprehending where I was. I was warm and comfy, so ready to close my eyes again, until I notice rising and falling steady flesh under me. That completely woke me up.

I looked up, finding Azriel still fast asleep. He was smiling sweetly, yet the tears rolled down his cheeks, soft whimpers leaving his lips. My chest tightened at the sight. It hurt me to see him like this. I reached up and gently wiped the tears off.

He slowly opened eyes and looked at me, still smiling.

"Good morning," I whispered.

"'Morning, Y/N," he replied, his deep voice raspy in the most sexy way. His thumb started to move up and down my waist in soothing motion.

"Bad dreams?"

"Sometimes dreams can be so beautiful that they make one cry," he murmured. He sounded so sad that I felt like crying too. Instead, I placed both of my hands on his chest and rested my chin on top of them.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I searched his eyes.

He shook his head and wiped off the rest of his tears. "I just wish I could go back and keep having the same dream for the rest of my life," he sighed, his eyes never leaving my face.

I propped up on my elbow and caressed his cheek. "You know that dreams don't have to stay dreams. They can became reality if you want them to."

His eyes widened and he swallowed hard. He seemed to be thinking very hard about something. Determination filled his eyes and he lifted up his head, stopping an inch from my face, waiting.

It was so sudden that I held my breath, but I didn't pull away. Watching me closely, Azriel leaned even closer and his lips lightly grazed over mine. I moaned, my body acting on its own. My eyes closed and I firmly pressed my lips to his. All the years of my suppressed feelings poured into this one kiss, not believing that there would be any more. He groaned and opened up, slowly moving, testing the waters. His fingers dug into flesh of my waist, holding me impossibly close.

It ended as suddenly as it started. He reluctantly broke the kiss and rested his forehead against mine, heaving.

"I want it to become real."

[cosmowgyral]

A Beast's Drink~ Christmas Special Story

𝑺𝒊𝒍𝒗𝒊𝒐 & 𝑨𝒛𝒆𝒍

This is a fan translation so please don't expect it to be 100% accurate. Creative liberties have been taken. All content belongs to Cybird.

One winter day, as Christmas was nearing in Benitoite….

Azel: I knew about the Christmas celebrations, but this is so gorgeous and wonderful. It smells like money.

Silvio: Is this okay? A God is celebrating the birth of a God.

Azel: Is that a problem? I always have had faith in you, Prince Silvio.

Silvio: That was not what I was talking ‘bout.

Silvio: Even so…ya still ain’t drinking alcohol.

Azel: I don’t drink alcohol, but I am having juice in a wine glass to show my respect to the God of Wealth.

Azel: Please allow these fine alcohols to be offered to the God of Wealth.

Silvio: We’ve prepared the offerings and everything else.

Silvio: Also, if ya wanna show respect, stop calling me that. That’s downright disrespectful.

Silvio: So, what do ya want?

Azel: What do you mean? 

Silvio: Ya came all the way here at this time of the year. There’s gotta some reason behind it.

Azel: Christmas

Silvio: Huh?

Azel: I came to see the Christmas celebrations.

Azel: It is something that does not happen in my country.

Silvio: Hah, a God himself is inspecting the religious festivities of some other country? It ain’t easy being a living God.

Azel: Oh I am serious.

Azel: In Tanzanite, my birthday celebrations are somewhat similar to the Christmas celebrations here.

Azel: But unfortunately, we do not expect the same amount of commercial benefits as Christmas.

Azel: In that aspect, Benitoite’s Christmas is truly splendid.

Azel: It encourages consumption of cakes, alcohol and other lavish meals, and also stimulates the desire of purchasing things under the pretext of ‘gifts’.

Azel: Especially when it comes to seasonal foods and items. They are the ones of most value as customers always rush to buy them.

Azel: There’s no reason to not have this.

Silvio: You’re the same old greedy bastard.

Azel: And that’s not all.

Silvio: Huh?

Azel: On the surface you’re a billionaire, but on the inside, you’re a kind-hearted man like Santa Clause..

Azel: Seems like this God, who has a philanthropic spirit and abundant wealth, distributes presents to the poor every year.

Silvio: ….....

Azel: You understand what I mean, right?

Silvio: Is this it? A new threat?

Azel: Not at all. It's just a simple request.

Silvio: Sorry, but Santa Claus only gives presents to ‘good kids’.

Silvio: In other words, you aren’t eligible for the distribution.

Silvio: In a lot of ways..

Azel: ………

Azel: That really hurt me. I am a very good and merciful God.

Azel: I don’t think I’ll be able to recover from this unless I receive compensation.

Silvio: Huh? A good person? You?

Silvio: Ya sure know how to use your words. You should quit being a God and become a con-man instead.

Azel: When Prince Silvio says that he wants me to become his personal con-man, it makes my heart waver.

Silvio:  Don’t let it waver. The hell’s a personal con-man anyway?

Azel: He’s like a supreme blessing, always by Prince Silvio’s side, granting him protection, money, and gifts.

Silvio: He seems like a curse.

Azel: Saying God is a curse….is it okay if I demand double the compensation?

Silvio: Sure, by all means.

Azel: I would appreciate a Christmas gift then.

Azel: Good things come from showing your devotion to God. For instance…

Azel: The true identity of Benitoite’s Santa Claus will remain shrouded in mystery forever…

Silvio:  Hah, you’re asking for hush money?

Azel: You are actually having trouble, aren’t you? Some of the kids seem to have noticed.

Azel: I can protect their innocence by wrapping them in dreams. It’s not a bad deal.

Silvio: Ya really are perceptive.

Azel: I have a principle of never missing out on big-money opportunities.

Silvio: Fine. I’ll give ya the gift ya want, so work hard to make up for it, my personal con-man.

Azel: As Prince Silvio wishes.

This is my first translation of a full story so there might be mistakes here and there.

I hope you guys enjoyed reading and re-blogs are appreciated! ♡

Video credits: @otomehoneyybearr

[mariaofdoranelle]

Stay a Little Longer - part 3

Fic masterlist

Written for @tomtenadia as part of the 2024 Rowaelin secret Santa!

In the last scene, I used some lines from canon and mixed it with my own! Hope you guys like it <3

Warnings: Implied sexual content

Words: 4,5k

The explosion erupted with a thundering roar, overpowering the hiss of the water as flames blinded the view of the target and engulfed the air with heat.

It was only their second meeting, and Rowan had given up on fixing his hair after the explosions. Aelin also noted that the targets were progressively getting less hard—the blocks of ice increasingly bigger, and her goal went from slowly melting it to merely making sure he saw some of the water before it evaporated.

“You should take a break. I’ll reinforce the magic barriers in the meantime,” he said.

Every day, he did it repeatedly. As if it meant nothing that Aelin’s magic could wreck barriers this strong in a few blows.

In fact, in all her clumsy explosivity, Rowan had never shied away from her magic—he seemed to be almost drawn to it, which made her relieved and scared at the same time. Relieved because, after witnessing so many people become terrified of her after displaying her magic, her name was thrown around in a way that portrayed her as either a god or a monster—but not with Rowan. With Rowan, the first teacher who wasn’t even remotely scared of her, Aelin was just herself.

But what did it mean?

That’s the part that got her terrified. Because something—whether it was a bond or a tendon—snapped in that drawing room when their magics touched, and it was with the sole person in the world that felt completely at ease with her magic.

Rowan felt it too. He got the types of bond mixed up due to some physical attraction he might be feeling for her—could she blame him?—but he’d figure it out soon.

In desperate need of a deviation from her own thoughts, Aelin said, “It’s hard to believe you’re this patient in the military.”

“That’s because I’m not. My mate gets a special treatment.”

“Would you stop?”

“The bond will still be there whether I stop or not, Princess.” Rowan tilted his head and stopped his work to peer at her. Something about her expression made him sigh. “But you’re not comfortable.”

“I’m not comfortable because we’re not mated.”

Rowan nodded, and a flash of disappointment and longing passed in his eyes, quicker than she could register, and he said, “I shall stop, then.”

The ache in her chest felt foreign, since he was finally granting her wishes. Aelin just wanted for Prince Rowan to forget about this without hurting him in the process.

“C’mere,” she said, tapping the patch of floor beside her. “In your many, many years, have you ever met a mated demi-Fae?”

“Just once, this couple from Mistward,” Rowan said as he sat next to her. “But my experience in Doranelle isn’t a good standard. I hear that things are less… segregated in Terrasen. Better.”

She frowned. “You guys truly don’t mingle with demi-Fae?”

“That issue is both social and personal, I’m afraid. Indeed, the demi-Fae that are allowed inside Doranelle don’t get to frequent the same places I usually do—which are among the high command of the military and in sporadical nobility parties my family coerces me to attend. With that in mind, I don’t mingle,” he said, using the exact wording of her question, “I constantly avoid social interactions—full-blooded or demi-Fae.” He sighed at her aghast expression. “Therefore, the only demi-Fae I see on a daily basis, unfortunately, is Lorcan.”

Doranelle’s one and only Grand General, while Rowan was “just” a regular general.

“Unfortunately because you’re from a deeply prejudiced land, or because you don’t wish to interact with Lorcan?”

“Both.”

“I see.” Aelin blinked, her gaze unfocused as she processed what she heard. She knew what the demi-Fae’s situation was in Doranelle, but it was always presented to her during meetings, as an statistic. Listening to Rowan’s point-of-view on the matter felt like a punch to the gut—while Aelin herself was a queen in the making, the kitchens were the furthest her own people could get inside Doranelle’s castle.

Once more, Aelin was glad she wasn’t Prince Rowan’s mate. As decent as he appeared to be, she did not want to be associated with the likes of him—personally or politically.

Aelin straightened, her chin high as she snarked, “At least you have a diversity token. I guess being the most powerful demi-Fae male alive is enough for Maeve to look past his unclean blood.”

Rowan shifted, still sat on the floor, his eyes careful as he analyzed Aelin’s expression. “To ensure there’s no misunderstanding…” he trailed, “I’m throughly repulsed by Maeve’s policies against the demi-Fae—which Sellene is already rectifying.”

“Oh, yes, and I’m throughly moved by your silent disagreement.”

His eyebrows rose up. “I beg your pardon?”

It hadn’t been even half an hour after Rowan’s calming exercise, but she could already feel the agitated fire beneath her skin, boiling the blood in her veins from indignation alone.

“How dare you imply that you were not complacent, in your mulberry silk tunic that was most likely stitched by an overworked demi-Fae seamstress. Your aunt,” Aelin spat the word, “built an empire founded on the exploitation and degradation of people like me, and yet you want me to believe you’d ever spare me a second glance, were it not for my title?”

“I would.”

She frowned, trying to see through that fog of anger. “What?”

“You doubted I’d look at you twice, and I’m telling you I would.” Rowan sighed. “As an unessential prince with no decision-making power,” he said with a pointed look, “I find it most practical to make changes from within. Small and well-measured acts of rebellion tend to be the most effective when you’re close to the people actively making the decisions.”

Aelin examined his open expression and wondered if he was trying to deceive her, or if he truly believed himself. “But it was not you who rebelled against her, was it? Maeve was killed by the people you vowed and failed to protect.”

“I suppose she was.” Rowan locked his jaw, his eyes growing distant.

˜˜

Their next few encounters got a lot less awkward once Aelin got those opinions off her chest, thank Mala.

Once she had learned the basics when it came to intensity, range, aim and everything else, she asked to pick the lesson’s activity for once, just in time to get the materials ready before they met again at The Dueling Hall.

“Easy,” he warned when her flames got too hot, too fast.

“Hush.” Aelin wiped the sweat off her brow, fatigue weighing down her limbs each minute she had to keep the flames at a controlled and gradually higher intensity—she wasn’t melting ice anymore, the stakes were too high. “I’ve got it under control, you Buzzard.”

“The same way you did when you shattered my mug?”

Aelin rolled her eyes at him, and her flames got involuntarily higher after his jab, making a shard blow off her candle holder, ruining its practical use.

She groaned and tossed it aside, along with the other overburnt ceramics. “This one was your fault. Don’t suffocate the artist!”

“It was useless before you ruined it. You’re a fire-wielder. You don’t need candles. Why on earth would you make a candle holder?”

“Because I have the fire, not the scented beeswax.”

“I’m not following.”

“You’ve never lit up a scented candle before? Those ones that release a fragrance when you light them up.”

Rowan stared at her, seemingly struggling to process this information. “But candles are for light. Why are you adding smell to the light?”

The brute. Aelin wouldn’t even bother with him this time. She threw a piece of clay at him for another round—she refused to leave this place without a clayware creation of her own.

“Don’t make anything too intricate in case you burn it again.”

“You are the worst teacher ever. You’ve got absolutely no faith in me.”

“I have faith that you’ll become a proficient wielder someday, not immediately after you overburned four pieces of clayware in a row.” He pondered over his next words while opening a hole into the ball of clay. “Think about it this way: this is a safe space for you to make mistakes. You’d rather learn from them here than when the stakes are high.”

She couldn’t argue with that. “Are you speaking from experience?”

Rowan tilted his head, his hands pausing their work as his gaze grew unfocused. “Nothing ever happened at work, though my family does like to recall some embarrassing stories from time to time.”

“Do tell!” she asked with a little too much excitement, wide-eyed.

Rowan chuckled and looked back at his mug-to-be as he recalled. “In my pre-teen years, I used to practice my healing magic with animals. This one time, my mother’s Asterion mare was having a difficult birth. It took ages for the veterinarian to arrive and she was under so much stress, so I decided to send a soft breeze towards her and—“

Rowan winced.

“And what?” Aelin set aside her chunk of clay and leaned forward, unashamed to show her eagerness.

“I blew down the entire stable.” He looked down, the slightest hue of pink tinting the tips of his ears.

Aelin cackled, her shoulders bending forward as her laughter filled the dueling hall. Rowan regarded her with a funny expression her aching ribcage didn’t allow her to decipher.

“It’s not that funny,” he said with mock-indignation.

“Were any animals hurt?”

“Just a few scrapes I healed immediately after.”

“Then it is absolutely hilarious.”

Chuckling, he shook his head and shaped his mug’s handle with a string of clay. “I’m sure you have even worse stories.”

“Worse? Yes. But not funnier in a million years.” Aelin looked down to her work and resumed shaping it. She needed something to do with her hands if she was going to talk about it. “The extent of my power was supposed to be kept a secret until I was of age, but it was impossible to do it when I couldn’t control it at all, so soon I was being watched by the entire world. If I accidentally blew up a wing of the castle, shortly other kingdoms would fund local rebels or demand restrictions on my use of power in treaties. Or maybe Maeve—the creepiest of all—would send my mother another letter requesting to meet me. The pacing and worrying was a constant in my youth—will she try to kidnap me next? How much power can I wield without having other kingdoms trying to harm or kill me?”

To her relief, Rowan didn’t show any pity. “It’s twisted and messed up. If anyone can learn how to navigate this, it’s you.”

Aelin didn’t feel like there was anything else to say, so she didn’t. Her soon-to-be ceramic was already shaped, and so was Rowan’s—she couldn’t tell by how done it looked, but by how equally ugly it was from the others he gave her to fire.

Aelin appraised it while starting with a low intensity of her fire.

While she tried to achieve the best shape she could for her work, Rowan’s mugs were done as soon as it looked useable enough. If the handle fits his hand, the bottom is flat enough to stay still and the hole is deep enough to hold his coffee, it’s done.

“Easy,” Rowan warned when her flames grew a bit higher.

“Shut it,” she hissed.

They were both kneeling, one on each side, hovering over their potter’s work.

“I better have a new mug after this lesson, Princess.”

“You could’ve had three new mugs by now if you’d help me out a little.”

“If I were helping you out ever since the lessons started, you’d be turning the clay into dust, not merely shattering it.”

Aelin wanted to sneer back, she absolutely did, but she was halfway into it and not a single shard had popped off the ceramics. As if Rowan had sensed it too, his attention was now wholly on their work.

A bit more. Increase just a bit more intensity, slow and steady—

A small, outer piece of Rowan’s mug handle fell off and, without thinking, he lowered down her flames.

“Gods,” he said, stupefied with his unintended help. “I wasn’t thinking—“

She shushed him, still focused on the flames. Now that he had set the perfect amount, she’d just have to keep it.

Keep it

Keep it

Steady

Rowan breathed, “Just a bit more and—“

A small shard of Aelin’s own piece fell off.

“Don’t,” he said. “It was nothing. Minimal damage. Just keep up like this.”

She did exactly that, rubbing her face as she swayed on her knees from fatigue; still, she willed her fire to stay and act exactly as she commanded.

“Do you think it’s done now?”

“Don’t hush it.” His eyes were glued to the nearly done clayware. “We’re almost there.”

Aelin couldn’t bear to count the time. The amount of time she had to spend burning these things, controlling the fire so it wouldn’t break, was tiresome in the least. This was the longest she stayed without seriously tearing their work, and her other two attempts weighed down on her now.

“I think you can put it off now—slowly,” Rowan said.

Aelin complied her shoulders relaxing each time she decreased her fire, but still trying to maintain a steady rhythm.

She heaved a loud sigh and threw herself on the floor.

“Congratulations, Princess.” Rowan beamed at the ugliest mug she’s ever seen. His fingers wrapped around the gap in the handle as he mimicked lifting it to his mouth and said, “You’ve just burned functional enough clayware.”

She ignored his sass and grinned to herself, facing the ceiling. “Thank you.”

He laid as well, beside her, and handed her his mug. “You should have it. It’s your accomplishment.”

“But you wanted your mug so bad!” She said as she turned to face him. He did the same.

“I didn’t want the mug itself as much as I wanted for it to be whole by the end of the lesson.”

“Thank you,” she said, holding the mug with both hands with a small smile, as if it was something precious. She set it down and reached for her own creation. “You shall have mine, then. It’s only fair.”

Rowan chuckled. “Thank you for the lovely… miniature wand?” He laid it on the palm of his hand—his very large hand, in her defense.

Aelin gasped. “It’s a spoon!”

“A spoon,” he trailed, saucy yet cautious with her gift as he gently trailed his finger along it.

“Of course. You always carry so many knifes around, but I’ve never seen you carry a spoon,” she teased.

“How wise of you.” The corner of his lips twitched, but he was the kind of man that clamped down even the tiniest of smiles. “I’ve gotten too comfortable with my weapons lately. Finding a way to harm someone with this will be a good exercise.”

She didn’t doubt he would.

˜˜

In all her twenty-one years, Aelin had never grown to love her flames.

She’d feared them and their potential to harm.

She’d felt amused by them at the time she’d accidentally set some of Lord Suria’s papers on fire, when he drafted a proposal for a law that pissed her off.

She’d embarrassed herself among burnt books and under the gaze of an enraged librarian.

At best, she respected herself and her gift.

But right now, Aelin loved it.

The wind blew away her hair as she ran and twirled around the beach, the sand soft and loose under her feet while she opened her arms wide for the flames to dance on them.

Her chest felt so big and wide it didn’t feel like that at all—it felt as if it’d opened itself to welcome the entire world inside of her, and Aelin and this beach were one and the same.

I love this. I love this. I love this.

And Aelin wasn’t the only one affected. For the first time, she’d seen Rowan allow a full grin to sneak past his grumpy defenses. He sat on the sand the entire time, but Aelin could feel him sending more wind towards her when nature slowed it down.

She couldn’t tell how she was able to discern which particles of the wind were his and which weren’t, but some primal part of her did—a concern meant for the four walls of her room, not the beach.

She’d never felt as carefree—it felt as if her entire existence narrowed down to this, and she was made to feel to the bone the magnificent synchronicity between the wind and her fire.

Aelin opened her arms wider and ran where Rowan was, laughing at his antics when he played with the wind against her.

Rowan. He watched her every move—today, always—and she knew it was all because of him. Aelin wouldn’t go so far as to claim that her new newfound skills and confidence with her flames were his accomplishment more than her own, but it was impossible to deny that she wouldn’t be like this right now if it wasn’t for him. Her training wasn’t even complete, but she felt so grateful already.

Aelin laid on the floor beside his seated figure, but she couldn’t bring herself to put her fire down—it stayed low atop her body, like a small, living bonfire.

Rowan put one hand through the flame, unafraid and without touching her body, the way one did with steam before a hot bath.

“People usually make camp fires at night,” he teased, “not when the sun’s still high.”

“It’s so windy.” She smiled, her eyes closed. “I like how it tingles the flame.”

Rowan immediately sent more her way. She gave him a close-lipped, grateful smile.

Then he threw the smallest, most obnoxious block of ice at her. It turned to steam before it grazed her skin.

“You brute!”

He did it again.

Aelin frowned and grew the flames higher.

He chuckled. “I won’t bite.”

“I find it hard to believe you.”

Rowan’s expression slacked, the awareness of their exchange’s underlying meaning all over his face. He swallowed. He gave his eyes one second to wander over her before he turned to face the sea.

“We were supposed to be in the middle of combat training by now.” He gave her a pointed look. “You haven’t even crafted a passable sword yet.”

“Gods, s’fine.” Aelin lifted her forearm and waved a fire sword.

“A minimally passable sword is much sharper”.

“Isn’t it enough that the sword will be burning things? You also want it sharp enough to cut the fabric between the realms?”

“I actually wanted it to look like a sword more than a pole, but I wouldn’t object it if you made it happen.”

Aelin groaned and put her fire sword down. Despite his own insistence that they get some work done, Rowan laid down beside her, on the sand. They silently enjoyed each other’s companies, keeping that same dynamic where their magics gently played with each other like rippling sea water blending into the sand.

As a princess of a ruthlessly cold kingdom, if Aelin had known beaches could be this fun, she would’ve come here as soon as she landed in Wendlyn—it was either Rowan’s doing, or beaches in Suria were extraordinarily lame. Perhaps both.

He didn’t bring her here for fun, but to make her ready for adverse circumstances. Beaches were made of sand, water and wind, and all three of them could change Aelin’s fire, so she was supposed to be getting acquainted with those changes and reshaping her powers to accommodate them without losing efficiency in battle. A very important exercise, one she’d completely focus on was she not having the time of her life today.

It seemed like he was willing to forgive her for it, by the way his calls to continue the lesson progressively decreased once Aelin tugged her tunic off her pants and started to run with the wind.

Every time he ignited her flames further, Rowan’s scent came with the breeze, as if it didn’t unsettle her by default. At first, she thought that it was part of a cheap ploy to win her, wearing a cologne that smelled like pine and snow, two of Terrasen’s symbols. But then the scent lingered after he got wet or sweaty, and her theory fell apart because no cologne could withstand their training sessions.

Rowan naturally smelling like her home was a disfavor to her attempt to ignore that tug in her chest when he was near.

When Aelin rolled to her side, he was already watching her.

She watched him back, unabashed.

She watched how the sunlight made his gray eyelashes look holy, and how it blessed his skin in the form of a tan. How beautiful that skin tone looked along with the pink of his pillowy lips.

“Do you ever feel as if our magics are kindred?”

Rowan reached for Aelin’s aflame hand and stroked its back with his thumb.

“All of the time,” he said in a tone that was too quiet, almost muffled by the waves on the shore.

She traced her thumb along his palm. “I do too.”

“We could try.” He closed his hand, keeping her thumb trapped inside it. “We’d cross out one out of two.”

Mates or carranam, is what he didn’t say.

He never freed her from his palm. The one place most Fae used to test a carranam bond. She wasn’t ready to do it yet, bare her mind to him, stay at her most vulnerable, then face the consequences of having two bonded royals from kingdoms that antagonize each other.

But when it was just the two of them in a little breakable heaven, she almost followed the commands from her aching heart to just do it and get it over with.

“I—“

Rowan let go of her hand after the silence that led to a stammer.

“You don’t trust me,” he said. Not a question nor an accusation, though it pained her to see the crestfallen look in his eyes.

“There’s different ways to trust someone.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

Aelin lifted her hand to his cheek, her thumb moving in idle circles against it. “I trust you, but some things are bigger than that,” she whispered.

Rowan didn’t look convinced, but didn’t want to argue or demand anything from her. She scrambled her mind for other ways to get her point across, but all it did was pause on the very method she hopelessly tried to avoid.

She kept her stare locked on his as she let go of his face and slowly, making sure he understood every step of the way, tilted her head back until her throat was arched and bared before him.

“Aelin,” he breathed. Not in reprimand or warning, but… a plea. It sounded like a plea.

Ever so tentative, Rowan slowly wrapped a hand around her neck, letting his thumb trace the length. She briefly closed her eyes and arched it further, a silent invitation.

He lowered his head to her exposed neck and hovered a hair’s breadth away.

Rowan let out a soft groan and grazed his teeth against her skin.

One bite, one movement, was all it would take for him to rip out her throat. His elongated canines slid along her flesh—gently, precisely. In order to keep from running her fingers down his back and drawing him closer, Aelin clenched the sand like she’d do to her bedsheets, but all it did was slip through her fingers and leave her with nothing to hold on to.

“No one else,” she whispered. “I would never allow anyone else at my throat.” Showing him was the only way he’d understand that trust, in a manner that only the predatory, Fae side of him would comprehend. “No one else,” she said again.

He let out another low groan, answer and confirmation and request, and the rumble echoed inside her. He reverently trailed pecks from the spot below her ear to her collarbone, and Aelin’s whole body was aware of it, from her agitated core to the goosebumps breaking through her skin.

Rowan closed his teeth over the spot where her lifeblood thrummed and pounded, his breath hot on her skin.

She shut her eyes, every sense narrowing on that sensation, on the teeth and mouth at her throat, on the powerful body trembling with restraint above hers. His tongue flicked against her skin.

She made a small noise that might have been a moan, or a word, or his name. He shuddered and pulled back, the cool air kissing her neck. Wildness��pure wildness sparked in those eyes.

Then he thoroughly, brazenly surveyed her body, his nostrils flaring delicately as he scented exactly what she wanted.

Aelin threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled his lips to hers—once she did it, Rowan didn’t hold back. Every flick of his tongue was demanding, the fingers on her waist near crushing, as if she’d escape his grasp any minute.

This… Aelin couldn’t say she never saw it coming. She’d been attracted to Rowan ever since she first laid eyes on him, even though attraction on itself doesn’t dictate her actions, and the situation they were in complicated things.

However, in that moment, there were no kingdoms or ghosts to haunt her.

There was no avoiding Rowan or the way his nearness messed with her mind and body, so Aelin’s new vow to herself was that whatever happened now stayed between them, the sand and the sea.

His touch boldened, reaching up to her side boob and breastband as he ravaged her neck. One lewd whimper, and Rowan used his wind to block any noise from leaving their little bubble—every sound she made for him was his alone.

Aelin tucked his tunic off his pants and sneaked her hands inside it. His heated skin was barely noticeable compared to when Aelin felt muscles she hadn’t known existed.

His abs felt so hard under such soft skin, it reminded Aelin of the most delicious chocolate bar, with smooth lines dividing neat ridges—

Stop it, a voice that sounded akin to her conscience interrupted her thoughts.

She shook the comparison aside and guided his mouth back to hers. Fae males—once Aelin allowed him on her neck, he hang onto it like his favorite toy.

Aelin lifted her hips, and the way his own ground back against where she was sensitive the most tore a moan out of her, even with her clothes on.

“Are you sure?” Rowan rasped quite gentlemanly, given the state they were currently in.

In response, Aelin burned his linen tunic into ash.

And then loved her—maybe not with his heart, but with his teeth, tongue and other body parts that fit even more perfectly, which felt just as nice for now.

In fact, it felt so good even the gods might envy her choice of lover.

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[nordfjording]

ofc the tears-hair-out issue with banning the destruction of religious symbols and items as hate speech (ie burning the quran) in scandinavia is that until very very recently this was not primarily a tool for the white conservative majority to oppress a religious minority. but most commonly used by political refugees to protest the religious regimes they fled from. it was co-opted, very consciously, by white supremacists. this is not a secret, no one is hiding this. and that is also why, when ie turkey points to "they burn the quran over there" as a reason sweden shouldnt be allowed in nato, one might think it's maybe not *just* about the likes of paludan, especially when the other half of that claim is "and also they hide kurds."

[cheriboms]

i think they would be friends :]

[warning-heckboop]

Oh to be able to make the complex lore comic that lives in my head about the concept of fairies, anti-fairies, and pixies once being a civilization of one single species of fae that splintered both metaphorically and literally due to internal conflict

[vacantgodling]

✨preferences should not be standards for writing advice✨

[tinyfantasminha]

👍

[citrusai]

some shippers when solas has had important relationships from thousands of years ago and he can't just forgive himself for failing those closest to him then and go "okie dokie!" when his wife tells him he can come back home

[tmblrkid]

i think its okay for people to be upset when people who were important to their childhood die. like, its not impossible for people to be upset about someone dying and to be upset that said person was also a bad individual. people are multifaceted and i think social media has warped the way a lot of you treat grief and those around you as a whole.

[mantisgodsdomain]

We ought to write more Pokemon fic some time. We want to recreate the Pokemon Manners/Human Manners cheat sheet that we made a few years ago we think that this site would like the Sliding Scale Of Politeness When Greeting A New Pokemon You've Never Met Before.

[wildfairies]

velastra's ending... karlach died, lae'zel left, astarion ascended, gale died in act 1 after she cut his hand off, wyll broke his pact and fucked off, shadowheart killed her parents, raphael took over the hells, the emperor switched sides, and vel stabbed orpheus once they beat the netherbrain. but at least she overcame her dark urges!

[neverendingford]

.

[dreamersneverlose]

For the first time in a long time, I haven’t the faintest idea what life is going to look like 1, 2, 6 months from now. How terrifyingly beautiful this will be.

[sillybouquetoflillies]

i keep thinking i rly didnt go thru that much growing up, but idk, everytime i tell someone abt my life, they say i did and kinda just like sit in shock abt it. am i just internet brained or smth, or am i just dramatic?? i rly dont think ive earned a lot of the symtoms of someone who was traumatized that i have. or maybe i havent been in a safe place for long enough to process things??? i dunno. maybe someday far away in the future ill figure things out

[karliahs]

wrist update: seriously considering attempting to become left-handed