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moosesarecute · 2 months

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Part 6: The Shadows Sing

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 7

Azriel didn’t know why he felt so shocked.

He had seen her use her shadows, but he didn’t believe himself. Shadowsingers were so rare! It didn’t make sense that they were two alive at the same time.

His head was spinning.

He was almost 500 years older than her, so maybe it wasn’t that weird that they were two?

She had rushed out the cabin once more. However, she let her shadows stay behind.

“Can you ask them to go away from my mouth?” He asked his shadows.

“They’re scared,” they answered.

“Tell them we won’t hurt them or their mistress,” he continued.

Azriel wouldn’t dream of hurting you. He couldn’t even think about you being hurt without going a little feral.

“They say that when Pretty Eyes’ feelings are too strong she has control over them, so they can’t let go right now. They know you won’t hurt them.”

Azriel realized something important.

“She can’t usually control them?” He asked.

“No, master,” his shadows answered. “Only hide, talk to and shadow walk.”

So she’s a secret shadowsinger and she can’t control her shadows. Doesn’t sound like an easy life.

He felt himself worry about her.

She didn’t eat, she lives alone in dangerous forests and she couldn’t control the shadows that basically was connected to her body.

“They want us to help her,” his shadows told him.

“With what?”

“Surviving.”

He had waited for her to come back for over two hours before he left. He soon realized she was doing her best to spend as much time as possible away from her cabin.

He left the rest of the food out for her to eat when she got back.

She hadn’t eaten a lot for breakfast. Azriel expected it to not be because she didn’t like it, but because she wasn’t used to having that big portions.

He hated thinking about that.

He felt himself distant the entire day. Cassian easily beat him in combat training and he didn’t manage to follow any conversations during the evening’s family dinner.

In the end, he decided to step out on the balcony to get a break. His head was spinning with thoughts.

Y/N was so young! But she still must have lived through many horrors. She must have gotten her shadows somehow. Also the naga that bit of her foot must have been traumatic. And the fact that she didn’t dear to tell anyone about her being a shadowsinger. Someone must have terrified her.

He hoped that someone wasn’t him.

He heard the door to the balcony open. The steps told him it was Nesta.

“Can I sit?” She asked him.

He just nodded and moved over to make place on the bench he sat on. She sat down.

“Cassian’s worried about you,” she stated. “I’m too. You’ve been distant lately. More than usual I mean.”

Azriel guessed he had been spending a lot of his free time away. Either in the library trying to learn about The Middle or in The Middle trying to learn about you.

“Soooo,” she continued. “Who’s the girl?”

Azriel turned to look at Nesta with an eyebrow raised.

“You’ve been way too smiling lately,” she explained. “I think everybody knows there’s someone. No one has just dared to ask.”

Azriel suddenly realized how much he needed to talk to someone about you. He felt lost. He wanted to help you, he had promised your shadows that he would, but he had no idea how.

“There’s this female,” he started. But he suddenly didn’t know how to continue.

“You’re dating?” Nesta asked.

Azriel thought for a few moments. But he was so overwhelmed by all he was feeling for you, he couldn’t communicate.

“She hadn’t even tasted chocolate for cauldrons sake!” He almost yelled out. “She’s young, she hunts for a living, she has basically no food and she hadn’t even tasted chocolate.”

Nesta only looked at him with wide eyes. It wasn’t usual for him to have such outbursts.

“I saw her on the battlefield against Hybern and have been dreaming about her ever since. And then we met again and I have done my best to get to know her, but she’s terrified. But I just can’t leave her alone.

“I’ve also recently found out something else about her. Something that changes a lot. But she won’t ever let me help her.”

It was Nesta’s turn to think.

“If she’s been living in survival mode for this long, it might be hard for her to realize that something is wrong,” Nesta tried to explain. “If she hasn’t had anyone to trust, it won’t be easy for her to trust you. If she hasn’t gotten help from anyone before, she maybe doesn’t realize you want to help.”

It did make sense.

Y/N acted skittish and she definitely had trust issues. Azriel wanted to be the person that you could trust. He needed to make sure you were save and happy in your life, but he knew you were under too much stress to life a good life.

“You have to make her realize you can help her, without you needed anything back from her,” Nesta said. “You have to learn her to ask for help.”

“What do you know about the hunting group in The Middle?” Azriel asked Rhys.

It had been a week and he still hadn’t dared to go back to you.

He had spent his days being busy with missions and told himself that he’d been too busy to visit you. Even though he knew that he did have time, but was too nervous to go.

The fact that you’re a shadowsinger too made him nervous.

He didn’t like to know that she would understand the horrors he’d been through. She’d been through similar things.

He also hated that she’d been traumatized enough for her to get her shadows.

He really wanted to hold her.

“I don’t know much,” Rhys answered. “They were forced to hunt for Amarantha, so that’s when I heard about them first.”

Azriel felt his chest lit up with anger as he realized you’d gone through terrors Under The Mountain.

For 50 years you’d hide your true powers from the most powerful person at the time. It’s not weird you lived in survival mode.

“They had to give weekly reports and they always sent the same female. The poor girl was only 18 when it all started. She had a hard time to say at least.”

Azriel felt his heart stop. Y/N was turning 70 years soon. She would have been 18 at the time Amarantha took over.

He could throw up.

Rhys had known about her?

“To be honest, I don’t even know if she’s alive,” Rhys continued.

Rhys had known about her and didn’t try to save her? He felt himself start getting mad at Rhys. This young female had gone through way too much.

“Did she have a prosthetic leg?” Azriel asked before he could think.

He needed to know.

“Yeah,” Rhys said nodding. “She had lost both her wings and her leg. Surprised she’s lived this long.”

Her wings?

Her wings!

She wasn’t only a shadowsinger, she was illyran. An illyran that lost her wings.

“How did you know that?” Rhys asked him.

He felt himself getting angrier and angrier. He tried to hold back, but he soon felt himself wanting to yell at Rhys.

Before he could start, his shadows came storming through the door.

“Pretty eyes, help, friends, help,” they were screaming at him.

Before Rhys could utter another word, Azriel had shadow walked away.

He landed in the middle of your cabin. But you weren’t there.

“Where is she?” He asked his shadows.

He soon felt something pull his wrist. He looked down and realized it wasn’t his shadow. It was a lot lighter than his, a lot smaller as well, but its determination and pull was as strong as his own.

“Can you show me?” He asked it.

He didn’t wait for an answer as he covered himself in his shadows and prepared to shadow walk away.

He landed besides a lake and soon saw you.

You sat on a stone just a few meters from the lake. You were soaked and shivering.

But what worried Azriel, was the fact that your shadows were out.

They immediately surrounded him, pulling him towards you. Azriel followed their pull. He moved slowly, trying not to startle you.

He crunched down next to you, but you didn’t acknowledge him. Your shadows moved back to you. They swirled close to you, obliviously trying to warm you.

“Hi, Y/N,” he whispered. You still only stared straight ahead. “Can you hear me?”

When your only reaction was to start shaking even more, Azriel sprung into action.

“I’m going to shadow walk us to your cabin, okay?” He asked, but he knew you wouldn’t answer. “I’m going to pick you up now.”

He moved towards you and carefully lifted you up into his arms. He made sure to move slowly, so that you could move away or signal for him to stop if you needed it. You were so light and little in his arms. He wanted to hold you forever.

To his surprise, you only snuggled deeply into his chest. The warmth that spread through Azriel’s chest lasted for multiple days.

As he landed in your cabin and carefully sat you down on your chair.

“Can you ask them to change her clothes?” He asked his shadows.

He watched his shadows intertwine with yours as they spoke. It was a weirdly wholesome to watch his companions, they looked extremely happy and relaxed.

“We’ll have to leave, but they’ll change her,” his shadows informed him.

He felt himself grow stubborn. He wouldn’t leave her, he couldn’t leave her. Not in this state. She was freezing and shaking, he needed to help her. He felt such a deep need to protect her. He wouldn’t leave her. They’d have to throw him out.

“We just have to wait outside,” his shadows informed him. “We can come back in later.”

Azriel realized just how much you meant to him.

Azriel had spent the longest three minutes of his life waiting in his shadows outside your cabin. When your shadows came to get him, he basically ran back inside.

They had helped you into your bed and had tucked you into a blanket full of holes. You had stopped shivering and you had gotten some color on your cheeks.

However, your eyes were closed and your chest raised and sank in a comfortable speed. You were asleep at home and Azriel felt himself calm down.

@i-have-a-thing-for-the-dark @saltedcoffeescotch @rcarbo1

#acotar #azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x shadowsinger!reader

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qwimblenorrisstan · 2 months

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The Clandestine Culinarian Pt. 3 | Azriel x Reader

Summary: After the mating bond between you and Azriel snaps, he hides away in Rhys’ townhouse, spending time with Elain, only to run into you at Rita’s

Word Count: ~ 3.3k

Warnings: Angst, Rita’s, blades, hot dresses (and women)

A/N: Soo sorry it took me so long to write this, but I’ve been scheming this for days, hope you like it<3

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Requests are open!

Azriel had finally managed to calm himself down after an hour or two, with Rhys consoling him and Cassian quickly rushing to the townhouse to figure out what the hell was going on.

“She’s your mate? Am I hearing that right?”

“Yes, Cassian. And keep your mouth shut about it.”

Rhys replied, giving Cassian a pointed look before going back to watching Azriel closely. He was in shock, mainly. He’d thought that after all these months of getting close to her and comforting her and helping her adjust, Elain had to be his mate, just had to be. And she wasn’t.

He knew his anger at you was irrational, but he wanted Elain, not you, you were just some female he’d met and bought poisons from. You were deadly and cunning and ruthless, nothing like his sweet, soft, and precious Elain he’d grown to love. You were not what he wanted.

“I can’t stay there with her, Rhys-“

He managed to get out, before Feyre and Elain both slipped into the room, clearly wondering what was wrong and why Azriel’s face was red and puffy. Elain seemed to already know what was happening, based on the sadness in her eyes. Gods, he’d do anything to get rid of it, anything. He would go through an army to make her feel better, slaughter anyone he needed to, and do anything he could.

“Feyre, this is not the time, nor the place.”

Rhys said, a hint of something pleading in his eyes. Feyre seemed to want to help but understood that helping could come later. Right now was about damage control. She put one hand around Elain’s, before going to walk out of the room. However, Elain got four words out before being pulled away.

“Can he stay here?”

She asked, her tone so broken that he would stay here forever, the rest of his life if it would fix her. Cassian’s face hardened, clearly thinking, Rhys only sighed before giving a nod.

“You’ll stay here until we can work this out. Cassian…do you think she’s far enough along to pick up training with the Valkyries?”

Cassian sighed, knowing that while you had progressed very far in your months of training, there was no way in hell you were at the same level as Nesta, Emerie, and Gwyn.

“I can try.”

He said, his tone already unsure. It wasn’t a definite no, but it wasn’t a yes either.

*********************************************************

After Azriel had left, the House felt noticeably emptier, to you at least. It wasn’t any sort of noise you missed, but just the way his presence was subtle but always heavy in whatever room he took up. You didn’t dare pull on the golden threads tying you to the shadowsinger, not when he’d seemed so shocked and…upset.

That had stung worse than him leaving, maybe. His face had been contorted in shock and hurt as if you hadn’t been his first choice, and the only reason you were even on the roster was because of the bond. You weren’t sure how to think about that.

Luckily, you barely got any time to think with the new training with Cassian you’d picked up. You knew that working those blades couldn’t be easy, but good gods you hadn’t expected it to be so difficult either. Nesta on occasion tried to help you, but you still failed the ribbon test every single goddamn time as the ribbon remained there, hanging from the doorpost, dancing in the wind and taunting you.

Your body was sore and aching, but you were more muscular than before, you’d admit. At least the training was worth something.

Your mind still kept wandering back to Azriel, and to Elain as well. You’d seen the way he looked at her, with a hint of hope and longing in his eyes, and how she looked at him like he was the oxygen she needed to breathe.

So, like you did with any other girl problems, you sought out Nesta. You found her in the smutty section of the library that was formed to match her tastes, seeking out a new book among the shelves.

She took one look at you, a sort of pity and empathy in her eyes that usually wasn’t there, and sighed, sitting down on a large windowsill and inviting you to sit next to her.

You sat down next to her, not knowing what to say before opening your mouth to speak.

“I-“

“I already know, I saw the whole shitshow go down.”

She said in that bland tone of hers, picking at her nails in what seemed like a way to cover up an anxious habit. You weren’t surprised she’d seen. It had been right around training time for Cassian and the Valkyries, and they’d probably seen the entire thing go down. Embarrassment flooded you before you could stop it, creeping up your cheeks as you stared down at the hardwood floor, hands shifting constantly as you swallowed.

“He’s..in love with Elain, isn’t he?”

You asked, your voice a lot more resigned than you would like it to be. Nesta seemed to think about it, glancing at you before speaking.

“I think he’s got a crush, and I won’t lie, I think he was just looking for his mate. Elain, though…she’s infatuated with him, a bit ridiculous considering she’s already got Lucien groveling for her.”

Nesta said, a hint of distaste in her tone as she mentioned the mating bond between Elain and Lucien. She was still protective over her sister, it seemed. Even if she didn’t agree with her choices.

“Do you think she’ll be mad? I mean, of course, she’ll be, but..”

You went on, before realizing you were rambling and cutting yourself off with a sigh. Nesta simply shrugged.

“She won’t be happy, but she’s Elain, what could she possibly do? Not let you have a slice of her pies?”

That got a little huff of laughter out of you, some much-needed laughter after everything. Nesta glanced over at you, looking you up and down, before getting up and offering you a hand.

“Me and the girls were planning a girl’s night at Rita’s tonight, would you like to come?”

You hesitated, before taking her hand and getting up, nodding.

“Yeah, I could use a drink or two.”

What she then displayed could only be described as a wolf’s grin, her hand slipping off of yours to grab the book that had been on the shelf she wanted the entire time.

“Good. Wear your sluttiest dress.”

She said, a conspiratorial tone in her voice before she slipped off into the winding labyrinth that was the library, ever-shifting and moving to adjust for her.

*********************************************************

“I’ll grab it.”

His dark voice spoke, reaching over the middle Archeron sister to grab the measuring cups that were just out of reach for her. His chest pressed ever so slightly against her back as he grabbed it, before placing it on the counter for her and then going back to maintaining a respectable distance away.

He could’ve sworn that she always kept those cups lower down, but they were higher this time. As if someone had deliberately placed them there. As if someone had wanted the help of someone taller, who always was there at every beck and call.

“Thank you.”

She spoke softly, smiling up at him with a warmth that could melt the sun itself. Elain looked ethereal in this light, and she’d looked beautiful even before being turned to High Fae. Now she could rival the Mother herself.

The months being in the townhouse had been hard at first, being constantly away from his mate, but slowly the urge to be near you and touch you and hold you had faded away, replaced by Elain. Now that he thought of it, he could barely remember what your face had looked like, or your voice…or anything about you.

It was a sign, he supposed. A sign that even if the Cauldron had paired you two together, fate didn’t agree, and he was fully content here, eating every little home-cooked meal Elain made him, savoring the unique taste that was her cooking.

She never let him watch her cook the full meal, insisting that he not know the secret ingredients to the recipes she’d originally made during the starving days when she, Feyre, and Nesta had lived in that tiny little cabin in the woods. One day, she’d let him know the entire recipe. And that day would be soon, he was sure.

“I heard Feyre’s going to Rita’s tonight, maybe we could go together?”

She offered, her smile warm and safe. Everything he’d prayed for when he’d heard stories from Rhysand’s mother of love affection and support. The hope that he’d one day have it. What had her name been?

He’d never been as happy and just so free as he’d been with Elain in her kitchen in the townhouse with her, and the others had noticed a bit as well. How he seemed a bit more prone to accidentally tripping while lost in thought of her, or how he seemed to daydream or sleep so much better.

He snapped out of his thoughts, looking down at Elain with a small smile. It was odd that she of all people, the cook and soft, gentle woman, sensitive and affectionate, wanted to go to a bar for a girl’s night out. She seemed much more like a restaurant type of female, but he didn’t question it. He was happy for any excuse to spend time with her.

“Sure. We could go. What time?”

He asked, his voice soft as he watched her bake what seemed like a sourdough starter. She seemed to know without even thinking.

“5:45 should be fine.”

She said. It struck him a bit odd how sure she seemed. He hadn’t heard her ask Feyre at all, and his shadows, though most chose to stay at the House of Wind with the other female, hadn’t noticed anything of it. But she was Elain, she probably just knew.

*********************************************************

“Another round?”

Nesta asked with a grin, you returned the grin, too drowned in drinks to even care how drunk you got tonight. “A drink or two” her ass, Emerie was downing another glass, probably going to regret it in the morning.

They’d all worn the sluttiest dresses they had, with Cassian lurking nearby in the bar, fully ready to bite the head off of any male who got a bit too handsy with Nesta.

“Absolutely,”

You replied, at which Nesta proceeded to order another round out of her own money. She was rich as hell since the High Lord paid her for whatever the hell she did. You didn’t particularly care as long as it kept the drinks coming.

“Careful with the drinks, Nes. Feyre said there’s been some lapses in their bank, and you’re the prime suspect.”

Cassian said, giving her a nudge with his wing. Everyone knew of Nesta’s previous behavior, buying rounds and rounds of drinks with the High Lord’s money, and wasting it.

“That’s bullshit, she knows I wouldn’t do that anymore.”

Nesta replied, simply rolling her eyes and going back to downing her drink, eying Cassian with no shame at all. He only gave a cocky grin and eyed her back. She was wearing a black dress that sat snug against all her best features, and Cassian was loving the view, as were the other men at Rita’s brave enough to ogle her.

You wore a silky red dress with a high slit in the side and a cut that showed plenty of your cleavage, not to mention how the fabric hung and was tight in just the right places to be flowing but also leave little to the imagination. It was enough to get you a cheap hookup, at the very least, based on the men watching you.

A good way to keep your mind off of Azriel.

You gave Nesta a look, and she gave a nod before you strode off to the prettiest male you could find in the room, one of the ones who’d been watching you the closest. A sly smile grew on his lips as his dark eyes glittered with lust. He knew what you were looking for, wearing that on a night like this.

“What’s your name, pretty?”

He purred, hand going around your waist as you slid into his lap. One of your hands went to curl around his bicep, fluttering your lashes at him.

“Yours, if you can handle me.”

You said back, voice smooth as the silk you were wearing. The male’s hands began to wander, and you didn’t even bother stopping them as he leaned in closer to you, a low chuckle coming from his lips.

“Care to come home with me?”

He murmured, his breath hot against your skin. He smelled of a male musk, his scent reeking of cheap alcohol and arousal. You were too drunk to care.

“Gladly,”

You murmured back to him, not bothering to glance back at Nesta or Cassian, or anyone else in the bar as the male slowly got to his feet, hand around your waist, and began leading you out of the bar, from the back entrance. Your attention was solely on him, on his touch.

That was until you saw Azriel and Elain right outside the bar, engaged in painfully slow, heated kisses.

*********************************************************

He’d gotten dressed in some casual enough clothing, not overly fancy for a bar, but not to where he was underdressing. Elain had donned a cute blue dress, looking straight from a fantastical cottage out of a book he’d once read when younger. Maybe Rhysand’s mother had read that one to him. He couldn’t remember anymore.

They’d slipped in quietly, having a few drinks, which Elain seemed to wrinkle her nose slightly at the taste of the alcohol, but seemed more keen on getting him drinks. Something that would’ve sent warning signs in his mind blaring if he’d been able to remember just what he was doing here.

Elain kept glancing around as if watching out or looking for someone, or hoping not to be spotted. He hadn’t asked her about it out of the courtesy of being polite, but it still made him curious, until his brain was too fuzzy to care.

“Let’s get out of this stuffy place,”

She had whispered to him under her sweet breath, leading him outside to the side exit of the bar, before pulling him into a kiss. He couldn’t recall how or why it was happening, but his lips were on his, and he couldn’t find in himself the strength to pull away. His limbs felt wobbly, his shadows moving slower than usual as if weighed down by something. His head was swimming. What had been in that alcohol? His mind tried to think, but couldn’t. Everything felt so, so heavy.

And then he saw her. He could recognize her anywhere. His mate. His soulmate. His partner seemed by the Cauldron itself. She was dressed in what could only be described as an extremely revealing dress, red and silky, her cleavage and thigh on full display to the male who hungrily watched her, leading her to gods know where to get his fill and leave.

He saw something in her break when his gaze met hers, and Elain separated from the kiss, glancing over at the female with what looked like a mockingly empathetic smile.

Two things hit him at the same time; the fact that Feyre hadn’t been anywhere in that bar, even though Elain said she’d been invited by her, and the fact that ever since Elain had started feeding him every meal, breakfast lunch, and dinner, he’d completely forgotten the face of his mate, forgotten things he should know, his guard had fallen down, and now he was weak and put in the spotlight as the villain.

And then he hurled his guts out all over the ground, sobering up in an instant as he saw your tears. He needed to fix you, to fix this and figure out what the hell had been happening.

Even as he felt the slap of your hand against his cheek, and saw Elain go slightly pale with realization, he realized there wasn’t any fixing to be done right now.

This was about damage control.

*********************************************************

“You fucking bastard!”

You yelled as you slapped him, hot tears rolling down your cheeks before you could stop them.

The male that had been so hungry before stalked off, clearly not eager to be involved. Coward.

Azriel had come here knowing that you’d be here, and that bitch Elain had probably led him. He looked wrong. He was a bit pale and seemed dazed, out of it. His wings were dropping and scraping against the ground, eyes drooping. What was wrong with him? Even the shadows seemed sedated.

“What did you do to him?”

You seethed to Elain, and she seemed pale and wide-eyed as she began stammering.

“I- I had a vision where you hurt him, and I thought that if he forgot then-“

Cassian burst through the door of the side exit, alert and looking completely sobered up from his earlier drinks. Nesta was stumbling behind him, wondering what the hell was going on.

He was by Azriel’s side before you could even speak, helping his poisoned brother up and hoisting him into his arms. You were eliminated as a threat and the only person who’d been around him long enough to get anything into Azriel’s system….

“What was it?”

He demanded from Elain, voice harsh and pissed off. Elain sniffled, tears welling in her eyes as her hands shook slightly, she swallowed before speaking.

“Volucrae.”

She almost whispered, her voice so quiet and timid that even you could barely make it out.

Volucrae.

The seer bitch had poisoned Azriel with one of the most deadly poisons in existence, and the only place she could’ve possibly gotten it…

“You stole from my room?”

You asked, voice horrified and shrill. The leftovers you’d had from when your old shop had been burned to the ground by Kier and his men you’d carried on you, hiding in the room.

Elain only swallowed, nodding. Volucrae was deadly, yes, but in small enough quantities, it could cause confusion, memory loss, tremors, strokes, seizures, and more. She’d risked the shadowsinger’s life just because of a vision, a vision of you hurting Azriel, a vision that had been fulfilled with the slap, all because of Elain’s actions.

“I’m sorry, I-“

“Don’t.”

You and Cassian snapped in union as he took off with Azriel in his arms, now unconscious, probably going to find Madja to get any sort of solution to it, leaving you, a drunk Nesta being dragged away by Emerie, Gwyn, and Elain.

You stormed off, going anywhere you could to avoid everyone. You didn’t want to talk. You didn’t want to speak with any of them.

You winnowed straight into the House of Wind’s training grounds, picking up the Valkyrie blade and going straight into furious training, the only way to burn off this pure anger making you tremble and shake.

It was then, in the middle of the night, barely sober, still crying and angry out of your mind, that you cut straight through the ribbon.

The one-half drifted gracefully to the ground, falling like a leaf in the wind as the moonlight caught and illuminated little pink highlights of it.

It fell and fell, until reaching the ground, settling lightly on the dirt of the training grounds.

You stared down at it until it was all you could see and think of and hear until it was burned into your mind as your hands gripped the blade so hard your knuckles went white.

And you stared, until the possibility of Azriel’s death faded completely from your mind, until all you could focus on was the future.

And you swung your blade again.

Tags:

@lilah-asteria

@evangeline-xo

@hayrunnwr

@rcarbo1

@cleverzonkwombatsludge

@i-have-a-thing-for-the-dark

@weekendlusting

@evergreenlark

@julesvanslutta

#acotar fandom #acotar fanfiction #writers on tumblr #acotar x reader #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #cassian acotar #cassian #nesta archeron #nesta acotar #nesta x cassian #nesta supremacy #rhysand #feyre archeron #rhys x feyre #angst #acotar angst #Azriel angst

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c-e-d-dreamer · 2 months

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You're the Risk, I'm Going to Take It

A/N: It's here! It's here! Happy @cassianappreciationweek lovelies! I know I for one am super excited for all the content and fun in the cards this week. We're starting out this week with a fun little ficlet! Because flying on a rollercoaster totally counts as flying, right? Hope everyone enjoys :)

Read on AO3

In Cassian’s humble opinion, an amusement park is the perfect place for a first date. The rides provide the perfect amount of excitement and adrenaline rush all while offering a built-in conversation starter, no awkward small talk or uncomfortable silences that so often seem to come with a nice dinner. The lines give the perfect excuse to chat and get to know each other in between the excitement. The thrills give the perfect excuse to hold hands. The games even give the perfect excuse for him to show off.

What’s not to love about an amusement park date?

And so when Nesta Archeron finally agreed to a date with him, an amusement park was the easiest suggestion he ever made.

Honestly, he still can’t believe Nesta even agreed to a date with him in the first place. He’d been completely enamored from the very first moment he laid eyes on her. The very first moment those icy blue eyes rolled back in her head. Mother save him, he loved making those eyes roll. He loved the adorable scowl that took over her face anytime he called her sweetheart, and he loved their teasing game of back and forth.

He loved the first time he saw her eyes truly spark, the first time he made her laugh, and he swore he’d break his own back to see that expression, to hear that sound. Again and again and again if it were up to him. He’d give anything to find out if her lips taste as delicious as they look, to find out if he can make her blush a pretty pink beyond just her cheeks. He’d give anything to get a second date.

“Is this why you said to wear comfortable shoes?” Nesta asks from the passenger seat, tearing Cassian away from his thoughts.

“Yeah,” Cassian answers easily, throwing his truck into park. He slips out of the driver’s seat, quickly jogging around to pull open Nesta’s door, but she’s already clambered out before he can. Still, he holds out his arm in offering. “M’lady.”

“Idiot,” Nesta teases softly with a roll of her eyes.

The reaction just has Cassian grinning even wider, especially when Nesta settles her hand in the crook of his elbow despite her words. He leads the way toward the front gates, pulling up the tickets on his phone, and then they’re stepping inside. There’s various families, groups of friends, and even a few other couples milling about, their voices and laughter mixing with the melody of wheels on tracks and screams from the rides. The sugary sweet scent of fried dough floats on the breeze, flooding his senses.

“So, what do you think?” Cassian asks, turning his head so he can peer down at Nesta. “Start easy and work our way up?”

“Sure.”

Despite the response, Cassian doesn’t miss the way Nesta keeps her face forward, the way there’s not a single slip to her expression as though she’s purposefully keeping it neutral. Cassian tilts his head, curious what could cause such a reaction, but before he can ask, Nesta snaps her attention fully to him, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

Cassian chuckles easily and shakes his head, leading them both down the winding path and toward the large, wooden rollercoaster of the park. Luckily, the line is quite short, and they barely have to wait at all before they’re sliding together into one of the cars. Cassian pulls the black bar down over both their laps before slinging his arm across Nesta’s shoulders, offering her a winning smirk.

“Ready, Nes? If you need to hold my hand, you don’t even have to ask.”

“What am I? Five? Why would I need to hold your hand?”

Cassian gives her shoulder a teasing squeeze. “Because of all the turns and drops? Because I’m so attractive you can’t keep your hands to yourself?”

Nesta scoffs, driving her elbow right into Cassian’s gut hard enough that he lets out a pained gasp, curling forward over his knees. Of course, it’s at that exact moment that the ride goes rocking forward, the cars pulled along the track and up the large first hill. As the cars go cresting into the first drop, Cassian throws his arms up, laughing through every twist, every swoop of his gut as they go flying over another hill. By the time the ride is pulling back to the beginning, he feels breathless.

Breathless and ready for another.

He leads Nesta to the other wooden rollercoaster in the park, the one with two tracks that ‘race’ one another, and when they’re finished with that ride, it’s on to their first steel rollercoaster of the day. Cassian is buzzing as he secures the safety over his thighs, but when he glances toward Nesta in the seat beside his own, her grip on the metal handles is white knuckled. Her fingers flex as the ride operator begins his teasing introduction spiel, throat bobbing with a hard swallow.

“Alright, sweetheart?” Cassian leans over as best he can to ask.

“I’m fine,” Nesta snaps, not even bothering to meet his eyes.

Cassian doesn’t believe her for a second, but before he can ask again, the ride starts, the only sound filling his ears the click of the track as they climb up and up followed by the rush of wind as they crest into the first drop. But when the ride ends, he focuses his attention back on Nesta. On the way her shoulders slump almost in relief when she gets off the ride and her feet are back on solid ground. On the way she takes a deep almost steadying breath before pushing through the exit gate. On the way she holds her spine straight as steel like she can feel his attention as he follows her down the path and back into the main part of the park.

“Which ride next?” Nesta whirls on him to ask before he can utter a word.

“Are you afraid of coasters?” Cassian asks anyway.

“No,” Nesta answers too quickly, crossing her arms. “Why would I be afraid of rollercoasters?”

“You could tell me if you were. We could–”

“I’m not.”

Nesta raises her chin, her blue eyes blazing and narrowing on him. Daring him. I Will Eat Your Eyes for Breakfast, that was what he named this look of hers. One of many that he has named in the time since he’s known Nesta. And in that time, he’s also learned just how stubborn she can be, that iron will and pride one of the many attributes of hers he loved.

“Aright,” Cassian concedes with a shrug. “Let’s go big then. Do the one with the big drop and all the loops.”

“Great.”

Cassian presses his lips together to keep from smirking. “Great.”

Nesta is quiet as they wait in line for their turn, and Cassian wonders if she’s trying to mentally psych herself up for the rollercoaster. He watches her carefully, waiting for the cracks to show, for her to finally cave and admit the truth. But perhaps he truly is underestimating her and her unwillingness to yield.

“Last chance,” Cassian offers when the small gate swings open, indicating it’s their turn to step onto the ride.

Nesta doesn’t even bother deeming him with a response. She strolls right through the small gate and to the first open seat of the ride for their row. She hops up into the seat, quickly pulling down the shoulder restraint. Cassian shakes his head with a chuckle, stepping over to the seat beside her and doing the same.

“Hold hands?” Cassian suggests again, holding his hand out palm up.

“I don’t need to hold your hand,” Nesta bites out. “I told you, I’m not scared.”

Cassian puts on his best pout, wiggling his fingers. “But what if I need to hold your hand? Please, Nes?”

Nesta makes a big show of sighing, but she carefully releases her grip on the metal handle of the shoulder restraint. Her fingers slide between Cassian’s own, and he curls his, daring to slide his thumb across her skin with a wide grin.

It’s at that exact moment that the ride surges forward, going from zero to seventy miles per hour just as the rollercoaster’s tagline promises. Nesta’s scream is blood curdling, her grip on his hand tightening enough that he actually winces. As they go soaring through the first loop, he chances a glance toward her, but he finds Nesta with her eyes squeezed shut, face scrunched in fear.

The high speed has the ride ending before Cassian knows it, laughter echoing from the seats behind them and a ‘whoop’ coming from a guy in one of the front row seats. But Nesta still has her eyes closed, still has a death grip on his hand, even after the ride comes to a full stop and the shoulder restraints release with a quiet whoosh.

“You have to let go of my hand now, sweetheart,” Cassian leans over to whisper.

It takes a moment, but slowly Nesta’s fingers uncurl and she pulls her hand away. She hops down from the seat, stalking toward the exit without a glance backward. Cassian is quick to jog after her, slinging his arm around her shoulders when he catches up.

“You know, that was quite a scream for someone not scared,” Cassian comments teasingly.

“Shut up. I hate you,” Nesta snaps, shrugging out of his hold and continuing forward.

“Come on, Nes.” Cassian continues after her, moving in front of her and halting her steps. “I’m sorry, okay? No more coasters, I promise.”

Nesta continues to watch him dubiously, those blue gray eyes still narrowed, but her shoulders relax at least. Cassian steps closer into her space, reaching up for one of the stray strands of hair that’s come free from her updo through the rides and now tumbles down along her temple. He twists it around her finger, tugging until that scowl finally vanishes, until the corners of her lips twitch with the barest hint of a smile.

“Forgive me?” Cassian requests, giving in to his own soft smile that he knows there’s no point trying to fight.

Nesta hums, clearly intent on denying him, but she can’t hide the spark in her gaze that gives her away. The reaction has Cassian laughing and shaking his head fondly. She’ll be the death of him, and he’ll die happy.

He glances around, spying one of the game booths just down the path from them. With a decided nod, he starts to walk backwards from Nesta, holding his arms out and shrugging in faux innocence. It earns him an eye roll, and he knows he’s won, finally turning full around and stepping up to the booth.

He hands over the money to the worker, awkwardly settling onto one of the low stools despite his tall frame. He squints at the small target, moving the water shooter up and down until he’s confident he has the right aim.

“I expect the biggest prize,” Nesta tells him from his left.

And Cassian intends to give her nothing less. As soon as the bell sounds for the game, he presses down the little red buttons with a single minded focus. He doesn’t spare even a glance toward the kids sitting to his right that he’s playing against. He doesn’t even bother to think about them. He stays focused on his target until the winning bell rings out, the lights flashing above his station.

“Let’s go,” Cassian cheers, pumping his fist and jumping up from his seat. He points toward the prize he wants, a large purple narwhal plushie, that the worker hands over, and then he whirls back toward Nesta, presenting it with a wide smirk. “M’lady.”

“You’re an idiot.”

She says the words, but she still laughs softly as she does, still takes the plushie to hug close to her chest. It’s a sight and a sound that has Cassian’s heart stuttering and blooming with warmth between his ribs. Has him grinning wide enough that he’s sure he really does look like an idiot. Not that he cares. Especially when Nesta leans closer, pressing up onto her toes and kissing him on the cheek.

“And now you’re forgiven, but no more rollercoasters.”

—

Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld @lady-nestas @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune @that-little-red-head @readergalaxy @thesnugglingduck @kale-theteaqueen @tarquindaddy @superflurry @bri-loves-sunflowers @lady-winter-sunrise @witch-and-her-witcher @fieldofdaisiies @freakingata

#CassianWeek2024 #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acosf #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #nesta x cassian #my fic

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theladyofbloodshed · 23 days

Text

@nerisweek Day 6 - Future

His hands are cool, calming the heat that burns in hers. His eyes - liquid amber - see all the parts that she tries to hide. And when it snaps, it is his body that holds her up, keeps her spinning to the crescendo of the music, feral delight glowing in his gaze.

And when he lets go, Nesta feels adrift.

She limply holds the hands that interrupt, the once familiar callouses making her want to pull away. They are rough and unforgiving, the work of years of training. Her own are showing the same signs but they no longer feel like hers. They are someone else’s, trained to be what they want her to be.

We’ll play later, Nesta Archeron.

The words echo in her head as she greets a new partner. His hands carry scars, but they hold her just as tight as if he senses the need to wrench them free and run.

When the siren call of Velaris rings in her ears, Nesta watches him. His red hair falls like a sheet of silk, soft and luxurious. The pointed ends of his ears are everything she should hate but Nesta cannot look away. Her heart tells her to commit him to memory in case they never see him again - and her mind argues they will. That she will find a way to see him.

Nesta sits at a borrowed mirror on a stool that isn’t hers in a room she doesn’t belong in. It is Eris she thinks of. The sheer delight that flared in his gaze as they danced. The willingness to let her shine and bask in the glow rather than being equal. It is his touch she thinks of as Cassian reaches for her.

Nesta cannot bring herself to pretend, even if only for one night. His touch is too forceful, too determined. The body that covers hers night after night is hot and heavy - and when he leaves, because he always does, Nesta is left hollowed out a little more. So that night, she says no. The hurt is quickly replaced with bravado as Cassian shrugs.

‘Be that way,’ he says, with an easy smile. ‘I have a snowball match to be rested for anyway.’

A lie wrapped up in carelessness to make them both feel better. It is their currency; little lies that that are traded often.

She hears his steps move along the corridor but instead of stopping at the room he has been assigned beside hers, Cassian continues down the stairs to join the others with their late night festivities.

The night is long. She tosses and turns, thrashing in the sheets even as the house grows quiet. Nesta needs the cold hands of Eris Vanserra to ease the burn in her chest. What has he done to her, she wonders. What spell has he cast? It should have been Cassian. It was always meant to be Cassian. It had been a matter of time until it snapped for them, everybody knew it. But it wasn’t him. It was Eris.

With the dawn comes more frustrations. She feels him like an itch that cannot be soothed. Eris Vanserra burrows beneath her skin until he consumes her every thought. The bruised purple sky matches the bags beneath her eyes from a night spent unrested.

The house is quiet. Only Morrigan stirs, her footsteps sure and direct as she approaches Nesta in the lounge overlooking the Sidra River.

‘Eris is in the Hewn City again,’ she says, eyes noticing every detail from her tired expression to her restless state. ‘He would like to speak to you. I told him to go to hell.’

Her heart begins to pound, not entirely from fear.

‘Me?’

‘Something about Made objects. I can’t get hold of the others but Cassian would-’

‘I’ll speak to him,’ Nesta replies, too eager to take back.

The high lord’s cousin is sceptical, but permits it. She questions Nesta’s choice of clothing - a plain gown that she wears often and a simple pin-up of her hair.

Make him crawl, she had said, but Nesta had been the one to leave the Hewn City dizzy and unbalanced.

The sight of him that morning, red hair slicked back, the rich hues of the Autumn Court making his eyes look like pooled gold, does nothing to steady Nesta. Like the roots of a tree, she stands firm rather than reaching for him. She did not miss the black attire from last night; he was better when Autumn bit its teeth into him.

He bows low, a smirk upon his lips as though he knows a joke that nobody else does.

‘Do you not tire of your little games, Eris?’

Eris smiles again to Mor, and Nesta imagines a row of pointed teeth ready to cleave flesh like a true fae from the stories. ‘Not when so many still want to play with me.’

His eyes snap to Nesta as his top lip curls. ‘A knife or a wife. What a choice your high lord presented to me, Morrigan. He is more like your father than we realised.’

She says nothing, but her eyes speak of pain – her own.

‘Let us hope the Night Court will always have pretty brides to offer.’

Mor straightens. ‘I’ll be back in an hour.’

The moment that the door closes, a different male stands before her. Not the cruel-faced faerie who looks as though he peels the wings from insects for fun, but one who looks at her with reverence. His golden eyes remind Nesta of the sun kissing her skin, of warm fires in the depths of winter.

‘Do you feel it?’ Eris all but whispers the words, his hand covering his heart.

Nesta does not know why she has come here. She is with Cassian. For many months, she has done this dance with the lord of bloodshed; the will-they-won’t-they that has been a whisper on everybody’s lips. It is Cassian’s body that has moved within her own and yet she cannot think of him at all. Cannot think of his calloused hands or heavy body with any sort of desire when she has felt aflame all night with the longing to have Eris’ hands trace her skin.

He steps closer, lips parting as he examines her face.

‘I suspected it long ago. I have burned for you since the first I met you – when you spoke to my father and moved him.’

Nesta wishes that he will break the spell. That he will stop looking at her with such a hunger. He is a predator moving in for the kill. A wicked faerie who rots all he touches.

And as he reaches for her, Nesta tips forwards, part of his orbit now and unable to move away.

He kisses her and it as if every star in the sky stops to watch. Nesta can think of only him. The way his body feels beside hers, like the missing piece of her has been found, or how he’s gentle when she is used to roughness.

Then the temperature becomes cooler. A wind whispers through her hair. Birdsong fills the trees that are streaked with amber and russet.

Nesta pushes him away. ‘You have stolen me.’

‘I have taken what is mine,’ he counters, every inch the court trained, silver-tongued lord.

‘You have stolen me,’ she repeats, unsure if it makes her angry or shocked or delighted.

Eris cocks his head. ‘Because you are mine. This is where you belong. We are mates.’

‘No,’ declares Nesta as if her body has not been pining for him since their dance was interrupted.

When Eris speaks, it is not with possession. He does not say those words to lay a claim on Nesta. No, he states only the facts and they are spoken with such hope, with disbelief that his dreams have come to fruition.

The heir of the Autumn Court goes to his knees before her as the forest leans in to watch. He presses a dagger into her hands – her Made dagger that was offered to him by Rhysand.

‘Cut my heart from my chest because it belongs to you. And if you do not want it, feed it to the wolves.’

Nesta can think of nothing to say, other than, ‘Are you always so dramatic?’

A smile curves his lips. ‘Only when it comes to love.’

‘It isn’t love,’ she says. ‘You do not know me.’

His fingers curl around hers that still hold the knife. ‘Then I have the rest of my life to know you.’

It has to be a trick, some sort of faerie magic that makes Eris behave this way. He is cool and aloof. A master of webs and deception. Not gently spoken with eyes that beg her to see him clearly.

‘We are mates,’ he murmurs, a thumb stroking her pale skin. ‘Equals.’

‘I am nothing like you.’

When he rises, the knife is still pressed to his chest. He still holds her hand. The warmth of his fingers is a prelude to the blood that will cover them when she finds the strength to push the blade into his skin. He would deserve it, wouldn’t he? This male has a thousand stories whispered of him. The same cruelty of his father. A conscience that left him long ago.

‘Aren’t you?’ Eris asks. ‘Eldest child. The power of fire. A mother’s expectations on our shoulders. A father’s affection far removed.’

‘Stop.’

‘Our crimes are everlasting, Nesta, no matter the deeds we do.’

He presses closer, the blade surely nipping at his skin now.

‘We both wear masks. Yours dropped when we danced. I had never seen you smile before.’

‘You don’t know me,’ she hisses, because she should push this male away. All that she knows of Eris is not good. He cannot be like her because that would mean she’s as rotten as he is.

‘And do you smile often in Cassian’s arms?’

That gives her pause. No, she does not smile with Cassian. She rages and she growls like a sour-tempered cat. He never tries to make her smile; he only fans the flames of her frustration purposefully. The others, they do not try to make her smile either. Only perhaps her two friends.

‘I would have you smile every day,’ Eris says, eyes closing as the sun breaks through the canopy and bathes him in golden light. ‘Your joy would be mine to tend to and I should like to see my mate laugh. I should like to see her without the mask. I would see her-’

‘Enough.’ The blade catches the light. Her magic within the metal sings. ‘It would bring me joy to press this into your flesh.’

‘Do it then,’ goads Eris. ‘I wear no armour with my mate. She can take my heart and do to it as she wishes.’ His knuckles graze her cheek. ‘Either she is as wicked as I am or I am as good as her. What will it be, Nesta?’

The knife is buried in the undergrowth as Nesta releases it. Her hands are upon Eris. Instead of something new, he feels like returning to a memory. His body isn’t foreign to her. It’s familiar like she has known him before, like they are finding each other again. The embroidered jacket he wears hits the forest floor then she turns, presenting her back to him to release her from the small buttons that line the back of her dress. Her clothes are shed as quickly as his own until they are as bare as the day they came into the world. Eris lays her upon them then presses himself inside of her. She is eager to have him all. She must have him all. Amongst the fugue of kissing and touching, there is little talk.

There is no talking at all even as their bare bodies are curled together. Nesta allows her eyes to close as the dappled sunlight bathes her. Her mate’s breathing is slow and heavy behind her. His arms capture her like an oyster clutching its pearl.

A part of her knows what she did was wrong. To shed one’s clothes in a forest with a male she doesn’t know is wrong. It is not proper. She is reminded of Cassian who might have returned to Velaris, expecting to see her. But she cannot feel guilty. She has been told that mates are special. To have one is rare. Surely – if he cares anything for her – he will be happy that she has found her equal, even if it isn’t him.

Eris’ voice is husky as he clambers out of his drowsiness. ‘Do you like dogs?’

‘Dogs?’

‘I have twelve.’

For some absurd reason that she cannot name, Nesta laughs and laughs. Twelve dogs. Not a failed betrothal or a cruel father. Not an Illyrian general who could come here demanding a blood duel. But dogs are the pressing thought on Eris’ mind.

‘I like dogs,’ she confesses.

When Eris smiles, he looks like a boy. A trickster. One made of magic.

‘They sleep on the bed.’

‘It doesn’t sound like you have room for another there,’ she says, trying to sit up, but her mate’s arms are quicker and they drag her back down to their blanket of clothes.

‘You must sleep on top of me,’ he says, kissing the curve of her neck in a way that makes her shiver.

She understands now. She understands the way her sister fell so deeply in love. The force of the bond is compelling. And she does not want to fight it. Nesta isn’t sure if she can. She cannot think of a future without Eris. Already, he is weaving into her life. She imagines the Autumn Court opening its jaws wide to swallow her whole. She would not mind. Autumn has always been favourite season.

#neris #neris week #nesta archeron #eris vanserra

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throneofsapphics · 1 year

Note

hi, i was wondering if you could do something with an idea that i’ve had for a while ?

it would be a feysand x reader

imagine: you’re apart of the friend group between nesta, gwen, and emerie. you’re all reading a darker romance book then you usually do, one day rhys or feyre catches you reading it or finds the book, either way they take the book and starts to read it/shows the book to other. later on that day feysand confronts you, starts to tease you about the book, maybe even asks to recreate your favorite scenes. you get a little embarrassed bc of it being a darker romance book, but mostly bc feysand found it & read it.

i hope that makes sense, i was hoping for somewhat angst if you could fit it in and definitely smut

i’ve had this stuck in my head for days and i just needed you to hear it 😂😭

i am absolutely OBSESSED with your writing, i can’t get enough of it 🫶🏻

a good book can do wonders

Feysand x f!Reader

Summary: Rhys and Feyre steal one of your books.

Warnings: nsfw, smut, cnc, bondage, not proofread, minors dni!!

Word Count: ~1.4k

A/N: I loved this idea so much, thank you! It deviated a bit

They’d scented your arousal, undoubtedly, as you sat curled in your favorite armchair. …

“Who recommended this?” Rhys asked, flipping through the pages.

You tugged your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. “Guess.” You muttered, carefully watching his reactions as he skimmed through it, Feyre leaning over his shoulder.

“Please tell me it wasn’t my sister.” Feyre groaned, but you saw how her eyes gleamed.

“It’s not,” you managed to huff out a laugh.

“Definitely Emerie.” Feyre shot you a sly smile. You didn’t confirm or deny. It was her, but you didn’t need to spill her secrets like that. Your non-answer probably told them everything they needed to know. Too late, you realized you could’ve just said it was your own book.

“And what if it was mine?”

“I’d be surprised.” Feyre admitted with a shrug. “But it’s not.” She continued flipping through the pages, pausing on one as her eyes widened. You knew exactly what part she’d gotten to, and groaned. You decided it was time for you to leave. Now. Before they said or did anything else that would embarrass you. Rhys shot you a look as you left, as if he was saying this isn’t over yet, and you ignored him, leaving both him and Feyre to keep reading over that damn book. You’d figure out how to get it back later.

You avoided them for the rest of the day, being extra-cautious to stay out of their way. You weren’t too embarrassed, but it felt like a violation for them to come up and grab it from you. Your biggest secret fantasies, all exposed because they couldn’t mind their own damn business. Hours later, you were still stewing as the time approached for bed, and wondered if it made you a bit immature to avoid them over this. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” you muttered under your breath as you approached the door, pushing it open. Thankfully, the room was still empty and you slipped into the bathroom. Maybe you could be asleep before they returned.

Sleep didn’t come easy, or come at all, you tossed and turned, tucking your arm under the pillow with a groan.

“Already trying to sleep?” you heard Feyre from the door, “I might think you’re avoiding us.”

You let out another grumble, but didn’t move, cursing how they always seem to know.

“Of course we do,” Rhys’s smooth voice slipped into your mind, and you shoved him back out - slamming the mental walls right up and ignoring his chuckle as a claw stroked down them.

“If you like it, you don’t have to be ashamed,” Feyre sat next to you, pushing you aside slightly to give herself more room. She moved your arm, exposing your face. You blinked and readjusting to the light, ignoring how her soft hands stroked up and down your bare arm. “So do we,” she glanced at Rhys with a small smirk. He was leaning back against the dresser, watching your every reaction carefully. He gave a small nod to signal his agreement.

“There are some scenes I wouldn’t mind giving a shot,” he purred.

You let out a slow breath, trying to regain your composure as heat shot right to your core. “It’s not,” you sighed, “not necessarily that. It’s that you took it from me.”

His hands braced the dresser as he pushed off it, stalking towards you. He stopped, standing right by your head. One finger traced your jawline, brushing over your bottom lip. His eyes gleamed as your heart sped up, your pulse fluttering and eyes closing at his touch. “I’d say I’m sorry … but it’s opened up a whole realm of possibilities.”

“Rhys,” Feyre said in a warning tone. Your eyes opened as he shot her a look, as if to say you feel the same.

“Do you trust us?” He asked you, straightening.

“Yes,” you breathed, and had an idea of what was headed your way next.

“And you know how to give your word, if you can’t speak?”

Gods, you felt like your heart might beat right out of your chest as you gave a small nod. The corners of his mouth twitched up. He tugged you out of the bed, and you stood on shaky legs, your nightgown falling down to the middle of your thighs. He reached out one hand for Feyre, grasping yours in the other, and winnowed.

You fought hard to keep your balance as you landed … in the Palace above Hewn City. A shiver ran down your spine, the breeze seeming to swirl around the room. You’d only been here once before.

“Run.”

You didn’t hesitate and sprinted out, weaving up the stairs and throwing yourself around corners. You had absolutely no idea where you were and quickly found yourself lost. Still, you didn’t quit moving.

“Lost, darling?”

You ignored him, but left your walls down still.

“She has to be, poor thing.” Feyre answered him.

You could sense their presence nearby, they had to be close. Your breathing grew ragged, and a tiny bit of fear slipped in along with the anticipation. It made it all the more exciting.

One arm wrapped around your throat, tugging you back into a hard chest as you yelped.

“Found you,” Rhys’s teeth grazed your neck as you struggled, trying to throw him off. As expected, it didn’t work - not one bit.

Instead, you found yourself on a balcony seconds later. All of the winnowing was throwing you off, making you lose sense of direction.

Your hips hinged, pressing against the rail of the balcony as he pressed you over it. His feet kicked your ankles wide, and his firm grip was the only thing keeping you from tumbling off. Feyre’s hand slid down your calf, laughing and gripping your ankle firmly as she gripped it.

“Please,” you begged, “please stop.”

Instead, silky ropes appeared, binding one of your ankles to the railing. She moved quickly to secure the other, ignoring your attempts to kick her away.

Rhys’s hand landed firmly on your ass. “That wasn’t very nice,” he tutted, and another blow rained down on you. You yelped and wiggled underneath him, but you could move. Not as he yanked your right arm over your back, tying it off somewhere, before yanking the left across it, securing that one as well. You were left completely immobile and exposed - at their mercy. Thank the Mother it’s summer time, still, the chill made your nipples harden painfully.

Your nightgown was bunched up around your hips, as he ran one hand up the outside of your thighs, firmly squeezing your ass before slapping it again. You yelped at the impact, your hips digging into the rail.

“Please,” you begged again, but this time you were sure what you were begging for.

“Please, what?” Feyre asked, a cruel hint to her tone, just as two of Rhys’s fingers slammed into you. A mixture between a scream and moan left your lips as he crooked them forward to hit that spot.

“Little slut can’t even talk.” You looked over your shoulder as Rhys’s fingers pulled out, in time to see him offering them to her.

“St-stop,” you managed to babble, and she shoved him away, gripping the back of your hair and making your neck arch painfully.

“Really?” Her hand laid a slap down, right to your wet and aching pussy, and another whimper left your lips. “This doesn’t feel like you want us to stop.”

Her laugh was cruel as she released your hair, crouching down and digging her teeth into your ass, harsh enough she left a bite on your ass.

They had studied the book apparently, and were playing out the scene almost identically to how you remember it. “Anything for you,” Rhys’s voice slid into your mind as Feyre’s tongue licked one long strip through your folds. You tried to wiggle away as she slid over your puckered hole, but she held you in place, nails digging into your ass as a warning.

For what could have been hours, Rhys and Feyre took full advantage of your position - completely bound and vulnerable to their whims. Your hips would have bruises the next day from him pounding into you, you were overstimulated and more sore than you had been in the past, but satisfaction ran through you too - completely sated and content.

You sighed in relief as they undid the binds, your nightgown had been torn off completely at some point, but Rhys somehow pulled a robe out of thin air and wrapped it around you, tying it gently. Feyre gathered you in her arms, holding you tightly and winnowing you back to the River Estate.

#acotar imagine #acotar fic #acotar smut #feysand x reader #feysand x y/n #poly!feysand #poly!feysand x reader #poly!feysand x y/n #my attention span was not long enough to proofread #feyre archeron x y/n #feyre archeron x reader #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x reader #rhys x y/n #rhys x reader

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ninthcircleofprythian · 4 months

Text

Unbound

Part 2 - Don't Pull Away

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

Word Count - 3.2k

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

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

Part 1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No – that’s not what–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taglist - @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria

#azriel shadowsinger #azriel fanfiction #acotar #acofas #acomaf #acosf #acowar #azriel acotar #azriel x original character #azriel x oc #azriel angst #acotar fanfiction

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redbleedingrose · 2 years

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Azriel loving his chubby mate headcanon

Just a small little headcanon about Az worshiping and loving on his chubby mate. I hope y’all enjoy just as much as I did.

Dedicated to my beautiful and kind best friend @princess-tulip-writes and all my chubby girlies out there. You are deserving of love.

Kinda NSFW so 18+ only!

Az wanted to fall to his knees when he first met you. They became so weak but also he wanted to kiss the ground you walked on. It was like this angel or goddess had descended and was in his presence. Your sweet scent literally has his mouth watering.

At first, he is too nervous to approach you. You are by far the most ethereal person he has ever seen, and he cannot believe that he could have someone like you. It takes him weeks to build up the courage to approach you. His shadows follow you around all day reporting back to him all that you do, and he falls more and more. Deeper and deeper in love with you. Anytime he hears that you have picked up a new book to read, he is rushing to the library under the house to grab the same one. He spends hours annotating and reading every line so delicately, thinking about all the things that you would be thinking about. Wondering what you would say in certain moments.

A part of him has also been holding back because he knows the danger that he could put you in by even looking at you. But eventually the urge to talk to you becomes irrisistable. He feels selfish for approaching you but your honeyed voice and delicate nature has him folding so hard. He can't stop thinking about how his hands would feel grasping at your chub, clinging to your waist or hip dips. He constantly wants to pull you into him so he can feel the warmth and comforting scent you give off.

He loves the feeling of your softness against him and he can never get enough. He spends hours cuddling with you, holding you close to him, practically clinging to you because he loves the feel of your body against his hardened muscle.

When you finally mate, he spends a whole month worshiping every inch of you.

Over and over, in every way possible.

You are ready to leave the house by week 3 but he keeps pulling you back into bed or bending you over the counter. If you ever feel the need to go out, he would pick you up into bridal style with such easy and fly you around. He loves the windswept look that you get and it makes him so hard thinking about his cock down your throat with those dough eyes staring up at him.

He kisses and licks every single inch of your body, grasping at your hips and waist and thighs. He loves to rest his hand on the chub of your thigh when you sit next to each other and read in silence. He occasionally squeezes reassuring himself that this isn't a dream. That this is his reality.

He always brags to Cass and Rhys during their bat boy conference meetings (which are actually just for drinking and being the busy bodies they are) and he just spends hours discussing how beautiful you look. How your tits bounce when you ride his cock and the pudge of your belly makes him want to cum in you so you swell even further with his babes.

He always talks about the blush you get on your beautiful chubby cheeks, gasping and moaning, literally speechless from the way he is on top of you, thrusting in and out. He always comes back home ready to spread your legs for your sweet taste. Oh and don't even get me started on how he brags about your thighs wrapped around his head when he laps at your cunt.

It is so soft and warm, he always tells Cass and Rhys he wants to die between your legs, that is how good it feels. It feels like his own personal piece of heaven. He always encourages you to sit on his face, he wants to drown himself in you.

And you are obviously okay with this because you, Feyre, and Nesta always get together to gossip about the bat boys, discussing all the new sex positions you have tried, anything sweet that they did, anything annoying that they did, etc.

He absolutely adores and loves you. Every part of you. Your personality and character is so pure, he loves you for it. He loves your laugh, the way your eyes sparkle as you tease him, the way you rub your lips together while anxious. He loves the way you pick up a book and don’t put it down until you have finished reading it. He loves the way you interact with Nyx, and the way that you have made his family, your family.

He absolutely loves doing things with you too. He loves reading with you. At first, you had to do it without the fireplace lit because of how it scared him on the inside. It is something that you clocked and you didn't even need to mention it to him. But eventually, slowly, he was able to use the fireplace for the first time in his entire life. And the moment he realized he wasn't afraid anymore was one time where he was too desperate for you and made love to you in front of the fireplace in the living room after a long mission. You fell asleep in his arms and the way the light from the fire highlighted your curves and your chub made him want to light fires.

He loves baking with you and watching you cook. He thinks it is so domestic and he can’t help but need that, given his lifestyle as the spymaster. He struggles with the fact that he commits such dark deeds, but you bring light into his life. You help him see the goodness within him that only a mate could bring.

It makes him go absolutely feral knowing that he can provide for you and your future family. The way your hips and chub plumpen even further when you mate makes him so proud. He cant help but think of the young child he was who was locked away and starving, and he knows that he will never let that happen to you or his babes.

He makes himself a lot of promises when it comes to you that are like that. He promises to himself that you and your future babes will always feel safe and protected with him. He promises to himself to try to heal from his past traumas so that you can have the best version of him, even though he is perfect in your eyes. He promises to himself to let himself love you that way you deserve to be loved, not from the sidelines, but fully and deeply.

Masterlist

#azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #rose writes #azriel headcanons #acotar headcanons #acotar fanfic #acotar fandom #chubby reader

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mxtantrights · 6 months

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Bounded by shadow and blood (18)

azriel x magic!fem!reader

Kynas walks up the steps to Dias. No one in the crowd reacts. He really had them under his control, which was scary. Controlling that much blood at once is not easy and it takes its toll.

You wonder if that is also why he looks so close to death, or if it’s the other powers running through him. How’d he do that?

“How did you get like this?” You ask.

He smiles at you from your brother’s side.

“Does my darling wife want to nurse me back to health? That’s sweet.” He snarls.

You wanted to buy time. Amren could have gotten the message but maybe she needed time to get here. And if the wards are down then the whole inner circle could help her. Not that they would help you, but if they knew the shadow singer was in trouble you have no doubt they would do all they could and more.

Your eyes waver over to the man in question. He looks stone cold. And he’s looking right at you. His face isn’t giving anything away. Not even the pain that he’s feeling because of Kynas.

He really should have left as soon as he got here.

“Well I think you should at least wear something more appropriate to my throne ceremony.” Kynas says.

You look at him wildly at that. So he did want the throne. Why? Sure power is one of the greatest loves of his life—you never quite made the list. But there were so many ways to get to the throne, why this way?

While you’re not paying attention, your outfit changes. You don’t feel it. Not at first. It’s not until the red sleeves cover your arms that you get it.

You weren’t wearing the clothes from before. Now you were in a red dress. One of the dresses that Kynas had picked out for you to wear at the wedding ceremony. One of the dresses you passed on—and pissed him off.

It was barely a dress. A deep cut down the middle of your chest, only strings to cover your back. The only thing you liked about the dress was the long trail that faded from red to black.

You reach up to touch your ears. Earrings. And your hand roams down to your neck, a blood pearl necklace no doubt. His favorite.

“You always wanted me to be docile and obedient but this is a new low.” You bark.

Kynas laughs at that, “No the low would be you giving out your blood to a fae. A lower born fae at that!”

“Who cares?!” You shout back.

At your words Kynas’ eyes shine with amusement. You go slack. Your body temperature rising quickly. You focus on keeping control of your own blood.

“I take it the bastard doesn’t know that its sacred to give blood?” Kynas asks.

“Kynas—“ you start.

But he turns right to the shadow singer. Azriel looks him in the eyes.

“You performed a marriage ritual, did your friend tell you that?” Kynas asks him.

But of course he can’t answer. Azriel struggles against his hold but he can’t break it. You are silently praying for Amren to show up. Or Cassian. Or Morrigan. Maybe even Rhysand. Hell, even Nesta would do at this point.

“I took down the wards, I’m wearing this stupid dress, what more do you want?” You ask, trying to take his attention away from Azriel.

Kynas looks back at you now. He interlocks his fingers together. Menace. Coward. Idiot.

“I want you to kneel.” He says.

But he’s not commanding or forcing you to do it. You feel his hold on you release. The temperature in your body going back down, ever so slowly even if you feel like you’re on fire from rage.

“Don’t you…dare kneel to him.” Your brother says in between puffs of air.

You look at how he’s struggling. His eyes are turning red. His whole body is trembling. You want to run to him but you can’t. You know that as soon as you do Kynas will do something.

Kynas growls and sends your brother flying down the steps. He rolls and rolls until he lands flat on his stomach. You gasp and take a step closer but as soon as you do, a heavy blood blade forms. The red sword now pointed behind your brother’s skull.

“You will kneel!” Kynas shouts.

You can see your brother resisting. He’s shaking violently now.

A voice from behind you calls your name. You recognize it as Amren’s voice. You hear other footsteps behind her. You can’t turn back to see them. The shadow on your wrist warms.

You cannot give your back to Kynas, not when he holds your brother’s life in his hands.

“Never!” Your brother shouts back.

It happens in a matter of seconds, though it feels like eternity. You watch as your brother smiles at you one last time. No matter how forced it looks you will savor it for the rest of your life.

Your brother, breaks out of Kynas’ hold. Kynas doesn’t expect it and stumbles back, his hold on everyone else in the room faltering for a second. A second is all you need.

As you send three blood daggers from your hand, the blood sword that Kynas has pointed at your brother’s head rushes forward. Your daggers hit their intended target.

Kynas falls on his back with a loud thud. The towns people, gathering their senses, rush away from the front of the room. You however look fro your brother, who is no longer in front of you. The blood blade staked into the floor, but no sign of him.

“Orlin?!” You scream.

“Right here, sister.”

You turn around. There he is. Your brother, leaning against Cassian by the front of the door. You gather up the ends of your dress and run to him. He grabs a hold of you and brings you in for a hug.

It’s not hard to notice that you are crying. You duck your head down as you brother holds the back of your head.

“I’m so sorry sister,” he whispers.

It’s years of feelings that you’ve held onto pouring out of you at once. Grief, rage, tension, guilt. All of it comes out of you in between broken sobs.

“We’re okay. You saved everyone.” Your brother continues.

You pull away from him, shaking your head, “I didn’t—I mean I couldn’t have done it alone.”

You look over at Amren. She walks over to you and envelopes you in a hug. She whispers in your ear about the blade, and how she came as quick as she could when she realized something was wrong. You thank her over and over again.

From behind you can feel his presence. You turn your head to look. There Azriel is, not a scratch on him. He gives you a once over, you actually watch his eyes search you from head to toe. You have a feeling if no one else was here his shadows would physically make sure you were okay too.

You don’t notice it on first glance. That’s why when you look him over you notice how tense he is.

“I’m okay,” you start saying.

He starts shaking his head, like he can’t believe it. You move to him at once. You grab his hand and place it at the juncture of your neck and shoulder. He lets out a strangled breath at the feeling of your blood flowing beneath his hand.

You nod your head again, “I’m okay. We’re okay.”

He nods his head too.

“Sister,” your brother says.

You pull away from Azriel. A few of his shadows climbing up your arm. You turn to face your brother but when you do you wish you hadn’t. He shows you his hand, which came from the back of his head, and there it is. It’s not blood. You wish it was blood.

A dark substance coats his hand. You take two large steps to him. But it’s not quick enough. He stumbles into your arms. You go down to the floor with him.

Your brother lay on his back on your knees. You can feel the tears coming down your face again. Red. The color of the tears and all you can feel right now.

“Orlin, please, I can fix it!“ you cry.

He shakes his head.

“He gave his blood to the bog of Oorid. What he got back was slowly killing him.” Your brother says, coughing in between words.

If the blood inside Kynas was killing him, then the same blood he used to form the sword he pointed at your brother…was already in him. When he held him by the blade at the neck and when he nicked the back of his head.

He was already...

“I can take your blood, I can give you mine—“ you start.

All of these options could work. In theory. By taking your brother’s blood you could temporarily heal him. But if it’s been spreading for longer than you think you would have to take much more blood, and he wouldn’t survive that.

You could give him your blood, but that wouldn’t work as a cure. It would only work if you could stop the infection. Which, once again, might have been taking root for a long time.

The scars and bruises on his body. You doubt Kynas would use any other blade than his own blood to hurt your brother.

“I am your older brother, my job is, was, to protect you. I cannot let you give me your blood.” He speaks.

His voice groggy now. He holds out his hand and you take it in yours

“I should have came sooner. I should have known.” You say.

“It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault, sister. But they are going to look to you know.”

You let out a shaky breath and look around the room. The towns people are all taking in the scene in front of them. This wasn’t like the death of the council members which you hid from them. They are all witnessing the death of their emperor, right in front of their eyes.

They’re all watching in real time as the throne is being passed from one sibling to the next. From the heir to the spare.

You look back down at your brother, “I can’t do it. I don’t want this.”

“I know,” you brother hacks loudly and a bit of dark liquid comes out of his mouth, “but I know you’ll figure it out.”

In your grip you feel his hand loosen. You shake your head and keep repeating his name. As if that would simply wake him up from this awful nightmare. When his chest stops rising you gasp.

You hug his body to yours. Even though you can feel it going cold by the second. It doesn’t feel real. You and your brother were supposed to live this life together. Yes you left and he stayed, but it didn’t matter. You weren’t supposed to be the only one left.

You don’t know how long you stay like that. It doesn’t feel like long. It feels like time is passing you by.

And you don’t move from your position until you hear a voice calling you. It’s not Amren, or Azriel. Or anyone from the inner circle. You know this voice like the back of your hand.

You slowly let your eyes trail up, up, up to the door of the throne room. Standing there in the threshold is Semaj. He looks shaken up but you can’t sense any injuries on him. He’s looking at you now with a scared look on his face.

He gets down on one knee and places his hand over his heart. Sadly he bows his head.

“Empress.” He says.

It’s strikes a reaction in the whole room. One by one all of the towns people bend their knee and bow their heads. You even see Amren joining in. They repeat the same word Semaj had said. The same word you had run from your whole life.

Empress.

#acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel fic #acotar imagine #acotar fic #blood and shadow

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azrielslightintheshadows · 11 months

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Shadows and tears

So this is a series about Azriel and reader. English is not my first language so please excuse any mistakes. I hope you like it!

Summary: Reader is a tortured soul who barely escaped the brutality of the Illyrian camps finding shelter in the Day Court. Her identity was well hidden until she caught the attention of the Night Court’s Shadowsinger. Will the mating bond be enough for their love to settle in?

Warnings: angst, mentions of abuse and trauma

You don't need a tissue box.....yet

Masterlist

Prologue , Chapter 1, Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10

Chapter 2

You are not mine and I don’t want you to be

Days had gone by and now here you were locked in your room. When you arrived in the house of wind Rhysand showed you your room and since then you stayed inside, no one tried to get you out of your safe place, and you knew you had to thank Rhysand for that. You didn’t want to face them yet, you needed time to get your thoughts in order, also the fact that the house was enchanted and brought you everything you needed was very convenient. Today you woke up ready to face the new reality but as you got ready for the day you were slowly losing your nerve. You turned to look yourself in the mirror, wearing the Illyrian leathers Nesta sent you with a note to braid your hair and thought the sooner I learn to control my shadows the sooner I will be back to the day court. Helion had hurt you by handing you over to Rhysand like that, but you knew he only did it because he cared for you. The inner circle was really thoughtful of you, no one tried to get you to leave your room, but they all sent you things they thought you needed. Nesta sent you also a handful of novels, Feyre some oils for your baths, Mor new clothes, Amren some books about how to control your powers and Cassian some daggers for practice. Rhysand and Azriel nothing except some light caresses in your mind from Rhysand to remind you that he was waiting for you and some of Azriel’s shadows who would creep into your window to check on you. You couldn’t understand your own shadows, every time Azriel’s made an appearance yours would try to become one with them. With a sigh you opened the door and walked to the dining room seeing everyone at the table eating their breakfast. They all stopped eating and lifted their heads to look at you “good morning” you said and took a seat next to the shadow singer who was looking at you with a lifted brow. After everyone said their good morning you all started eating again. Azriel broke the silence “ready for training?” his gaze was cold, but you could see some hope flicker inside those hazel eyes. You nodded, gulped down the rest of your juice and got up following Azriel to the roof. He was wearing black t-shirt and grey sweatpants that would make you drool with the way they show his muscles if you weren’t still a little wary of the shadow singer.

“Okay so tell me how you feel your shadows” he said staring at your shadows who were trying to push his away.

“I don’t know they are like an extension of me sometimes, I think I can control them but most of the time they are like my hair, I can feel them and touch them, but I cannot control them.” You say looking at them swirling around you.

“You need to realize that your shadows have a personality of their own. Controlling them will not be that easy, I mean yeah sure you can’t control your hair, but they move with the wind or because of some moves you make, your shadows move on their own because they want to, that’s the difference. The key to control them is to understand them, become one with them and use them only in the way that makes them comfortable… after all you need them to be on your side and that means that you must respect them.” He explained and you stared at him seeing the exact opposite of what you have heard. The rumours around him describe a heartless monster who tortures people for his high lord, a dangerous darkness, you even have heard them call him God of death. How could the same man care for creatures such as shadows? Talk about respect and comfort? You were staring at him deep in thought.

“What’s wrong? Did I say something that bothered you?” he took a step back.

“No no it’s okay just thinking everything you said” you replied.

“Alright, let’s see what they want to do, stop pulling them” he said and took another step back to observe.

You took a big breath and your shadows darted towards him his own standing on guard ready to attack like hissing snakes and then he pulled them back staying defenceless while your shadows were an inch away. You took another big breath waiting for them to attack him, but they only started swirling around him like they were studying him, you even saw one caressing his cheek earning a chuckle from him. You stood there frozen a blush creeping on your face.

“They want to explore” Azriel said lifting his hand and letting one swirl around it. You noticed the scars everyone was talking about, the scars weren’t disgusting like most of them said they were telling a story you were sure of that. He caught you staring at his arms and quickly hid them behind his back. You wanted to scream no, to tell him that they didn’t bother you, but you kept your mouth shut not wanting to make the scene more uncomfortable.

After training for a few hours, you felt like your head was on fire, trying to get to know your shadows, please them but also control them was very tiring.

“I think that’s enough for today, Cassian needs the place to train the Valkyries he wasn’t very happy about pushing their training later, tomorrow we can go somewhere else if you’re okay with that.” Azriel said pushing back a lock of hair that had fallen in his face from the wind. He looked almost angelic with the sun shining all over his sharp features and his hair messy because of the wind, you could stare at him all day.

“Yeah sure, maybe you can show me Velaris if you don’t have work to do later” you replied offering him a smile.

“I’m sorry, I’m busy today… maybe tomorrow?” he asked with a smile that shocked you. You had never seen him smile and oh Mother he was absolutely stunning.

“Oh okay tomorrow then.” You said and started walking towards your room passing a girl on your way who run outside “ There you are Azzie I was hoping we could spend our evening together” she said in a chirpy voice, and you could swear you heard his smile when he replied;

“Sure sweetheart”

But…wasn’t he busy? Sweetheart? You felt an ache in your chest, but you couldn’t understand why, he wasn’t yours and you didn’t want him to be.

#acotar #acotar series #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel angst #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader #feyre archeron #rhysand #azriel fanfic

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nestaismommy · 2 years

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I’m actually so fucking done.

1) Nesta was not taking advantage of Feyre’s “kindness” by spending Rhysand’s money. She was coping for fucks sake. She was sick. Alcohol helped. She needed help. She wasn’t in her right mind. I cannot with these dumbasses saying she took advantage of bla bla bla. Did you not read the fucking book?

There was anger, occasionally. Sharp, hot anger that sliced her.

But most of the time it was silence.

Ringing, droning silence.

She hadn’t felt anything in months. Had days when she didn’t really know where she was or what she’d done. They passed swiftly and yet dripped by.

She didn’t know what she was doing because she’s mentally and physically sick.

2) Nesta cares about Feyre. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t have warned her about the mercenaries robbing her. Then Nesta proceeded to work with a mercenary to get Feyre back, and proceeded to ask her abusive boyfriend to help her, and he refused, so she left him and he tried to r/ape her. She risked her life, going near the wall, to get her sister back.

Then a slender hand clamped onto my forearm, dragging me away. I knew it was Nesta before I even looked at her. “They’re dangerous,” Nesta hissed, her fingers digging into my arm as she continued to pull me from the mercenary. “Don’t go near them again.”

She shrugged, looking at the sliver she’d pried from the table. “I hired that mercenary from town to bring me a week after you were taken. With the money from your pelt. She was the only one who seemed like she would believe me.

“What happened to Tomas Mandray?” I asked, the words strangled.

“I realized he wouldn’t have gone with me to save you from Prythian.” ~ Nesta

3)I don’t even like Elain that much but she does care about Feyre. She even gifted her paint during their years of poverty. Elain was apologetic and acknowledged that they failed Feyre. She convinced Nesta to help Feyre and the others, as Feyre helped them during those years of poverty. Nesta also was apologetic, and regretted everything she did.

And it hadn’t stopped her from buying me three small tins of paint—red, yellow, and blue—during that same summer I’d had enough to buy the ash arrow.

She put a hand on Nesta’s knee, the purple of my sister’s gown nearly swallowing up the ivory hand. “Feyre gave and gave—for years. Let us now help her. Help … others.” ~ Elain

Elain sat a little higher as she said to Cassian, “And as for Feyre’s hunting during those years, it was not Nesta’s neglect alone that is to blame. We were scared, and had received no training, and everything had been taken, and we failed her. Both of us.” ~ Elain.

She bowed over her knees, saying into her palms, “I can’t undo it. I can’t fix it. I can’t fix that he is dead, I can’t fix what I said to Feyre, I can’t fix any of the horrible things I’ve done. I can’t fix me.” ~ Nesta

She blurted, “All the things I’ve done before—” ~ Nesta

“Leave them in the past. Apologize to who you feel the need to, but leave those things behind.” ~ Cassian

“Forgiveness is not that easy.” ~ Nesta

“Forgiveness is something we also grant ourselves….” ~ Cassian

Stroking Feyre’s cold hand, Nesta spoke into the timeless, frozen room, “You loved me when no one else would. You never stopped. Even when I didn’t deserve it, you loved me, and fought for me, and ...” Nesta looked at Feyre’s face, Death a breath away from claiming it. She didn’t stop the tears that ran down her cheeks as she squeezed Feyre’s slender hand tighter. “I love you, Feyre.” ~ Nesta

Apologies aren’t just verbal. Actions speak louder than words and some words are left unspoken. This is Elain making up for it. This is Nesta making up for it and non-verbally apologizing.

3) Feyre only hunted because of the promise she made to her mother and she isn’t kind.

She wasn’t like Nesta, who had been born with a sneer on her face.

A kind sister doesn’t talk about her sister that way. Which shows us that they were both rude to each other. Nesta isn’t the only bitch.

“No, she just spent whatever money I didn’t hide from her, ”

Feyre just admitted she hides the money. So no, Nesta didn’t spend all the money.

Some days, I couldn’t tell which of us was the most wretched and bitter.

“But I’m freezing with my raggedy old cloak,” Elain pleaded. “I’ll shiver to death.” She fixed her wide eyes on me and said, “Please, Feyre.” She drew out the two syllables of my name—fay-ruh—into the most hideous whine I’d ever endured

This isn’t funny, clearly she needs a cloak because she’s cold. Feyre didn’t give a shit and proceeded to describe how hideous her whine is.

“I thought you were going to chop wood today.” Nesta picked at her long, neat nails. “I hate chopping wood. I always get splinters.”

She always gets splinters. Meaning this is something Nesta always does. So no, she didn’t just sit on her ass and do nothing.

“Get the knives ready,” I said, not bothering to sound pleasant. “I’ll be out soon.”

Clearly they are in charge of the house while Feyre hunts.

Every time I looked toward a horizon or wondered if I should just walk and walk and never look back, I’d hear that promise I made eleven years ago as she wasted away on her deathbed.

So if she never made that promise, there was a chance she’d run away and leave her family. It was only the promise that had her hunt.

“Believe me,” I said to her, “the day you want to marry someone worthy, I’ll march up to his house and hand you over. But you’re not going to marry Tomas.”

Feyre doesn’t even tell her the reason, she just barks orders. And it almost feels like she’s telling Nesta she’d be happy to get rid of her.

“We have nothing to offer them—no dowry; no livestock, even. While Tomas might want to marry you … you’re a burden.”

So my point is, Nesta wasn’t the only bitchy one. So was Feyre. That’s just how they are. I’m so tired of people telling me Feyre was always kind and all she ever did was love Nesta. Yes, I believe they both love each other, but she wasn’t kind. Nesta wasn’t kind either. I don’t think anyone has room for kindness when they are starving. Let’s not forget that they went through years of poverty.

#acotar #acosf #nesta archeron #pro nesta #sarah j maas #a court of thorns and roses #pro nesta archeron #a court of silver flames #nesta deserves better #high queen nesta #elain archeron #feyre archeron #sjm universe #anti sarah j maas

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separatist-apologist · 1 year

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Lying In Between The Memories

You could call it paradise but it looks just like hell to me

Summary: Following the blood rite, Gwyneth Berdara can't shake the memories of a life long-gone.

The shadowsinger can't seem to move on after five centuries of loving the same woman.

Together, they'll have to carve a new path forward.

Read on AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

[ongoing TW for Sexual Assault]

Gwyn forced herself to take a breath—and then another. There was a door and a whole other room between them. She was fine.

It’s only Azriel, she reminded herself. And though he may not want her with him, he wouldn’t do anything, either. She knew that. Oh, how she knew it—would have sworn it over her own grave. But seeing him standing in the doorway of that room was entirely another. Gwyn’s heart raced a miserable, anxious beat she couldn’t silence no matter how many times she reassured herself that Azriel was her protector.

Because he was still a male, and Gwyn hadn’t been so alone with one in her entire life. The only upside was that she wouldn’t have to track him down each night to find out what he was doing. And no one was going to try and get in her room when there was a six foot six Illyrian warrior sleeping behind a half closed door.

Gwyn tapped her foot nervously against the pale white marble, listening to the sounds of Azriel cursing softly as he put his things away. The clanking of metal against wood told her he was hiding weapons anywhere within reach, a theory validated when he strolled into the lounge with several daggers held casually in his large hand.

“Get up,” he ordered, stalking toward the black leather sofa she’d been sitting on. Gwyn scowled.

“Why? So you can hide a dagger beneath the cushion?”

“Yes,” he replied, holding her gaze.

“And what happens when it stabs me the next time I sit?”

Azriel smothered a cruel smile. “You’ll heal.”

Prick!

“You trust them so little that this is necessary?” Gwyn asked, watching him carefully slide a silver hilted dagger beneath the cushion in between the seam. Easy enough to reach for if one of them needed to, but hidden well enough no one would think it was there.

“I don’t trust anyone,” he reminded her with a bite of impatience. “Better to be prepared than dead.”

Gwyn had millions of questions for him, just like she always did. Who hurt you? It was always the top of her list and one she didn’t dare ask him. Just as she wouldn’t want someone prying into her own personal past, even if Azriel knew all the horrible details because he’d been there. He was still the only person who didn’t look at her with pity besides Nesta and Emerie. Of course, that was because he was too busy looking at her like she’d disappointed him.

Gwyn supposed she had. She’d stopped going to training and never told him why.

They both had their secrets.

“What did you think of the royal family?”

She knew, though. She’d seen his face when she’d turn to look at him only once—because she hadn’t dared to look again. How Gareth and Kai didn’t cower at the sight of the cold disdain etched over his features was beyond her. Gwyn was certain she would have crumpled into a heap if he’d ever looked at her with half as much hatred.

“Strange,” he murmured, turning his eyes toward the windows pulled tightly with curtains. Gwyn had to admit their aversion to sunlight seemed unusual, but they’d been politer than she’d first imagined. It was surreal that an actual king would want to meet her at all. “You can’t trust them.”

“Apparently not,” she snapped as Azriel slid another dagger behind a set of books shelved against the wall. He glanced over at her, brows furrowed but Gwyn walked to her room and closed the door with a satisfying snap. Azriel didn’t trust anyone. That didn’t make him right, just paranoid. She supposed that was why he was good at his job, but to her she found it frustrating.

Couldn’t he give them the benefit of the doubt? This culture was new and perhaps the curtained windows were some religious or cultural practice she and Azriel didn’t understand. Gwyn was willing to learn more—that was why she’d come, wasn’t it? An exchange of knowledge, even if what she was allowed to share was limited.

Case and point—Gwyn could not share any information about how the Archeron’s had gained their powers or any of the research Velaris had compiled surrounding the Cauldron. She wasn’t allowed to share the scope of power regarding any of the High Lords, or how their magic moved beyond simple bloodlines.

She’d committed Rhysand’s list to memory thinking it would be better to just feign ignorance. She was only a priestess working far below the High Lord. Her scope was pretty limited, though even some of Merril’s research into multiple worlds was restricted. Her training was also not allowed, though Gwyn wondered if she could covertly try and see if Montesseres library contained anything interesting regarding the Valkyries.

By the time Gwyn walked out of her bedroom, Azriel was gone. Likely hiding more daggers throughout the dark palace, if she had to guess. For one depressing moment, she wished it was Cassian who had come with her. At least he smiled. At least he was friendly. Azriel was none of those things.

Gwyn shoved him from her mind. She wasn’t going to think about Azriel and his brooding and penchant for violence, nor was she going to let herself wonder what it said about her that the High Lord thought she was the best choice to accompany him.

Gwyn could show them all—and she needed to, if she wanted to do anything but book running when she returned home. Gwyn needed to prove herself not just to Merril and Rhysand, but the Clotho, too. And maybe herself, though that seemed low on her list of people to prioritize. At any rate, she was here.

“I’m here,” she whispered to herself, reaching into her pocket for her sisters invoking stone. Gwyn reveled in the cool, smooth rock rolling between her fingers until her heart slowed to normal again. She was okay. She was here.

Nothing can break me, she reminded herself. She’d survived and maybe that just had to be enough for now. Everything felt like survival, though—and very few things felt like living. Nesta and Emerie did, but they weren’t with her. Taking a deep breath, Gwyn pulled open the door.

“Oh, for Cauldron’s sake!” she exploded, coming out of her skin at the sight of Azriel just on the other side. A near feline smile spread over his features.

“Did I scare you?”

“No,” she lied. What would he look like, she wondered, if he ever actually smiled. Gwyn tried to imagine it and failed—Azriel didn’t seem the type. Perhaps his friends had seen it and she bet he made them swear on pain of death never to admit he’d had such a show of emotion outside of brooding, icy anger. “You’re merely in my way.”

His eyes widened mockingly. “In your way?”

“Yes, my way,” she repeated, shoving past his big, muscular body. Azriel didn’t budge, forcing her to plant her hands against the leather plated armor on his stomach and physically push in order to get him out of the doorframe. Behind him, his wings flared for a moment while those curious shadows of his swirled between the pair of them. If they were angry or amused, Gwyn couldn’t tell. She wasn’t well versed in shadow speak the way he was.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked in the low, gravely voice of his. Gwyn fought a shiver. She bet that look on his face, coupled with his dangerous, icy tone made people wet themselves. It was tempting to stop entirely, to buckle beneath the weight of his stare but this was Azriel.

And he wouldn’t hurt her.

“I’m going to give myself a tour of the palace,” she said blithely, certain he wouldn’t join her. In truth, Gwyn just wanted to find the most expedient route to the library. She didn’t need Azriel escorting her every day given the way people couldn’t take their eyes off him—he was so striking, so absurdly handsome that everyone turned to look at him not once, but twice. The first time was just a passing glance at the large, winged male but the second was to ensure they were seeing him correctly.

No one looked like Azriel. Certainly not here. The two royals she’d met were pale and exhausted looking. And though she would have rather died than admit it, Azriel was easily the best looking male in any room by virtue of his high cheekbones, his smooth, brown skin, and the way his inky, blue black hair flopped gently over his forehead. There was no mistaking Azriel for what he was—a born and bred warrior who could likely easily kill someone with one hand as he could with the dagger strapped at his thigh. And yet there was an elegance to his sharp features that suggested in another life, Azriel might have been a lord.

He was certainly handsome enough to be a prince.

As it stood, he was a scowling, winged bastard still in her way. He’d stepped in the middle of the hall, arms crossed against his chest, wings touching either wall to keep her from pushing past again. She wanted to shout at him which would do her as good as shouting at a mountain. His whole job centered around pushing people’s buttons. Better not to let him know he;d gotten under her skin.

“A tour.” He spoke the words tonelessly, hazel eyes searching her for some obvious lie. Gwyn held his stare, refusing to back down.

“Am I allowed? Because I thought you’d prefer to be rid of me.”

He scowled. She was certainly under his skin. Gwyn counted that as a victory. “If you get hurt, Nesta will have my balls.”

“That’s not my problem,” Gwyn said blithely. “Now, move.”

He spread his legs ever so slightly, spreading out those massive wings as he angled his head. He was accessing her like she was a threat. “Or what, Gwyn?”

“You’re not the only one who can use a dagger.”

He didn’t smile, though she swore his mouth twitched. “You think you could take me? When you quit training with me?”

“Cassian still teaches me,” she said, but her words didn’t sound convincing to her ears. Azriel’s gaze sharpened.

“Why did you quit, Gwyn?”

“Get out of my way.”

“No.”

They were at a stalemate. Gwyn would never tell him why she’d stopped training with him and Azriel wasn’t going to budge. And rather than giving in or going back to the room and slipping away when he wasn’t paying attention, Gwyn merely rounded on her heel and took off down the opposite end of the hall.

Behind her, Azriel growled softly. Typical males, snapping and snarling when they didn’t get their way.

Let him.

Azriel wasn’t in charge of her.

No one was.

AZRIEL:

Gwyn rounded the corner before Azriel tucked his wings against his back and went after her. Two of his shadows were trailing her, one because he’d ordered it and the other because it was merely curious. He could hear their whispering, convincing him to keep his distance.

I think she hates you.

She could get in line. Azriel had known being here with her was going to be difficult but he’d assumed she’d be…more afraid? Especially today, after the prince had been looking at her with such interest. And yet there she was, when he rounded the corner, stomping her feet as she marched away from him. Azriel kept his eyes on the syrupy cinnamon and penny colored hair swinging past her shoulders, the tips brushing just above her hips. His shadows curled around her shoulders, likely trying to whisper any number of secrets in her ears, those traitors.

Azriel could not understand their fascination with her. Case and point: Gwyn waved her hand impatiently, trying to shoo them away when she realized he was trailing her both in body and spirit, which resulted in one shadow playfully braceleting her wrist.

Azriel sighed.

“Where are you going?” he called when she reached another of those miserable, spiraling staircases. Increasing his pace and tucking his wings closer to his body, Azriel caught up to her before she’d made it three steps. She might have been tall, but he was taller by a good head and shoulders.

“I told you what I was doing,” she snapped. Azriel rolled his neck against his shoulders, biting the urge to snap back. Gwyn glanced back, eyes narrowed and he knew without any magic at all, that whatever words slipped from her lips next were going to start a fight. “I know you can’t read, but I assumed you still were able to comprehend words, shadowsinger.”

Azriel reached for her without thinking, fingers curling around the tops of her arms. They were at the bottom of the twisting stairs, alone on another dark landing. Whispering shadow told him there was no one lurking nearby—not even servants. He might have told them to scout for the library had he not pressed Gwyn against the cool wall, his temper getting the best of him.

She jutted her chin in the air, eyes blazing with defiance. “I don’t need to know how to read to end this mission for you. One word to Rhysand is all it would take to put you back where you came.”

Gwyn shoved at his chest again, for all the good it did. Azriel didn’t budge, crowding closer until he could smell the scent of viola and cinnamon. He’d forgotten what she smelled like, had forgotten that dusting of freckles over the bridge of her nose and her cheek. Up close, he could see flecks of gold in those teal eyes…and her anger.

Azriel took his hands off her arms, though he merely braced them against the stone behind them to keep her from darting away again.

“You won’t,” she said, crossing her arms again.

“Wouldn’t I? I work better alone.”

“Is that an option? Maybe you’ll be paired with someone far more loathsome than me!”

Azriel hid the truth of her statement even as Vanserra’s smug face floated in his mind. Gwyn was far better—and far prettier—than Vanserra, who was likely to try and kill him in his sleep if he pulled half the shit Azriel was pulling right then. Still, Azriel couldn’t back down.

“Want to find out?”

Gwyn inclined her head. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

Not really. His shadows swirled between them, murmuring that someone was coming. Azriel pushed back, not wanting someone to think he was menacing the nice priestess. All Azriel wanted to be seen as was her protector, even if they privately didn’t get along. Because while she could snipe and scowl at him all she liked, if anyone else elicited that reaction from her, they’d find truth teller pressed against their jugular vein.

“Behind me, Gwyn,” he murmured. To his immense satisfaction, whatever she saw in his expression convinced her to stay where she was, half tucked behind his wing where, if he needed to, he could fully shield her with his body. Azriel felt tense, shadows darting to a nearby corner to watch and whisper.

It was only Kai. Uncrowned and casual, the prince seemed surprised to find them both standing tense before him. Those blue black eyes found Gwyn before they found him, dismissive as usual. “Lady,” he murmured, bowing so deeply Azriel wondered how he managed to stay on two feet at all. He glanced over at Gwyn, who seemed impassive. Unimpressed, at least, which helped the anger twisting in his chest. He wanted to roar at Kai to get away from her, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. Maybe it was that look on Mor’s face when she warned him about Gareth and Kai. “What brings you down to the kitchen?”

The kitchen?

Gwyn’s cheeks darkened with embarrassment. “I um..” “Where is the library?” Azriel interjected. He wasn’t going to watch her be made a fool of. “Do you not have staff that can assist her?”

Kai’s attention was back on him. Good. Azriel was the threat and the person he needed to be wary of. Not Gwyn, who was here to do an actual job. Azriel, too, though Kai didn’t need to know that. Still, the princes gaze traveled over his body.

“I can show the lady how to get to the library from her bed chamber,” Kai said, his voice too silky for Azriel’s liking. Suddenly those adjoining rooms seemed necessary. He’d be keeping his door open at night…not that he slept most of the time anyway. Kai gestured for Gwyn, offering up a rather puny looking arm that she looked at with what Azriel interpreted as haughty disdain.

Had Nesta taught her that? Or was he misreading the expression on her face? It certainly dimmed some of Kai’s slick charm, at any rate, given his hand fell to his side.

And Gwyn still stepped forward. She didn’t touch him, reminding Azriel she was likely wary of the male. Azriel brought up the rear, once again making himself small to go back up those winding, narrow stairs.

Whereas before, Azriel worked to make himself seem smaller, once they were back on the landing, Azriel spread himself out for Kai’s benefit. He was big in comparison to the lean prince and he didn’t want that male to forget it. Let him think of Azriel as brute so long as Kai always thought twice when it came to Gwyn.

Or anyone from Prythian, for that matter.

Azriel tuned out their chatter in favor of his whispering shadows.

The king is on the grounds

Stained glass hides behind the curtains in the grand hall

There is a tomb just outside the garden

A large garrison on the outskirts of the city is only half filled

Little whispered pieces of information Azriel tucked away, uncertain if any of it was useful. It gave him an edge and answered some basic questions. His shadows were not with him, mapping the palace for him to later sketch out when he was alone.

It was the sound of Gwyn’s laugh that pulled Azriel from his job. Her face was lit with a genuine smile the likes of which had never been directed at him. She tucked a piece of hair behind a delicately arched ear devoid of any jewelry before she slid that same hand into the pocket of her azure dress. There was nothing Kai could have said to elicit such a response and yet Gwyn wasn’t a practiced courtier. She didn’t smile on demand, nor did she laugh because it was expected of her.

There was genuine mirth in those teal eyes. It should have filled him with relief. She didn’t need him breathing down her neck. And yet that smile bothered him for reasons he couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was just Kai, who was grinning back, pale cheeks flushed from whatever she was laughing at.

A joke at his expense, Azriel hoped. He swallowed his irritation, following the path up another dark level toward the library Gwyn would spend the majority of her time in.

“Why do you keep the windows covered?” Gwyn asked curiously, ducking her head when the prince turned his gaze to her fully.

“My father is still in mourning,” Kai told her easily, reaching for a set of wide, golden handles attached to two double doors. “Anything beautiful reminds him of her, so the windows stay closed and he remains in doors.”

“And you?” Gwyn questioned, her voice rich with sympathy.

Azriel recognized the icy rage that slithered over the prince’s face. “I miss her too,” he said, his breathless voice so at odds with the anger on his face. It was gone before Gwyn could look up and see what Azriel had.

He tucked that way, too. It was merely another piece in the strange puzzle of the Montessere palace. Maybe it meant nothing, but the thought of the queen flinging herself off one of those spires was an interesting mystery.

“I’m sorry to hear about your mother. Was it recent?” Gwyn, the clever creature, asked. Azriel betrayed nothing, stepping onto immaculate wood floor so clean he could see his own reflection against the warm surface. The room itself smelled heavily of mahogany and dust, and was so small Azriel wondered how they justified calling it a library. Gwyn, too, seemed taken aback by the open atrium of worn, sun-stained red furniture long abandoned, centered around tables that were cracked and gouged by time.

“Five years,” Kai murmured, reminding Azriel of what Mor had said. The Montessere royals were old. Five years was likely nothing to a male like Kai, who Azriel guessed had a few centuries on him. How had he spent it? “Is this what you’re accustomed to?”

Azriel thought of the lovely library Gwyn worked in and how carefully Rhys had expanded the knowledge within. There was, of course, no point in comparing anything to the library Helion had in the famed Sun Palace, but Rhys’s was a decent rival. Hell, Azriel bet even the Spring Court had more space than the narrow shelves of dusty, peeling books that travelled only two stories in the air, with shelves that were half empty.

“Um,” Gwyn began, eyes scanning the room. “It’s very…”

“Small,” Azriel supplied. “Is this all of it?”

“Of course not,” Kai said with an easy smile. “But your High Lord assured me our two lands shared similar values.”

Neither Gwyn nor Azriel moved, both looking at Kai as they waited for clarification. What could that possibly have to do with anything?

Color flooded Kai’s cheeks again. Rubbing the back of his neck, he said, “Females in our territory ah…”

Gwyn looked up at Azriel, eyes wide.

“Don’t what?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Kai shrugged, the movement seemingly defensive. “Females are delicate.”

Gwyn’s mouth fell open. “Books hardly require that much physical exertion—”

“Ah, but reading is quite taxing, is it not?” Kai challenged with an earnestness that made Azriel want to bash Kai’s face in with his fist.

“I’ve never thought so,” Gwyn replied, eyes flashing a warning Azriel could read all too well. Kai seemed content to concede his point.

“Well, I suppose you have a lot to teach us. That was the point of your presence, was it not?”

“It is,” she said, offering him another tentative smile. It did nothing for his rising temper. Had Rhys and Mor known this? Why wouldn’t they warn him?

Kai was beaming again. “I look forward to this exchange of culture. Tomorrow I’ll be sure to have a scholar sent up—if you require anything, he’ll see you get it.”

“What do the females of Montessere do, then?” Gwyn interrupted, clearly curious. Azriel wondered this, too.

Kai’s smile faltered. “Why…they’re mothers, of course. Wives, too. What greater calling could there be? Truly society would crumble without them.”

His eyes shifted to Azriel, clearly questioning what Azriel’s function was in relation to Gwyn. Azriel said nothing, content to let the male imagine a variety of scenarios, all false. So long as it kept his fucking eyes off Gwyn, Azriel didn’t care what Kai thought.

“No priestesses?” Gwyn interrupted, unaware of the silent showdown. Kai glanced back at her.

“Some, but we prefer priests here.”

Yeah, Azriel bet they did. Wait until they learned of Feyre, he thought wryly. A female who rivaled her male counterpart in power and respect and ruled not beneath him, but alongside him as his equal. Azriel straightened himself at the thought, proud no one from the continent would ever be subjected to the same humiliation Gwyn was currently weathering.

“Well. I’ll see the pair of you at dinner? I’ll have a servant sent up so you don’t end up in the dungeons.”

Gwyn smiled at the pathetic joke though Azriel didn’t bother to acknowledge it at all. He merely stood, watching Kai brush a kiss against Gwyn’s knuckles. She snatched her hand back quickly, cradling it to her chest, brows pulled together not with fear, but annoyance. The pair waited until Kai closed the door behind them, blowing out a breath in unison.

“Fuck that guy,” Gwyn whispered, taking Azriel by surprised. A laugh bubbled out of him, echoing around them. Gwyn watched, eyes bright with delight as Azriel smothered the rest of it, though his smile lingered. “Now I have to stay, just to prove him wrong about me.”

“Not everything needs to be a fight, you know.”

She turned toward the curtained windows, hands on her hips. “I know that. But maybe some battles are worth fighting.”

And maybe she was right.

#gwynriel #why not i guess

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autumnshighlady · 2 years

Text

I’ve Always Liked to Play With Fire (part 4)

NESTA ARCHERON X FEMALE!READER (future Neris x reader)

summary: The plan finally takes off, and you train with Azriel.

warnings: sexual jokes, feysand slander, that’s it I think

word count: 6.5k

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n: finally things are kicking off! This is my longest chapter yet, and where shit starts to get real! A bit of Azriel x reader tidbits because y’all are sluts for the shadowsinger - it’s not endgame and they’re just homies but I had to throw in some flirting ;) Please let me know what you think of ths chapter!

feedback is appreciated, just no hate pls! these are just my opinons, im more curious to see how you all like the writing and characterization and storylines!

part 1

part 2

part 3

read on ao3

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You and Nesta were careful to avoid each other the next day. Whenever Cassian or Azriel were nearby, you were sure to cast cold looks at each other, the frost between you two so realistic and palpable you were almost proud.

When Cassian was in the kitchen eating breakfast with Nesta, you made sure to take your plate to your room. If you sat in the corner of the library reading, Nesta would take her book elsewhere. You missed that ease between you two that you had built up over the past few months, but knew you had to let it go to plan for the long term.

Nesta had begun training with Cassian, which you knew was hard for her. She was weak, in body and mind from both lack of nutrition and trauma from the past year. It can’t have been easy for her, or her pride, to agree to it. However, you knew deep down that she must not be making it easy for Cassian, the thought of the two of them snapping at each other the whole time made you chuckle.

As you suspected, it took a week for the shadowsinger to approach you. No doubt he had told Feyre and Rhysand of your spat with the High Lady’s sister and they saw the perfect opportunity to use you to their advantage while you were vulnerable. It was mid morning when you heard a polite but firm knock on your door.

“Come in.” You said, brushing the charcoal off your hands. You had found an art supply room in one of the cupboards, filled with your favourite materials – thick, black paper and white charcoal with smudge sticks. You loved art, specifically drawing in this medium, so you had set up an easel with the paper in your room.

The door creaked open, and Azriel stepped in. The first thing you noticed was that his shadows kept to themselves, still revealing themselves enough to remind you that they were there but not so as to intimidate you. His dark hair had a few loose strands that hung into his sharp, tanned face. Those hazel eyes almost glowed, as if they could see into your very soul. He was clad in his usual Illyrian leathers, and you momentarily wondered if that was all he owned. He had a strong presence, but was not as scary as you thought he’d be.

For that, you were somewhat relieved. The last thing you needed was the Night Court’s spymaster trying to intimidate you into doing what they wanted.

“Good morning.” Azriel said politely, leaving the door open to your relief. “I see you have found the art supply closet.”

You nodded, not giving him an answer. You tried to calm your racing heart – the thought of having to try and fool the Night Court’s spymaster made you want to die, but you had to give it a shot. Which meant not being suddenly agreeable.

“The High Lady enjoys painting,” He said when you did not answer. “Perhaps you would like to attend one of her classes.”

“Is she even good?” You snorted, smudging the corner of your charcoal onto the black paper.

Azriel was quiet for a split second, before answering, “Yes.”

You laughed sharply at his hesitation. “I thought you were supposed to be good at lying, spymaster. Besides, I don’t think prisoners are allowed to join art classes.”

“I could take you–” Azriel began to offer.

“You didn’t come here to talk about art with me.” You interrupted him. “What do you and your High Lord and Lady want with me?”

Azriel’s expression remained stoic, irking you. “I heard your fight with Nesta.” He said simply.

You forced yourself to flinch, pretending like the news was a shock to you. Those hazel eyes bore into yours, searching for something. So you avoided his gaze, feigning discomfort.

“It’s none of your business.” You mumbled, busying yourself with rearranging the white sticks of charcoal at the bottom of the easel.

“She seemed eager to stand up for you the other night,” Azriel’s gaze didn’t change one bit. “What changed?”

You took a shaky breath. Fooling him may be harder than you thought. “You were the one listening apparently, so why don’t you tell me?”

Azriel took a step closer to you, and for a second his eyes softened. “Are you okay?” He asked, his deep voice quieter than before.

You gulped. “I’m fine,” You answered. “I’ve moved on. Not like I knew her well.”

“You spent a lot of time together,” Azriel countered. “And she practically started a fight with Rhysand at dinner over you. She clearly cared for you more than I’ve seen her with anyone besides Elain, but then again I do not know her well either.”

“Key word being ‘cared’, shadowsinger.” You told him, meeting his gaze. “Nesta made herself clear the other day.”

Azriel said nothing, just stared at you. It took everything in you not to squirm beneath his gaze – it frustrated you being unable to read his expression, or figure out what he was up to. Realizing he wouldn’t be the one to break the new silence first, you spoke up again.

“You didn’t come here to discuss art, and I also doubt you came here to discuss my fight with Nesta,” You challenged him, straightening your back. “So I’ll ask you again, what do you and your highnesses want with me? I assume they sent you here after you told them about the fight.”

“They did. Feyre knows how mean Nesta can be, and wanted to be sure you were alright.”

“Bullshit.”

“Do not speak about my High Lady with such disregard, (Y/N).”

“Try and stop me. I’ll speak about her however I want, unless you’re going to use that pretty blade and take my tongue for it.”

You and Azriel glared at each other, neither backing down for a few minutes. Normally you’d have glared until he took the hint and left, but you had to swallow your pride and submit to that piercing hazel gaze.

“There’s something else though, isn’t there?” You said, averting your eyes and brushing dust off your skirt. “Or else they wouldn’t have sent you.”

For a second, you thought the shadowsinger would simply ignore your words, and just keep glaring at you. But he folded his flared wings and clasped his scarred hands behind his back.

“The High Lord and Lady have a proposal for you.” Azriel stated formally.

So it’s working. You observed with relief.

“And you are here to take me to them?” You asked suspiciously, raising an eyebrow.

To your surprise, Azriel let out a short breath almost like a laugh. “No,” He said. “They figured that after the manner in which your last few meetings had gone, their presence would make you…antagonized.”

You rolled your eyes. “Less agreeable, you mean.”

“To put it honestly, yes. Would you have preferred to speak to them directly?”

“No.”

“Which is exactly why I am here. Shall we go fetch lunch? Nesta and Cassian are at training so they will not be joining us.”

You sighed, knowing refusing wasn’t an option. You had expected he would just barge in here and demand you comply, yet he wasn’t. You had heard stories of the legendary shadowsinger, tales of how dangerous and terrifying he was, and yet all you saw was a stoic Illyrian general.

Which is exactly what made him so dangerous.

Deciding it would be in your best interest to play along, you peeled off your smock and set it on the stool. “Lead the way.”

Azriel led you to the kitchen, remaining a few feet ahead of you. His shadows swirled around his shoulders as he moved, curling around his massive wings as if they were watching you. You did not doubt that they were.

When you arrived, he pulled out your chair for you before grabbing your plates from the counter and setting them down. He sat opposite of you, waiting for you to start eating.

He’s not getting what he wants that easily. You thought indignantly, deciding to make his job just that extra bit harder.

“I’m not eating until you tell me what they want.” You said, lifting your chin up.

Azriel sighed, exasperated and likely pissed off that he was the one stuck dealing with you. “Just eat.”

“I will. When you tell me what they want from me. Why the feared spymaster of the Night Court has nothing better to do than sit here trying to get me to eat my veggies.”

The steel balls you had to talk to him like that was almost laughable – if you had been told a year ago that you’d be snapping at the Night Court’s spymaster without a knife to your throat you’d have fainted.

Clearly, he thought so too, for his once stoic expression was now tight with annoyance. “Are you always this difficult?” He asked.

“Yes.” You replied.

A vein in Azriel’s neck twitched, as if he were contemplating just saying fuck this and leaving right then and there, or if he should give in in order to do what Rhysand and Feyre asked.

Evidently, it was the latter.

“As you know, Tamlin allowed Hybern into his borders and it destroyed his court–”

“Thanks to your High Lady.” You interrupted, unable to help yourself. It earned you a sharp glare.

“Which matters not.” He continued, annoyed. “The war is over now, but Tamlin is still a threat.”

“How?” You gawked. “The male has literally nothing left, no armies or spies, not even his own people. How does that pose any threat to the Night Court?”

“The fact he has nothing left is what makes him so dangerous. He has nothing left to lose if he wants to take revenge–”

“Again, thanks to your High Lady.”

“Could you let me fucking finish?” Azriel snapped. You almost giggled at the shadowsinger’s thinly stretched patience with you, but even you knew better than to push further so you sat back and hugged.

“As I was saying,” He continued. “Tamlin is dangerous. He hates Feyre and Rhysand, and spends his time roaming his court in beast form. He has an extreme amount of power, and if he decides to turn it towards us we need to know.”

“So send in your spies to keep an eye on him.” You snapped.

“It’s too dangerous, none of them would get past Tamlin.” Azriel said. “But you would.”

So I was right, You thought smugly. It wasn’t hard to figure out that the Night Court would want you to spy on your own High Lord for them as payment of your debt to them.

“And why would I spy on my own High Lord?” You asked. “Also, you’re forgetting one very important detail, shadowsinger. I’m not a spy.”

Azriel set his fork down, folding his arms and tilted his head. “You don’t have to be a spy. You just have to be yourself.”

You sighed, folding your arms in return. You knew where this was headed. “I just have to report to you, is that it?”

Azriel nodded. “Yes. Tamlin knows you, he will not question you, I doubt he even has noticed you were gone. You will convince him to let you stay at the manor, and report to me anything suspicious. And since you don’t know how to shut that mouth of yours and use it properly, I will train you.”

You nearly burst out into laughter at the innuendo. You couldn’t deny that Azriel was handsome, so the thought of letting him teach you how to use your mouth wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. That is, if you weren’t a prisoner in his court. And if you didn’t hate his superiors.

“So let me get this straight,” You said, shaking away your weird thoughts. “You want me to meander back into the Spring Court, ask my High Lord if I can live in his house, and then spy on him and report his movements to you? But I have to train with you first so that he doesn’t find out, since I’ll be risking my life doing this? Am I correct?”

“Yes.”

“What do I get out of it?”

“You get out of the House of Wind, for starters.”

“Not good enough. I want a salary.”

Azriel choked on his coffee, staring at you in surprise. You rolled your eyes at his shock, amazed that he thought you’d do this for free.

“What?” You asked. “I’m absolutely not doing free labour for you. The only people who don’t pay their prisoners are Hybern, you know.”

“You’re not a prisoner.”

“That’s literally so much worse.”

“We have fed and housed you at our expense for the past three months.” Azriel snapped.

“And I’m sure their pockets are hurting terribly for it,” You hissed back sarcastically. “Didn’t Mor mention they were building a fifth estate during dinner? Surely they can afford to pay me for my work. Also, it is common courtesy to help an injured member of another court if they end up in your territory. Surely after 500 years of politics you’d all know this?”

Azriel grunted, and you tried not to grin at your victory. You could tell he saw some truth to your words.

“I’ll speak to Rhysand about it.” He grumbled. “Any other conditions?”

“If I think of any I’ll let you know.” You said cheerily, finally picking up your fork and digging into the meal in front of you. You could tell Azriel wanted to snap back, but refrained himself when he saw you were holding up your end of the bargain.

“You have eighteen hours to decide,” Azriel said, standing up. “Because we start tomorrow.”

*********************

Our plan is working. Azriel is going to train me as some sort of spy. Your sister and her mate want me sent back to Spring Court to spy on Tamlin for them. I demanded pay, of course, which pissed them off. How’s Cassian coming along?

You left the note in the designated book, returning a few hours later to find one for you in the other book.

Good. Training is brutal, everything hurts. At least Cassian is being nice about it. Apparently he and Rhys met in the Spring Court with Eris the other day, not sure why. Maybe you’ll be able to find out.

Your brow furrowed as you read this new information. Part of you was suspicious – if Eris was popping up in the Spring Court, right where you were supposed to be sent, it was extremely convenient. Maybe too convenient. But could work very well in your favour.

Frankly, Nesta would probably have better luck getting the details out of why Rhys and Eris are meeting in secret from Cassian than you would from Azriel. It didn’t escape your notice how the General padded after Nesta like a lost puppy, wearing his heart on his sleeve whenever she lashed out. Part of you was jealous, and you hated yourself for it. You had no right to envy their time together – it was all part of your plan after all, and they did share a kiss during the war. Cassian seemed like a better male than Rhysand at least, maybe he’d let Nesta in on their plans. You prayed he did, otherwise it was up to you to pry information out of Azriel, and may the Mother help you if that was the case.

Speaking of Azriel, you noticed a note taped to your easel upon your return to your room after some more reading. You had spent the rest of the evening reading, only seeing Nesta once out of the corner of your eye. She was passing through on her way to the dining room, clad in tight fitting Illyrian leathers that almost made your jaw drop. The way the pants clung to her hips as she walked–

You had to physically shake your head as if it would clear the thoughts away. The two of you had to assume Azriel was somehow watching every corner of the House, so you couldn’t make a smartass comment about her leathers. Maybe you’d write it later in a letter….

No, You thought to yourself angrily. That’s inappropriate.

Frankly you didn’t even know if Nesta liked females in that way. You both liked males, that much was clear, but you had always enjoyed females as well. Frankly, if you and Nesta weren’t cooped up in the House of Wind together you doubted she’d even notice you. Perhaps you were reading too far into things, that the only reason you and her got close so quickly was because you were all each other had.

But you also couldn’t help but notice the little things about your interactions. How she had fallen asleep on your shoulder, when she was normally plagued by insomnia and nightmares. How she slept soundly through the night with you by her side, as if she felt safe in your presence. How she stood up for you so fiercely against Rhysand. The way she let you have the first plate of pancakes because she knew how much you loved them. Seeing her hard gaze soften ever so slightly at you when you ranted on about something you were excited about. Nesta appeared tense and cold around others, but there was a certain light she emitted when it was just you and her.

But what about Cassian? Whether you, or her, liked it or not, something had happened between them during the war. She had let him in, in some way, and clearly something else had gone down that caused her to shut him out. Yet you overheard them talking sometimes, and the sharp edge to her voice that she usually reserved for the Inner Circle was not entirely there.

None of this matters. You thought to yourself. It’s not the time or place. Nesta’s been through some shit and I don’t want to make her uncomfortable or be too forward.

So your feelings for Nesta, whatever they were, you shoved aside for the time being. Taking a breath, you began to read the message from Azriel.

I spoke with the High Lord and Lady. They have agreed to pay you a salary for your services, provided you deliver. If you wish to accept the offer, meet me on the balcony at 7am tomorrow. Azriel.

You groaned at the thought of having to meet that early. Spying was something you did not know how to do, nor did you have a clue as to what its training entailed, but you supposed you were about to find out.

*********************

“You’re late.”

It took everything in you not to throw your mug at Azriel’s head. “It’s 7:01.” You snapped back, irritated from lack of sleep. Truthfully, you had spent most of last night worrying about what today would bring. Azriel unnerved you, his ability to get information from people was known to fae across all courts. You just prayed you didn’t slip up, although in your exhausted state you could promise nothing.

Azriel glared, visibly irritated. “And I told you to be here at 7.”

“I’m literally one minute late.”

“Time is important in this kind of work.”

“Oh get over yourself,” You hissed, sipping your hot tea to try and warm up. “I’m here aren’t I?”

The shadowsinger said nothing, just fixing you another hard glare. You finished the last of your tea, taking your sweet time as he watched you. Slowly, you placed the cup down on the table, satisfied you had already annoyed him.

“Alright,” You said finally, your voice laced with obvious fake cheer. “What am I learning how to do today, spymaster?”

“You’ll find out.” Was all he said before turning away from you. Without another word, the shadowsinger walked away towards the other end of the long balcony. Realizing you had no choice, you followed him.

The balcony wrapped around a corner of the House, turning into a stairwell that led down. The chilly morning air wasn’t the only thing giving you goosebumps – you had no idea where Azriel was taking you, as you had never been in this area of the House before.

“Where are we going?” You asked hesitantly. Azriel ignored you, leading you further down the stairs until you came to a large wooden door. He pressed the back of his hand onto the lock, blue siphon glowing at the contact. A soft click sounded, and the door swung open. The spymaster stepped aside, gesturing for you to go inside.

“Yeah no, you first.” You snorted, planting your feet firmly on the ground. Azriel rolled his eyes, but stepped into the dark room anyways.

As you and Azriel entered, torches from the walls began to light up and illuminate the space. Your jaw dropping to the floor was a genuine reaction to what you saw.

The room was absolutely massive, almost never ending. There were various obstacles across it – rope, nets, and wooden beams alike all carefully placed. There were mats in the center, and a vast array of gear and weapons strung up on the wall. It made your gut churn, surely you were not expected to take on all of this?

As if he could read your mind, Azriel spoke up. “Don’t worry, you won’t be using most of this stuff, it’s too advanced.”

“Then what am I doing here?” You gawked. If this was his weird personal training room, surely it wouldn��t be suitable for whatever he was teaching you.

“I cannot make you a trained spy in so little time,” Azriel said, walking over to the wall and grabbing something from a trunk. “But with a couple days of hard work, I can at least make sure your chances of getting caught are lessened. You need to be able to move unseen, and make a quick escape if need be. And how to defend yourself, or more if someone figures you out.”

Your throat dried up. “You mean how to kill someone and make it look like an accident?” Your voice was barely more than a whisper.

You didn’t even care to look at what Azriel had grabbed from the trunk, you felt numb as the realization of what you were doing kicked in. The fact the High Lord was willing to put you in this position–

“It’s a grave necessity,” Azriel’s voice cut off your thoughts. “Ideally, you will not have to kill anyone, nor defend yourself. But it’s a risk in this line of work, and it is my duty to prepare you for the worst case scenario. It is unpleasant, but necessary.”

“You want me to be prepared to kill someone from my own court.” Your chest felt hollow. Why did you agree to this?

Sensing your uneasiness, Azriel stepped closer. You felt a soft brush against your arm as one of his shadows reached out and brushed your skin as if to comfort you. “Believe me, that is not my wish,” He said. “I do not like it any more than you do. But if Tamlin finds out you are spying on him for us, it could lead to another war and more violence. He is unstable, and even if he doesn’t kill you immediately he will make sure to kill others for it. If one of his guards suspects something, you will have to take care of the problem. Preferably not with murder, but it is a last resort option if you need it.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Tamlin, as unstable as he might be, wouldn’t hurt you, especially after suffering the consequences of inflicting injury upon Feyre. You had known the High Lord since you were a child – one evening, your father had fallen ill during a meeting at the manor. He had brought you along with the intention of having you play in the stream with the children of other diplomats and sentries during the meeting to keep you occupied. He had gotten too sick to take you home, and it was too risky to send someone to take you both back to your village, lest they contract whatever illness your father had. While your father rested in his guest chamber, Tamlin had kept you entertained. He accompanied you as you wandered through the gardens, explaining what each flower was. He hoisted you up in the air so you could pick the ripest apple from the tree, laughing as you shook a branch that led to some other apples falling onto his head. He read you bedtime stories and tucked you in at night. The High Lord stayed by your side in the three days it took your father to be well enough to travel, and you had never forgotten that kindness. No matter what Feyre said about him, no matter what Tamlin did to her, you would always remember that side to him and hoped it was still there after Feyre had carved his heart out.

Azriel’s voice saying your name snapped you out of your memory.

“Sorry,” You mumbled. “Yeah, I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it.”

The spymaster straightened up, shadows returning to him. “Good. Now turn around.”

You blinked, noticing the piece of cloth in his scarred hands. “Tell me that isn’t a blindfold.” You snapped.

“It isn’t a blindfold.” He responded dryly.

“Yes it is. You lead me into a dark room and want to put a blindfold on me? Kinky.”

“Just do as you’re told.”

You rolled your eyes, but obliged. Again, if your younger self heard she was letting the Night Court’s spymaster blindfold her in a secret room, she’d shit bricks. Azriel stepped behind you, gently placing the black cloth over your eyes and securing it. “Is it too tight?”

“No.” You responded.

“Good. Now you’re going to walk towards the training mat. Step onto it and wait for my instructions.”

“I don’t know which direction it’s in, I can’t fucking see.”

You could practically feel Azriel rolling his eyes at you. “You saw it when you walked in,” He said shortly. “Remember what the room looked like and where you have moved since then. It’s part of the exercise.”

Gritting your teeth, you tried to picture the layout of the room. The training mat had been in the centre, and you had turned slightly to the left when Azriel went to the trunk. Slowly, you turned your body back in the way you were originally facing and began walking forward.

Each step was unsteady, unsure if you were going to trip over some weapon on the floor. You felt like a baby deer taking its first few steps.

“Trust your instincts,” Came Azriel’s voice. “We rely on our sight too much, so let your other senses do the work.”

Eventually, you found your way to the mat, slowly stepping up onto it. You were certain you had looked like an absolute fool doing so, but you made it.

Suddenly, a set of hands came out of nowhere and pushed you over hard. Your face collided with the mat ungracefully.

“What the fuck was that?” You snapped, cheeks red as you stumbled to get up.

“You should have heard me coming.” Azriel’s voice growled. “You were too focused on the mat you forgot your environment around you.”

Your face went red with anger. “Yeah because I got like, two seconds to glance at the room before you blindfolded me, asshole!”

Azriel snorted. “Two seconds is more than you’d sometimes get, but if you’re not serious about this then we can find something else for you to do.”

“No,” You protested. “I am serious about this. But I haven’t done anything like this before so could you maybe cut me some slack?”

You heard the shadowsinger scoff. A bit wobbly, you paced around in a circle, following Azriel’s footsteps as he walked around you. You began to feel dizzy, his shadows swirling in the air and disorienting you further.

You took a deep breath, anticipating his next move. You felt movement behind you, but before you could react something solid cracked against the back of your knees. With a yelp, you yet again found yourself on the ground, legs stinging.

“Not fast enough.” Came Azriel’s stern voice. “Up.”

You bit back a retort, tears beginning to swell. You hated how pathetic you felt, how humiliating it was to have the spymaster of the Night Court blindfold you and knock you to the ground twice as if you were a child. You wanted to give up, to scream at him that you didn’t want to do this, but you held back.

I’m doing this for Nesta, You realized. For myself, yes, but also for her. If I fail at my part of the plan, she’s stuck here too.

With newfound determination, you heaved yourself up off the ground, steadying your legs. Azriel made no comment, just continued to pace around you, letting his shadows confuse you. His footsteps echoed, making you unsure of where they truly were. So you took another deep breath and focused harder, letting your other fae senses take over and hone in one where the footsteps were strongest.

After a few minutes, you felt movement to your left. Quick as a rabbit, you stepped to the right, feeling whatever solid pole Azriel was using strike the air where your left arm had just been. It barely missed you, but did not find its mark.

“Better.” Azriel said. “Again.”

*********************

The next two weeks consisted of the same pattern. Wake up at the literal ass crack of dawn, train with Azriel until the early afternoon, and then spend the rest of your day reading. You had made surprisingly good progress, which Azriel begrudgingly admitted after you pressured him into it. You were able to avoid almost all of his strikes while blindfolded, navigate obstacle courses making minimal noise, and even managed to sneak in a smack to his pretty face during a sparring session.

He was going easy on you with the fighting, you weren’t stupid. He let you get that strike in, perhaps hoping it would boost your confidence and encourage you to do a good job in the Spring Court. You were thankful he hadn’t figured you out yet, but the thought of it still haunted you and twisted your gut with worry.

Nesta’s updates were continuing to come every few days. Apparently, Elain had come prying and it ended disastrously. You snorted at that, unsure of what good Elain thought would come out of visiting the sister whose belongings she shipped off. Cassian had taken Nesta to the river house to discuss Braillyn, the mortal queen. Nesta had written that she was after three Troves: a Mask, a Harp, and a Crown. That letter had been particularly long, detailing what they did and why she sought them, also explaining that Braillyn had made an alliance with Beron Vanserra. Oh, and Rhys essentially forced Nesta to try scrying by using the threat of poor delicate Elain having to do it.

That letter made your head spin. You sat in your room as you read it, contemplating all of what you just learned. Beron was in an alliance with the mortal queen, did that mean Eris was working against the Night Court? The thought delighted you, until you remembered what your village looked like as Hybern destroyed everyone in it. No matter how much you hated the Inner Circle, their citizens have done nothing to deserve such a fate. It would be up to you to figure out which side Eris was truly on if he was making visits to Spring.

You stuffed the letters under your bed sheet, fingers searching for the slit you had carved into your mattress. You knew it would be smarter to just burn them, but you couldn’t bring yourself too. It had been weeks since you had seen more than a fleeting glance of Nesta, and your heart ached. You couldn’t bring yourself to destroy something she had touched and created for you.

A few hours ago, Azriel had informed you that you were going to the Spring Court tomorrow. You had scrawled a note to Nesta rapidly, hands shaking slightly. It had been months since you had been in Spring – you had not yet figured out how to explain your absence to Tamlin, if he even noticed.

I’m being sent to the Spring Court tomorrow morning. I don’t know how we will stay in touch, but I’ll be thinking of you. We’ll find a way.

Later that night, another knock sounded at your door. Confused, you stood up – surely the details of tomorrow’s meeting with the Inner Circle before your departure hadn’t changed? You trudged over to the door, ready to snap at Azriel for disturbing you so late. Only it was not Azriel who stood at the door.

It was Nesta.

You barely had time to acknowledge her standing there before she practically ran into the room, closing the door behind her.

“Nesta, what the hell are you–” You hissed, ready to snap at her for being so reckless after weeks of trying to convince Azriel that you were on the Night Court’s side and still fighting with Nesta.

“I found a way,” She interrupted, breathless and eyes glowing with determination. “A way for us to stay in contact.”

You blinked, dumbstruck. You had assumed that you wouldn’t hear from her while in Spring, unable to think of how to get letters to her discreetly. “How?” You asked.

“There’s a spell,” She said, grabbing the book in her hands and flipping through the pages. “It’s like the bargain spells the fae make, but slightly different. It’s old as shit and technically was the wedding vow of some ancient goddess, but it should work. If I’m right, and if we say it correctly, we’ll be able to communicate like it, sort of like Feyre and Rhysand do with their daemati abilities.”

You took a look at the female in front of you. She had gained weight, looking more muscular than before – her collarbones no longer jutted out, and her hair had more shine to it. She truly looked beautiful, you thought.

“Are you going to keep staring at me or are you going to do the spell?” Nesta interrupted your thoughts, lips twitching upwards.

“I’m just so happy to see you.” Your voice was quiet, barely above a whisper.

“Me too,” Nest said. “But I can’t stay long, it’s already risky enough taking the time to do this. It’s now or never.”

You nodded, and the Archeron sister grabbed your hands in hers. Her hands were cold, but firm as she brought up your joined hands and took a step closer. And another. You held your breath as she stood so close that her knuckles brushed your sternum, and yours against hers. And then she began to speak, in a voice so low and ethereal it could have belonged to the Mother herself,

I bind myself to you, In flesh and in mind, I am yours, and you are mine, until the stars take their last breath, and world collapses beneath our feet, our ghosts whispering in the wind, soon we shall meet.

A sensation as hot as fire and cold as ice spread from your joined hands onto your chest. You couldn’t pull away, like an invisible force kept you still as it felt like a hole was being burned into your sternum. The two of you gritted your teeth, sighing when it finally passed.

You peered down your shirt, half expecting to see a gaping hole. Instead, a glowing silver star had appeared between your breasts on your sternum. It was an eight pointed star, the four vertical and horizontal points larger than the smaller diagonal ones. Eight rays stemmed from the space between each point, and there was a small circle in the centre with lines connecting to each peak of the biggest points from within. It was beautiful, you had to admit.

“Will it always glow?” You breathed, still in awe at the magic you had just witnessed. You and Nesta were now binded with an ancient spell, and the seriousness of that finally hit you.

“No,” She replied, also panting. “Only when the other is in danger. If you say ‘evanescere’, it will fade until you command it to reappear.”

At the ancient word being mentioned, the glowing stars from your sternums faded, along with the tattoo.

“It is still there and so is its magic,” Nesta continued. “But we can hide it just in case.”

You nodded, still reeling. You and Nesta now had a way to communicate with each other – it would take some time to figure out how it fully worked, but knowing you wouldn’t be entirely alone made you happy. “Does this mean we’re technically married?” You joked. “Since we used some ancient wedding vow for the spell?”

Nesta laughed. “It holds no legitimacy as a vow,” She explained. “It was more of a declaration laced with magic to help her communicate with her wife without being daemati. If we can use it that way too, we won’t need to risk sending letters.”

“Nesta Archeron you’re a genius.”

The two of you stayed there for a few minutes, hands entwined just staring at each other. Even though you knew you would probably be safe in Spring, you could not help but gaze at her features and trying to memorize them in case you never saw her again.

Tensing, Nesta let go of you. She straightened herself up, blinking once. “Alright then. Good luck in Spring. Let me know how it goes.”

Your heart ached a little as she turned to leave. You wanted to beg her to stay, but knew it would ruin your plan. However, Nesta paused before her hand could touch the door handle.

“Nesta?” You asked hesitantly when she did not open the door.

“Fuck it.” The female mumbled, turning around and rapidly walking back over to you. Before you could ask what she was doing, Nesta grabbed your face in her hands and crashed her lips into yours.

You staggered back at the passion of it, melting into her mouth – she tasted like cinnamon and honey, and you almost moaned in happiness. You gently placed your hands on her waist, squeezing slightly as she continued to kiss you like it was the end of the world.

Nesta Archeron was kissing you. Holy fuck.

It felt like both ages and seconds at the same time when Nesta’s lips left yours. Her hands remained cupping your face, and worry crossed her features as if she was afraid she had done something wrong.

“Nesta,” You breathed quickly before she could shut down on you. “I’ll miss you a lot.”

“I’ll miss you too.” She muttered, but did not pull away out of regret like you feared. Rather, she stroked your cheek slightly with her left thumb. “Be safe.”

As quick as she came, Nesta Archeron was gone. And you didn’t know when you’d see her again.

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lucienarcheron · 1 year

Text

Around the World - Part 1 [ Elucien ]

Prompt: Prostitute/Client Modern AU requested by a poor ‘nonnie ages ago. |

Genre: Humor/Romance/Fluff Rating: SFW (for part one anyways ;D) Recommended listen: Make Me Feel by Janelle Monáe

Elain was frustrated. She was tired. She was probably more pissed than she looked at the moment and she was also slightly tipsy. But not quite tipsy enough to forget that she was at some fancy hotel bar where her ex-boyfriend was schmoozing in the next room.

Grumbling to herself, she fumbled for the ringing phone that she had thrown somewhere in her purse and squinted at the screen. Nesta. Again.

“What?” she whined, leaning against the bar counter.

“I’m coming to pick you up. Where are you?” her older sister demanded and Elain scoffed.

“No, you're not. I don’t want to be picked up. I want to be left alone.”

“Elain, you will not be getting drunk and crying over Graysen because you saw him at this stupid party. He is a piece of shit.”

“A piece of shit I thought loved me.” Elain mumbled and she heard Nesta sigh.

“Well, aren’t you glad you’re not dating a piece of shit then?”

“Maybe.” Elain replied with pursed lips, her eyes scanning the place around her. “I still can’t believe he dumped me.”

“It’s okay. I’ll break his neck eventually.”

Elain snorted. “I’m counting on it.”

“I already broke his nose. It won’t take much to break his neck.” Nesta responded through the phone and Elain giggled into her glass. It had been glorious watching Nesta deck him. “Now, where are you?”

“Nesta, don’t come. I’m going to stay here and find a really hot male prostitute to fuck me.” Elain whispered into the phone with another giggle, her eyes back to scanning the room and the line went silent.

“Excuse me?” Nesta said after a minute.

“I want to have sex with a really hot guy. It’s the least I deserve after that stupid, good-for-nothing asshole dumped me.”

“Not with a prostitute you’re not.”

“But they are professionals. I bet he’ll show me around the world. Graysen never did.”

“Elain, how much have you had to drink?”

“Only two glasses. I’m not drunk. I just want to have a nice night.”

“We can have a nice night at home. Where the hell are you?”

Elain pursed her lips, weighing her options. Let Nesta come pick her up to where Feyre was waiting at home to console her which was something she didn’t want or stay here and maybe make out with a nice stranger and drink in peace? The decision was almost too easy.

“You’ll never find me.” she deadpanned then blew a raspberry into the phone and ended the call.

Was she being childish?

Absolutely.

Did she care at the moment?

Absolutely not.

“You sound like you need another drink.” a voice spoke out next to her and Elain’s head whipped to the side.

Her eyes fell on the stranger next to her and she blinked. He was handsome. Red hair tied in a neat ponytail, dressed in a button-down shirt and dress pants.

The sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up to reveal his toned forearms and this made her eyes wander up to the way the rest of his shirt hugged his body. Her gaze kept going up until it locked on the fading scar running down his face, his eye that had seen better days, and the quirked brow that completed his look.

The stranger gave her an amused look as she bluntly checked him out and when the corner of his mouth turned up, Elain flushed deeply.

“I’m good.” she finally replied, her voice coming out like a squeak and the stranger chuckled.

“Didn’t mean to eavesdrop but you were talking rather loudly.” he continued and took a sip of his own drink. “Trying to drink your sorrows?”

“No. This place is too nice for that.” she replied, casually smoothing down her skirt and then looking back at the stranger. Something about him seemed familiar. “I’m the florist for the wedding party happening in the banquet hall. My job’s done so I’m rewarding myself.”

“Didn’t they have an open bar?” he asked curiously, his eyes never leaving her face. As if he too had seen her someplace.

“Rewarding myself away from them.” Elain clarified then took a sip of her own drink, averting her gaze from his. “There are people attending I don’t want to see.”

“Your ex-boyfriend?”

Elain turned her head and narrowed her eyes at him. “How much of my conversation did you listen to?”

“You were shouting for half the place to hear you.” he replied with a chuckle then he held out his hand. “I’m Lucien.”

“Elain.” she said, shaking his hand. She eyed him again and found him eyeing her. “Why are you here?”

“Dinner party. Shitty company so I left earlier to come sit here instead.” he said, giving her a half smile. She nodded her understanding then gave him a curious look that he returned.

“I feel like I’ve met you before.” she said.

“So have I.” he replied, leaning against the counter. “Weren’t you the florist that handled Spring Corps end-of-the-year banquet?”

Elain perked up with a wide smile. “Yes! I had so much fun planning that!”

“I thought so!” He said with a smile. He had only stared at her for most of the evening, like a creep. No big deal. “I used to work there. That was my last event actually.”

“Better opportunity?”

“And better people.” he replied, holding up his glass before taking a sip and Elain chuckled.

“Good for you... What is it you do anyways?”

“I’m a marketing manager for Velaris Inc.”

Elain’s body straightened and she let out a gasp. “You work for Rhys?”

“You know Rhys?” he asked with a blink.

“He’s my brother-in-law!” Elain said with a laugh.

“Rhys is your brother-in-law?” Lucien said with a blink then laughed. “You’re Feyre’s sister! I can’t believe we haven’t met before.”

Elain beamed then slid her glass over, moving to the bar stool that had been between them. He watched her movement and his lips twitched, turning his body to face her fully, their knees touching.

“This is so exciting! I’m sure Feyre has talked about you before and I just didn’t make the connection.” Elain gushed. “Do you like working with them? Feyre and Rhys can be annoying to be around when they don’t stop touching each other.”

Lucien snorted. “Annoying is an understatement but Feyre is one of my closest friends. She’s the one that actually helped me get the job... Rhys can be tolerable at times.” he said with an eye roll and a good-natured smile that made Elain laugh.

“I’m going to tell your boss you said he’s only tolerable. I’m his favorite sister-in-law, he’ll listen to me. You’re going to get in trouble.” she said with a playful smirk and Lucien placed a hand over his heart, feigning hurt.

“We’ve just met and you’re already throwing me under the bus? Strangers are horrible.”

She laughed again and shoved him lightly. “Technically, we’re not strangers anymore.” she said then lowered her voice for a dramatic effect. “I know where you work now.”

Lucien gasped, his drama matching hers. “A stalker! The horrors!”

“At least I’m a pretty stalker.” Elain replied with a cheeky grin, taking a sip from her glass and Lucien chuckled, his eyes slowly looking her up and down.

“That you are.”

They shared smiles and when Lucien opened his mouth next, the conversation between them became gushing. They talked about everything and anything, their drinks untouched next to them. An hour easily passed with the two of them sharing stories and what had started as a miserable evening for them both was now a night full of laughs.

“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve walked in on Rhys and Feyre fucking or about to fuck at work?” Lucien said and Elain crinkled her nose. “They never stop, dear god.”

“My rule is to call three times before I visit them. They get three warnings to make themselves decent before I arrive.” Elain replied, holding up three fingers then waved her hand. “Then I just start making annoying noises until they’re actually decent.”

“Annoying noises?” Lucien asked with a laugh. “What do those consist of?”

“Yodeling. Wailing. Animal noises.” she replied and grinned when his laughter continued. “Whatever strikes the mood really. Singing is always the last resort because I’m really terrible at it.”

He gave her a grin and pointed his finger at her. “I am definitely going to start doing that.” he said and she giggled. “Think they’ll fire me if I start yodeling to announce my arrival?”

“Tell them it was inspired by me. Maybe they’ll finally take the damn hint.” she replied and he snorted, gesturing for the bartender to refill their forgotten empty glasses.

“Elain! There you are.”

Both their heads swiveled towards the voice and Elain let out a low groan as Nesta came barreling towards them.

“That’s Nesta?” Lucien asked quietly.

“Yup.” she said with a sigh and turned to give her sister a thin smile. “Nesta. You came. Even though I asked you not to.”

“It took a bit to find the place...I didn’t want you to be alone.” Nesta replied and Lucien could tell wherever this woman went, she intimated everyone with her stance alone.

“I’m not alone.” Elain replied then gestured to Lucien with her glass. “This is Lucien. My designated lover for the night.”

Lucien almost choked on his drink but hid his smile in the glass before placing it back down and meeting Nesta’s horrified gaze.

“No. He’s not.” Nesta replied, crossing her arms and arching her brow.

“Indeed he is.” Elain said with a nod. “I told you on the phone I wanted to find someone. Here he is.”

“Hello.” he said, attempting not to burst out laughing. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Keep your pleasure to yourself, thank you.” Nesta replied, holding a hand up, her eyes never leaving his face. She squinted. “I’ve seen you before.”

“That’s because he’s very popular in the agency.” Elain immediately interjected. “Something about redheads.”

Lucien’s lips twitched, his eyes darting to Elain then back to Nesta. He shrugged. “It gets a lot of people going apparently.”

Nesta’s nose flared and she shifted to glare at Elain. “I’m not going to let you spend the night with a strange sexual professional.”

“Male escort.” he corrected.

“Prostitute.” Elain corrected at the same time, giving him a wink and he snorted. “And you’re not going to let me do anything, Nesta. Lucien is going to show me around the world, aren’t you?”

“I plan to.” he replied with a smirk that heated Elain’s cheek.

“We’ve already booked a room.” she said, beaming at her sister. Nesta blinked, her posture rigid.

“Elain. If you’re joking, I think it’s time to stop now.”

Elain squinted and turned in her seat to face her sister properly. “Are you really going to deny me sexual pleasure, Nesta Archeron?”

Her sister rolled her eyes as Lucien again, tried really hard not to laugh. He was both aroused and very, very amused.

“I’m not going to deny you anything. I just think you should get it from someone who couldn’t potentially murder you in a hotel room.”

“Hey, I’m a professional. I would never do that.” Lucien objected with a frown.

“Exactly!” Elain agreed. “Besides, everyone knows you always dump the body in the river so the evidence washes away.”

Lucien let out a laugh as Nesta glared at her and then poked her head gently.

“How many drinks have you had?” she hissed and Elain pouted.

“I’m fine, Nesta! He’s a friend! It’s fine!” Elain replied, exasperated. “I’m fine. I appreciate you coming but I’ll be fine. Go back home.”

“I didn’t realize you befriended prostitutes.” she stated curtly and Lucien snorted.

“Prostitutes are people too, you know.” Lucien said, giving Nesta a look and she scowled at him.

“I never stated otherwise.” her curt tone sharpening.

“It’s the flower business. Really draws us in.” Lucien replied, his eyes on Elain now. “Also helps when there’s a cute girl selling the flowers.”

Elain tried hard not to smile when their eyes met and cleared her throat, turning back to Nesta.

“You’d be surprised how many come in for the nicest bouquets.” Elain said with a nod toward her sister.

“It helps set up the mood.” Lucien said to Elain, nodding his agreement and Elain giggled.

Nesta’s expression turned sour and then she grabbed Lucien by the front of his shirt. He blinked at her.

“Can I help you?”

“I want your phone and ID. Now.”

“Nesta!” Elain objected but Lucien gave Nesta an amused look and then pulled out his phone and wallet, allowing Nesta to yank them both out of his hand. Elain and Lucien watched her dial a number in his phone until her own phone began ringing, then she pulled his ID from his wallet and took a picture of it. Glancing at him once more, she shoved both his phone and wallet back in his hand then gripped him by his shirt again.

“If anything should happen to my sister, I will find you and murder you so viciously they won’t even find dust particles of you.” she said quietly. “Understood?”

“Yes ma’am.” he replied promptly and Nesta let him go. She glared at him once more then turned to Elain and patted her on the head.

“Have fun. Use a condom.”

“Thanks mom.” Elain grumbled and Nesta flashed her a small smile before shooting Lucien another glare and then leaving.

A silence fell between the two for the first time since they sat next to each other, Elain mortified and Lucien beyond amused.

“I’m not sure if I should be offended or flattered she believed that I could be a high-end hooker.” he finally said and Elain groaned, immediately leaning down to hide her face on the counter. Lucien finally burst out laughing and she lifted her head to playfully glare at him.

“I’m very offended she believed that I could only get laid if it was with a high-end hooker.” Elain replied with a frown and Lucien laughed again.

“How badly does she think you need a good fuck?” He asked rather bluntly and Elain turned bright red.

“I — it was — that’s a very personal question!”

“You told your sister I’m your male entertainment for the night, I think we’re past that.” He said teasingly and Elain hung her head with another groan. He chuckled but his gaze lingered on her.

Elain’s cheeks flushed when she looked up and met his gaze. Their conversation had been well but everything that had been said when Nesta showed up took it down a different path. A path she wasn’t sure she was ready for. Though she would like to kiss him. Maybe more. Maybe.

“Maybe I should just leave...enough embarrassment for one night.” she muttered, giving him a small smile.

“Why the rush? I never said I wouldn’t be able to help you.” he said quietly, the corner of his lips turned up.

She blinked at him.

“Huh?”

“I may not be a male prostitute but I can promise to show you around the world.” he said in that same quiet tone.

“That’s a big promise.” she said quietly, though heat had already pooled low in her stomach. She was so attracted to him.

“One I intend to spend all night fulfilling.” Lucien replied, a finger tracing the top of his glass, his eyes never wavering from her flushed face. “If you’ll let me.”

So Elain found herself once again, weighing her options for the night. She could spend the night with this fine specimen, getting what could potentially be a fuck of a lifetime or she could go home and well...her vibrator was her other option.

The decision was once again, too easy.

Elain leaned forward and fisted both hands in the front of his dress shirt, pulling him half off his bar stool against her and crashing her lips into his. Lucien immediately responded, a hand cupping her face and the other on her neck, guiding her to lean further into him. The kiss was heated, the tension that had been between them only increasing as Lucien nipped at her bottom lip and if the way his tongue was working with hers gave any indication of what he could do with it in other places, Elain was in for a ride.

He pulled away from her after a moment and Elain stared at him breathless.

“We’re going to need to book that room.” he said quietly.

“Yes. Yes, we will.” she replied and he grinned.

“Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.” he said, leaning in to kiss her once more but pausing inches away from her lips with a worried expression. “Or I mean, if you do want to go that’s fine —I just —before I book the room —”

Elain tugged him closer, shutting him up and getting the kiss he had denied her, before gently letting him go. “Let’s go book that room.”

#elucien #elucien fanfics #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #acotar fanfiction #originally posted in 2018 #gfics #fic: around the world #can you tell I like writing elucien in bars?#they have meet cute in bars written all over them

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c-e-d-dreamer · 2 years

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And They Were Roommates, OMG, They Were Roommates: Part Nine

A/N: I know I just posted a drabble, but y’all didn’t think I forgot about my regular posting schedule, did you? ;) I hope everyone enjoys! This chapter features the ending everyone has been waiting for.

Chapter Masterlist // Previous Part // Next Part

They don’t talk about the kiss.

Or more like Nesta doesn’t talk about the kiss. Not even a mention of it. She goes about her days like it never even happened, like nothing has changed between them and everything is normal. Cassian might be going a bit insane from it all. Because if there’s one thing that Cassian can’t stop thinking about, it’s kissing Nesta.

It feels like every minute of every day, kissing Nesta is quite literally all that he can think about. When he’s making breakfast, he’s remembering how soft and warm Nesta’s skin was beneath his palms as he cradled her face. While he’s sitting at work, he’s thinking about how Nesta’s eyes had looked so blue so close, how they’d fluttered closed when he closed the breadth of space between them. He goes for a jog or to the gym, and his mind replays the way Nesta’s lips felt pressed so sweetly against his. And late at night, when he’s lying alone in bed, all he can focus on is how Nesta had tasted.

“Cassian.”

Cassian blinks back to reality with a start, and he winces when he realizes the french toast he’s cooking is definitely more charred than he’d prefer. With a soft sigh, he scoops the toast up and tosses it in the trash, deciding to start fresh with a new slice.

“Are you alright?” Nesta asks from where she’s sitting on one of the barstools at the kitchen island.

“Yeah,” Cassian dismisses with a shrug. “Just tired.”

Nesta doesn't bring up their kiss, so Cassian doesn't dare to either. He's terrified once he starts, he won't be able to stop, that the dam around his heart will give way and all of his feelings will spill forward in a tidal wave. He doesn't want to break this peace between him and Nesta, doesn't want to ruin what they do have. He values Nesta, values having her in his life, having her as a friend. Even if it’s always just as a friend.

“Are you going to be alright to drive?” Nesta continues, picking up her fork and digging in once Cassian sets a plate in front of her.

“All I need is a cup of coffee, and I’ll be fine.”

Nesta narrows her eyes at him, her lips pursing slightly, and Cassian knows that she doesn’t believe him for a moment. They know how to read each other too well. But he plasters on his best, easy smile anyways, pointedly raising his coffee mug to his mouth and taking a sip. He can’t decide if he wants her to ask or not, wants her to dig and pry until everything including his bloodied and bruised heart is splayed out on the kitchen counter, all hers for the taking.

Instead, with a shrug of her own, Nesta goes back to her breakfast, and that’s the end of that.

Once they’re both finished, Cassian and Nesta retreat back to their rooms to change. Cassian pulls open a drawer and grabs the first pair of swim trunks on top before an idea comes to him, taking grip in his mind until he can’t shake it. He knows it’s probably a bit petty of him, but he digs around until his fingers close around the red fabric that he’s looking for.

He makes quick work of changing into the swim trunks and tugging his hair back into a bun away from his face. He grabs a cotton button down to toss on as well, opting to keep it undone and show off his chest to complete the look. He steps over to the mirror, taking in the red fabric sitting low on his hips, the hemline hitting high on his thighs, the way his tattoos look where his shirt is open. One last smirk, and Cassian grabs his sunglasses and shoes, heading back out of his room.

Nesta’s still in her room, so Cassian gets to work packing up a cooler, adding some waters and the beers he had bought earlier in the week. He’s just finishing up when he hears Nesta’s door open, and Cassian turns just in time to see Nesta stepping out, still tugging on a cover-up dress over her own swimsuit. Cassian has to send a silent prayer up to the Mother that they’re still at home because there’s no hiding his expression and he knows his family would never let him hear the end of it.

He’s not sure anyone can really blame him, though. How can anyone expect his mouth not to dry up, for all thoughts not to eddy out of his mind seeing Nesta in a bikini. As if the miles of skin on display aren’t enough, the swimsuit is a bright red, practically a match for his own. He knows it’s unintentional, that it doesn’t mean anything, but that doesn’t stop something deep in his chest purring at the fact nonetheless.

“Do you have a towel?” Nesta asks, seemingly oblivious to the fact Cassian has stopped breathing. “You can throw it in my bag.”

Nesta finally looks up properly then, her eyes sweeping over Cassian. His skin prickles and flushes with the caress of her gaze, and Cassian clears his throat, quickly moving away. He grabs his towel and rolls it up, holding it out for Nesta to take, but she just stands there, her beach tote half opened against her shoulder. Staring at him. Blinking at him and his outstretched hand. Cassian is about to ask Nesta if she’s alright, but wherever her mind had gone, she jolts back to the present and snatches the towel, stuffing it into her bag and turning away from him.

“I have my book and sunscreen as well,” Nesta continues, already heading for the front door. “Do we need anything else?”

Cassian blinks a few times at the sudden change, but he hauls the cooler up and into his arms, following behind her. “Elain and Mor were in charge of snacks, so we should be all set.”

Nodding, Nesta yanks open the door, and they head down to Cassian’s truck. He loads the cooler into the back bed while Nesta hops into the passenger seat before sliding into the driver’s seat and turning the ignition. The drive to the shore is a bit long but straightforward once Cassian turns onto the highway. Nesta spends the first part of the drive furiously texting away on her phone, and when Cassian chances a glance toward her, she has her bottom lip tucked between her teeth and Cassian swears there’s a hint of a blush coloring her cheeks. He considers asking, but he knows Nesta will tell him if she wants, when she’s ready, so instead he leans forward and turns on the radio.

A sigh to his right has Cassian glancing over again, and this time, Nesta has put away her phone, her head resting on her hand as she stares out the window. Cassian can’t quite see her face, but it’s clear whatever is on her mind is still eating at her, and his hands flex on the steering wheel as he tries to bite his own tongue.

“Nes?” Cassian finally voices, unable to hold back anymore. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Nesta dismisses, sitting up straighter in her seat. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Just know that you can always talk to me. If you want.”

“I know.”

Silence settles between them again, but Nesta leans forward in her seat, turning the radio station until she’s satisfied. It takes a few moments, but Cassian recognizes the chords, the voice pouring from the speakers. He lets out a groan.

“Seriously?” Cassian asks in a deadpan voice. “This is the song you’re going with?”

“Need I remind you that you like Taylor Swift?”

“Exactly, let’s find that.”

Cassian reaches forward to change the station, but Nesta’s hand snaps out too, fingers curling around his palm and trying to hold him back. He uses his strength to pull his hand free, but Nesta just latches both hands around his wrist instead, nails digging in slightly in her effort to stop him. It takes some wiggling and Cassian practically dragging Nesta with him, but his fingers close around the radio knob.

It doesn’t take long to find a station playing Taylor Swift, and for extra good measure, Cassian turns up the volume too. Nesta groans as she releases her hold and settles back into her seat, but Cassian just rolls down the windows. He shouts along to the lyrics until Nesta’s laugh becomes the real summer breeze floating through the cab of the truck, settling a warmth between Cassian’s ribs and releasing all his tensions and worries.

The parking when they arrive at the beach is a bit slim, but luckily, there’s still a couple spots available. Cassian is about to pull into the first one he sees, but Nesta calls out for him to stop, instructing him to park at a spot further down. Cassian is confused by the change until a man steps out of the car next to them and he catches sight of red hair.

Thankfully, Nesta’s attention is on hopping out of his truck, so she doesn’t see the way Cassian rolls his eyes. He takes a moment to breathe and reign back in his own emotions, reminding himself once again that Nesta is happy, that all that matters is that Nesta is happy. With that, Cassian slips out of his truck, walking around to the truck bed and pulling down the cooler and the two chairs he’d stored back there.

“Nes,” Cassian calls out, holding out one of the chairs for her to take.

Nesta steps over to take the chair, but Eris trails just behind her, and he watches Cassian with slightly narrowed eyes. Cassian wants to snap at him, wants to ask what he’s staring at, maybe even make a snarky remark about the man’s designer swim trunks, but he knows Nesta wouldn’t appreciate it, so he focuses on shouldering his own chair and balancing the cooler in his hands.

“You know she hates when people call her that, right?” Eris finally speaks, his tone dripping with that quiet condescension that Cassian knows is all too familiar from people like him. “It’s just Nesta.”

Cassian can’t help but snort at that, as if Nesta hadn’t given up the fight against his nicknames for her years ago. A crueler, hidden part of him practically preens at Eris’ comment, though. At the knowledge that Nesta told her boyfriend not to call her that, that the nickname is for Cassian only, some secret held just between them.

“He doesn’t care,” Nesta explains with a dismissive wave of her hand.

Eris still looks unimpressed, his gaze almost dubious as his eyes dart back and forth between Cassian and Nesta, but he doesn’t say anything more. The three of them make their way down to the beach, finding where their family and friends have already arrived and set up a makeshift homebase in the sand.

Cassian sets the cooler down under the umbrella and sets up his chair, relaxing back into it. It’s certainly a gorgeous, end of summer day, the sky blue and clear and the afternoon sun bouncing off the water. Even over the crashing of the waves, Cassian hears Nesta’s laugh, and when he turns to look, he finds Nesta sat in the sand in front of Eris, the redhead rubbing sunscreen into her shoulders and back.

Cassian’s jaw clenches at the sight, at the way Nesta smiles over her shoulder at her boyfriend. His grip tightens on the arm rests of his chair, and he spins back around, staring resolutely at the sand between his toes. There’s a soft sigh to his right, and Cassian glances over just in time to watch Azriel take a seat beside. The look his brother settles him with is full of quiet sympathy, and it prickles at Cassian’s chest.

“Don’t,” Cassian mutters, taking the beer that Azriel holds out for him.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Azriel assures him, raising his own beer to his lips and taking a sip. “Except perhaps to comment on your swim trunks. Couldn’t find anything shorter?”

“This is what the ladies like, Az.”

“Some of us don’t have to resort to showing so much leg.”

“Yeah, because he already has a girlfriend,” Mor pipes up, settling in the sand on Cassian’s other side.

“You still can’t prove that,” Azriel dismisses, but Cassian swears he sees a smirk before his brother hides behind another sip of his beer.

“I will figure out who the mysterious redhead is,” Mor assures him, pointing an accusing finger.

“Maybe I was getting brunch with Lucien.”

At the sound of his name, the man in question raises his head from where he was lounging on a towel, but before he can answer, Elain is giggling and agreeing, “Lucien is a hot commodity.”

Elain and Lucien go back to their sunbathing after that, Mor and Azriel continuing their bickering even as they go to challenge Rhys and Feyre in a game of paddleball. For once, Cassian is left feeling alone sitting there. He chances another glance over his shoulder, but Nesta and Eris are deep in some, quiet conversation. With a soft sigh, Cassian decides to go join the paddleball game, deciding he can heckle his brothers and root for Mor and Feyre.

When the five of them return, ready to dig into the snacks and drinks after a very competitive match, Nesta has moved to spread her towel out beside Cassian’s chair. She’s sprawled out on her stomach, her book held delicately between her hands, and Cassian tries to subtly trace the lines of her curves and limbs as he settles in his seat. Worrying about being caught slips from Cassian’s mind, though, when he takes in the slight pink tinge to Nesta’s skin.

“Nes,” Cassian starts to get her attention.

Nesta hums in reply to let him know she heard, but she doesn’t turn toward him, doesn’t tear her eyes away from the words she’s currently devouring.

“Your shoulders are starting to burn,” Cassian points out. “You need to reapply your sunscreen.”

“I will,” Nesta assures him dismissively, but Cassian knows better.

He knows that trying to tear Nesta away from her book is like pulling nails from wood. Crooked nails from wood. He knows that one more page always becomes just the end of the chapter which becomes five more chapters. How many times has he seen her bedroom light still on well into the middle of the night? With a shake of his head, Cassian reaches into the little tote Nesta had packed and brought. He finds the bottle of sunscreen and pulls it out, squirting some into his palm before kneeling beside Nesta’s towel. She turns to scowl at him over her shoulder as soon as his hands brush her skin, but Cassian is unperturbed.

“You’ll thank me later, sweetheart,” Cassian reminds her with a wink before turning a grin toward Eris, the redhead watching them curiously, putting on his best teasing tone as he explains, “it’s impossible for her to put down a book, am I right?”

“It’s just getting to the good part,” Nesta defends with a huff.

“Oh, what? Are the characters about to fuck?” Cassian shoots back.

“Why? Looking for some tips?”

“Maybe I should read it aloud, so we can all enjoy it.”

Cassian reaches forward, but his fingers have just barely brushed against the smooth cover of Nesta’s book before she’s twisting out of his reach. Cassian settles a hand on the small of Nesta’s back, so he can hold her still and lean in to try again, but Nesta keeps a tight grip on the spine of her book, narrowing her eyes in a withering glare. As if that’s ever worked with him. Instead, Cassian meets her gaze and offers her an easy grin, raising an eyebrow in a clear challenge. It’s a staring match he’s determined to win.

“Anyone want to go for a swim?” Feyre’s voice cuts in, drawing Cassian’s attention.

It’s then that Cassian notices everyone is staring at him and Nesta. There’s certainly an array of expressions, Azriel and Rhys looking like they’re barely holding back laughter, Mor shocked, Lucien looking confused, and Feyre eyes wide with almost panic. Cassian doesn’t even dare look over toward Eris, swears he can feel the man’s gaze burning straight into his shoulder blades.

There’s various agreements in response to Feyre’s question, thankfully breaking the awkward bubble seconds away from exploding. Cassian retreats back to his chair, even as most of his family and friends stand up around him, and focuses on rooting around in the cooler for a fresh beer. Anything to keep his hands busy, to give him a distraction.

“Nesta? Are you coming?”

Cassian does raise his gaze again at the voice, watching as Eris stands in front of Nesta’s towel, hand outstretched toward her. Nesta eyes the hand in front of her for only a moment before resituating the way she’s lying and opening her book.

“In a bit,” Nesta dismisses, dropping her eyes to the pages. “I want to finish this chapter first.”

With her attention downcast, Nesta doesn’t see the way Eris’ hand drops back to his side, the way his mouth pinches infinitesimally in disappointment. But Cassian catches it all, made even worse when Eris’ eyes cut to him. Cassian glances away quickly, taking a long sip of his drink and squinting up at the sun.

“Come on, Eris!” Elain’s voice cuts through, sprawled across Lucien’s back as he carries her piggyback style across the sand.

One last look toward Nesta, and Eris turns to follow his brother and Elain down to the water, leaving just Cassian and Nesta still up at their homebase of towels and chairs. That prideful beast once again preens and purrs deep in Cassian’s gut, but there’s also the undeniable prickle of guilt, incessantly digging its claws in until Cassian has to swallow hard around a sip of his beer.

With a soft sigh, he turns toward Nesta. “You don’t want to join your boyfriend frolicking in the waves? It could be just like one of your romance novels.”

“You’re the worst,” Nesta tells him, and though she doesn’t look up from her book, Cassian can hear the eyeroll in her tone.

“I believe the word you’re actually looking for is best.”

“No, I’m quite certain it’s worst.”

“Guess I better live up to the description then.”

That draws Nesta’s attention, her head snapping toward him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Rather than answer, Cassian throws back the rest of his beer, tossing the can into the growing pile of trash. He stands up and dusts the sand off his swim trunks, stepping over to loom over Nesta. He can see the exact moment she realizes what he intends, her eyes widening, lips parting on the start of a protest, but Cassian doesn’t give her the chance. He reaches down, quickly setting Nesta’s book aside before grabbing her around the waist and tossing her over his shoulder.

“Cassian, what the fuck?” Nesta screeches, beating her fists against his back while he walks them down to the water. “Put me down!”

“As you wish,” Cassian drawls, dropping Nesta down right into the waves.

The glares Nesta sends him is deadly, but it loses some of its edge with the way salt water drips off her hair and down her shoulders. More like an angry, wet kitten. The thought has Cassian laughing, which only seems to infuriate Nesta more. He knows he’s seconds away from a proper scolding, so Cassian scans the water until he finds Eris’ gaze, offering the man a mock salute before running deeper into the waves and tackling Azriel.

Everyone is sufficiently sunkissed, but happy by the time they’re pulling back on clothes and packing everything up. Cassian has pulled his shit back on over his shoulders and is scrubbing his towel through his hair when Mor sidles up beside him, the blonde linking arms with him and Azriel.

“Did you hear they opened up a new bar down the road?” Mor asks excitedly. “We should go.”

“I’m driving,” Cassian reminds her, tugging his arm free so he can fold up his chair.

“I’m not,” Mor argues. “I’ll drink enough for the both of us, and you can stick to water.”

“It’s whatever Nesta decides she wants us to do.”

“Oh, I’m getting a ride back with Eris,” Nesta pipes up.

It takes everything in Cassian to keep his face neutral, to turn back to Mor with a smile like he isn’t affected at all. “I guess I’m in then.”

~ * * * ~

Cassian feels exhausted by the time he’s stepping out of the elevators back at the Davenport. Between spending a day on the beach and the craziness of the bar afterwards, his limbs feel like they’re made of lead and every step is heavy. At least it means he’ll be able to shower, face plant into his bed, and not have to deal with his swirling and spiraling thoughts, the all encompassing tiredness promising to pull him under quickly.

He won’t have to think about Nesta in that tiny, red bathing suit. He won’t have to think about the way her eyes matched the waves that crashed against the shore. He won’t have to think about the way the sun had glinted off her hair until it was a halo of gold. He won’t have to think about the way her body had felt against his when he’s hauled her over his shoulder or how she’d laughed with him on the car ride down. He won’t have to think about that damned kiss, and he definitely won’t have to think about the fact Nesta went home with Eris.

Cassian yanks open the door to the apartment harder than he intends, but he can’t find it in himself to care, his mood already souring. He kicks off his shoes and sets his keys down, letting the cooler drop to the floor and deciding he’ll deal with it tomorrow. He’s about to walk to the bathroom to shower when he realizes the lights are on in the living room.

Nesta is perched on the sectional sofa, her hair still damp from her own shower but braided softly away from her face. She has on another oversized tee, legs curled up beneath the hem, and there’s a pint of ice cream balanced in her lap, a spoon poised between her fingers.

“What are you doing home?” Cassian asks cautiously, stepping closer. “I thought you were spending the night at Eris’ place.”

Somehow, it’s the wrong thing to say if the way Nesta’s expression shutters is anything to go by. She bites down on her bottom lip, her eyes dropping down to her ice cream. The reaction has lightning firing through Cassian’s blood, a whisper of anticipation skating down his spine and thrumming under his skin. The silence that hangs in the air between them feels charged and electric, and he doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until Nesta speaks again.

“Eris and I broke up.”

—

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#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #nesta x cassian #omg roommates #my fic

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