#acotar au fic

[darling-im-the-queen-of-hell]

Ok guys so I’m having a hard time finding a fic I was reading on here recently. I know it’s called “The Viscount Who Loved Me” but I can’t remember who it’s by. It’s an ACOTAR AU fic if that helps. If anyone knows of it could you reply with the link or something? I got about halfway through it and it was sooo good which of course makes me want to finish it lol. Thanks babes for ur help :D

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Practice On Me — Bonus Part — Fin x Reader.

Summary: A reimagining of how things would have gone if Reader had decided she wanted Fin — despite him being her friend’s father.

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: Heavy on the smut. 18+, minors dni. Some jealous and possessiveness. Mentions of forbidden relationships/affairs. If the choices Reader makes in this are something you’re against, I urge you not to read! 🫶🏻

Rita’s is like no other place you’ve been — or seen — before.

Is this what you’ve missed out on, trapped within the frozen maw of Windhaven? There is no place like this there, of such vibrancy and euphoria. The music, the coloured faelights, the energy — it all makes you feel…on top of the world.

Like there’s life outside the misery you’ve known.

Mor knocks a shot back, grimacing as she slams the empty glass onto the bar. A sudden burst of giggles leaves her as she says, “My father would have my head if he could see me right now. Literally.”

You don’t doubt that for a second, because Mor looks resplendent, not just in her natural beauty, but her joy. She has danced and drank and kissed and danced some more. And seeing her like this…it makes you glad that she convinced you to come out with her tonight.

“My father would have my head, too,” you tell her over the music. “I’m surprised he hasn’t already.”

At that, she rolls her eyes, and she reaches for two more shots. “Here’s to saying fuck the males,” she knocks her glass against yours. “May they all perish.”

You’ll happily drink to that. With the alcohol that has you in its grip, you’re buzzed on thoughts of storming back to Windhaven and confronting all your demons. Confronting anyone and everyone who has ever hurt you and made you feel less than you are. Your father. Lord Devlon. Azriel—

You banish that thought as the liquid slides down your throat with a satisfying burn. You are in Velaris, not Windhaven. A new place with new people, where anything feels possible. The thought is heady and dizzying.

Someone calls Mor’s name, and she glances over her shoulder, her beautiful eyes lighting up again. You truly don’t know how often she’s able to escape the Hewn City and get away to Velaris, but judging by the amount of friends she’s introduced you to tonight, she’s certainly made her mark here.

“Let’s go dance with them!” Mor yells over the music, grabbing your hand.

You think that dancing might be the answer to everything you’ve never known, and so you gladly follow; gladly throw yourself into the thrall of the busy floor.

But that’s when you see him.

Something…some deep power…compels you to look up. Coaxes your eyes to that area a level above, where the city’s VIP guests spend copious amounts of money on copious amounts of alcohol and drink it from their cushy velvet booths. They’re reserved for associates of the High Lord, a not-so-formal place to meet to discuss not-so-casual things.

But none of that matters. There could be an entire circus up there right now, and still all you would notice is — him.

He notices you, too.

The High Lord’s eyes zero in on you from up above. You watch, rooted to the spot, as he takes in the sight of you, from your braided back hair, to your painted face, your dress and the legs exposed by them. He looks like…like he’s finally setting his sights upon an image that was merely fantasy up until now.

He braces his arms on the balustrade. And he just stares.

You want to know what he’s doing here. Whether he’s at Rita’s for business or…or for pleasure. You’ve heard that there are rooms upstairs for people willing to pay the price. Perhaps there’s a lover up there with him somewhere, waiting to explore every last inch of that glorious, sculpted body—

The bleating jealousy that makes your heart twist is…unexpected. And not ideal; not one bit.

He is Rhysand’s father. Things may have been fucked up royally with Azriel, and you may have been burned by the experience — but Fin is Rhysand’s father.

Your friend’s father.

Your friend’s father who has just so happened to help keep you feeling alive these past weeks. With his layers-deep allure, the sweet, sweet words that roll off his tongue. His hospitality, his generosity. His kindness. All of it, you’d attributed to him being a natural charmer, a High Lord who knows precisely what to say, what to do.

It strikes you in that moment — just how much it’s all sunk its way into your bones and made you feel…dangerous.

He watches you like a cat with a mouse. Watches as somebody grabs your hand and yanks you into the tightly knit dancing bodies. The music pulses through you from head to toe, a frenzied tune of strings and keys that somehow come together to create the feeling of being borne aloft. Being on top of the world.

As you become lost to the sensation of dance, you’re glad to forget all your thoughts about Fin. You don’t want to wonder what he’s doing here. You don’t want to imagine what those strong, rough hands might get up to, where they might venture.

You become sandwiched between two males who dance with you in a way that makes you forget your wings were ever stolen. They touch you and touch each other, and you welcome it all, happy to be someone, somewhere, else. At least for a while.

But there’s suddenly a foreign touch to your shoulder. That of a cold, meaty hand that stills your movements and draws your attention. The two males happily slink away and begin grinding on each other, and you spin on the spot to find a tall, stocky male who looks like he punches people in the face for the hell of it.

“Y/N?” He checks, and you nod. “The High Lord wishes to speak with you. Upstairs.”

You glance over your shoulder, eyes searching for Mor and finding her just as she’s following a male and female to a cloaked-off area at the back. That’ll be her occupied for the remainder of the night. You’re officially going solo.

But not for long. Not as the bouncer juts his chin in the direction of the staircase and begins to lead you there. Perhaps it makes you a fool, but you follow without a word.

He pulls back a rope and gestures for you to go on up, and then he’s refastening it behind you and turning back to train a keen eye on the dance floor. It’s purely the alcohol that hits you with enough of an ego to climb those stairs like you belong amongst the chandeliers and velvet booths.

But you look good — amazing, even. You know you do. And looking like this, things like scars and other insecurities seem so trivial. You’ve taken back the right to feel as beautiful as you are. You wear your Illyrian features proudly, and you’re pretty and lithe and graceful—

And your heel catches on the top step of the staircase, almost sending you sprawling to the floor — if not for the warm hand that catches your elbow.

“Easy.” Fin rasps into your ear, setting you steady on your feet.

Your numbed, inebriated senses are not immune to the effect of his voice, it would seem. The deep baritone, rough as jagged rock, pushes its way into your skin, your veins, and spreads far faster than any alcohol could.

“Pardon me, my Lord,” you answer, and you’re unable to shove down the hysterical giggle that claws up your throat. “Fuck, you’re the High Lord.”

He cocks a dark eyebrow. “And you are drunk.”

“The whiskey they serve here is immense.”

“I’ll be sure to extend your compliments to Rita herself.”

Is that, you wonder, who he’s up here meeting? Perhaps the elusive Rita is a close associate of his. Perhaps they do deals in both business and pleasure.

And taking in your fill of the High Lord right now, in a dark button-up shirt and fitted breeches of a slate grey, you would not blame Rita one little bit.

Gods, he’s exquisite. Rhysand may resemble Roza more than he does Fin, but…with two parents of such stunning beauty, it’s no wonder your friend is as handsome as he is.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” you make no secret of the way your eyes linger on him. Tonight is dangerous, and you’re enjoying it.

“Nor I, you,” he narrows his gaze down at you. “Imagine my surprise, considering that when I left the palace earlier this evening, you were curled up in the library with a book. And yet, here you are. Wearing…” mahogany eyes take in the short cut of your dress, “…that.”

“Mor surprised me with a visit.”

“My niece ought to be more careful not to press her father’s buttons too much,” a muscle in his chiselled jaw ticks. “And I think you ought to be more careful not to push mine.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.” Bold. So foolishly bold of you. You’ll regret it once sober, you’re sure. “Was there a particular reason you summoned me up here, my Lord? I was rather enjoying dancing.”

“I noticed. And I’m taking you home.”

“What—”

Before you can even finish the word, Fin’s gripping your elbow again, and darkness sweeps you away.

Being winnowed while drunk is not a fun experience.

You feel the cosmic, air-light step from one place to another. Your stomach lurches, your head spinning. You can barely get a hold of yourself as you cling to Fin and prepare your feet to touch solid ground.

And then the darkness is gone, and you’re back in the toasty, warm glow of the palace’s library. Your knees buckle, trying to drag you to the floor, but Fin keeps you upright.

“What the…” you gawp up at him. “Why did you bring me home?”

He ensures you’re able to stand on your feet before pushing away from you. Doesn’t even look at you as he commands, “Get to bed.”

“I was enjoying myself.”

“Just as those males were enjoying you, too. You’re drunk and you need to sleep it off. Get to bed.”

He strides towards the door, his knuckles white from how hard he grips the hilt of the sword sheathed at his side. But sword or no, you refuse to give up so easily.

“No,” you say simply. “I will not.”

Fin stops. Goes still. And then he turns back to you.

His temper is clear on his face, but he doesn’t storm back over like you’re half expecting him to. Instead, his eyes shutter, and he seems to take a deep, soothing breath. When he’s looking at you once more, he flicks his wrist in your direction.

And immediately, gone is the haze of the alcohol.

Immediately, you’re completely lucid, completely steady on your feet. Not a lick of inebriation remains, as if you had, indeed, slept it off.

“Did you just sober me up?” you’re outraged by the mere idea.

“Yes.” Fin admits shamelessly. “Now you won’t fall victim to a hangover in the morning — a favour from me, to you, and I ask you in return to get to bed. And don’t even think about trying to venture back out. I’ll know.”

Your blood boils. And the anger isn’t simply because of your ruined fun, but because…because it stings, the way Fin is treating you with such contempt. Scolding you like you’re little more than a petulant child. He’s been nothing but wonderful since you came to Velaris, and yet now, he speaks to you like…like most of the males back in Windhaven do.

It makes you see red.

“What right have you to dictate how I spend my evening?” you snap. “I was under the impression that my free time is my own, and if I wish to go and get drunk and dance like a fool, that is up to me.”

Cold, beautiful anger hardens Fin’s face. He stalks closer, squeezing the hilt of that sword so, so tightly. “What right have I? This is my home. My city. My court. I am your High Lord, and you choose to behave in such a way when I’ve opened my home to you and offered you refuge? When I’ve given you a place to run to and left my resources at your disposal?”

You rock back on the heels of your feet, staring at him. Every word lands a hit — as good as if he’d nocked them in a bow and fired them right at your heart. It stings. Gods, it stings. You want the careless oblivion of the alcohol back.

Because you grapple daily with the pain, the anxiety, of feeling unwanted. And you…you had begun to think that Fin actually cared for you. Actually enjoyed your company as much as you enjoyed his.

You’d begun to care about his thoughts and feelings where you were concerned. And begun to believe that it wasn’t just the hospitality and courtesy that he would dole out to any runt on the street.

His eyes seem to track the way your expression changes, your shoulders slump. You swallow. The anger is replaced, simply, by hurt.

“If I am a burden, my Lord, I apologise,” you rasp. “I don’t intend to be one. I appreciate your generosity, and I…I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused.”

You hope you can keep your tears at bay long enough to escape to your room. You’re pelted with shame, embarrassment, hurt. You step forward and hurry past the High Lord, desperate to book it out of there, to get to bed.

But his hand encloses around your wrist, tugging you to a stop. And he says, quietly, “wait.”

That hand on your wrist holds the weight of a thousand unspoken words.

You pin your gaze to the ground, unable to look at Fin. You hear him swallow.

“That isn’t—” his voice is gravelly. “I didn’t mean that.”

You don’t think you can speak. You remain a statue beneath his touch.

But so gently — such a contrast to the whirlwind of his actions before — he’s walking you backwards. Slow and careful. You feel your back hit the wall, and he lets go of your wrist and seems to curl his fists at his sides. There’s a desperation to the action that only then coaxes you to look up at him.

His expression is…pleading. For what, you’re not sure.

“You are the furthest thing from a burden,” he says, quietly, on an exhale. “Your presence here is very much welcomed, I assure you.”

You don’t dare breathe a word. Every last bit of your very sober courage is being thrown into maintaining eye contact. There’s none to spare for speaking.

But your lack of response seems to trouble Fin. His eyes rake over your face, searching for something. He swallows again.

And then his eyes shutter, and he whispers, “Mother above, what are you doing to me?”

You don’t know how to answer him — whether he’s even talking to you at all. He takes in a very slow, very deep breath, as though it’s the only thing that’s stopping him from…doing something. What, you’re not sure.

But you can feel it, sense it — the ferocity with which he’s swallowing down words and holding himself back. Like he wants so badly to say something, but can’t.

His eyes open, clearer than they were seconds before, and he says in a far gentler tone, “Get to bed, Y/N,” he inclines his head. “Sleep well.”

With tense, squared shoulders, he turns — and it’s you, this time, that stops him. You halt him with a hand on his arm, and you could swear you feel the muscles flex under his touch.

“Wait,” you say, not ready to let him go, not prepared to leave things between you like this. “Stay and talk with me for a while.”

His jaw clenches like he’s gritting his teeth. “That isn’t a good idea.”

“Why? We talk all the time, you and I. And there are clearly things you’re holding back from saying—”

Your words are cut short as he suddenly meets your gaze with the intensity of a blazing fire. You think it might burn you. You hope it will.

“It’s a bad idea,” he grounds out, gutturally, “not because of what I want to say. But because of what I want to do.”

“What—”

“You are my son’s close friend. You are Roza’s guest,” he tugs his arm out from under your hand. “You are far younger than I am. I am trying my hardest — I have been trying my hardest — to be a good male. And right now, a good male would take his leave and go to bed, so I bid you goodnight, Y/N.”

“Fin—”

“I hope you sleep well.”

“Fin,” you grab for him again. “What if I don’t want you to be a good male?”

Beneath your touch, he stops. Goes preternaturally still.

Words punch out of you with terrifying gall — and truth. “What if I want you to do those things—”

Quick as a flash, he’s pivoting, and he has the upper hand. Has you pressed so tightly up against the wall, his body boxing you in.

And gods, the feel of it might set you on fire. A brush of your hands, a kiss on the backs of your fingers — they’re nothing compared to the weight and press of his muscles against your body. You want your clothes to melt away, and his, too. You want your hands on his bare, hot skin.

“I don’t think you realise what you’re saying,” he growls.

“I do,” you breathe. “I am completely sober. Completely clear of mind. And I am telling you, Fin, I want you—”

A strangled noise is the only warning you get before the High Lord’s mouth is on yours.

The kiss is pure power. It passes from him, into you, roils through your veins and makes you feel like somebody remarkable. It’s the cloak of darkness and the kiss of sin. Of somebody capable of very, very bad things.

And it’s immediately addicting. You’re not sure you’ll ever be able to get enough.

You claw at his shirt, tugging him closer, closer, and his broad hands cup your face as his mouth devours yours.

This kiss…it’s been building. The need for it has been working its way beneath your skin for a while. All the heated glances, the late-night conversations. All the thoughts, in the dead of night, of what Fin might be doing in his own bed. Wondering whether he was thinking of you.

It’s so, so forbidden. So wrong. But it feels so godsdamn right.

And the way Fin’s tongue slides between your lips and strokes into your mouth — it tells you that he feels it, too.

Your hands glide from his waist, round to his back, and you yank him harder against you. So desperate are you to feel him. Feel what you think you do to him.

He makes another low noise. And then he’s tearing his mouth from yours. But he lingers close, your foreheads touching.

“Better than I’ve been imagining,” he pants, his hands still clutching your face. “Much better.”

“You’ve imagined kissing me?” You know he has.

“I have imagined,” his thumbs sweep your cheeks, “doing all sorts of things with you, Y/N. Things that would make even the most salacious of a person blush.”

Such a relief — to know that it’s not all just some wild fantasy you’ve cooked up in your mind. That you’re not just some wayward, longing young female who craves the affections of an older male to patch her deep wounds.

No, it’s not that. It’s desire. It’s need. And it burns inside your veins until you think you might erupt into flames.

“I’ve imagined them, too,” you say, without a lick of shame.

Once again, his eyes are shuttering. Once again, he takes that slow, steadying breath. And as you watch him do so, you can’t bear the thought of him still grappling with right and wrong. You can’t bear the thought of him squaring his shoulders and walking out of here, leaving your lips bruised, your body aching, your heart hurting. You can’t bear it—

“I want you to do those things,” you lift your chin, gaze unflinching. “I want you to touch me.”

Fin’s eyes reopen.

He stares at you.

His throat bobs.

You have never seen somebody look so wild, so ravenous. There is heat everywhere, in his stare and in his taut body. His eyes flick down to your lips.

That mere glance at them is the deciding factor, it would seem.

He growls, the sound not at all one you’ve ever heard from a person, and he yanks you up into his arms and kisses you again.

So naturally, your arms twine around his neck, your legs locking around his waist. You can feel the strength of him against you, in the way he holds you. You can taste his crackling power.

He doesn’t falter in the kiss nor his steps as he carries you away from the wall, and you’re suddenly being placed down on the library’s desk, sending books and parchment and pens and ink pots flying. They all clatter loudly to the floor, and neither of you care.

But Fin does pull away to look at you, and there’s wicked, boyish charm in his eyes as the corners of his mouth twitch up. He merely says, “Oops.”

You surge up and kiss him again.

He sighs into it, like your mouth is the answer to all his questions. And when heated hands land on your thighs, you part them, allow him to slot his body in between. The mere feel of it has you pushing up against him, finding him hard—

But again, he pulls away. He scans your face and rasps, “Tell me you’re sure.”

You do not balk from his intensity. From the fact that this is the fucking High Lord of your court, who was changing this world and building a reputation long before you were a mere thought in your parents’ minds. You do not balk from the fact that there are a million different reasons that this is wrong.

You think only about the fact that it feels right.

And that translates into your voice as you say, firmly, “I’m sure.”

You think you see the words course through his body. They change something — forever.

“This isn’t about Roza,” he breathes — breathes heavily, like it’s taking everything to tamp down on the desire to devour you then and there. To say what needs to be said.

You shake your head, “No.”

“Nor is it about Rhysand.”

“No.”

“It’s about me and you.” He destroys what little gap exists between your bodies, his hardness pushing through his breeches, right up against your centre. His hands brace on the desk, either side of you. “And gods, I want you, Y/N. I want you so much, I can scarcely bear it.”

“Have me,” is all you manage — before he strikes.

You think, hope, that his mouth might find yours again — but he’s barely brushing it before his lips settle on your jaw. His hands travel up your legs, fingers biting into the flesh. They find your hips, thumbs delivering explorative sweeps. They tug your dress up as they climb, exposing more of you to the warmth of the room. Exposing more skin that you know he wants to lay claim to.

And when the hem of your dress is ruched around your waist, you smile — at your little wildcard exposed. That he finds no underwear hiding what sits between your legs.

Your choice to forgo a pair seems almost foretelling, now — like some part of you knew the night would end like this, and you wanted to be ready.

Fin’s eyes dip to your slick, exposed cunt. The hunger in them is almost intimidating. You open your legs just a little wider—

But his rough hand is gripping your chin, almost hard enough to hurt. And he snarls deeply, “It drove me to madness — seeing those two males dancing with you. Touching you.”

Pleasure bolts down your spine, and from the way his nostrils flare, you know the scent of your arousal is consuming him.

“Did it?” you stare back at him, welcoming the discomfort of his brutal grip.

“I wanted them dead. I wanted to draw my sword and gut them for even looking your way. For touching what I want to be mine.”

That pleasure again — skittering over your skin. His words do something to you. You bite down on a moan.

“It is yours,” you tilt your chin up to him, smiling when he immediately glances to your lips. “Take it.”

“I warn you,” he lowers his face to yours, “I don’t like to share.”

“And I warn you, High Lord,” you watch as your words land, drawing a deep, raw scent from him. “Neither do I.”

With a growl, he snaps. The kiss he gives you is not slow or sweet. His hand continues to grip your face, and his mouth attacks yours, his tongue sliding between your lips. You can’t help your moan, this time, as his taste overpowers you — a taste that you can only describe as pure thunder.

But it ends too soon, as he begins to leave a trail of heated kisses and bites and sucks along your jaw, down your neck, your collarbones. Your head falls back, and the touches are like little zips of lightning — lightning cleaving through the night sky.

“Pretty dress,” he hums against your skin — and that’s all the warning you get before that dress is ripped apart. Torn to ribbons.

No part of you is left to Fin’s imagination.

He tears his mouth from you and steps back to drink you in.

Instinct roars at you to curl in on yourself and hide. To remember that you are scarred, and flawed, and not to the liking of many — including yourself, a lot of the time.

But something about Fin’s weighty, scorching stare stops you from moving a muscle.

You lift your chin and hide nothing as he takes his fill. His eyes travel a journey from the top of your head and down — down your face, your neck, your breasts. Down your stomach, your waist, your hips. Down to that fine dusting of hair on your pelvis that tracks a thin path to—

Fin drops to his knees with a low noise. His hands wrap around your legs and prise them further apart.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he levels his face with the very centre of you, and your breath hitches in your throat at the sight.

The sight of the High Lord on his knees before you — on his knees for you.

As though he senses the direction of your thoughts, his eyes flick up, and he smiles.

And then he dives in.

His tongue wastes no time in sinking between your folds, licking a broad stripe right up the centre of you. At the first stroke, your head falls back, your arms wobbling where they’re braced on the desk.

“Look at me,” Fin growls. “Only me.”

His voice of pure High Lord power drags your eyes back to him. And thank the fucking Mother it does.

You see everything in the way he feasts on you. His tongue laps at your wetness, and it coats his lips, his chin, coats him in you. The damp heat of his tongue is liquid fire. It promises to scorch you, end you, and rise you anew like a phoenix from the ashes.

Your fingers sink into the strands of Fin’s hair and tug. Judging by the noise he makes, the way his pace picks up, you think he likes it.

He utterly fucking devours you, like he’s fought a centuries-long wait to do so. And whatever magic commands his mouth — you know you cannot possibly last against it.

“Oh, gods,” your moan breaks from you, hips bucking up. You think your voice might be loud, but you don’t care. “Fuck—Fin.”

It all happens at once — his name falling from your lips, the growl rumbling in his throat, the flicking of his tongue against your clit and the finger he plunges into you, curls inside you. Every part of it is lightning strikes to your veins, and you come apart, utterly break.

Your climax slams into you and steals your breath. You’re nothing but a gasping, panting, trembling shell. Your mind is somewhere else entirely.

With your head falling back, eyes pinned to the ceiling, chest heaving, you don’t catch the swiftness with which Fin stands, licking your wetness from his lips. With which his clothes are gone in a blink of an eye.

But then he commands, “Look at me.”

It’s the second time he’s said it. Your head lolls forward once more.

You swallow the breaths you’re still trying to get down. Try to stop your body fucking shaking.

But it’s no wonder it does, as you look at him.

Your High Lord is nothing short of exquisite. He is art. Your fantasies have done him no justice.

That golden skin of his seems to attract the glowing light of the room. It bathes him, but it does not steal the attention. It outlines every fine plane of his body, the sculpted muscles on show, the nicks of injuries that have scarred and silvered over time.

There is not a single part of him that isn’t pure, refined power. And when your gaze drops to below his waist…a shudder wracks through you.

His cock stands hard and leaking at the head. You watch, your mouth watering, as he wraps a hand around its length and gives a long stroke.

“Fin—”

“When you look at me like that,” he prowls closer, “there is no way I can consider this forbidden.”

He’s within reach. Your fingers inch towards him. You want to touch him, taste him—

But he curls a hand around yours and stops you in your tracks.

“Not tonight,” he says. Pure promise is laced within the words. “No playing tonight.”

As if he hadn’t just played with you. You want to protest, to get your fucking mouth around that considerable length, but his hand tightens around yours.

And then he’s flipping you over, so fast that you don’t have time to even register it. You land on your front, your belly and breasts pressed against the desk. Fin lays his palm against your back and drags it slowly down. And in the wake of his touch, he leaves kisses. Kisses to your shoulder, your back. They’re…soft. Tender.

“Have I disappointed you?” he murmurs against your shoulder, folding his body over yours. You don’t think it’s an accident that the head of his cock nudges that sweet area between your legs.

It’s all you can do to breathe, “I wanted to taste you.”

“And you will,” he drops the brush of a kiss to your skin. “But now is not time for that.”

You don’t need him to tell you what now is the time for. Not as his hands find the flesh of your hips, and he yanks you to the very edge of the desk, moving with you. The feel of him so close to where you want him is downright cruel.

“Have you thought about me fucking you?” he asks, those hands travelling to rove your ass.

Your nails bite into the desk as you answer, “Yes.”

“Did I make you scream?”

You bite down on your lip at the feeling of him spreading you apart, opening you up to him. “Yes.”

You feel it — his cock sliding between your folds. Not pushing in, but dragging torturously against your sex. From your entrance, up to your clit. The head of his cock pushes against it.

And the moan that rips from you is downright filth, as he rolls his hips and allows your wetness to slicken his length. It feels so fucking good. To you, and to him.

A breath shudders out of him, and he purrs, “Are you going to scream for me now?”

“Fuck yes,” the words tumble from your lips. “I want you, Fin.”

Just like that, his restraint snaps. The High Lord strikes.

He drags his length through your folds and enters you with a single, powerful thrust.

A shout leaves you, and you’re clawing at the desk, trying to keep your grip against the pleasure that courses through you. Fin fills you and stretches you. He pulls out and slams back in to the hilt.

“Fuck me, you’re tight,” he growls, his hands sinking back into your hips. He begins a steady thrusting, sliding in and out of you with a drag that makes you feel every glorious inch of him. “Gods.”

“So good,” you pant. “Want you harder.”

The plea seems to make him groan, and he wastes no time in picking up the pace. His hands bite into your skin as he fucks you faster, harder, your moans and pleas and curses falling from your lips without any nudging from you. The pleasure is all-consuming. In seconds, it’s buried within your veins.

“You like that?” The grit in his voice has you clenching around him. He’s so fucking filthy, so fucking sultry, as he snarls, “you going to be a good girl and come for me?”

Gods, yes, you are. Already, release is coiling tightly within you, and it’s a force entirely of its own right, inching closer and cresting the hill, ready to sink its claws into you. Fin’s cock hits deep, and out of nowhere, his palm is flying through the air and making contact with your ass cheek. That is all it takes.

The pleasure of it all is too much — the sting of the slap, the depth and thrall of his thrusts, the way he growls and grunts as he lays claim to your body, your pleasure.

You cry out, your orgasm blasting through you with unstoppable force. The long strokes of Fin’s cock fuck you through it, through earth-shattering pleasure, through what feels like a mind-altering experience.

“My filthy girl,” he pulls out of you suddenly, and though your cunt still clenches and twitches, desperate for more, more, more, he flips your trembling body onto its back once more and tugs you up, slipping back between your legs. “Fuck, I can’t tell you how relentlessly I’ve thought about making you scream for me like that.”

Past words, you can only reach up and pull his head down to yours to capture him in a kiss. Your taste still coats the tongue that he slides between your lips. It spurs you on to deepen it, luxuriate in the feel of it. And you become so lost in it that you tug hard at the strands of his hair when he enters you again in one great, sweeping thrust.

His arm folds around your back, hand grasping at your shoulder, and it seems to afford him perfect purchase to pound into you. Sounds fill the air of his skin slapping against yours, of the breaths and moans you huff into each other’s mouths. You think the two of you, together, might be loud enough, forceful enough, to bring the City of Starlight to rubble around you.

Fin’s lips tear away from yours, and he buries his face into the crook of your neck. His thrusts are growing quicker, sloppier, reaching a feverous pinnacle that will surely break.

“Fuck, you’re going to make me come, Y/N,” his sweat-slick brow presses against your neck. “Taking me so well like this. Squeezing me like this. You’re going to make me fucking blow.”

You want that — more than anything. To feel the power of him spilling into you.

You squeeze your thighs against his, dragging your free hand — the one not sunken in his hair — down the muscles of his shoulders, his back, his waist — to his ass, where you dig your nails into the tight, toned flesh and encourage him to pump into you harder, faster. The feel of it makes Fin shout.

“Come for me,” you choke around your pleasure. “Please, Fin…want you to come.”

An animalistic growl rips from him, and he slams into you one, two, three more times, and then stills, throwing his head back with a roar that shakes the library. Hot, thick ropes of his seed seem endless as they’re unleashed inside you.

The force of it shatters you both, you think. With his trembling as thorough as yours, your nails are still raking over his skin as his brow presses to the crook of your neck. Strands of hair stick to the back of his. Your fingertips smooth over them tenderly.

It feels like eons that you stay there like that, holding each other up from collapsing under the weight of your mutual release. You want to hold him like this, always. You don’t care what others may have to say about it, what they may deem to be wrong about it. You want him.

He pulls back, as though sensing the thought. Meets your eyes. For a beat or two, he simply studies your face, something like clarity on his own.

And then he dips down and drops a kiss to your brow. Such a tender act, in the wake of such passion.

 No words are needed. Not as he scoops you up into his arms, leaving behind the mess the two of you have created. There’s a flash, and he’s winnowed you to your bedroom. A fire roars to life immediately. Fin places you down on the bed.

You watch through hooded eyes as he makes his way into the bathroom. Moments later, he’s returning with a warm, damp washcloth, and he perches beside you.

“Open your legs for me,” he whispers, and you do.

The High Lord of the Night Court is gentle as air as he takes care of you, wiping between your thighs and delivering soft, soothing strokes to your skin. A pleasant soreness sits in your lower belly. He leans down and presses a kiss there like he knows just that.

And then he’s sitting up, and it frightens you — the thought of him walking away, of this ending here and now.

So you lay a hand on his arm, breathing, “Stay with me.”

He pauses, eyes roaming your face like he’s assuring himself you mean it. And then he dips his chin.

“I would be honoured,” he rasps.

And thus, the affair begins.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The need you and Fin have for each other is…insatiable.

Every moment he’s away, you’re thinking of him, longing for the moment he’ll appear in your room and rip your clothes off. If anyone else in the palace — staff, servants, associates — are aware of what’s going on, they don’t give it away. And that suits you just fine.

You can’t get enough. You’re giddy with it. Giddy from the multiple, interesting circumstances you’ve landed yourself in.

Like when you lured him out of a meeting and dropped to your knees in a fucking broom closet, taking his cock into your mouth until he was canting his hips forward and spilling down your throat. Or when he fucked you on the balcony of his personal quarters, your body pressed up against the balustrade, the two of you open to the elements and your moans loud enough to reach the stars above you and the city below you. Or when he took you to watch the ballet, and up in the cushy surrounds of your private viewing box, you watched the performance with him deep inside you, his fingers indolently playing with your clit, his low voice in your ear reminding you to keep quiet.

It’s…exciting. Enthralling. It changes everything.

And as he pulls out of you now, sweaty and panting, and collapses beside you in his bed, you’re not sure you could ever tire of this feeling.

He wants you. He wants you so ferociously, like nobody has ever wanted you before.

As you catch your breaths, he props his head up with his hand and stares at you through hooded eyes, glazed with lust. He leans down and grazes a kiss to your mouth.

“I don’t know how to make it stop,” he ponders as he pulls back, moving a hand to brush his fingers over your breast. “All this need — wanting you constantly.”

You lean up on your elbows, tilting your head, “Do you want it to stop?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “Never.”

Never. Never is a very long time. It makes your stomach flip — the enormity of it.

Fin circles the tip of his forefinger around your pebbled nipple, watching with predatory fascination as he adds, “But this will, inevitably, blow up in our faces at some point. We haven’t exactly been secretive — not that I want to be. But people will talk.”

You lean up to brush your mouth over his. “Let them talk,” you say, and kiss him.

Immediately, he melts into the kiss. Your mouth seems to have an effect on him that you never thought yourself capable of. Always draws a long, pleasured sigh from him as he sinks into it, welcomes it.

He kisses you and kisses you, so greedily, so desperately. His hand snakes up to cup your cheek. He’s already hardening against your leg.

But he pulls away, dropping his forehead against yours. And he breathes, “Make a bargain with me.”

You trace a thumb over his bottom lip. You’ve never made a Night Court bargain before; never had reason to. “What bargain?”

“When this blows up in our faces,” he grips your hand, folding his own over it, “we face it together. You and I.”

“You and I?”

“You and I” he kisses your hand. “I don’t claim to be perfect. I don’t try to be. I can be brutal and callous, and I can lie and play games,” another kiss. “But not with you. Never with you. I will look after you. Take care of you. I’ll be whatever you need me to be.”

Words that you’ve always longed for someone to say to you. Words that should not be taken lightly, should not be said without meaning.

But you know he means them. You can tell he does.

You watch closely as your fingers interlace with his. And you whisper, “Together?”

Fin’s thumb sweeps over yours. “Together. We’ll face it together.”

“Then it’s a bargain.”

A flash of splintering pain zips around your midriff. You glance down to find the tattoo now inked there. The black line that draws a perfect circle around your waist, like a trail of night-kissed lightning.

You look up at Fin to find a roguish smile playing on his lips.

“Oh, I like that,” he hums.

And then he’s leaning down and pressing kisses to that circlet signifying your promise to one another. Kisses the entirety of it, flipping you on your front in the process.

And kisses lower, until you’re screaming for him again.

pom tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-a-girlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd @coralseacourt @towhateverend87 @sspookz @bird-on-the-wire33 @morrie-rose @megwan @catscanteleport @sevikas-whore @thickthighs-sadeyes @hihelloitsbooktimeppl

[azrielbrainrot]

Darling, I'd Wait for You, Even If You Didn't Ask Me To

Band!member!Azriel x College!Student!Reader

Description: You have a really bad day and Azriel is there to help you through it.

Warnings: A little angst

Word Count: 4328

Notes: I don't know how I feel about this one but this is an important moment in their relationship. Hope you enjoy!

this story is part of the band universe

It feels like you are running on autopilot as you climb the steps to Azriel's apartment floor, not even waiting for the elevator. The only thing your body seems to be concerned with is delivering you to your destination before it gives out, whatever it takes. You and Azriel got really close ever since you met him almost two months ago, still, this might be too much to drop on him. You're not even sure why you decided to come to him instead of Viviane but it had been your first thought, your only thought in fact.

Your mind only starts catching up to you after you knock on his door too hard with your cold hands, the pain giving you a moment of clarity long enough to realize the voice you hear behind the door isn't Azriel's but his roommate's. This makes you take notice of yourself. You must look like a trainwreck with your tear streaked face and damp clothes from the rain, holding onto your duffel bag like it's your last lifeline.

However, you don't have time to try to make yourself more presentable before Cassian opens the door. The smile that seems to always be glued to his face drops as soon as he takes you in, saying your name in question. You're not sure if it's because of the emotional overload you're going through or if it's just surprise and embarrassment at being caught like this, but you just stare at him, unable to move your body or form any words in response.

He's quick to pull you into the apartment, closing the door behind you. Cassian is a lovely guy but the truth is you don't know him that well, only met him a couple of times, you feel guilty that he had to see you like this. When you decided to come here you didn't remember he and Azriel lived together, didn't even think of the possibility of running into anyone besides him. It might have not even been a conscious decision, your heart felt like it was shattering into a million pieces and by the time your mind thought of going to Azriel, your body seemed to already be taking you his way.

“Are you okay?” He grabs your shoulders and looks you up and down, making sure you're not physically injured. You can't be sure but you're positive you didn't do anything besides look at him wide eyed.

He takes the heavy duffel bag off your shoulder and it's only then your arm feels the effort it took to carry it for the entire way, it was surely going to be sore the next day. You vaguely hear him call Azriel's name but it only registers when you see him come out of his bedroom, looking scared and confused.

As if your previous impression hadn't been bad enough, you run to him and wrap your arms around his waist as soon as you see him, burying your face in his chest and letting your tears finally fall freely. He's frozen for a second, not sure of what is happening, but he wraps his arms around you promptly. Unfortunately, this only makes you sob and shake harder into him.

Azriel was having a hard time trying to figure out what to do, it isn't every day that his friends run to him in tears, holding onto him like their life depends on it. He hasn't known you for that long either, doesn't really know how to best console you so he decides it's best to let you cry it out before trying to talk to you and it seems like you intend to do it into his shirt.

Your sobs were getting louder and you were shaking so much with each one that he's convinced your body wouldn't be able to keep you upright if it wasn't for him. Nodding at a wide eyed Cassian, he pretty much picks you up off the floor and takes you to the privacy of his room. Sitting down on the bed with you on his lap and just stroking your head, hoping it helps you at least a little.

After what must have been close to an hour, you start coming to little by little, vaguely aware that Azriel had moved you and was murmuring softly that it's going to be okay, finally letting yourself think back on what happened. You've been dreading break all semester for this exact reason. You knew the moment you stepped foot back in your hometown, you wouldn't be able to push the situation to the back of your mind anymore.

As soon as you left the train station, you got in an uber directly to Eleanor's house, not even stopping by your parent's house to greet them or drop off your bag. Even before arriving you knew the conversation was only going to hurt you but you couldn't have predicted how much. You only faintly remember her cries for forgiveness as you left her house in a rush, you remember the anger you felt as you heard her begging as if she wasn't the one who hurt you.

Eventually the sobs shaking your body subside and you're left holding onto Azriel. Your body was starting to scream at you for being in the same position for so long so you move your hands from where they were clinging to his shirt, pull your face back from the now damp fabric, cringing softly at the feeling and darker patch you leave behind, and move to wrap your arms around his neck instead, straightening your back and leaning your head on his shoulder. Letting out a soft sigh when his hand moves with you, stroking your back comfortingly.

“Do you feel better now?” You can feel him talking with how close you're pressing to him. You're a bit embarrassed by the position, sitting on his lap and clinging to him so much, but the comfort it's giving you far outweighs it and, in this moment, you just can't bring yourself to care. You just nod in response to his question.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He squeezes a little harder when he feels you tense up slightly. It's not that you don't want to tell him but talking about everything just makes it even more real. “You don't have to. I can just keep holding you for as long as you need me to.”

Your heart flutters in your chest. Azriel has a beautiful voice, one you're currently hearing whispering softly in your ear, and a way with words, you'd expect nothing less from a songwriter really. Still, sometimes it made your body all tingly and you were left wondering if you were reading too much into things or if there was more at play between you two. You can't deny that your relationship is different from any other you've ever had, you've never felt this comfortable with someone so quickly.

Letting out another sigh, you pull away from him enough to see his face. Regardless of what he says, you can't actually stay wrapped in his arms and ignore the truth forever. You catch his eyes for the first time tonight and the concern you see in them has you trying to pull yourself together. You don't want to worry him too much, you'd hate to think he was sad because of you. It's bad enough you ruined his night. And Cassian's. You'll have to apologize to his roommate the next time you see him.

It takes you a lot more effort than it should, but you move away from him, unwrapping your arms from around him and sliding off his lap. He lets you, not moving from his position against the headboard, only flexing his hands as if he wanted to reach out when he takes a look at you. You run your hand over your face trying to catch any lingering tears and over your hair, it's still damp from the rain. Gods, you don't know what you were thinking.

“Did I ever tell you about Eleanor?” You know the answer already. Before this whole situation you probably would have found a way to mention her with any new friend you made, she was such an integral part of your life, but now you avoided even saying her name out loud. He shakes his head, straightening himself and staring into your eyes, listening intently.

“Me and Eleanor met when we were kids, we've been friends ever since,” you have to clench your eyes to avoid any more tears at the thought, “She was my best friend. I never thought it would get to this.” You would have believed almost anything over this actually.

“I had this boyfriend through the last years of high school - Parker. I broke up with him right after graduation. I was moving here for university and, honestly, I think I was dating him out of habit at that point. The breakup didn't really affect me much, I was excited to start over in Velaris so I wasn't thinking about it.” You look down at your hands, this is the first time you're telling anyone all of this. “But a few months ago, I got a call from my mom telling me Eleanor and Parker were dating. I was confused because me and El were still talking almost every day and a little hurt that out of everyone she chose him, without at least warning me. I thought it had to be a lie or misunderstanding.”

“I called her asking about it and she confirmed it. That was the last time we talked until today.” You look back up at him, almost forgetting he was there. Actually saying these things out loud was strangely cathartic. “I've been ignoring it the whole semester, I knew knowing more was going to be more painful but I had no more excuses when I went home for break,” you let out a weak sigh, “I went to her house and she told me they only started dating after we broke up,” you can't help the pathetic tremble in your voice, “she said they've been in love since we were dating but they didn't want to hurt me so they didn't say anything. She almost made it sound like they were doing me a favor.”

You get up from the bed, your sadness turning into anger. “I'm not even sure how long they've been fucking behind my back. She told me they only kissed at a couple parties when they were drunk but she was hiding this whole thing from me for months at least so who knows what else she lied about. And if they were in love with each other the whole time me and Parker were together then they must have at least talked about it. I can't even trust her. She was my best friend and I can't even trust her.” You're probably pacing like a crazy person around his room but with everything he's seen in the last hour, you can't even be bothered by it. “Gods, I'm such an idiot.”

“You're not an idiot.” You look back at him. His voice had an edge you've never heard on him before, his words coming out clipped behind a tense jaw. He was angry. “You didn't do anything wrong. She's a bad friend.” Something tells you he had to choose his words and ended up at the least offensive one, not the one he would have prefered to use.

You have to swallow down the instinct to defend her. Azriel was right. What she did to you was awful. She shouldn't have treated you like this, shouldn't have helped your boyfriend cheat on you, even if nothing had happened physically, and definitely shouldn't have pushed you aside so easily, ignoring your almost two decades of friendship over a boy.

You feel your shoulders sag a little, your angry outburst had burned the rest of your energy. It seems Azriel noticed it too because he gets up from the bed and walks over to where you're standing in the middle of his room, reaching out to grab your hand.

“You need to forget about it. They're not worth your tears.” The feeling of his rough skin playing your fingers distracts you momentarily.

“That's easier said than done.” Forgetting Eleanor would be impossible, she's part of your history, and, as much you hate to admit it, so would be forgetting Parker, he was your first boyfriend after all.

“Trust me, I know,” he looks down at your intertwined hands, seemingly lost in his own thoughts, “But lingering in the past doesn't help with anything. You need to let yourself feel it and then move on.” He looks back up at you and touches your cheek softly, wiping at the tears still staining your face. “And it feels like you've felt it enough for today.”

“You're right. It's late I should-”

“I'm not kicking you out,” his face breaks out in a tentative smile, “I'll go get your bag so you can change, your clothes are still damp. Don't want you to get sick. Then we'll get you some food, alright?” You can only nod. Coming here was the right decision, he was being incredibly gentle and caring with you.

He brings you your bag and takes you to the bathroom, telling you to change and clean yourself off a little, disappearing back into his room right after. As soon as you see your face in the mirror you realize he was being nice in his assessment, your entire face was puffy. Even after giving it a good wash you still looked like a mess. It truly looked like you cried your heart out, you suppose you did.

You also use this time to call your mom quickly and let her know you'll be coming home the next day instead. She had probably heard that you had come and gone already because she doesn't even question your decision or the way your voice cracks, small towns are both a blessing and a curse. You wonder what everyone in town was saying now that your ex boyfriend was dating your best friend. You gather your things to move back to Azriel's bedroom before your thoughts catch up to you. He's right, you've cried enough for today, cried a lot more than those two deserve as well.

Looking at yourself in the mirror one more time, you take a deep breath before joining him in his room again. Now that you've settled down more you're not really sure what to do or say. He drops his phone and stands up as soon as he sees you, walking over to take your bag from you and placing it on top of a chair. He changed out of the shirt you covered in tears and snot, you barely noticed since it was the same color as before but this one is tighter, it strains against his back and biceps enough that you have to look away.

With everything going on, you hadn't even looked around his room before. It was fairly simple and organized, the dark furniture and paintings fit his aesthetic in general and the navy comforter and curtains combo contrasted beautifully with the white walls. The low lights cast shadows around, making the room feel cozier too, you could see yourself spending days in here. You notice a couple notebooks sitting on his desk that you suspect he might use to write songs but his bass is missing.

“What?” Your confusion must have shown on your face because he looked more than amused at your obvious snooping.

“Your bass isn't here.”

“We practice upstairs in Rhys' penthouse so I just leave it there most times.” He says walking to the door. “Let's find you something to eat.” You nod before following him.

“You all live close to each other then.” You haven't seen them interact too much but it's obvious how close and comfortable they are with each other, brotherly even.

“Rhys' father owns the whole building,” he chuckles a little at your wide eyed expression, “he rented us this apartment for probably half what everyone else pays.” You look around on your way to what you can see now is the kitchen. It's a big space with high ceilings and lots of windows. You don't even want to think how rich Rhysand's father must be to own such a building.

“It's a really nice apartment.” You take a seat at one of the tall chairs around the kitchen table. The kitchen alone was probably bigger than your own bedroom, even the furniture felt expensive not to mention the marble countertops.

Thinking about it now, it makes sense that Azriel and Cassian couldn't really afford this big of an apartment in such a nice place in the city with their jobs at the record store and the gym, especially with how much you know they invest in their band.

“Yeah.” He opens his fridge and looks inside, trying to find anything to eat. Your stomach finally makes itself known at the thought, you haven't eaten since before the train ride to your hometown. “You should see the view from the top of the building though. It's the best part, I'll take you there sometime.” You watch him give up on his search and open the freezer instead.

“Is this okay?” He holds up a frozen pizza and you nod immediately. You have the same one sitting in your own freezer right now. You do find it cute how it seems like he's a little disappointed that this is the only thing he has to feed you right now. He looks like he was ready to cook you a five course meal.

“More than okay,” you give him a smile and keep talking as he moves to get it prepared, feeling the tension leave your body bit by bit the more you talk to him, “Did Cassian leave?”

“He's probably with Rhys up in his apartment.”

“I feel like I should apologize to him.” You can't imagine the emotions going through him at seeing a girl he barely knows show up crying at his doorstep. “I think I almost gave him a heart attack.”

“You don't have to worry about it,” he comes and sits across from you. “I told him you were feeling better before he left.” That had to have happened while you were in the bathroom. You don't know how good the soundproofing is around the house since you didn't even hear him leave but you hope he at least didn't hear you sobbing for an hour and the short outburst that followed. It's enough that Azriel witnessed it first hand.

“Maybe I should apologize to you too,” you find yourself twirling your thumbs to avoid his gaze, “that was… a lot,” you finish sheepishly.

“You don't have to thank me for anything.” Your eyes find his again, you've found it's hard to look away from him for long, especially if he's talking to you. Azriel is incredibly captivating, even under these fluorescent lights.

“I showed up at your doorstep out of nowhere and just cried my eyes out for over an hour,” you look over to the pizza getting ready in the oven, “and now you're even making me dinner.”

“You can show up at my door every day if you want. I'd rather you weren't crying but if that's what you need then I’ll be here,” the smile he gives you should be illegal, it's almost tempting you to do exactly as he says. “And I'll make you dinner as many times as you want me to,” he looks over to the oven just like you had done before, “I'm not sure this counts as cooking anyway.”

You want to tell him you don't remember the last time someone took care of you so attentively and effortlessly, that not everyone is this compassionate, but decide against it. After dinner comes out of the oven, you busy yourself with eating while Azriel tells you more about the band and their next concert, he's letting you take a breather and leads the conversation, something you're not sure he's used to doing and appreciate immensely.

When you're done and he's cleaning up things, you watch him awkwardly. You didn't have a plan when you came here at all but you definitely didn't expect to stay so long, don't really know what to do or say now after everything is done. It's getting late too so you should really leave and make your way back to your apartment. You cringe softly at the thought of having to go back there after telling your roommate that you wouldn't be back for another couple weeks, she probably took the chance to bring her boyfriend over.

“Come on,” Azriel says as he pats your shoulder softly, telling you to follow him to his bedroom. He probably has work tomorrow as well, you're being a nuisance. You speak up when you get to his bedroom, looking at his comfortable looking bed wistfully.

“I should go home now,” you look over at your bag, not looking forward to carrying it again, “It's getting late.”

“You can stay here,” he looks a little confused, like he had expected you to stay already.

“No, it's fine.” You'd love to stay with him, at least so you knew you wouldn't end up crying in your bed alone while trying not to listen to your roommate and her boyfriend. “My apartment isn't far.”

“I'm not letting you go anywhere.” He reaches up to stroke your cheek, examining your face with a slight pained expression. You hadn't stopped to think about it yet but it seems it's going to take some time before he forgets you sobbing in his arms, these soft touches and worried looks might linger a little. You wonder how your heart is going to handle them, you already have to tell yourself not to let these things get to you too much, that he's only doing them out of friendship, on a regular basis.

“If you think it's not a bother.”

“You could never be a bother.” When his band makes it big there are probably going to be thousands of people that will put up posters of this same smile in their room, you feel blessed to be able to witness it in real time and so intimately.

“We have a guest room but it's full of stuff,” he says as he rubs the back of his neck and looks over in what you assume is the direction of the room he's talking about. He looks a little embarrassed and it makes you wonder just how much and what kind of stuff he's talking about. “I'll stay there so you can sleep here. It's more comfortable anyway.”

“No,” you can't make him sleep in the guest room in his own house after everything he has done for you today, “You stay here, it's your room. I can even stay on the couch, I can sleep anywhere.” After this whole day, you think you could even sleep on the floor.

“I want you to stay here. You need to rest properly.”

“Then…” You let your words trail off. You've already asked so much of him but the way he's looking at you patiently has you working up the courage to make one more request, possibly the biggest one. “Can we both stay here? I'd rather not be alone honestly,” something you can't identify shifts in his eyes and it makes you rush to assure him, “only if you're comfortable that is.”

“I should be the one asking you that.” Did his voice get deeper? It feels like it.

“I don't mind.” You feel more than comfortable with him, you would trust him with your life really.

The problem is trying not to get flustered at just the thought of sleeping next to him. You had spent a good while cuddling up to him, sitting on his lap, but it had been the last thing on your mind. Now, as soon as you feel him lay down next to you and pull the covers over the both of you, laying facing you, he's the only thing in your mind.

He watches you for a second, studying your reactions to him, before reaching out to you and holding your waist softly. You nod instantly, but it's only after he pulls you closer to him that you realize this is what he meant. He lays down on his back and you lay your head down on his chest, letting your hand rest on his torso tentatively.

The moon and the few lights filtering through the window cast a bluish glow around his room and the soft beat of his heart starts lulling you to sleep almost immediately. It makes you relax further in his hold, shifting slightly to find the perfect spot against him.

“You're warm,” you mumble sleepily. He only hums in response, tucking you better in his sheets. It makes you smile against his chest.

You want to tell him it would be impossible to get cold when he's as warm as a furnace, that you usually don't wear sweatpants to bed either but, by the way he had awkwardly looked for clothes to sleep in earlier, you think he probably would be wearing a lot less if it weren't for you too. You really wouldn't mind feeling his skin on yours but you appreciate the thought.

“Sleep now, princess,” he murmurs as he leans down to kiss your forehead softly. Princess? Your heart stutters in your chest but you're so tired that your body obeys him almost immediately, not giving you time to linger on the kiss or the nickname. And as you're laying in his arms, you don't feel so lost anymore.

taglist: @bookishbroadwaybish

[danikamariewrites]

Meant to Be

Mob!Azriel x reader AU

A/n: I’m so excited to start this little series! I hope you all enjoy this and thank you for being patient with me. I know I’ve been all over the place lately lol. Also I might change the pov I use in the next fics but we’ll see.

Warnings: none

Series Masterlist

As I’m just about to shut the front desk computer down, the glass door to the gallery swings open. Holding back rolling my eyes, I lift my head ready to tell whoever it is that we're closing. I stop, my lips partially open as my eyes meet the most gorgeous, soft hazel ones. On a beautifully sculpted face with a sharp jawline and soft raven hair. The words died in my throat. Changing to, “How can I help you?”

Gods I need to stop staring. If Feyre was still here she would be making fun of me for ogling the poor male while using my stupid customer service voice. He gives me a bright smile before speaking. “I’m looking for a new piece for my office. The walls are feeling a little bare.” Mother above he sounds like an angel.

I froze again. I’m technically not supposed to be selling paintings to clients, especially walk-ins and new ones. But my boss left me in charge for the rest of the day. It’s Gavin’s own fault he blew off work for a spa day. And I had to help Gavin list all the paintings, so I can absolutely sell one of these bad boys. I was amazed by how much Gavin didn’t know when these paintings came in. And he has the audacity to call himself an art collector.

“Absolutely. Are you looking for anything specific or I can show you a few of my favorite pieces if you’d like.”

As I stand I look around the room to see if anyone else is in the gallery. Two males with similar tan skin and dark hair stand by the door. The more muscular one slightly smirks at me before staring ahead again. I look back at the male in front of me, taking in his suit, the expensive watch, and the thick silver signet ring on his index finger gleaming in the light. Staring at the ring closely I can make out a family crest engraved on the flat surface. Morwood.

The male standing in front of me is notorious mob boss Azriel Morwood. Recovering quickly I smile up at Azriel, burying any kind of fear that was working its way up my spine. He isn’t here to hurt me. He’s here to buy art. Harmless.

Relaxing, I walk around the desk, gesturing to the left of the gallery. “This way then.” Azriel holds out his arm for me to take, that bright smile never once leaving his lips. Although it might not be the most professional thing to do, I loop my arm through his.

As we go from painting to painting Azriel seems to relax as well. We fall into easy conversation. At times it feels like we were childhood friends catching up. His flirtatious comments made me blush and fumble over my words. At the risk of being unprofessional again, I flirt back. There’s no denying the male is beautiful. I’m sure he’s kind under all of those dangerous layers. I can’t help the pull I feel toward him, to know more about Azriel. I should feel ashamed of this attraction. Azriel has done awful things but that feeling isn’t taking over.

“And that’s it for this collection. Is there anything else that’s caught your eye?” I ask, regretfully pulling away from Azriel as I snap back into my customer service voice. A stark contrast to the normal flirty tone I was just using. He seemed to take his time thinking. Azriel’s hazel eyes seem to twinkle as he looks at me. “That Blanch piece, I loved the two you showed me.” “Of course.” I lead him to the middle of the section where the two paintings hang side by side.

He looks at the two trying to decide between the two. “Which is your favorite?” I look at him, taken aback by Azriel Morwood asking for my opinion. “Well…I can’t choose between the two. Truthfully, I believe Blanch created these pieces to complement each other. They’re from two different collections but you can tell by the edge of the scenery they are meant to be together.” Azriel let out a thoughtful hum as he crossed his arms.

I try not to stare at him too blatantly but I just can’t help myself. His thinking face is cute. I can tell he’s concentrating. “I’ll take both.” My eyes widened. I'm so shocked I took half a step back. “I’m sorry?” I realize that it came out harsher than expected. “Sorry, I just - really? You want to buy both?” A half smile tugs at the corner of his lips as Azriel turns to face me. “If they are meant to be together it would be a crime to separate them.” There was something insinuating in that seductive tone of his. The hopeful look in his eyes gave it away. Something told me Azriel rarely let something like that slip. I give him a genuine half smile of my own. “Of course.”

Fifteen minutes and one giant check later Azriel had bought his paintings with the promise to come pick them up after they were framed tomorrow. Finally closing the gallery I went home and dreamed of him that night.

——

Walking down the sunny streets of Velaris I’m lost in thought about Azriel. How I want to run my fingers to see if those raven locks are truly as soft as they look. Those hazel eyes and how I never want them to lose sight of me.

My phone incessantly buzzing in my bag pulls me from my thoughts. I groan as I search for it in the clutter of stuff I threw in this morning. Fifteen texts from Feyre and more incoming light up the lock screen.

Girl get here soon

Gavin is piissseeddd

What did u do lmao

He won’t tell me, plz tell me so I know before him. I wanna taunt him with this secret info

Oh boy. He must not be pleased about the new client. I quickly type out a text telling her I’d be there soon. Shoving my phone back in my bag, my pounding heart seems as loud as my footsteps. I’m practically jogging by the time I enter the gallery.

Feyre looks up at me from the desk. A wild and confused look is on her face like she was just handed the winning lottery ticket. “He’s been on the phone with Benny all morning. I could hear him screaming, what did you do?” A nervous laugh sounds on the last word.

As I open my mouth to answer the door to Gavin’s office flings open, hitting the wall inside with a violent thud. “You!” He seethes. “Why didn’t you call me about the client last night?!” He screeches as he stomps over to the desk like a child. “What was I supposed to do? Say, sorry, come back later? It was Azriel Morwood.” Feyre lets out a dramatic gasp leaning back in the spinny chair. Her eyes bounce between us, waiting to see what wild statement her ears will be blessed with next.

“I know damn well who the client was, and you’re not supposed to make sales! Remember? Or has your sense of self importance around here made it hard for you to remember that you're a fucking intern! And you have no right —” a throat clearing makes Gavin stop his berating. His face went pale as his eyes landed on Azriel and the two males flanking him.

Azriel raises a brow giving Gavin a quizzical look. Gavin puts on a fake smile striding to greet our guests. “Hello Mr. Morwood! How can I help you today? Is there a problem with your purchase that I can fix?” He shoots me a glare that I don’t notice. All I notice is Azriel. It feels like the whole world has melted away and it’s just us.

“No.” His tone cruel and cold. “I would like to talk to y/n. Alone.” He emphasizes the last word by pinning Gavin with a look that would send anyone running. The shock on Gavin’s face is fucking priceless as he backs away murmuring an apology.

I slowly approach Azriel trying to suppress my grin. He watches me with a gentle gaze. That charming smile pulling on his lips again. “Hi,” Mother above that deep, gravelly voice gives me chills. “Hi.” I whisper back. “Your paintings should be ready soon. I saw the framer when I came in.” Azriel slowly shakes his head. “No, not that. Well, yes, I’m here for the paintings. But I wanted to ask you something.” I blink up at him curiously tilting my head. What could he possibly want from me?

“Are you free for dinner tomorrow night?”

[prythianpages]

Golden Hour | Eris x Reader

summary: Eris sneaks you out of the Forest house to watch the lantern festival in private and it's getting harder to ignore his feelings for you.

warnings: fluff a little break from the angst to come hehe

a/n: this one is inspired by Kacey Musgrave's Golden Hour and the movie Tangled (: you can find the masterlist for this series here or just read this as a stand alone imagine. All you have to know for context is that reader is arranged to be married to his younger brother.

“How do I look?”

Eris stares at you, feeling a surge of warmth rush to his neck. You stand right in front of him, arms extended slightly, dressed in his clothes. Though the garments hang loosely on your frame, they do nothing to conceal the beauty that radiates from you. He wonders if this is a mistake, if perhaps he should call off your–

“Just say I look hideous,” you muse, your voice pulling him back from his thoughts.

“You could never,” he murmurs as he meets your gaze.

Your eyes twinkle with anticipation. He had promised to take you–sneak you out, more like it– to the lantern festival and it was a vow he was determined to uphold. Anything to not let the light dim from your eyes.

Eris takes a deep breath and regrets it immediately as you overwhelm his senses. You smell like him and the thought pleases him more than it should, stirring emotions he dares not name. Clearing his throat, Eris forces himself to look away and says, “we should, um, we should go now.”

He then strides towards the full-length mirror, aware of your curious gaze following his every move. His fingertips trace along the edges of the mirror, seeking out the concealed lock with practiced precision. With a deft touch, he unlatches it, revealing the hidden doorway leading to the dark passageways nestled within the Forest house.

“Are you sure it’s safe?” you ask, peering over his shoulder into the shadows beyond.

Eris startles slightly at your sudden proximity. “Yes,” he reassures you, his hand rising as he summons forth his powers. Flames dance from his fingertips before he turns to you, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “But we don’t have to go. We can simply stay here—”

You cut him off before he can finish his sentence, stepping forward eagerly and venturing into the concealed corridors. Eris follows suit, closing the door behind you both. Turning around, you cast a curious glance towards the door, relieved to find no glimpse into your room. You let Eris walk ahead to guide you both.

Your eyes are wide as you look around the dark, twisting passageways of the forest house. The only source of light are Eris’s flames. They cast shadows along the stone walls and as you walk behind him, you can’t help but ask again.

“Are you sure it’s safe?” 

You grimace as you nearly walk into a spider web, feeling a shiver run down your spine. It's undeniably creepy here. You can't help but wonder how Eris travels through these secret passageways alone just to see you. 

“No monsters lurking in the shadows, right?” 

Eris abruptly pauses on a step and then turns around, causing you to jump. You stand a step or two above and he grins, finally at eye level with you. Even in the dim lighting, you can see the flicker of mischief in his eyes. “The only monster in here is me.”

“Ha-ha,” you respond dryly, rolling your eyes. “Very funny.”

The flames flickering from his fingertips brighten, allowing him to study your face. Despite your attempt at a playful glare, he can see the lingering fear in your expression. “Here,” he says, holding out his other hand to you, smiling when you eagerly grasp onto it. “It’s best if you hold onto me for the rest of the way down. It’ll be easier for me to pull you away from the naga that linger in the shadows.”

“Eris!” you exclaim in a hushed tone, your grip tightening around his hand as you draw closer to him, practically clinging to his arm. “Stop it!”

Eris chuckles, a warmth spreading through him as he revels in your proximity. He continues to guide you both down the passageways, slowing his pace. He tells himself it’s for your sake but the smile gracing his lips betrays him. He just longs to linger in this moment.

**

When the two of you finally emerge from the passageways, you welcome the blinding sunlight. You let out a deep exhale of relief, thanking the Mother as you let go of his hand. It’s Eris’s turn to roll his eyes.

He pulls two cloaks out from the pocket realm. He helps you with yours before putting his on and placing a glamor over you both. One can never be too safe. He takes your hand again and the two of you walk quietly until you reach the edge of the forest house’s magic barrier.

“Are you ready?” Eris whispers.

“Yes,” you reply, giving his hand a tight squeeze.

Then, he winnows you both.

You gasp in awe at the meadow, lost in the beauty of the autumn flowers surrounding you. Eris smiles softly to himself as he walks toward the riverbed, where a canoe sits, gently rocking with the water. Wanting to make it onto the river before the sun sets, he prepares the canoe swiftly.

“It’s so peaceful here,” you remark, voice filled with wonder.

“I often come here,” Eris confides, a hint of nostalgia in his tone. “It’s a nice walk here too. I like bringing my hounds with me, even though Clover tends to spend her time eating the flowers,” he adds with a chuckle.

“I love her.”

There’s a fond smile on your face as you think about the adorable hound, picturing her frolicking amidst the blooms. She had been the first one to greet you with kindness upon your arrival. Your first friend.

"She loves you," Eris murmurs, his gaze softening. And who wouldn’t? He muses to himself as you step closer to him.

Your eyes meet, holding onto each other. There’s so much said in your gazes but no words dare to slip out. You’re so close to him, you can appreciate the light freckles scattered over his nose and cheeks. One more step and you’d be able to trace your lips over them. Eris swallows hard, as if he could sense the unspoken desire that pulses in the air. There’s a gleam in his amber eyes as he looks down at you, pulling you in and enticing you to take that step.

But your foot catches onto the cloak that is much too long for you. Your hands instinctively find purchase on his chest and he helps steady you, his hands on your waist sending a jolt of electricity through your veins. “Sorry,” you mutter, a blush staining your cheeks.

“Good thing I caught you this time. Wouldn’t want a repeat of last time now, would we?” Eris teases lightly, referring to the time you fell into the water fountain at the palace’s gardens.

“I’d bring you down with me again,” you reply, matching his tone.

Eris laughs. He realizes in that moment that he would let you. He’d follow you anywhere. 

“You still owe me my book, you know.”

“I know,” Eris says as helps you into the awaiting canoe. He waits until you’re seated before taking the seat across from you. “I’m not done with it yet. I just finished the chapter where they spent the night at the inn... that just so happened to have only one bed and I–”

You cut him off abruptly, sending a splash of water his way. The mischievous twinkle in his eyes has your blush deepening. You know exactly what happens in that chapter. “I don’t want to know,” you reply quickly. 

“You don’t want to hear my thoughts on the book?” Eris teases further, using his power to give the boat the push it needs. He picks up both oars, shaking his head at you when you offer to help row.

“Save it for when you’re finished.”

“Okay,” Eris chuckles and you’ve never been more grateful for the silence that follows.

With a small sigh of contentment, you brace yourself on your palms and tilt your head upwards. Your eyes flutter shut, finding comfort in the gentle rocking of the water as your blush begins to settle. Eris doesn’t mind, admiring the sight of you basking in the glow of the setting sun. The tension that often weighs on your shoulder is gone and so is the usual furrow of worry that marks your brow. 

You’re free from the burden of the forest house. Free to speak your mind and you do so quietly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Eris.”

You don’t know what you do to me, Eris wants to respond, feeling his chest tighten at your words. Instead, he lets out a low hum in question, yearning to know more.

Your eyes flutter open, revealing the reflection of the setting sun within their depths. “You’re my golden hour,” you say and Eris feels a surge of warmth coursing through his veins. Different to the fire that usually lingers there. “I used to get sad and lonely when the sun went down but it’s different now. Sometimes, I–I wish it was you…”

You don’t finish your sentence but you don’t have to. Eris knows. You lower your head, a slight frown taking over your features and he longs to coax your gaze to his. To have a taste of your lips and kiss that frown away. To tug on the bond that tethers him to you until you feel it.

He doesn’t do any of those things. You’re marrying his brother soon. Something he has to remind himself constantly of. It doesn't matter if you're his mate. You're upcoming loveless marriage with his brother puts you at a place much safer than you would be with him.

Still, it doesn't stop him from murmuring a quiet, "me too."

You lift your head, allowing your gazes to meet again. Your mouth parts to speak but a gasp leaves your lips instead. Eris catches the slight widening of your eyes as your gaze fixates on something behind him. He follows your gaze, and together you're both captivated by the mesmerizing sight unfolding before you.

Lanterns ascend gracefully into the dusk sky, their gentle glow mirroring the ascent of the sun and bathing you in its ethereal light. The river below shimmers like a canvas of stars, the lanterns' reflections dancing upon its surface.

“I used to hear about this night all the time when traveling with my parents. My father didn’t care for it but my mother said she’d take me one year…,” your voice trails off. “I never thought I’d be able to see it in person.”

Eris quietly shifts in his seat, moving to sit beside you instead. He lifts his hand and his magic brings forth a lantern. You’re too lost in the moment to notice his proximity.

"The festival is a celebration of hope," Eris explains softly, his gaze alight. "Even in the darkest of nights, the smallest flicker of light–" Flames burst forth from his fingertips, illuminating the lantern. "–can bring forth a fiery hope that perseveres against all odds. Some believe that if you make a wish as you release your lantern, it’ll come true by the next festival.”

He holds the lantern to you, dimming the flames in his hand to not burn you as you take it. 

“And do you believe?” You find yourself asking, tearing your gaze from the lantern to glance at him.

“I do,” he responds without hesitation.

"Then let's release it together," you propose, gesturing for him to grasp the other side. Eris complies, his fingers brushing against yours as you hold the lantern between you. "On three. One... two..."

"Three," you declare in unison, releasing the lantern into the night sky.

You tilt your head back, tracing the path of your lantern as it ascends, joining the myriad of twinkling lights above. As they disappear into the heavens, you're left mesmerized as you can no longer discern them from the stars shining above.

But for Eris, his gaze remains fixed on you, his heart swelling with adoration as he beholds the radiant smile that graces your face. A sight he cherishes as it’s one that illuminates his own darkened world.

When you finally turn to look back at him, you’re beaming. There’s a light in you, warm and real and bright, and all he wants to do is be kept in your glow. Leaning forward, you press a tender kiss to his cheek.

"Thank you," you whisper to him and as the sensation of your lips against his skin lingers, Eris finds himself overcome with a wave of emotion.

He should be the one thanking you. Despite catching him at a time when he least expected it, you've ignited a flame within him. A flame that burns with an intensity that terrifies him because he can no longer ignore it.

You're setting his world ablaze with a fire unlike he's ever known.

a/n: Sorry that this took so long to update. I actually ended up writing another part to this series that was supposed to come before this part but then, I decided to just keep my original order.

tagging: @fabulouslyflamboyant5 @fxckmiup @stormhearty @skyesayshi @sfhsgrad-blog @crazylokonugget @evergreenlark @secretlyhers @mybestfriendmademe @ib525, @96jnie, @kennedy-brooke, @scooobies, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria,

(idk why the tags didn't work for everyone :/ sorry if you asked to be added and I didn't. Please leave a heart emoji if you'd like to be tagged on the next part. I have like 4 more imagines planned.)

[pintsizemama]

Resolutions

Day 31

Summary: You and your husbands discuss your goals for the new year.

Pairings: Rhys, Cassian, & Azriel x You (Reader)

Fandom: ACOTAR (AU)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: language, references to sex, pregnancy, alcohol

Word Count: 336

Day 30 Christmas Masterlist Main Masterlist AO3 Join my taglist

You stretched out lazily on the couch. The kids were all in bed, and the four of you were waiting to ring in the new year.

“What’s everyone’s resolution this year?” You asked your guys.

“I’d like to work less and spend more time at home,” Rhys answered immediately. You smiled proudly at him. He had been moving things around for months to make it possible to be home more. He missed you and the kids so much, and he wanted to enjoy watching them grow.

“How about you Az?” You turned to him.

“I want to run a marathon this year,” he replied.

“Oh, I know you’ll nail that!” You said with encouragement. Azriel was so disciplined, there was no way he’d fail. “Maybe I’ll join you on some of your runs. My resolution is to be more active.”

“That’d be great,” he said with a warm smile.

“How about you, Cass?” You looked at Cassian who was lounging on the opposite couch.

“My resolution is to put it in your ass more,” he answered.

“Cassian!” You scolded him.

“What?” He said with a shrug. “I love your ass.” When you continued to scowl at him he sighed. “I’m kidding. I want to build a treehouse for the kids.”

“Really?” You asked. Cassian was very handy, but he rarely had time for large projects.

“Yeah,” he replied. “I took some time off in the Spring to get it done.”

“Oh my god! The kids will love that!” You gushed.

“I’m hoping to have it done by Easter,” he said.

“Can we help?” Rhys asked.

“Hell yeah!” Cassian agreed.

“Oh! It’s almost midnight,” you realized. “I’ll grab the champagne.” You hustled into the kitchen to pour four glasses of bubbly…well three glasses of champagne and one sparkling juice. You made sure none of the guys were looking when you swapped your drink. You weren’t quite ready to let them know about the little surprise nestled in your belly. Next year was going to be epic.

Join my taglist

If you enjoy my blog and would like to support it, you can always buy me a coffee. Not necessary, but always appreciated.

Taglist:

@alexxavicry @amneris21 @awhitewyvern @dreedhudson @harriedandharassed @lizette50 @loompyinaway @mishasminion360 @xocalliexo

[thesistersarcheron]

Pairing: Feysand Rating: E Words: ~3.3k Tags: A/B/O Dynamics, Omegaverse, Knotting, Breeding Kink, In Heat/Mating Cycles, Mating Bonds, Mating Bites, Chases, Hunters & Hunting, Omega Feyre, Alpha Rhysand, ACOMAF AU, not dub-con because feyre is actually VERY into it

Oh, gods. Amarantha was right. Feyre was trash, her fickle heart nothing more than proof of her inconstant human nature—

Darkness leeched into the unfamiliar bedroom, and a growl slashed through every thought in her head. “Would you rather fight me, Omega? Lead your Alpha on a chase through the city, let everyone witness me taking you against your will? The dark Alpha and the little Omega bride he stole right out of her husband’s bed?”

Feyre bristled in spite of herself. “He’s not my husband—”

“No.” Something like pleasure shone on Rhys’s face, but his bared teeth were more snarl than smile. “He’s not.”

When Feyre is locked in Tamlin’s manor, her panic and terror trigger Rhys’s first rut in fifty years, and he’ll do anything to soothe his Omega’s shattered nerves.

— — — Read the first chapter on AO3 now!

[tadpolesonalgae]

Mer!azriel x reader: The Dregs of Tragedy - Part 3

A/N: Finished writing this and now I want to do another part to please… because soft touches make me melt

Warnings: mentions of torture

Word Count: 6,561

-Part 2- -Part 4-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

You don’t know how long you’d spent like that—just floating gently in his arms, allowing the water to soothe the ache of your bones.

It could have been minutes, it could have been hours, the sea lapping at the lip of the cave, his tail occasionally brushing your legs, as if checking your pulse, monitoring small changes as they occur. Like the narrow slits forming along your ribs, gills beginning to push from your skin.

Scarified hands graze your sides, skin fluttering with tiny muscles reacting to the stimuli. Air bubbles in your lungs, and you cough suddenly, throat constricting. Your fingers raise to your neck, spluttering as the muscle spasms with the new airways opening, not entirely sure how to process the evolution.

“Close your mouth,” he instructs, palm splaying across your back, keeping you steady and the gills unblocked. “Don’t breathe through your nose. Try to open the airways.” You do as he says, features scrunching as tears prick the the edge of your lashes. You follow his directions, but struggle upon feeling the burning need for breath, instinctively parting you lips.

Azriel shifts, raising his hand to place it over your mouth, fingers parted enough to let air through if you try, but not enough to properly survive on. Still, some problems arise. The tubes are sensitive and tingling with awareness, making you squirm at the odd sensation. Your nose scrunches with concentration, managing a few shuddering breaths before reverting to your preferred option.

“I’m going to take you under,” he says, hand still blocking your mouth and nose. Your eyes pop open, gleaming from the tingling sensation as you peer up at him, trying to shake your head. “It’ll help,” he says quietly, “just focus on your gills.” Your brows pull together as you try to convey the mix of doubt and fear, concern shimmering in steadily darkening eyes.

But the sea level rises as he brings you below the surface, water raising your hair from your shoulders, swaying freely, tickling your cheeks. Lids automatically slide shut, blocking out the sea salt, lips sealing shut as water presses in, and then you’re entirely cut off. His hand pulls away from your mouth, instead dragging his fingers firmly around the soft, split skin, encouraging them to dilate like his. After a few rotations they stutter to life, parting to allow water inside, capillaries picking out the oxygen that’s dissolved in the sea.

Breath eases through your body, filtering in and out as you adapt to the strange sensation. The odd tingle of sensitivity, awareness tightening and prickling at your skin, suddenly taking on waves of new information—the temperature, the weight, the direction of the weak current. Your nose remains scrunched as you concentrate on breathing, taking it slow until it’s less foreign. Until it begins to feel natural, and fade into the background mechanics of your body.

Rough skin gently thumbs across your lids, and a strange prickling sensation takes over behind your eyes, a new filmy layer manifesting, allowing you to peer beneath the briny sea water. Slowly, your eyes open, cracking apart, testing out the new development. Blinding light filters in, and you immediately squeeze them shut again, kicking your legs to tell him to go up. Dutifully, Azriel swims to the surface, and you splutter, body confused with the switch in airways.

You take a minute to shift back to manual breathing, inhaling deeply while he holds you patiently. Lungs ache a little from conscious use, but the ticklish sensation has dulled in your ribs, as if gills have always been set in your skin. Your throat rolls as you swallow, blinking heavily to get the film to retract.

“What else is going to happen?” You manage to ask, pushing strands of hair from your face. “Your legs will seal together to form a tail. That will likely be the most difficult part,” he rasps in answer, hands still splayed across your waist. Eyes flick to charcoal black, nerves wriggling in your stomach. “You said it would have been easier at the quarters in the moon’s cycle,” you recall, peering at him. “Why is that?”

“I told you the new moon is when we’re at our weakest,” ��you nod— “and the full moon is when we’re at our strongest,” —nod again— “so the stages between those are when a transition would be most painless. When the time between a new moon and a full moon are equidistant.”

“How painful will it be?” You ask quietly, still feeling the faintest throb pulsing within your ankles and knees. The mer is quiet for a spell, the only sounds in the large cave the swishing of water against the rock’s edge. “It will likely last a night,” he says at last. “The more disproportioned the gaps are in the moon’s cycle, the longer it will take.” Dread ices across your skin, cold fingertips pressing into his warm skin. “A night?” You repeat breathlessly. “Six— Eight hours?” The words tremble from your mouth.

Azriel’s lips press together before he answers, but the expression alone has tension tightening in your belly. “Most likely ten,” he says softly, “until the sunrises.”

“Until the sun rises,” you echo absently, staring into onyx eyes. “You couldn’t have timed it better?” You ask quietly, but your tone is sharp. His gaze narrows, and you’re briefly reminded of the shredding teeth in his soft mouth. “There wasn’t time to waste. I needed to take you then or you would have been taken back to your town, and would’ve had worse to deal with than this.”

Your brow narrows, but you don’t deny what he’s claimed. “Anyone would take rain over thunder,” you mutter instead. He raises a brow, peering at you with those large onyx eyes of his. “Anyone?” The edges of your mouth twist down into a scowl.

“It’s an expression. Rain makes a deck slippery but at least there’s little chance of being thrown over board and left to your kind.” The pads of his fingers press a little firmer into your skin, such a slight difference in pressure you wonder if he’s even aware of it. “Our kind,” he corrects, equally softly. “And we don’t sink to torture when it comes to humans.”

“So you give them air and return them to shore?” You ask pointedly, aware of how the acoustics of the cave make your voice swell. “Such a pretty diversion,” he murmurs, large, dark eyes glinting. “We kill them once they enter our territory. We torment the ones wearing our scales.”

Something sharp glitters in his charcoal gaze, and a shiver trembles its way down your spine. “We turn to the sea because it’s our only source of food. We would starve if we didn’t go into your territory,” you say quietly, “is it really so difficult to let us survive?”

“Humans chose to settle there. They knew well that we inhabited these waters but thought they could purge us,” he returns, tail brushing against your aching legs. “We weren’t the ones to start the perpetual cycle of violence, it was the humans who did so.”

“Of course a mer would say that,” you shoot back, watching him warily.

He blinks carefully, allowing the transparent film to slide across his black eyes, as if knowing how it makes your insides squirm. Slowly, he drags you closer, grip like iron as the lithe muscle of his abdomen and tail comes to press to the soft curve of your stomach. “I was fully grown while your town was a simple gathering of huts,” he rasps lowly, features remaining neutral, if a little amused. “Forgive me if I take my own memories over the distorted tales of humans.”

Lips part in a surprised exhale, shoulders subconsciously curving inward to keep your breasts from brushing his powerful torso. “You—…you were alive back then?” But you shake your head, “the town was built by my ancestor’s ancestors—generations ago. You can’t possibly have been alive so long back…” But the doubt is clear in your voice, despite trying to argue against him.

Azriel releases you gently, and you tense in surprise as he swims away, dipping beneath the surface then reappearing a little way from you. Muscle tenses before clicking into habit, recalling the lessons on how to tread water. Pressing your fingertips together as you slowly but firmly rotate your limbs to keep afloat. The corners of his mouth are quirked upward, grinning faintly as you struggle in his home terrain. “Generations of humans amounts to no more than two centuries, at most. They live such short lives, and often rush into choices that end them up in heaps of trouble,” he says, circling you leisurely, powerful tail swishing as he’s idly propelled through the sea. “For instance, this conflict between our kinds. It’s one they won’t win.”

“You’re acting as if you’ve never lost one of your own to us,” you reply quietly. “I’ve seen the mer they capture, what they do to them. We might sustain losses, but you do to.” His expression darkens—something in the blackness of his eyes—despite the edges of his mouth remaining soft. “Is that something you’re proud of?” He asks quietly, water lapping at the rock as he completes a rotation of the pool, pausing in his place.

“Proud of what,” you question, the aches becoming more prominent at the base of your spine. He swims a little closer, and you subconsciously push back in the water, drifting away. “Proud of humanities’ brutality. Proud of their barbed hooks and burning fire. Proud of the scales they pry from our tails,” he rasps, moving forward with every spot of distance you try to put between you. “I—… I’m not proud of it,” you manage, a little intimidated by the unwavering confidence rolling off him as he encroaches further. “I just meant that we aren’t weak. And the sailors wouldn’t hate the mer if you didn’t eat their shipmates.”

He swims closer, and you flinch as the hewn rock presses into your spine, littered with tiny, jagged shells. You swallow as he gently cages you in, pinning you to the rock’s edge with his lower torso, long tail swishing idly far below. “Do you know how painful it is?” He rasps lowly. “To have them peeled back from your skin? Slowly, one by one?” Your pulse begins to spike, hands reluctantly pressing on his shoulders to keep yourself afloat.

“I don’t…I didn’t know they did that…” you say quietly, trying not to squirm with the sharp edges of the barnacles prickling your back. The corners of his mouth soften further, and he appears to be smiling faintly. “What was his name? Alaric?” He rasps soothingly, your skin prickling with warning at the calm mask he’s wearing so effortlessly. “He wore them too, our scales. Did you never notice? Or were you simply ignoring them to keep yourself happy?”

Your brow furrows, trying to shift out from between him and the rock, but the shells feel like they’ll tear with the slightest movement. “I’ve never seen him wear…” Your brow furrows, remembering the necklace he kept tucked beneath his shirt. Nausea roils in the pit of your stomach, remembering how they would drag over your chest whenever he was on top, grunting with hot, fishy breath. “I thought they were shark teeth,” you manage, quietly grimacing.

One hand finds your hip, keeping you pressed to the rock while his other twines with your own, pulling it from his shoulder. “They only keep one, but they pry them from our tails by the thousands,” he rasps softly, raising your fingers to his mouth. “Can you imagine that? Having them peeled” —soft lips brush the pads of your digits— “from your flesh?” He asks. Teeth slip beneath the ridge of your nail, applying pressure as if to pull it back, a small, tearing pain tingling along the padded bone.

You wince, trying to pull away, but he tugs on your nail harshly, making you cry out. “Azriel… That hurts. Stop it,” you order quietly. He does as you ask, but not before nipping at the tip of your finger, delivering a tiny bite to wrinkled skin. “Your husband wouldn’t have stopped there,” he rasps, releasing your hand but keeping you pinned to the rock. “He would have gone slower,” he says, dipping his head, until your noses almost touch, the damp, inky locks of his hair brushing your brow. “He would have taken pleasure in the blood rising. Would have—”

“Stop it,” you whisper, feeling sick.

Azriel pauses, but doesn’t retreat. You swallow harshly. “I’m sorry,” you whisper shakily, “I didn’t know. About the…” He hums absently, as if the thought doesn’t bother him, regarding the subject with vague disinterest. “And now you do,” he says. “So, mer, do you still wish to return to your fishing town? I’m sure your husband would be delighted to get his hands on you.” He pauses, eyes pinning you to the rock, mouth quirked in a faint smile. “Again.”

Your hand snaps from the water faster than you can think, compromising your position, your back dragging down along the jagged rock as you’re poised to strike—

He raises a single brow, watching you intently. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, “it would do you some good to learn how to hit back.” Your lips press together, hand shaking lightly as you’re locked in his stare. He watches you intently, as if daring you to strike him. But you swallow, and lower your hand.

“You’re right,” you admit quietly, reluctantly. “But that doesn’t mean you have to be so blunt about it. You don’t know anything about me, so don’t go prodding at old wounds to test their depth. It’s cruel.” He hums, a faint smile on his soft mouth, peering down at you with amusement in his dark onyx eyes. “And you don’t know anything about me, so don’t presume to know better,” he rasps, the ghost of breath bushing over your lips. “Believe me when I tell you we aren’t as barbaric as you’re lead to believe, nor as vicious or cruel.” His lips quirk into a faint grin, dark humour gleaming in his charcoal gaze. “At least, others aren’t.”

Muscle stiffens at the veiled threat, and discomfort writhes beneath your bones. You stare up into his eyes, conflicted between his opposites. On one hand he’s been gentle, patiently answering the questions you have, yet he’s firmly protective over his kind’s portrayal. The tip of your finger still stings lightly, back numb from the prickling press of barnacles, knees aching with more pronounced pain. “You recognised his voice,” you say slowly, watching him intently. “Back on the pier. You recognised my husband’s voice.”

His ears twitch, but his expression remains carefully neutral. “What makes you think that?” He asks, tail swishing against your feet. Your brow narrows as you peer at him, confused. “Are you denying it?” You ask quietly. “That you knew him?” Azriel’s silent, beats counting down as you scan his features for any sign or hint. But then he’s pulling away, and you wince as your back unsticks from the rock wall.

“That’s not a conversation for now,” he rasps, bringing you back out into the pool. Your brow furrows, “why not? He’s my husband.” Azriel looks at you steadily, unknown thoughts passing through his head. “And how would your husband react knowing his little wife was freely bare in a mer’s arms?” Wild heat swells up your spine, cheeks warming as embarrassment sears your blood. “You’re making it out to be something it isn’t,” you snap quietly, gaze dipping away from his, skin tightening with awareness.

Azriel’s lips quirk slightly, palm splaying up your spine, bringing you closer. “I doubt your husband would know any better,” he rasps, and you get the distinct impression he’s trying to find some buttons to push. “I’m his wife. I wouldn’t just run off with another…man…” Your brow tightens, unfamiliar with what to call him.

“So you want to return to him?” He asks leisurely, the pads of his fingers gently running along the slits of your gills, making the tubes spasm lightly, a tremor running down your spine as hundreds of tiny muscles flutter beneath his touch. “I’m—… That’s not the point I’m making,” you argue quietly.

He raises a brow tauntingly, and a scowl tips the edges of your mouth. You sigh harshly, tearing your gaze from his briefly. “Things may be unfavourable between us, but he is still my husband. Even if I…” You swallow, deciding against that part. Return your eyes to his. “I don’t appreciate you questioning my virtue. I will remain faithful for as long as he is my husband. That is what I agreed to when we were married, and that is how it shall remain. Don’t make something so sacred the topic of your twisted humour.”

“You truly believe if he were put in a room full of women with a promise nothing would escape to the outer world, he wouldn’t bed them in a second?” Azriel asks, amusement tilting his expression. “I do,” you reply firmly. There isn’t a doubt in your mind. He might have been an awful husband to you, but he’s pious and god-fearing, like any sane mortal is. You know with absolute certainty he would never be unfaithful to you.

“Even now?” Azriel asks, lips quirking with mirth. “Your sacred words are until death us do part, aren’t they?” Your brow narrows, but you nod, those are the words you had sworn to one another. “Then I believe the sailors on the pier will be able to attest to your passing,” he rasps lowly, “with the tales spread about our kind, being pulled into the water by me was as good as a death sentence.”

You swallow heavily, disliking him for the observation. “Maybe on his end,” you say quietly, “but I know I’m still alive—still living; still breathing—so I will remain as I was before you—” You cut yourself off, remembering the icy bite of the water. Of the cave he’d abandoned you in. Left for dead.

“You died,” he points out gently. “You drowned in those caves, therefore you no longer owe him anything.” You blink, muscles slackening at his sound argument. But you shake your head, “that doesn’t count. I know I’m alive, and—”

“Until death us do part means until death claims one of you, doesn’t it?” He asks.

“Yes, but—”

“No buts. You died. There is nothing keeping you to that town now, so don’t think of returning,” he rasps softly. “They’ll burn you alive for being turned into a monster,” he says quietly, humour gleaming in his onyx eyes—you don’t understand how he can make light of it.

A bit of despair begins to sink in, the reality of the situation dawning at the back of your brain. “I want to be alone for a bit,” you say, feeling the growing gloom beginning to ice your skin. “Please leave.”

He shakes his head, “and leave you alone while you’re changing?”

“I’ll manage somehow,” you reply evenly, closing yourself off. “So kindly leave me alone. You can come back if you’d like—” You stumble, having no concept of the time. How long has it been since he took you into the waters?

“It’s been three days. Your body needed to rest,” he says smoothly, making your skin crawl. The question still bubbles beneath your skin, but you refuse to ask it. “It’s sunset,” he answers quietly, lips softening at the edges, noting your wariness. You swallow down your despair at how much time has already passed. You don’t know why. It’s not as if you can do anything. “Then you can come back at daybreak,” you reply hoarsely, “for now I want my peace.”

He watches you silently, tail brushing your legs lightly with each swish. Then he sighs, floating back from where you bob in the pool. “You’re being foolish,” he warns as he prepares leave. “You’ll want me to be there when the aches start.”

“It’s happening tonight?” You croak, dread cementing itself in your stomach. He nods his head, dark, damp ringlets flicking with the movement.

Energy steadily drains from your body, overcome with the urge to rest. Perhaps you’ll simply be able to sleep through the night and bypass it entirely.

You turn in the pool, making your way to the lip, before hauling yourself up, water cascading down bare skin, scraping over jagged rocks. When you settle atop the padded floor, you find he’s already at the edge again, watching silently. “What do you want?” You ask softly, reaching for the cloth that had held your hair, hoping to at least get it out of the way for a bit.

Azriel is silent, observing as you put your hair away beneath the cloth. You shift uncomfortably, unaccustomed to being so completely bare before anyone other than your…than Alaric.

Finally he pushes off from the pool’s lip, floating out into the vastness of the lagoon. “I’ll be back in a few hours,” he rasps, but you don’t have the energy to protest. “If you start feeling the urge to get in the water, don’t. You need to remain on land until your body is fully prepared to change, otherwise you’ll injure yourself.”

“What do you care?” You ask quietly, wishing it had come out with a little more bite—instead it sounds desperate. His arms fold over the edge, tail swaying restlessly. “That’s something we’ll talk about later, too,” he rasps softly, making you shift on the padded bed, droplets of water still trickling over bare skin. “For now I need you to understand you are not to go into the water under any circumstances. Not until I return. If you can agree to that, you can have your peace.”

You peer at him wearily, wanting nothing more than to lie flat on the bedspread and give yourself over to mindless sleep. “How many hours?” You ask quietly, and his lips soften at the edges, amusement gleaming. “Two,” he rasps, and again you get the distinct impression he’s intentionally chosen a short time span. “Give me five,” you counter quietly. At least with five you’re more likely to be able to settle into some form of unconsciousness.

Azriel shakes his head, smiling faintly. “You won’t last five on your own,” he reasons, apprehension crawling along your bones. Does he have to be so ominous? “Then give me four,” you say, trying to angle as much of your naked body away from him as possible. Again he shakes his head, tail swishing in a way you feel displays his entertainment. “Three,” you say through gritted teeth, on the verge of scowling at him. The bed is practically pulling you down.

“Alright,” he says, relenting. “You have three hours to yourself. Don’t do anything foolish.” You can see him practically singing for you to ask what counts as foolish, but you’re simply too tired. “Okay,” you reply, relieved to finally settle down into the soft padding of the bed. “Three hours,” you murmur, eyes locking as you lay on your side, arms half-heartedly positioned to hide your breasts.

His expression is gentle but unreadable—or maybe it’s just sideways. Either way, you wish he’d leave. The emotion is already creeping up your throat, and can feel the faintest tremor in your lower lip. He stays for a moment longer, before nodding slightly, then pushing off into the water, swimming out to the centre of the pool. You watch through heavy eyes as his lithe form turns back to face you, pausing before taking the dive into the lovely warm water.

“We may not yet be fully intimate with one another,” he rasps softly, the familiar drag of his words washing over you like deadly song. “But I wouldn’t wish you pain.”

The admission registers somewhere in the back of your mind, but before you have the chance to take it out to examine, he’s disappearing in a swirl of inky black and iridescent blues, leaving you alone in the cave.

Allowing the numbness to take root, yielding to the rush of emotion, allowing the tears to freely drip out.

Softly saturating into the sheets.

————

Aches blossom across your skin, blooming in your bones as if being ground against rock. Arms are heavy, as if weighed down by stones, joints clicking stiffly as you try to roll over, a low groan dragging from cracked lips.

Your forehead gleams, an unnatural heat swelling beneath the skin of your cheeks, having to crack your lids open—strangely weighty. The padded bedspread around you has darkened, but that must be from the sea-drops that had been rolling from your body once you’d—

Water.

Your tongue swipes stiffly over your lips, having to unstick it from the roof of your mouth, feeling like lead. It’s difficult to swallow, like your throat has swollen up—absolutely parched. Breath is hauled down into your lungs, airways rasping as your gills flutter at your ribs, tingling with sensitivity, and your legs. Sweat beads, perspiration rolling down your temples into the cloth around your hair. It would all be solved if you just shifted over, then you could splash into the lulling waves of the sea, allow it to soothe the aching heat that’s boiling you alive.

Breath rattles in your chest, the bones in your legs filled with grinding rock, knees and ankles lit up with pain, as if you’d sprained them. Everything hurts, worse than anything your husband ever put you through. Another strained groan breaks free from your raw and tender throat, a series of coughs hacking dryly from your lungs, spasming with the effort.

Eyes traitorously flick to the luminescent glow of pale blue sea, calling to you, urging you to give yourself over, as if having sewn a scarf’s worth of stitches through your limbs, threaded through sinew and cartilage to drag you along the smooth floor. Lids flutter, torn between longingly staring at the soothing sea, and shutting to yield yourself to blissful sleep. Quiet pants rasp from your lips, spine arching as a lacerating pricking feeling spikes low on your back, like someone’s pressing a blade to your skin, arching to escape it.

A cool hand wraps around your wrist, and a sigh of relief breathes heavily from your chest, relaxing back into the padding.

“Can you hear me?” A low, faint voice rasps, echoing through the foggy chambers of your mind. The hand squeezes lightly, then turns your arm over, exposing the pulse to the relieving drag of his thumb. Skin faintly registers how the touch grazes further up, reaching your shoulder to grip tight. A strained noise grates on your vocal cords as water splashes, then something cool is pressing to your forehead.

“I need you to move,” the voice rasps again, and you gather together enough energy to crack open your eyes. Dark, glittering onyx stares back at you, much larger than human eyes shoulder ever be, but evolved to handle the darkness of the murky sea. “Did you hear me?” He rasps. “You need to move. Your bones need to be set.”

You groan again, from deep in your chest, before wearily forcing yourself to move. You know in your bones it won’t get better unless you listen to him—sometimes you have to move through pain before it’s banished. Breathe heavily, getting yourself into a sitting position, able to meet the eyes of the mer floating at the edge of the pool. His head dips in a nod, before gesturing gently with his arms. “Bring your legs over here, into the water,” he instructs.

“What’s happening?” You croak out, dragging your legs until they’re at the lip of the lagoon. The skin of your ankle catches on the jagged rock, nicking at your flesh, sea salt stinging as he helps lower your calves into the water. Gentle hands easing the stiff movements of your joints. A pained sound of relief spills softly from your lips, like a quiet moan, and the edges of his mouth soften as he looks up at you.

“Does that feel better?” He asks, and you manage to nod your head in confirmation. His hand rests atop your knee while reaching for something, the heat of your body soothed by the cool balm of the ocean, the reassuring weight of his palm. Enough awareness returns to your mind to fully peek your eyes open, formulating thoughts. “Yes…” you rasp weakly, back hunched, too out of it to be concerned about your nakedness.

“Keep your legs together,” he says softly, “they need to be bound to help the bones set in place. It will ease the pain if you don’t have to keep them pressed together on your own.” You manage to nod your head, shoulders sloping with the weight on them. “I feel like I’m burning,” you rasp rawly, throat parched.

“It’ll pass,” he answers, and you watch as he begins wrapping something dark around your ankles, slowly but loosely binding them together, working his way up your shins, reaching your knees.

“How much longer?” You rasp out, sweat sliding down your spine. Rough, scarified fingers flex around the bandages, before his eyes raise to meet yours. “You were asleep for half an hour,” he says quietly. Your stomach practically sinks to your toes, heart beating in your mouth, pulsing hot on your tongue. “Half an hour?” You rasp, voice breaking at the end, despair prominent in the set of your parted lips. “Not even…” heavy breaths puff from your chest, heaving as another set of coughs wrack your lungs.

You shake your head, meeting his gently gleaming eyes. “I can’t do this,” you say weakly, “I can’t do this.” Azriel is silent, hands resting atop your knees, tail swishing far below in the lagoon. “You don’t have a choice,” he says softly. “It won’t kill you, and there’s no way to ease it. You just have to wait it out.”

“Easy for you to say,” you breathe, “you’re not the one whose skin feels like it’s on fire.” You pause, mind spinning with the intense heat bubbling away.

“Maybe you do,” you mumble, spiralling off the road as the words begin thoughtlessly dripping from your tongue. “How did you get these?” You ask, the pads of your fingers brushing over the blue-tinted skin of his knuckles, tracing the rough lines of warped flesh, deformed and swollen in places.

His fingers stiffen on your bound knees, your attention settling to the scarred skin of his hands. You’ve seen the fires lit beneath the mer, so they cook slowly, steeped in discarded fish guts as the birds come to feed on the boiled flesh.

Digits link with his own, greedily taking in the coolness of his skin compared with the hellish heat in yours. You squeeze him, as if able to take in his temperature and exchange it with your own, wanting to press his palms to your skin to relieve the burning. Dry lips part in a scratchy exhale, swept away in the thought of the cool reprieve he would bring.

“Ask another question,” he manages to rasp, voice strained.

“Will you touch me?” You don’t even hesitate.

His hands stiffen, and you have just enough sanity to make a clarification. “Normally,” you say, “like you are now, but more.” You can hear the desperation in your voice, but the need’s too great to be ashamed. Your skin is practically on fire with heat, flashes of sweat beading on your back, skin gleaming in the luminescent light.

His throat rolls heavily, then his lips press together in a soft line. “Alright,” he answers quietly, and you could melt with relief. You don’t wait for him to move on his own, instead holding his wrists and guiding them to your face, hands cupping your jaw and cheeks, calming the intense heat. A sigh spills from your chest, pressing his hands closer, as if it will help the temperature recede if he’s nearer. You quietly moan, though it ends more like a sob, groaning from the intense relief, unable to grasp the inappropriate nature of how vocal you’re being.

Azriel watches silently, powerful tail swishing steadily, keeping his hands pressed flush to your skin—that’s indeed hot to the touch. Dark, onyx eyes track your movement as you incline your chin, inadvertently displaying the smooth length of your throat as you crane your head back. He’s entirely still as you bring his hands lower, not quite encompassing your throat, but moving to wrap over the junction of your shoulders to your neck, his fingers spanning across the top of your back. He can feel the pronounced beat of your pulse, elevated from the changing.

You sigh again, sweet relief cooling the patches of skin he’s allowing you to press his hands to. Your palms settle over the backs of his, soaking in the lower temperature like its a medicine. “How much longer is this going to last?” You manage to ask, meeting his deep gaze, painful aches still blossoming up your legs, reaching your lower abdomen. “At least seven more hours,” he rasps quietly, fingers splaying over your skin of their own volition, putting soothing patterns over the top of your back.

“Seven more hours,” you repeat, staring at him. You blink a few times before shaking your head, shoulders sloping. “I really hate you right now,” you murmur, feeling another ticklish bead of sweat roll down your spine. There must be a small puddle beneath you by this point, perspiration coating your body like a hot, skin-tight cloak. Damp and sticky and easily resolved by just a short dip in the—

“Easy,” he warns, one hand leaving your shoulder to press on your knee, firmly keeping you in place as you try to squirm forward. “It’ll only make it worse if you go in now,” he reminds, a note of reprimand in his lovely, deep voice. You groan with frustration, toes curling in the cold water. You can imagine how the sea would sizzle if you dipped in.

“Why is it okay for my legs to be in but not the rest of me?” You snap quietly, longing for the ocean. “They shouldn’t, but the burning shouldn’t have started this early either,” he answers. He doesn’t mention it could mean it will pass swiftly, not wanting to get your hopes up. You shift on the ledge, moving your feet a little too jerkily, sending water splashing up onto the sides of your knees. Azriel’s eyes narrow on you, but you couldn’t care less, senses zeroing in on the cool droplets evaporating on your flesh.

“What do you mean the burning shouldn’t have started this early?” You croak, too weighed with fatigue to manage anything other than reluctant acceptance. He shakes his head. “The process usually builds over a few hours, stays at a peak for two, then dips back down,” he answers quietly, thumb swiping over the bone of your knee before returning to splay over your shoulder. “After that, you would be able to get in the water to help your body familiarise itself.”

“I want to go in now,” you rasp, turning your head away as you cough, throat itching. “I know,” he replies softly, but makes no move to help you in. You sigh, head hanging as your shoulders slope. “I should have just left you,” you mumble to yourself, caught up in the haze of sickness. Shake your head, bringing your hands to your face, a breath shuddering from your lips as you try to push the emotion away. Getting caught up in feeling won’t do you any good, so instead you exhale heavily.

“How long had you been there, anyway?” You rasp, bringing your eyes to the walled-off gaze of the mer’s. Your brow dips, “Azriel?”

He blinks, features blank, different from how they’d been a few seconds ago. “Four days,” he says shortly, tone clipped. Your eyes weight shut, blocking out the light of the pool. “I’m sorry,” you mumble, “I didn’t mean it. About leaving you. Not really…” You peek your eyes open enough to catch his nod, but you don’t feel forgiven.

You swallow heavily, wanting to switch subjects. “Alaric seemed to know you were there,” you say quietly, hands pressing to your thighs, nails digging in lightly.

“You really want to talk about your husband right now?” He asks.

“I thought you said our bonds were broken,” you counter scratchily, throat sandpapery. “Does it matter what I say?” He asks, watching you intently.

Lips purse, pressing together as you look down at him. The edges of his mouth quirk, a faint smile softening the corners. “Does it?” He repeats, raising a single brow. You swallow, “in that case it does.”

“And why in that case?” You look down, eyes skating over your bound ankles, his arms raised to cool your skin, your hands curling in your lap. Your tongue flicks over your lips, gaze latching to his. “I suppose you were right.”

His mouth shifts into a taunting grin, displaying the neat rows of tiny, flesh-shredding teeth.

Your brows furrow in a scowl. “Stop smiling,” you mutter, skin prickling as minute changes occur in your body. You wince, teeth gritting together as a sharp, splintering pain lances up your spine. “I think I need to lie down,” you choke out, pain making your vision dizzy as your features scrunch with hurt. His grin vanishes almost instantly, settling back into that soft, calming set, “okay.”

Slowly, one limb at a time, with a lot of unwanted help from Azriel, you manage to lift yourself away from the lulling wash of the ocean. Lay down heavily, already lamenting the loss of his cool hands over your sizzling skin, sweat dripping from your back into the padding of the bedspread. Saturating it enough you manage to force yourself onto your front, using the thin sheets and stuffs of pillows to find a relatively pain-free position.

“How long has it been?” You ask weakly, lids weighing heavy as you try to keep them open to distract yourself from the lacerating pain up your spine, lancing through your hips and knees. “About an hour since you woke up,” he replies, and you want to sink further into the mattress. Six more hours of this… Heat prickles behind your eyes, but you keep it at bay. It won’t do you any good.

Your eyes slide shut, too heavy for you to keep the weight at bay any longer. Your skin is practically sizzling, sweat pooling beneath you, dripping between your breasts, rolling down your stomach as you breathe deeply. Head resting in the pillow, tipped to the side, your eyes squeeze shut as if it will help to block out the aches.

Cool fingers link with your own, and you manage to blearily peek open long enough to see he’s propped his arms over the edge again, digits laced with your outstretched hand.

He says nothing, and you don’t have the energy to question it. Simply drifting off out to sea, lulled back to sleep by some strange pull.

Gently lured to a kinder state of rest.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @vanderlinde @marvelouslovely-barnes @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01

tdot taglist: @mika-no-sekai-blog @blueeclipsepaperstudent @lalaluch @v3lv3tf0x

[duskandcobalt]

Everywhere, Everything: Chapter Four

Chapter Summary: Azriel meets Elain’s new boyfriend at Nyx’s birthday party. Graysen has some questions about Elain’s “friend.”

Word Count: 4.4K

Missed the first three chapters? You can find the Masterlist for this fic here 🥰

A/N: chapter four already!! Thank you to everyone that’s read this fic and commented or interacted in anyway! I’ve had the loveliest messages come through and it’s been such a joy to chat with you guys about this. I’m a little extra nervous to post this chapter, please keep in mind that this is a bit of a slow burn and we must suffer a little before we get our reward. Alternate title is “Graysen Slander (Azriel’s version)”

ENJOY XX

Read on AO3

Flying back home to Velaris had caused Elain a level of anxiety that had previously been unknown to her.

There used to be a time where she enjoyed seeing her city from the birds-eye-view of an airplane window. She loved to look down and admire the twinkling lights on either side of the sprawling river that split her hometown in half. She liked to scan the buildings as they came into view and point out each place that held a space of her heart because of the special memories attached.

There was her elementary school, the movie theater parking lot where she had her first kiss, and her favourite library. There was the ice-cream shop located a few blocks from their childhood home that she and her sisters would sneak out to at all hours of the night for their cookie dough fix, not bothering to change out of their robes and slippers. She’d look out for the small park where she and Nesta spent their Saturday’s sprawled in the grass, reading books and gossiping. Her heart ached as she spotted the rose and sculpture garden she and Azriel liked to stroll through early on Sunday mornings, hot cups of coffee warming their hands as they walked and talked, Azriel leaning in close to tell Elain that the roses there had nothing on the ones that she grew in her garden.

She hadn’t bothered to point any of those places out to Graysen as their flight had made its descent. Hadn't really felt the need or desire to share those parts of herself with him. She’d just sat quietly, staring straight at her own reflection in the little screen in front of her as she took deep breaths to try and ease the rapid beating of her heart.

Her anxiety had calmed a little once they’d landed and disembarked, emerging from their gate to Nyx’s loud squeal of her name which brought her back to reality just in time for her to drop her bags and catch his tiny body as he ran towards her at full speed and flung himself into her outstretched arms. 

“Hi, baby!” She’d hugged him tight, overwhelmed by just how much she’d missed him.

“Hi, Lain!” Nyx giggled, his little face tucked tight against her neck.

She hadn’t questioned the nickname, one her nephew had never called her before, because she had been too distracted breathing in the scent of his hair - the scent of the same watermelon shampoo that her mother had used during bath time when she and her sisters were kids. It was comforting and familiar and exactly what she needed to push past the worry that had rendered her useless for the past few hours.. 

The initial introductions had gone as well as she could’ve hoped.

Graysen had defaulted back to the easy charm that he’d used back in the day to talk Elain into a drink and it seemed to work on Feyre and Rhys well enough that the drive back to their house and the late dinner that followed were easy and painless. The only hiccup was that Nyx refused to even greet Graysen and had thrown him the most menacing looks he could muster up each time Graysen so much as attempted to hold Elain’s hand. 

“He’s jealous,” Feyre had laughed nervously, embarrassed by her son’s behavior after he’d insisted on sitting next to Elain at dinner. “He’s always been a little territorial when it comes to her and since he hasn’t seen her in a few months…” 

Graysen had laughed it off but Elain had caught the annoyance in his demeanor at the idea of having to share her. Even if the person he was sharing her with was just her soon-to-be five year old nephew. 

Elain’s anxiety returned in full force the next afternoon when guests began to arrive for Nyx’s party. No amount of rearranging balloons or organising the treat station could keep her attention off the front door each and every time it opened. It was only a matter of time before he showed up and the wait was torture. In the years she’d known Azriel, he’d never once missed an important event when it came to his friends and there was no way he’d start now. 

“So…” Nesta appeared next to her suddenly, head cocked to the side as she leant against the table and watched in amusement as Elain straightened the goodie bags for the seventh or eighth time that hour. “Graysen seems nice.” 

“Yeah,” Elain nodded, not bothering to look up from the little cellophane bags full of treats that she’d been busying herself with for the last ten minutes. She didn’t need to look at Nesta to know her true feelings. She could hear it in her voice. “He’s great.” 

“He’s very… passionate.” Her sister studied her nails as she fought to hold back the teasing smile that played on her lips.  “About work. And golf. And work. And his car… Did I mention his work? Because he certainly did.” 

“Okay, okay.” Elain groaned, casting a fleeting glance across the room where Graysen was still chatting to Rhysand. 

She sent a thank you to the universe that Feyre had married a man that had the talent and patience to talk to absolutely anyone. She couldn’t say the same for Cassian, who had quickly maneuvered out of that conversation and over to the backyard to terrorize the kids, instead. 

“He just loves his job,” Elain shrugged, finally turning to face her sister. 

Nesta raised a perfectly manicured brow, fixing Elain with a pointed look. “You mean he loves money.” 

There was a reason Elain had never introduced a boy to her family and the reason was standing directly in front of her, all perfectly coiffed hair and dangerous eyes. Feyre could find a way to see the good in anyone and the boys would say they were okay with whoever Elain dated as long as she was happy. But Nesta - Nesta had always had a knack for seeing straight through any of Elain’s lies and she’d never been afraid to call her out when necessary. It was a quality Elain had come to appreciate from time to time but she didn’t appreciate it today.

“I mean… he does work in finance.” 

“Elain.” Another pointed look was thrown in her direction.

“Nesta.” 

“He looks like he pays more for a haircut than I do.” 

“Nesta!” Elain hit her sister on the arm, unable to stifle the laugh that bubbled to the surface. She knew exactly how much Graysen paid for his hair cuts and Nesta was right. “He’s nice.”

“You know who’s nicer...” Nesta said it under her breath but Elain heard her loud and clear. 

“Stop,” Elain lowered her voice. “Please. You promised.”

“I promised I wouldn’t tell the boys and I haven’t,” she replied without missing a beat. “I never promised we wouldn’t talk about it at all.” 

“Nesta, please. I can’t talk about this now.”

What Elain really wanted to say was that she couldn’t talk about this ever, but she knew that would only result in more back and forth and right now all she wanted was for this conversation to be over.

“He’s miserable, El.” Nesta lowered her voice to match Elain’s. “He’s very good at acting like he’s fine but he’s not. You just left and I know you’ve cut him off completely since and -”

“I haven’t spoken to anyone, really. It’s not like I’ve only stopped talking to hi-” Elain abruptly stopped speaking, standing up straight and plastering a smile on her face just as she spotted Graysen beginning to make his way towards them.

He didn’t have a chance to say anything, had only just managed to sling an arm around Elain’s waist when the front door swung open and Shadow came flying through. She was nothing but a black blur, ducking and dodging around furniture as she ran straight through to the kitchen. She paused in front of Rhys for a quick hello before she made a beeline towards where Elain stood with Nesta and Graysen by the dining room table. 

Her long tail wagged furiously, whipping against the wooden leg of the table. Shadow was seemingly unbothered, too busy flailing around happily between Nesta’s legs before she finally came to a stop in front of Elain. Her long snout nuzzled into Elain’s open palm and her lean body leant heavily against her thighs.

Much like Nyx, Shadow paid Graysen little to no attention other than to sniff  in his direction just once which Elain thought quite strange given that Shadow loved meeting new people and she’d famously always favored the company of men. 

“Hi, Shadow girl!” Elain cooed, crouching down to properly greet the dog that had come to feel like her own over the years. She’d gone with Azriel the day he’d picked her up and brought her home, had even helped name her. “Look how gray you’ve gotten!”

“She’ll be nine next week.”

The timber of his voice hit her at the exact same time as the familiar scent of his cedar cologne and Elain was suddenly grateful that she was already on the ground because if she’d been standing, she was sure her knees would’ve given out completely.

Elain swallowed her nerves, raising her eyes from Shadow’s sweet salt and pepper face to look up at Azriel only to find that every bit of his attention was focused solely on her.

“Hi, Lain.”

There were a couple beats of silence before Elain got a hold of herself and stood up. She stepped forward and before she could stop herself, she raised onto the very tips of her toes and wound her arms around his neck. Azriel’s arms wrapped around her waist in turn, tentatively at first before she felt his fingers flex against the middle of her back as he relaxed, readjusting his grip to pull her tight against his chest as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Probably because it had been at one point in time.

“Hi, Az.” She whispered into his neck, breathing in the divine scent of him. The scent of home.

“Hey, Azriel!” Nesta said loudly from behind them, effectively breaking the trance that Elain had unwittingly found herself in. 

She let go of Azriel quickly and took a large step back, bumping into the dining table, as Nesta took her place in his arms. 

She was only just aware of Graysen staring at her in her peripheral, his hand once again heavy against her hip.

“Were you planning on introducing me?” He asked her as Azriel and Nesta separated and Azriel turned to face them again. Elain hadn’t noticed that she’d been staring dumbly straight ahead - directly at Azriel’s chest. 

He was wearing an oatmeal coloured fisherman’s sweater that she’d told him she loved on him more than a few times and a small, stupid part of her wondered if she crossed his mind when he slipped it on this morning.

“Oh, yes!” She shook her head, laughing nervously. “Um, Az… this is Graysen, my uh…”

“Boyfriend.” Graysen finished the sentence for her, extending his hand towards Azriel. “And you are…”

“This is Azriel. My…. Azriel.” Elain stuttered as she watched the two men shake hands.

She allowed herself the tiniest shake of her head to ease the frustration she felt towards herself. She sounded like an absolute idiot.

“I think I’ve missed something,” Graysen looked between Elain and Azriel, eyebrows lifting slightly. “How do you know each other?

“We’re good friends.” Azriel answered at the same time Elain said “He’s Rhys’ best friend.”

Jesus. Fucking. Christ. 

She couldn’t possibly have handled that any worse.

“So you’re Rhys’ friend or Elain’s friend?” Graysen asked, the slightest hint of a frown forming on his lips. 

Any hope that Elain had of him dropping this topic evaporated in front of her eyes.

“We’re all friends. We met through Rhys when he started dating Feyre and we all spent basically all our time together.” She answered quickly, briefly meeting Azriel’s eyes.

Another mistake. 

All she saw was hurt. No one else would’ve noticed because the emotion was there and gone in a flash but Elain saw past the mask. She saw the hurt she’d caused him. Hurt at being reduced to a friend of a friend, as if he wasn’t so much more to her. As if they hadn’t spent years of their lives seeing each other almost every day. Trading secrets. Letting each other see parts of themselves they’d never allowed anyone else to see.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Azriel smiled politely, redirecting his attention to Graysen. “I’m gonna go find the birthday boy but I’ll talk to you guys later, I’m sure.”

He didn’t look at her again before he walked away, Shadow obediently following right behind him. Even Nesta quickly excused herself so she didn’t have to be around to witness the uncomfortable tension that had settled heavily between Elain and Graysen..

She had absolutely no idea what had come over her. She thought she’d been somewhat prepared to see him again but nothing could’ve prepared her for the reality of him standing in front of her. Smiling at her. The feel of his arms around her - strong and sure and familiar. Nothing could have prepared her for seeing him walk away from her, disappointment lingering behind his eyes. She’d done that to him and she hated herself for it.

She silently cursed herself for ever thinking that bringing Graysen back here would be a good idea. Mere minutes had passed and she’d already fucked up. She had no idea how the hell she was supposed to make it through this day, let alone survive an entire weekend of this.

“What the hell was that?” Graysen muttered as Elain turned in his arms, once again plastering on a smile in a last ditch effort to rectify the mess she’d just made of that introduction.

“Nothing,” She shook her head, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “That was nothing.”

… 

When Azriel walked into Rhys and Feyre’s house earlier and caught a glimpse of Elain for the first time in four months, she was wearing another one of those dresses that threatened to send him to his knees. 

He loved each and every one of her dresses but the one she wore today was a pale blue with delicate straps that tied at her shoulders and draped elegantly over her frame in a way that just about teased at each dip and curve concealed by the lightweight, silky material. It was perfectly demure for a children’s birthday party but something about that dress on her was downright sinful. 

Maybe if the circumstances were different, he’d be able to steal a glance every now and then and attempt to carry on with his life, but the circumstances were not different and Azriel was cursed to get through this afternoon looking at Elain in that dress with some other guy’s arm around her waist. 

He hadn’t been able to get her out of his head. Even if he had no right to think of her in that way. Not when she’d made it abundantly clear not once but twice now, that she didn’t want him like that. Still, he couldn’t help that the memory of her kneeling on his bed and tracing a path across his hips with that pretty mouth of hers came rushing back to the forefront of his mind in the ten or so seconds that she’d been on her knees in front of him, patting his dog and looking up at him with those big, brown eyes. 

Any satisfaction that he’d gotten from that memory or simply from seeing her and having her in his arms again, disappeared the second she stepped back and he’d been introduced to her boyfriend.

He knew there was something off with the way they interacted within the first few minutes of watching them together that afternoon. Azriel knew that the smiles she gave him weren’t genuine because they never quite reached her eyes. Elain evaded Graysen’s touch, swiveling out of his grasp each and every time he went to put his hand on her hip, ducking her head so the kiss he intended to give her landed on her forehead instead of her lips. 

He wondered how no one else seemed to notice it when he could see it so clearly. He was in tune with her every emotion, knew her better than he knew the back of his own hand. He’d had time to hone that skill and right now, the piece of his brain that was dedicated solely to her was screaming that something wasn’t right. 

Azriel hated the way she acted around him. Hated the way Graysen acted towards her. Actually, Azriel just outright despised Graysen.

He’d come into this day wanting the best. He genuinely wanted to see Elain happy even if the notion of her being with anyone else made his chest constrict in a way that couldn’t possibly be healthy. But he knew she wasn’t happy and one handshake was all it took for Azriel to know exactly what kind of guy Graysen was.

His grip had been firm but his hands bore no evidence of ever doing anything more difficult than swinging a heavy golf club. Graysen had a smile befitting of a politician’s son - charming but edged with insincerity, like he’d do or say whatever was necessary to get what he wanted. He carried himself with the ease of someone that had had things handed to him on a silver platter for his whole life and there was a certain arrogance to him that had Azriel wondering what Elain could possibly see in him. He knew her well enough to know that it wouldn’t have been the expensive clothing or the twenty thousand dollar watch on his wrist that had piqued her interest just like he knew that the glittering diamond tennis bracelet circling her wrist was for Graysen’s benefit and not hers.

He’d endeavored to try and find out if the guy had any redeeming qualities at all to help Azriel come to terms with them being together but he’d been stopped every time he’d tried to approach Graysen.

Azriel almost found it amusing the way Elain had been running what could be considered award winning interference between himself and her boyfriend all day, somehow managing to keep them well away from each other in and amongst entertaining her nephew and his flock of tiny friends. But now that all Nyx’s friends and their parents had gone home and the sun was beginning to set, there was very little Elain could do to keep them from speaking. 

Graysen had started the conversation as they sat on the couch next to each other, just behind where Elain was sitting on the floor helping Nyx unwrap the copious amounts of presents he’d received today. Graysen asked Azriel about how he had met Rhys and Azriel explained that they’d met when they were kids and Rhys’ family had all but adopted him as one of their own. The topic had turned to Velaris and Azriel had sat through mind-numbing comments about how the river looked nicer in pictures, how things closed too early, and how there was no real potential for growth. 

He’d just nodded and shrugged wherever he thought appropriate and he’d failed to get more than a sentence in but then Cassian had asked if Azriel was still planning on staying at their place after dinner with everyone the next night and when Azriel had answered that he would as long as he managed to finish the ring he’d been working on, Graysen had suddenly had a lot of questions. 

“So you set up a little stall at what? … Weekend farmers markets? Sell jewelry to old ladies and teenage girls?”  Graysen asked after Azriel patiently explained exactly why he was making jewelry. “And you make money from that?”

Azriel noticed the way Elain stiffened at the condescending tone of Graysen’s voice. The snide way he laughed as he reduced Azriel’s work to the equivalent of a children’s roadside lemonade stand. She set down the toy she’d been unboxing for Nyx and swiveled around to face them.

“He’s not making jewelry with dollar store plastic beads, Gray.” It was maybe the most fed up Azriel had ever heard her sound. He’d always known her to stay quiet and avoid confrontation. He didn’t even need one hand to count all the times he’d seen her snap and each of those times had been at Feyre or Nesta so he didn’t really count them. “It’s his business and he’s done really well.”

“It’s fine, Lain.” Azriel said softly, his heart swelling in his chest at the way she defended him even if he was unbothered by Graysen’s comments. It was nothing he hadn’t heard before from his own father or brothers. He continued to speak, confidently taking Graysen’s questions in stride in a way that Elain hadn’t quite been able to.“I actually work in data security but I make jewelry in my spare time and sell custom pieces online. Although, I did have some pretty successful mornings at farmer’s markets when I was just starting out and -”

“I thought you didn’t like being called that.” Graysen interrupted him, calculating eyes shifting from Azriel to Elain.

“What?” Elain asked, eyebrows furrowed in a way that Azriel would’ve found endearing in any other circumstance.

“He calls you ‘Lain.’” Graysen replied. “You told me you hated when I called you that.”

“I just prefer ‘El,’” She shrugged, picking at the sleeve of the cream cardigan she’d thrown on over her dress. “And he isn’t the only one. Nyx has called me that all day today, as well.” 

Azriel stayed silent. He knew exactly where Nyx had picked that nickname up from but he wasn’t about to expose himself for cornering his friend’s kid into multiple conversations with the secret agenda of trying to siphon information about what Nyx’s Auntie was up to these days. 

Graysen huffed, crossing his arms like an overgrown child as he sat back. He’d dropped his line of inquisition for now but Azriel had a feeling that wasn’t the last Elain would hear of this topic and the thought made him sick.

He’d been carefully watching all afternoon - noticing the way Graysen spoke about Elain and the possessive way he touched her as if she was something to have or to own. It had turned his stomach, memories of the way he’d seen his father treat his mother seeping into his mind despite his best efforts to keep them at bay.

Azriel paid extra attention to him now, picking up the way Graysen acted towards Elain as he continued to answer questions about his jewelry. He cringed at the scowl that found a home on Graysen’s lips each time her attention was pulled away from him and the way that scowl only deepened at each passing remark that hinted that maybe Azriel and Elain had, in fact, been closer than what she might’ve alluded to earlier. 

He wasn’t sure exactly what she’d told Graysen about him. He had a feeling she hadn’t told him much at all. But he saw the wheels turning in Graysen’s head when Azriel’s craft came up again and Azriel explained exactly what type of jewelry he made and Graysen’s eyes had drifted to the chain that had faithfully stayed clasped around Elain’s neck year after year. 

His suspicions were confirmed an hour or so later when Azriel rounded a corner, making his way towards the powder room at the foot of the stairs only to stop halfway there when he was distracted by a pair of low voices coming from Rhysand’s office across the hallway. 

It was just a simple hushed whisper but his ears perked up at the voice he’d come to find grating over this very long, very tortuous day. 

He could hear his mother’s voice in his head telling him that it wasn’t polite to eavesdrop, that nothing good every came from it, but he couldn’t help himself as he stood there - still as night, locking in on the hushed conversation and blocking out the raucous laughter coming from the kitchen. 

“You know what I find most interesting about all of this?” Azriel heard Graysen ask. “In four months, I’ve heard about your sisters and their husbands but you haven’t even mentioned his name once.”

“He’s just a friend,” Elain answered quietly. “I swear.”

“Right,” Graysen scoffed. “And I suppose he’s the friend that gave you that necklace?”

Azriel swallowed,  his eyes pinching closed at the animosity - the clear jealousy - that laced Graysen’s question. He could hear the malice in the way he spat out the word ‘friend’. He could only imagine the way he’d be glaring at the little gold oval that Azriel knew Elain would be clutching in between her thumb and index finger.

Graysen had asked her about the necklace, that thin gold chain Azriel had gifted her all those years ago that sat faithfully around her neck every day since. It was his only sign, as delusional as it might’ve made him, that she still thought of him. After everything that had happened the year prior, Elain still wore that small, handmade pendant and even if they didn’t speak, even if his messages had gone unanswered… Maybe her continuing to wear that necklace meant that she didn’t completely despise him. 

Azriel kept moving, not allowing himself to so much as breathe until he was safely behind the closed door of the powder room. He had wanted to keep listening but he knew he shouldn’t. He didn’t think he could stand to hear her answers to Graysen’s questions. Didn’t want to know if she’d attempt to explain to Graysen whatever this thing was between them or if she’d continue to insist that he was nothing more than a friend. 

But Azriel wanted an answer. He deserved an answer. He just didn’t want to get it by eavesdropping on a conversation he wasn’t a part of. He needed to hear it directly from her. He needed to talk to her.

[autumnshighlady]

I've Always Liked to Play With Fire (part 26)

NESTA ARCHERON X ERIS VANSERRA X FEMALE!READER

summary: Eris has yet another surprise for you, and a secret is revealed

warnings: feyre slander, slightly nsfw towards the end

word count: 5.7k

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n: this is a filler chapter, sorry if it's boring! wedding is coming up next chapter i think. also so sorry the taglist got messed up somewhere halfway through teh fic and it wasn't actually tagging people so if you haven't been tagged like 15 chapters i fixed it now im so sorry!

part 1 // part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12 / part 13 / part 14 / part 15 / part 16 / part 17 / part 18 / part 19 / part 20 / part 21 / part 22 / part 23 / part 24 / part 25

read on ao3

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

A throbbing headache greeted you as you peeled your eyes open, the bright rays of sunshine coming in through the window directly onto your face. You groaned, mouth dry as sand. Regret over those last few drinks washed over you as you rolled over, body shaky as you pushed yourself up.

“Morning!” Gwyn’s voice sounded through your blurry vision – her normally soft tone was ear-splitting due to your hangover.

“Ugh, please tone down your mouth noises.” You grumbled, rubbing your temples and yawning.

The redhead rolled her eyes, handing you a tray. “That’s what you get for drinking so much. A servant brought us a tray each for breakfast. Drink water and the tonic, you’ll feel better.”

You sighed, trying to fight off the hangover shakes as you reached for the tray. On the golden platter was a glass of water, a vial of liquid meant to ease how shitty you felt, and a plate with toast, eggs, fruit, and thick slices of bacon. The food smelled heavenly, but your stomach churned in protest. So you quickly downed the tonic before slowly sipping water, your throat no longer feeling like a desert.

Nesta had joined Gwyn on the bed in the far corner in an effort to get Emerie to sit up. The Illyrian female protested, eyes squeezed shut as she cursed the sun for being so bright. Despite your state, you snorted. At least you were better off than Emerie. 

“Come on,” Nesta insisted. “You have to at least have a sip of water.”

Emerie shook her head vehemently, then cursed, dizzied. “No. I’m gonna die if I move another inch.”

Gwyn reached down to Emerie’s tray and grabbed the glass of water, bringing it up to her lips. “Here, that way you won’t have to move.” The hungover female protested, but Gwyn tilted the glass up anyways, forcing the water into her mouth. She sputtered for a second, but eventually swallowed some of the cold liquid.

With Gwyn now settled coaxing water into Emerie, Nesta headed towards your bed, smirking. “Morning, sunshine.” She said coolly. Her hair was loose and messy around her shoulders, eyes slightly red from the lack of sleep. But she still looked incredible, despite having drank more than you.

“Not fair.” You complained, rubbing your dry eyes again and scowling at your mate. “I drank half as much as you and you seem perfectly fine.”

Nesta plopped down beside you, shrugging. “Perk of drinking myself half to death for a few months, I guess.” She joked, then motioned to your bacon. “Are you going to eat that?”

“Go for it.” You shook your head. “I can’t imagine eating anything right now.”

A wider smirk came over Nesta’s face as she popped the bacon into her mouth, blue-grey eyes going up and down your body. “I can.”

You blushed, smacking her with your pillow. “What has gotten into you?” You hissed playfully so that Gwyn and Emerie wouldn’t hear. Your body had responded to her words instantly, heating up even more and making you squirm. 

She shrugged, taking the second piece of bacon off your plate as well. “I’m just glad I can finally show appreciation for my mate without worrying about someone hacking my head off for it.”

“Fair enough.”

The four of you picked away at your breakfasts in silence, much to you and Emerie’s relief. The tonic began to work after twenty minutes, your headache slowly easing up and the fog around your brain clearing. Eventually, Eris and Azriel came through the doors, stifling their laughs at how hungover or sleep deprived you all were. After saying goodbye to your friends, Emerie grumbled something about the likelihood of throwing up all over Azriel as she took his hand, preparing to winnow. Gwyn’s cheeks flushed slightly as she took Azriel’s other hand, the spymaster’s shadows curling around her slender wrist. You raised an eyebrow at her, but she blushed harder and refused to meet your gaze.

After Azriel, Gwyn, and Emerie left, Nesta left for the bathing chambers to freshen up while you flopped back down into the bed, pulling the sheets over your head. “I’m staying here all day,” You declared. “Nobody wake me.”

You heard Eris chuckle, feeling the bed shift as he sat down beside you. He yanked the sheets down, and you whined in protest. “Eris!” You cried out. “Please, I’m so hungover. I just want to rot in this bed all day.”

“Too bad,” Eris said with a delighted grin on his face. “Because I have another surprise for you.”

You groaned, turning onto your stomach and burying your face into the pillow. “I cannot handle another surprise right now.”

“Trust me. You’ll want to see this. Now get out of bed.”

“Fuck you.”

“You wish. Now get up.”

When you didn’t move, strong hands grabbed your waist, pulling you into the air with surprising strength and flinging you over the High Lord’s shoulder. You yelped, the blood rushing to your head as Eris gripped the back of your thighs, holding you steady as he walked.

“Put. Me. Down. Right. Now.” You hissed through gritted teeth, stomach churning as the world swayed around you.

“Absolutely not.” Eris quipped, squeezing your legs once and he strode down the hallway. “Besides, you’re too hungover to use any of those sneaky moves the shadowsinger taught you. So suck it up, do not vomit on me, and thank me later for dragging you out of bed.”

You groaned as Eris carried you up a winding staircase with ease, your upper body swaying across his back. “Where are you even taking me?” You asked, defeated.

“Your surprise is out on the private balcony.” 

“What is the surprise?”

Eris snorted. “Mother above, you and Nesta are the worst when it comes to surprises, you know that? Nosy creatures.”

“You could have at least given me time to prepare.” You grumbled, realising you were still in your pyjamas.

“So you’d rather I have told you I had a surprise in advance and then let you stew over it for a whole day, leaving you in limbo before finally revealing it?”

You rolled your eyes, knowing he had a point. You didn’t answer, and Eris laughed victoriously. “Thought so.” He said smugly.

Finally, after climbing up a mountain’s worth of staircases, Eris finally set you down. You wobbled, legs unsteady and clinging to the High Lord for balance as you adjusted to being upright again. A large wooden door stood in front of you, elegant whirling carvings along the edges. You shivered at the bone chilling cold of the stairwell, and Eris was quick to drape his warm cloak over your shoulders.

“Thanks.” You said before shooting him a glare. “But if you throw me over your shoulder like that again, I will nail your balls to the wall.”

Pure predatory smirk overcame Eris’s face as he met your gaze evenly. “Oh, please. We both know you enjoyed being tossed around.”

Your cheeks burned, unable to deny that his words rang partially true. You slapped his arm, and hissed at him, “This surprise better be worth it.”

“Oh, I know it is. Once again, feel free to use your spare time to brainstorm all the ways you can thank me later.” Eris simply winked, turning the knob and pushing the door open. You squinted, eyes taking a second to adjust to the bright morning sunlight that glared at you.

Stepping through the doorway onto the breezy balcony, your eyes began to focus. A tall, male figure stood a few feet away, the rays of the sun shining behind him and casting him in an otherworldly glow. Strands of red hair blew in the breeze, the light reflecting off of a familiar golden eye.

“Lucien…” Your voice was barely above a whisper as tears began to pool in your eyes at the sight of your friend coming into view. His golden skin shone in the light of Autumn, his red hair half tied back, revealing his chiselled, handsome face. It was filled with a mix of emotions as he stared back at you – awe, happiness, regret, all at once.

“Hey there, (Y/N).” Lucien said softly, lips pulling up in a smile.

All nausea and dizziness vanished as you surged forward, running towards your old friend. Your heart raced with excitement as you leapt into his outstretched arms, burying your face in his shoulder. There was no hope at stopping the sobs that choked up your throat, so you let them out. Lucien’s strong arms wrapped around you, holding you up as you clung onto his tall form.

Time was askew as you hugged him. It could have been hours or seconds for all you knew. You hadn’t seen Lucien since those few minutes after you escaped Rhys’s prison, all those weeks ago. 

Eventually, Lucien gently set you down. You turned around to ask Eris how he had found and gotten his brother here so quickly, but your mate had slipped away, leaving you alone with Lucien. When you turned back to your friend, his remaining eye simmered with emotion. “I’ve missed you.” He said, squeezing your hands in his own.

“I’ve missed you, too.” You said through tears. “I’m so sorry, Lucien.”

He frowned. “What do you possibly have to be sorry for?”

“For everything,” You gulped. “For everything you’ve been through, for how you’ve been treated. For not trying to find you sooner–”

Lucien interrupted you sternly. “No. Do not say that. None of this is your fault. You’re safe, that’s all that matters. I’m sorry, too.”

“What do you possibly have to be sorry for?” You threw his words back at him playfully, despite the sadness still lacing your voice.

Lucien squeezed your hands again, regret crossing his kind face. “For not fighting harder for you.”

Your heart cracked a bit at his broken voice. Lucien was the best male you had ever known, always putting others above himself no matter the personal cost. “You showed up with armies from the Spring Court to get me back. I’d hardly call that not fighting for me.”

“I meant before that. Feyre and Rhys told me that you were enjoying Velaris and your new missions as a spy, which was why you hadn’t come to visit me. They even went so far as to bring me a scarf claiming it was from you. I simply believed them, and didn’t question it. It wasn’t until Azriel found me and told me the truth about your situation that I realised what was going on.” 

“Lucien–” You tried to speak, to reassure him that he was not at fault here, but your friend cut you off sharply.

“No, it is not okay.” He said sternly. “I should have known better. I had never trusted Rhysand, but decided to take his word for it anyways. I was living in the human lands minding my own business while you were being tortured by that scumbag. And I will carry that guilt with me for the rest of my life. I failed you, (Y/N). And I am deeply sorry.”

You smiled sadly. “Listen to me. You did not lock me up. You did not deceive people. You did not have anything to do with what happened to me. That was Rhys and Feyre. They failed me, not you. And I made it out, that’s all that matters. You risked your life going back to Tamlin and raising the armies for me. If you really wish to seek penance for your guilt, consider that your debt paid.”

Lucien sighed, shaking his head. “I just can’t believe they put you through that.”

“I can.” You snorted, leading him over to the soft couch by the marble railing, overlooking the vast forest below. 

“With Rhys, yes I agree.” Lucien said as he settled down next to you. “But Feyre… the girl I knew who went under the mountain would not have ripped open a court of innocent people for petty reasons. Before Rhys took her away, she gave her own jewels to a poor citizen who did not have enough money to pay the Tithe. It seemed that every time she went away to the Night Court with him, pieces of her slowly chipped away and were replaced with new ones that Rhys created. She was so young, so vulnerable, and now she’s completely under his spell. The fact she could let any of this happen to you disgusts me, and I am ashamed that she manipulated me into believing she was a better friend to me than I ever was to her.”

The autumn breeze soothed your warm face, the fresh air clearing your foggy mind as you drank in the beauty of the view. Lucien was right – the Feyre you had heard about in the stories of Under the Mountain was not the Feyre you had met. As much as you resented her, you couldn’t help but spare her a shred of pity. “She chose her path,” You said steadily. “Just as I have chosen mine.”

Lucien fiddled with the rings on his fingers, playfully elbowing your ribs. “Your path as High Lady and my awful brother’s wife, you mean.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving him back. “He’s not so bad.”

Lucien laughed sharply, a beautiful sound you had missed dearly. “Ok, sure. Come talk to me in a few centuries when you’ve had enough of his bullshit and are debating throwing him off a cliff.”

“Eris seems so enamoured with me, I’m sure all I’d have to do would be to tell him to go fling himself off the cliff and he’d happily do so without question.”

“Unfortunately, I think you’re right.”

The two of you chuckled, just like old times. You adjusted Eris’s cloak, wrapping it tighter around your body. His scent filled your nostrils, filling you with content. “Lucien,” You said hesitantly. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.” The male replied with confidence.

You took a breath before speaking. “Eris is my mate. He has been extremely good to me throughout all this, but you’ve known him and this court almost your whole life. What am I truly getting into by marrying him?”

Lucien was silent for a moment, as if contemplating his answer. Regardless, you knew nothing he could say would change your mind. You wanted to marry Eris, and you knew he would look out for you. But marriage and the workings of Autumn? it was still unknown territory for you. 

“Eris has always been a puzzle,” Lucien said slowly. “For as a long as I can remember, he’s been difficult to figure out. Everything he does is for a reason, and sometimes I can never figure it out. He switches personalities so fast it makes my head spin, and I could never tell what kind of male he truly was because of it. He was an excellent brother when Beron was not around, but the second he entered the room Eris became a different person.

“But it’s different with you. He’s different around you and Nesta, like he’s beginning to thaw. I think it will take a while for him to get used to not having to pretend to be Beron’s prodigy. But with time, he will soften up. Eris knows what he wants and will do anything to get it. He will protect you with unyielding loyalty, even if at times he may seem aloof. There will be times where you grow frustrated with him, and he may shut you out. But from what I’ve seen, I have no doubt that the three of you will be able to work things out. As for this court, give it time. The people can be frosty. Do not show weakness, for they will devour every ounce of exposed flesh like starved vultures. With the right leadership, I do believe it can change. But be patient, and unyielding.”

You mulled over Lucien’s words. He was right – it would be ridiculous to think everything would be smooth sailing from here. Being mates did not mean any complications in your dynamic would be immediately soothed over. It would take a long time for you to recover from and process everything that happened since you were sent to the House of Wind. Just as it would take a long time for Nesta to be comfortable with bathtubs and crackling fire. There would be challenges and disagreements, but at your core you knew it was nothing the three of you couldn’t manage.

“And how do you feel about us all together?” You asked. “Me, Nesta, and Eris, I mean.”

Lucien shrugged. “I see no issue with it. As long as the three of you are happy, that’s all that matters.”

“I wish the rest of this court felt that way.” You sighed. “They didn’t react well.”

He barked out a laugh. “No, I can’t imagine they did.”

You tilted your head back, letting the sun warm your face as you sighed. “So, when did you manage to sneak in here? I assume your banishment is lifted.”

“Yes, it is. Eris brought me here yesterday. I spent the day with my mother. Thank you, by the way, for what you did for her.”

Your heart swelled with happiness. You knew how much Lirilla loved Lucien, how much it pained your friend to be away from his mother for so long. She had a soft spot for him, as he was the least cruel out of all her sons. Every day you thanked the Mother that Lucien had not turned out like Beron.

In the distance, three dragons circled the air, sunning their wings in the rays of sunshine. Their gentle cries rumbled throughout the air like a song carried by the breeze. You snuck a glance at Lucien, whose eyes were fixed on the beasts circling the mountains in the distance. “Eris really did it.” He mumbled as Athariel spun upwards and around Zorzimril.

You whipped your head around. “You KNEW he had dragons?”

Lucien was awestruck as he continued observing the creatures. “Technically, yes. But I never believed him. When I was younger, Eris showed me 3 unusual rocks, claiming that they were dragon eggs. We played with them for hours, and I helped him build a nest to keep them warm. He swore me to secrecy, saying it was our own little game. He told me one day the eggs would hatch, and would grow into three big dragons. Then he, myself, and my mother could each climb on one and fly away from everything.” Lucien’s voice grew sombre, his eye darkening as he continued. “Then one day we found the rocks broken, and Eris told me the dragons had flown away after hatching. I was devastated, I had wanted to see one so badly. But he said they were gone, and I was to never breathe a word about them to anyone. I guess the slippery prick found them and raised them in secret on his own.”

“How did Eris keep dragons a secret from everyone?”

“Keeping secrets is one of his many talents. As I am sure you know very well since he hid the fact he knew that he was your mate.”

You snorted at the jibe, rolling your eyes. “Wow, so you really know everything then, don’t you?”

Lucien laughed, stretching his arms and resting his hands behind his head. The image reminded you of a cat sunning itself in the window. “Unfortunately, yes.” He said. “Eris and my mother filled me in. Among other things.”

You frowned. “Among other things? What does that mean?”

Lucien’s expression was grave, and he turned to face you. His golden eye gleamed in the sunlight but was equally intense as his regular eye as he stared you down. “Promise me that what I’m about to say, you keep to yourself, Eris, my mother, and Nesta.” He said seriously.

Confused, you nodded. Lucien took a deep breath before continuing. “Beron was not my father, apparently.”

You blinked in surprise, but bit your tongue. Lucien had always looked slightly different than his brothers, but you had never really thought twice about it. “My mother had an affair with Helion of the Day Court,” Lucien admitted, his voice hollow as if he didn’t even believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. “I’m his son, not Beron’s.”

Your jaw was slack. “Wow…” You muttered. “Does Helion know?”

Lucien shook his head. “No. But my mother has always been in love with him. It will take her a while to adjust to a reality without Beron hovering over her shoulder, to allow herself to love him openly. If that is what she desires, of course.”

“And what about you?” You asked your friend. “What do you want from all this? I mean… how does it feel?”

Lucien’s expression was distant, as if his mind was elsewhere. It wasn’t hard to tell by the way his jaw tensed that he was thinking of his childhood with his father, remembering every cruel word and ruthless fist he endured. How maybe if things had been different, he could have been spared Beron’s suffering and been raised by Helion – a father who did not delight in torturing his sons. Lucien had a rough life, one that did not seem to be getting any easier. From being banished from Autumn Court to living in a state of uneasy limbo with his mate who seemingly wanted nothing to do with him, Lucien’s life was never truly stable. He was always bouncing from one place to another, never truly fitting in. 

You hoped that with his banishment lifted, Lucien would choose to come back to Autumn. After months of being separated from your best friend, you wanted nothing more than to have him back by your side.

“I’m not quite sure,” Lucien finally answered. “On the one hand, I am glad I am not actually Beron’s son. But Helion being my father changes very little. I was raised by Beron, and for better or for worse I am the way I am because I was a part of his family. In my blood, I am Autumn Court and always will be.”

“But Helion has no other children,” You pointed out carefully. “Which technically makes you the heir to the Day Court, whether you like it or not.”

He shook his head. “It is a power and title I do not want. I’ve never desired to be a Lord of anything, especially not one of an entire court.”

You smiled softly, leaning your head into his shoulder and sighing contently. “I know. That’s why you’re such a good male.”

Lucien wrapped his arm around your shoulder and squeezed you closer to him. “I will let my mother choose what to do about Helion.” He continued. “She may well want to forget the whole thing and leave the past behind. If that is her wish, I am content to go along with it. If she wants to rekindle a relationship with him, then she may tell him that I am his son, and we would go from there. Besides, not all of us are High Lord power hungry like you.”

You laughed, squeezing your eyes shut. “You’re going to make fun of me for becoming High Lady of your court for as long as we live, aren’t you?”

“Of course.” Lucien purred. “Someone has to keep you humble so that power doesn’t get to that pretty head of yours.”

“Careful,” You teased, grinning. “Or I’ll force you to scribe notes during all the council meetings for a decade.”

“Never mind, reinstate my banishment and bounty, please. I’d prefer that over being your note boy for your and your mates’ stuffy meetings.”

Your laughter echoed across the wind, just as Zorzimril let out a playful screech in the distance. For a few minutes, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, until your curiosity got the better of you, and you asked, “So… speaking of mates, has anything happened with Elain?”

The male sighed, rubbing his face with his free hand. You felt a muscle in his neck twitch at the mention of her name, an instinctual reaction like the mere mention of her rang a bell inside him. “No,” He said stiffly. “And frankly, at this point I wish that she would just sever the bond if she wanted nothing to do with me. It’s agonising. And Feyre and Rhys keep her cloistered away, knowing it would be too hard for me to try and visit her after everything that’s happened. I want Elain to be happy, even if it’s not with me, but I truly don’t think she would be happy in the Night Court. I just… I just want her out of there. To give her a chance to choose her own life.”

“From what I’ve seen, she seems content to let her sister choose her life for her.” You kept your words delicate, not wanting to offend Lucien. As much as he was your friend, he was still a mated male – and now you understood that protectiveness he likely felt.

“I think the Archeron sisters need to be apart from each other.” Lucien said, stiffening but not snarling at your comment. “They’ve all been through a lot, and none of us will ever truly understand the history they have because we did not live it. Nesta needs this freedom here in Autumn to build a life for herself after everything was taken away from her. Feyre, for all her faults, needed to be loved in a way that was different from how her sisters loved her, and now she seems to have that. Elain… Elain has been coddled by both of them, from what I’ve heard. She needs to stand on her own two feet and figure out what she wants and how she can navigate this new life by herself.”

You picked at one of the threads of the cushion. “And you want to help Elain do that? Even if it means she severs the bond?”

He nodded. “Yes. I will not lie and say I would not be upset if she chose to do so, but she deserves the choice. We all do. Besides, isn’t Nesta planning on severing her bond with Cassian?”

“We don’t think there’s even a bond.” You admitted, stomach fluttering with nerves at the mention of Cassian’s name. The three of you still hadn’t figured out how you’d deal with that. “It’s a touchy subject. But we know he isn’t her mate.”

Lucien’s brows furrowed. “But Rhys said Cassian was her mate.”

“And you’re going to suddenly start taking his word now?”

“Point taken.” He corrected himself. 

“Something about the whole situation is just weird.” You muttered. “Maybe a link between them is some kind of punishment from the Cauldron. Azriel is investigating it secretly.”

Your friend raised an eyebrow. “He’s still in the Night Court? After everything he did to go against Rhys?”

“Yup. I think Rhys knows he’s too valuable to lose at the end of the day, which is why his head isn’t on the chopping block. Azriel is good at playing both sides I guess.”

That comfortable silence fell over you for another few minutes as you happily existed in each other’s company. You huddled into Lucien’s warmth, begrudgingly knowing Eris was right and this had been worth getting violently dragged out of bed.

Later, you would think of ways to thank him.

An idea formed in your head as you thought of your mate. You propped yourself up, turning to face your friend. “Lucien?” You asked hesitantly.

He raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Can I ask you to do something for me?”

“Sure.”

You took a deep breath, wringing your hands together before blurting out, “Would you walk me down the aisle at the wedding?”

Lucien blinked in surprise, and then a grin spread across his face. “Really?”

You smiled. “Yes. I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather have giving me away.”

“Giving you away? I thought you wanted to smash all archaic male-oriented traditions in this court.”

“Don’t be an ass.” You smacked his arm playfully. “I do. But… I won’t have any of my family at the wedding like I always imagined as a child, and you’re the next closest thing. I just want you by my side, that’s all.”

Lucien reached forward, wrapping his big arms around you in an embrace. “Of course I will.” He muttered, squeezing you tight. “Thank you for allowing me the honour.”

The dragons screeched happily in the distance, reflecting the content you felt in your chest. So you inhaled your friend’s familiar scent mixed with the fresh autumn air. Everything you had done to get to this point was all worth it.

 *********************

You all but skipped down the hallway towards Eris’s office in the private library. After hours of talking, Lucien had left to go on a ride through the forest with Lirilla. You had briefly bathed and changed, freshening up to remove the lingering mustiness from your body after the sleepover and alcohol. 

You felt ten times lighter as you swung open the door with a force so strong the expensive knob bounded off the wall. Eris’s head snapped up from where he sat in a plush armchair, a mountain of papers in his hand. He was dressed in a billowy white shirt, the laces at the neckline undone and ever-so-slightly pushed open, revealing part of his toned chest. Red hair was tied back loosely behind his neck, and he raised an eyebrow. “Where’s the fire?” He asked dryly.

You simply bounded across the room in three steps and flung yourself into Eris’s arms, crawling into his lap and pressing your lips against his. His eyebrows shot up and he let out a muffled noise of surprise, but brought his hands up to your hips and pulled you closer. He tasted like cinnamon and coffee, melting in your mouth as you kissed him fiercely. 

Your skin tingled at the sensation of his hands on your hips as they slowly crept downwards, giving your backside a firm squeeze. The mating bond was practically purring in your chest at the contact, urging you to give into your desires. But you reigned yourself in, finally pulling your lips away from Eris’s after your lungs begged for air.

The High Lord smirked up at you, face flushed from your kiss. “I take it you liked your surprise?” His hands stayed on your backside, gently gliding up your hips then back down.

You nodded, throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him. “You’re amazing. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

He chuckled, letting his lips drag over the shell of your ear as he spoke. “You’re very welcome, my dear.”

You pulled away, tangling your hands in Eris’s hair, tugging on the end of the locks right by his scalp. The High Lord tilted his chin back and let out a breath, eyelids fluttering as he grinned. You leaned down and pressed your lips to the column of his newly exposed throat. Underneath you, Eris shuddered as you grazed your teeth up his warm, pale skin before pressing a kiss just below his jaw. “What exactly do you think you’re doing, little fox?” He asked, but his voice was strained, hands gripping your hips tightly.

“Thanking you.” You purred, moving your head to the other side of his neck and repeating your actions.

Eris swallowed thickly, but chuckled. “Oh, sweet thing. Thanking me properly will have to wait until after the wedding.”

You leaned back, sitting up and frowning with confusion. Your mate’s subtle rejection stung slightly. “Seriously? I didn’t peg you for the wait until after marriage type.”

“I’m not,” He corrected, sliding his hands up from your hips and onto your lower back, pulling you closer to him once again. “Believe me, I want nothing more than to take you against this very desk and bury myself between your thighs until time loses all meaning. But I have plans for how I want to fuck you, the both of you. And it involves waiting a little longer. Can you do that for me?”

You nodded, but stuck out your bottom lip ever so slightly. Eris smacked your rear sternly. “Don’t pout,” He scolded. “Brats don’t get nice things. And you’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

“When I feel like it.” You shrugged playfully. Eris’s grin widened like a cat that had just eaten the canary.

“Oh, I am going to have so much fun with you.” His voice was a slick purr, heating up your skin as if his very own fire was running through your veins. Eris pressed a kiss to your cheek, then tapped your hip. “Now, I hate to brush you off like this, but as you can see I have a mountain of paperwork to get through before the wedding to make sure everything is in order. Nesta needs your help in the main hall, she’s all alone with those wedding planners and threatened to shave my head if I don’t send you to her the second you’re done with Lucien.”

You crawled off his lap, rolling your eyes playfully. “Aw, poor High Lord has paperwork.” You said mockingly. “You poor pampered thing.”

Eris shot you a glare. “Careful, little fox. Soon enough you’ll have your own mountain of paperwork as High Lady. That is, if you actually want to help me run this court. Unless you’d rather be like little Archeron over in the Night Court and be just a pretty face.”

You crossed your arms defiantly, knowing he was right. “Fine.” You turned on your heel to exit the study, cringing slightly as you noticed the chip in the wall from where you flung the door open.

“Little fox?” Eris called out.

You turned to face him at the door frame. “Yes?”

Eris’s smirk was devilish as he said coolly, “Do not seek out Nesta to satisfy your desires. She and I have already discussed the matter and are on the same page, so she will say the same thing I have told you, that you have to wait until after the wedding. And don’t you dare try to satisfy your urges on your own. If you do, I will know.”

taglist (comment if you want to be added): @queercontrarian @kitkat-writes-stuff @moonfawnx @sevikas-whore @weird-and-wise @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet @kingshitonly @ladyofcherries @eerievixen @readingwritingwatching @peacecoffeeandflowers @a-frog-with-a-laptop @shadowqueen25 @lana08 @highladyofillyria @rachelnicolee @ladespedidas @little-darlingo @manonblackbeakquidditchteam13 @demirunner @terorovaerangi @hauntedandhopeful  @younxii @microwaveallthedemons @fanfictioniseverything @lovra974 @maddietheshoe @peaceandcrackers @emy1-9 @lostinfantasyworldsbi @issybee0611 @thoughtfulshepherdmongerkid @belledawnidk @whhyyynottt @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @littlebbb @piceous21 @sevendeadlyshins-blog @searchingford  @marigold-morelli @thesapphiclibrarian @nikovasbitch @chasing-autumns-chill @the-sweet-psycho @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @red-bees @daughterofthemoons-stuff @bloodicka @blackgirlmagicforever @

[achaotichuman]

See the thing with Tamlin having a daughter, he's absolutely a single parent and has no clue what the fuck he's doing.

So, balancing having a newborn with also rebuilding a Court from the ground up would be one of the most mentally taxing jobs he's ever had. He's so exhausted and can barely think straight or string a sentence together, and there's no real help in Spring, because most of the servants, or nurses, or anyone that could provide any support are still wary to enter.

So, he reaches a point where he's like, 'If I keep going like this, I'm not going to survive.'

Therefore, desperate times call for desperate measures, and Tamlin goes to one source of help that might take pity on the situation, or least on his daughter Dahlia.

And goes to Day, where Andrea, former Lady of Autumn, is staying with Helion.

Cue super adorable step in grandma and grandpa Lady of Autumn and Helion.

Anyway, it would start something like this.

Rain pounded down on the Day lands. People rushed inside, desperately dragging signs and chairs into buildings. Using books, clothing, anything to shield themselves from the onslaught of water that poured and poured from the raging dark clouds above. 

Andrea drank jasmine-infused honey sweet tea. The warm liquid slipped down her throat, and soothing her body. The Day palace was warm and dry, a stark difference from the thunder and lightning cracking in the sky. A fork of brilliant white light streaked the sky, Andrea smiled, she had always loved storms. 

Her husband… not so much?

Helion huddled himself closer to Andrea when lightning followed quickly by a snap of thunder pierced the sky. The Day Lord had near a dozen blankets wrapped around himself, his head lying in Andrea’s lap. Andrea laughed as he jolted and wrapped his strong arms around her waist, pressing his face into her navel. She toyed with the braids in his hair. 

“It isn’t all that bad,” She assured him, leaning back into the soft white couch, while her eyes tipped to the balcony across from them, the glass doors sealed tightly to shelter them from the rain. 

“It is that bad,” Helion insisted, “The thunder has no right being that loud.”

Andrea laughed quietly, stroking her husband’s hair. Placing the porcelain cup down on the table beside the lounge, Andrea tipped her head back and closed her eyes. Smiling to herself at the next round of thunder, holding Helion closer, knowing he was ever so frightened of the storm outside. 

She sighed, this was nice. 

There was a rapping at the door. Looking up Andrea furrowed her brow, surely none of the servants needed them currently? After a moment’s hesitation, Helion sat up and looked at the door, then Andrea. It was Andrea who called out, “Please come in!”

A short female with wild brown curls, red eyes and fluttering wings entered. She bowed low, then straightened, “Your Majesties, there is a visitor requesting your presence.”

Andrea put a hand on Helion’s. Her brown eyes turned to his, though she found no answer, his face was as confused as her own. Helion took in a breath, “Where are they as of now?”

“Still at the entrance, my Lord, the guards have not let him through.” She replied. 

There was a moment of silence as Helion and Andrea assessed each other. Helion raised an eyebrow, Andrea shrugged ever so slightly. They weren’t in the middle of anything, the slight quirk of her lips told Helion she was just a little bored and this could be some form of entertainment.

“Alright, we’ll head down, thank you.” Andrea told the female. 

She again bowed low, then quickly fled the room, flittering off to wherever she was required. 

Andrea and Helion fixed themselves and quickly headed down for the Day Court palace entrance. Whispering to each other, “Who could be visiting so late?” “Perhaps a courtier, or emissary?”

They reached the tall golden doors, the two guards stationed there shared a glance. When Helion lifted his hand, they nodded, the doors flew upon. 

Immediately there was an onslaught of cold wind, it rushed through the threshold and splattered water across the polished tiles. Hail had begun, the small balls of ice rained down from the sky, smashing against the flooring. 

Andrea had closed her eyes and put her hands out in front of her as she adjusted to the sudden cold. Then she looked up to see the person standing at the entrance. 

Her jaw fell open. Looking at Helion his face had gone white. 

Tamlin was shivering in the cold, his whole body quivering. His eyes were dull and his skin was near grey. His lips were blue and frost-bitten. Instead of the normal greens and whites he wore a heavy black coat with a hood that had fallen off. His hair was a wild mess of knots and tangles. 

And in his arms was a tiny babe, so small she couldn’t be more than a few weeks old. She had tiny golden curls and pale skin, mostly wrapped in linens, her face was red, she was crying and screaming in his arms. 

Tamlin met Helion’s eyes, then turned to Andrea’s. Looking back at the High lord, he half-sobbed, “I had nowhere else to go.”

He stumbled like at any moment he might collapse. Snapping out of the daze they had been shocked into, Andrea made the first move. Like him or not, he had a child in his arms. She quickly approached the male and gently took the small girl from his arms, hushing and cooing as she did in an attempt to console her. 

As soon as the babe was safe in another’s arms. Tamlin collapsed to the floor. Helion then rushed to the younger High lord, shouting orders for a room to be made up and dry clothes to be brought out. Andrea rocked the crying girl as Helion picked up Tamlin. 

The doors were shut and the storm was locked outside. Helion and Andrea exchanged a look. Then the Lady of Day looked at the babe in her arms. 

Green eyes glistened up at her. Andrea stood there in pure shock. She looked like a tiny version of Tamlin. She screamed and Andrea watched as tiny claws pricked out of her fingertips. 

“Thats…” Helion trailed off. 

“The future Heir of Spring.” Andrea finished, her voice filled with wonderment, “Tamlin’s daughter.”

Tamlin himself shivered and gasped in Helion’s arms. The older High lord gritted his teeth. Her eyes didn’t deceive her, Andrea saw Helion bring the younger male closer to his chest. 

“What do we do?” Andrea asked. 

“We do what’s right.” Was all Helion said, then a group of servants came out. 

The oldest among them said, “We have prepared a room for the guest.”

Helion nodded, he then said, “Tamlin and his daughter will stay with us until further notice.”

Looking back down at the baby in her arms, Andrea bit her bottom lip. 

“Why were they out in the storm?”

Helion shook his head slowly, “I don’t know.”

[emsfallingsky]

Of Fate and Fury

Pairing: Danny x Acotar au x female!reader

Word count: 19.1k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY! sexually explicit content. Enemies to lovers, M dom f sub, violence, gore, fighting, mating, unprotected sex, (kissing, fingering, choking, name calling, praise, cursing, oral sex (f recieving), dirty talk, breeding kink, hair pulling).

It had been a long day– a very long day and you were completely wound up. Your body was tense and overwhelmed and it seemed like nothing was easing the fire that left your blood boiling.

You quickly finished up your task at hand and set yourself on a determined mission, storming up the stairs that led to the training ring atop The House of Wind. You didn’t hesitate one bit as you led yourself across the ground, kicking up specks of the tan dirt beneath your feet. But as soon as you grabbed a sword off one of the racks, you felt all their eyes turn to you. 

Without any hesitation you immediately started swinging your swords at one of the wooden dummies, silently cursing at yourself from the instant strain in your muscles from not being warmed up. 

You didn’t care though. All the pent-up emotions and frustrations came flying out of you with each swing of your sword. You gritted your teeth tightly together, letting out a deep grunt as you hit the blade of your sword directly against the torso of the dummy before you. You could feel the vibration of the sword as it collided with the soft wood, traveling all the way up the expanse of your arm. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the fae warriors standing frozen in place as they watched you. The sheer formidable force of them flanked into you but you ignored them.

You turned on your heel, spinning yourself around as you flung your arm backwards and hit the shoulder of the dummy. As you spun, you caught sight of their varying expressions. Some of their eyes were wide with their eyebrows raised and others looked at you blankly, but you could read their annoyance on their face. Thankfully, none of them decided to interfere, allowing you to continue unleashing yourself on the piece of wood that was slowly starting to chip and splinter with each hit.

You weren’t sure how long you had kept at it but pretty soon you were an exhausted and panting mess. The muscles in your back and biceps were practically screaming at you and your thighs had started to shake from using them to push yourself as you flung yourself at the target. 

It wasn’t long before you found yourself collapsing to your knees in the dirt, struggling to catch your breath. The sword had dropped beside you, but you kept a loose grip on the pommel, not fully wanting to give into the exhaustion that was starting to sweep over you. 

The hair you had tied back in a braid had come loose and now stuck to the side of your face and neck. Sweat covered every inch of your body and dripped down your neck as you continued to kneel in the dirt, trying to catch your breath.

With your hair draped around your face, you barely took in the black boot, scuffed with brown dirt that came to a stop beside your limp hand. You sucked in a breath and slowly lifted your head. When you peered up, you saw Daniel. The Illyrian warrior, second in command from Cassian, who was in Rhysand’s inner circle. 

His long curly hair was tied in a knot above his head, but he had managed to leave the bottom half of his hair loose, letting the rest drape over his broad shoulders. You could see the layer of sweat that soaked through his white tank top, surely from his earlier sparring. It was hard to ignore the dark whirls and patterns tattooed along his arms that rose higher along his neck and plunged down beneath the edge of his shirt that covered his chest.

Daniel crossed his arms over himself, making you notice the thick muscles of his chest and biceps that rose through his shirt. He stared down at you with nothing more than a blank face, his eyes stone cold and distant. You would have looked away in fear if it weren’t for the fact that you were too tired to care. If it wasn’t that it was the sight of the muscle that feathered in his jaw that shut you up.

“You are exerting too much of your energy…you’ve worn yourself down completely,” he said, his voice flat and monotone. 

“I don’t care,” you muttered back, your own jaw now clenched. 

Daniel shifted his weight to his other foot and raised his eyebrows up at your response. “Are you sure about that? You know you could have injur-”

            “I don’t…care,” you repeated again, this time making sure your words were laced with a hint of malice.

            Daniel shot you a glare and you watched him turn his head to the side like an animal observing its prey. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice and facial expression didn’t falter once. You glared up at him and brushed the sword away from you as you climbed onto your shaking feet. You held his eyes but when you turned on your heel away from him, you could feel tears start to well in your eyes. All you had wanted was to let out some of your pent-up anger and frustration…not be bombarded by an Illyrian general. 

            You strided across the ring, not acknowledging Rhysand, Cassian, Azriel or Jake who stood there watching you. You had made it across the ring and were about to reach the top of the stairs when you felt a firm hand clasp your shoulder and spin you around. Instantly, you knew it was him and refused to meet his stare. If you had, you would’ve been able to see the glimpse of worry that sparked across his face. 

            “You don’t get to walk away when I’m talking to you,” Daniel spat, his grip on your shoulder squeezing just enough to make you feel your muscles start to protest. You refused to look up at him, feeling all your anger start to boil to the surface once again. You didn’t have to look up to see him take a step closer to you, his body now so close that your face was practically pressed against his chest. 

            “Now,” he says, tightening his grip on your shoulder, making you hold back a wince, ‘What’s wrong?”

            “Nothing,” you muttered, still not being able to raise your eyes to meet him. 

Daniel clicked his tongue against his cheek, sucking in a small hiss, not believing a word of your bullshit. His hand slid off your shoulder and then you found yourself frozen in place when you felt his hands grip the underside of your chin and tilt it upwards, so you were now forced to look at him. 

            “I’m not going to ask again,” Daniel said, his voice low and hoarse, ‘What’s wrong, YN?”

            You found yourself clenching your jaw, your eyes becoming cold while you glared at him. “I need to go take a bath,” was all you said as you turned yourself on your heel and began to walk away from him. 

You were instantly stopped as you felt that same stern grip on your shoulders and could feel the eyes of the other accessing the scene. You turned back on your heel and ripped his arm off of you. “Do not!” you said, hissing at him. 

You stormed down the steps and stomped into your room, slamming your door closed. You were just starting to undo the top of your tunic when you heard your door fly open and slam into the wall so hard that it made the room shake. You knew who it was before he started talking and you ground your teeth so hard that it made your jaw ache.

            “What the fuck has gotten into you?” Daniel yelled; the once calm tone he held before now completely stripped away. You turned yourself quickly around to see him far closer than you had expected, leaving you to have to tilt your head up as he towered above you. 

You aren’t sure what gets into you, but you find yourself taking a challenging step towards him. All the work you put in to fend off the anger now seeming useless as you feel your blood start to turn once again. 

            “I thought I told you I wanted to go take a fucking bath! I don’t need you as my fucking babysitter Daniel!” you snap at him, your chest now rising and falling quickly while you struggle to maintain an ounce of any composure you had left.

            Daniel seems to weigh your words and takes a step back, but his face doesn’t falter. His eyes seem to mirror yours as they ignite with anger of their own, making his hazel eyes glow golden- flame like. 

He crossed his arms over his chest and nodded his head in the direction of your bathroom. “Fine, go take your damn bath but I’m going to be waiting right outside for you.”

“You will leave,” you hiss, pulling back the top of your lip to give him a flash of your elongated canines. It didn’t seem to do anything, and you watched him lean against the door frame, cocking one of his brows up. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says in a stern voice, not one word faltering.

“Get the fuck out of my room Daniel!” you scream at him, your hands balling into fists beside you.

            “Or what Y/N? What the fuck are you going to do about it?” he asks, pushing himself off the wall to only then halt his steps right in front of you. His gaze is hard and unwavering as he peers down at you from over the tip of his nose. 

            You couldn't help it- contain it. The anger within you was screaming, pleading you to let yourself go and unleash everything you had upon him. So, you did. 

            Without really processing it, your hand that was curled into a tight fist beside you flew up at lightning speed to deliver him a hard smack against his cheek. You might’ve gasped or heard your breath hitch as you realized what you just did but you couldn’t hear or process anything from the roaring of anger that rumbled in your ears. 

Daniel didn’t falter one bit as you struck him. His body didn’t move an inch. The only sign to show that it had happened was the red, angry handprint on the side of his cheek. Danny gave a slow blink while the corner of his mouth started to tilt in a smirk. He clenched his jaw and his eyes slowly slid back to yours. 

You don’t back down. You stay planted right where you are, not showing him any sign of guilt, fear, or remorse for your actions. Daniel struggled to maintain the smirk growing on his face. He tilted his head to the side, studying you- a predator's stare. Most people would immediately back down if an Illyrian male looked at you that way but notyou. 

Daniel sucked in a breath and clenched his jaw, flexing the muscles that lay beneath his skin and took a step closer, bending down so his face was merely inches away from yours. “That was cute,” he said, his breath hitting your cheeks. “But no.” 

You clenched your own jaw, feeling your teeth protest against it. You were then the one to smirk and you let your eyes slowly drift down to his lips that were so close, they nearly brushed against yours. His eyes followed your own, noticing what you were now staring at. You decided to use it to your advantage.

Your eyes drifted back up to his and then you bit the bottom of your lip, a sinful sight with him being as close to you as he was. His reaction was just what you were looking for. His body seemed to halt, and you swear you saw his breathing stop for a second. 

It was an extra second you didn’t take for granted as you quickly reached a hand around his side, plucking a dagger that hung from his leather belt. You clutched the dagger in a firm grasp, pressing the blade against his side. If Daniel had an ounce of fear flowing through his veins, he didn’t show it. “I would be very careful if I were you,” you draw out in a hiss. Daniel’s wings twitched in annoyance and the muscles that built his firm chest and ran along his arms flexed as he held your stare. You pressed the blade against him harder. “Get. Out.”

Daniel sent out a rumble of his power that threatened your hands to almost release the blade flush against the side of his abdomen, but you pushed past it. You were defiant and you would not stand down. 

Daniel’s eyes flicked down and then back up to yours, the lick of flame that was once in his eyes now grew strong and mighty. Wildfire. The golden flecks in his eyes now moved as the flames raged and danced within them. “Put down the blade,” he growled. 

It took every ounce of your strength and will not to send that dagger plunging straight into his flesh. “Get out of my room and I will.”

Daniel let out a huff of annoyance but then smirked at you, surely analyzing you as nothing more than a piece of meat. “You wouldn’t dare to stab me with it.”

You shook off the glare from your face, instead replacing it with a sweet smile. “Try me,” was all you said as you whipped the dagger, slashing it against the fabric of his shirt. You made sure the blade didn’t cut him though. You just wanted to prove it to him that you were not afraid, and you would not back down from a challenge. 

Daniel glanced down to the town fabric of his shirt now hanging loose against his side. He raised his head to look back at you but before your eyes could meet his, he lunged and grabbed your wrist in his hands. He moved so fast that you couldn’t even process how you ended up slammed against the stone wall of your room. It reminded you exactly who you were dealing with. His power, his strength, all of it…All of it was coming from a fae Illyrian warrior. 

Daniel pushed you back so hard and with so much power that it made the back of your head thump against the wall. You back groaned as you felt the hardness of it press into your spine. Both parts of your body instantly began to throb, and the pain left you groaning. 

The dagger in your hand dropped to the floor as his hands on your wrist tightened, threatening to shatter the fragile bones beneath your skin. He was so big. So full of strength and unweighted power. His hands were so large that they almost wrapped twice around your wrist. “Stupid, stupid girl,” Daniel growled in your face. Once again, he was so close to you that you were practically left sharing the same breath as him. He wasn’t wrong though…Stupid. How very stupid it was for you to be challenging him. 

Every inch of your body was screaming. Screaming with pain, rage and absolute fury. You lifted your face that had tilted downward from the force which he threw you against the wall and beckoned to look up at him. 

Once you did, you held his stare. You were breathing hard, your chest rising and falling with each deep breath you took. Your whole body was left shaking as a mixture of emotions rose to the surface. Fear, rage and something else you couldn’t quite put your finger on but nonetheless, your fighting spirit was still left thrumming against your veins. 

You clenched your jaw and then moved your tongue around in your mouth, drawing up saliva on your tongue. You purse your lips and then spat directly onto his face. 

Daniel closed his eyes and turned his head to the side as your spit hit him directly in the center of it. He shrugged one of his shoulders up and wiped your spit off of his face. When his eyes came back to yours you knew you were unmatched. Your throat bobbed as you swallowed but he was not done letting you know just how stupid you were. 

He moved both of your hands over your head and then pinned your wrists in one hand while his other wrapped around your throat and squeezed it in a tight grip. “Are you trying to piss me off?” he growled. All you could do was respond with a strangled groan, your eyes now growing completely wide. 

Danny gripped you by the neck harder and pulled you forward, making you arch your back and neck up at an awkward angle. His wings rustled again, clearly showing you just how impatient he was growing. 

He pulled you closer towards him, so the tip of his nose brushed against yours. “Answer me,” he growled again. You couldn’t. All the words that were on the tip of your tongue vanished and it felt like your head was swimming each time he tightened his grip on your neck, depriving you of oxygen. You opened your mouth to respond but you couldn’t. You just stared at him; your brows knitted together with your jaw hanging loose. You tried to wriggle yourself away from him but between the grasp he had on your neck, wrists and the wall that dug into you. For the first time in a long while, you were utterly helpless. 

Using all the strength you could muster, you finally choked out something…his name. “D-Danny,” you stuttered in between a strangled gasp. It was the only word you managed to get out before the doors of your room flew open and Rhysand, Cassian and Jake stood there. Their faces all conveyed the same thing. Utter shock. 

Daniel glanced behind his shoulder and when he saw them, he seemed to snap out of his anger induced fury. He instantly let go of your wrist and neck and you slumped down to the floor coughing while your own hands clutch your neck as you try to pull in oxygen. 

Cassian and Jake were immediately upon Daniel, grabbing him by his shoulders and yanking him back. “Are you out of your fucking mind?” Cassian snaps at him. “You could’ve fucking killed her!” Jake shouts. 

Rhysand quickly walks over, crouching on the floor beside you. When you look up you could see only worry and concern shining in his eyes. He places a gentle hand on your knee and asks, “are you alright?” The only answer you could manage was a small nod of your head while you continued to gasp and sputter for any air you could wield into your lung. His eyes soften further, and he tilts his head down. “Are you sure?”

“Out,” you said in a voice that is merely a whisper. “Everyone get the fuck out.”

Rhysand, Cassian and Jake all exchange glances, Daniel’s eyes look everywhere but your own as he stares down at the floor. You can see the muscles in his shoulder twitch, but Jake and Cassian’s hands tighten on him.

Rhysand looks back at you and nods before rising off of the floor. Rhysand walks by the three men but stops before Daniel. “You and I are going to have a little chat,” he sneers before leading them out of the room. The sound of the door clicking into place is the only indicator that they had left. 

You don’t move from your spot on the floor. Instead, you invite the welcoming cold of the marble floor against your skin. You draw your knees up to your chest while your brain makes any attempt to start working again. What the hell just happened?

Your brain starts to turn, sending you down an endless hole as it replays all the events that just unfolded before you. You were shocked. At Daniel, yourself…all of it. You knew he had every right to defend himself. Every right. And the words he spoke were nothing but the truth. ‘You stupid, stupid girl’. 

Yes, so utterly stupid. Why you found yourself unable to back down and just stop, you didn’t know. All your emotions stirred within you, leaving your chest feeling like a heavy weight pressed down upon it. You felt so…hollow.

It took you a few seconds to render that tears that started to fall down your face and you pressed your knees further against you to cradle yourself. Your shoulders began to shake as you released everything into the world. You would be lying if you said you didn’t know how you ended up here, but you did. And it was all but entirely your fault.  

So, you let yourself cry…and cry and cry. You let out all the emotions within you; all the rage, the anger, the fury…then the sadness, shock and guilt that came along with it. Images flashed in your head. The hand he placed on your shoulder when you went to exit the training ring and how in that moment his face looked so soft and full of concern for you. Only then to be stripped away as the image of his face with nothing but primal rage plastered on it as he pinned you against the wall. 

You could again feel that anger start to swirl within you but you pushed it down, so it was only a soft hum in your veins. Despite everything, there was something else that prodded and poked against the walls of your brain. Something you couldn’t quite understand or begin to explain. You pushed that thought aside, you would come back to it another time. 

You weren’t sure how long you sat there crying and holding yourself, letting your own body be the sweep of comfort that you would allow. But soon enough, you were exhausted. You could feel the marks of where your tears fell down the sides of your cheeks, leaving them to feel damp and sticky where they rested against your knee. Your eyes burned and you were sure that if you were able to see your own reflection you would notice how red and puffy they were. 

You let out a deep sigh and finally raised your head, letting your eyes readjust to the dim lighting of the room. You were completely exhausted, but you still had your mind set on what you initially came in here to do. Bracing a hand on the marble floor, you pushed yourself to your feet and strode past the door leading into the bathing chamber connected to your room. 

With a twist of your hand, you turn the knob of the bath, making sure to twist it all the way to the left to get it to the highest temperature. You wanted it hot- scalding, so that when you slid in, it would burn and sting against your skin before it left you feeling numb completely. 

You begin the process of removing your clothes, having to peel them off your body as they stick against you with sweat. You had just removed your pants and were straightening your body when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You turned your head to fully face the mirror and what you saw made your gut swirl. 

A red mark shone on your neck, wrapping around it entirely. You leaned yourself further into your reflection and when you did, you were able to see the faint mark of where Daniel’s thumb had dug into the side of your neck. 

You lifted a shaking hand to your throat, lightly brushing your fingertips against it and had to hold back a wince. The area was so sore and tender. How did you not render how hard he was choking you?

You yet again pressed down all the emotions stirring within you and swirled yourself around and strode for the bath. Good.  Let that mark he left on your neck be a reminder, not for you but for him. Let him look upon it and feel all the remorse and guilt for ever laying a hand upon you. Let it be a reminder. Gods, how you now regretted not plunging the dagger into his flesh so he would have his own reminder of who he truly was dealing with. 

You sat in the bath for what felt like hours, letting the scalding water grow cold and frigid. If not the heat of the water being able to welcome you then the icy water would also do the trick, letting it numb you to the core and making your teeth chatter against themselves. 

As badly as you wanted to stay in the water, you couldn’t stand the way your skin started to feel. Your fingers were pruney and rigid and the water was so cold that it only made the bones in your body ache.

You lifted the drain and set it on the lip of the tub before you pushed yourself out of the water. You didn’t bother with grabbing a towel and instead reached for the fluffy robe that hung on the back of the door. You bundled the soft, velvet like fabric around you and let it breathe its warmth back into your body. 

You strode out of the bathroom but not before taking a final glimpse in the mirror to see the angry bruise around your neck that was slowly starting to turn to a deep shade of purple. 

When you made your way back into your room, you looked out the window to see the sun starting to set over the snowcapped mountains. It’s light making the sky flush with pinks and purples- a rather beautiful shade of purple compared to the ugly mark that was left around your throat. 

You walked over to your wardrobe, opening the wooden doors of it and gazed at the clothes before you. Your hand drifted over to a tunic but stopped and instead grabbed for a sleek lilac colored evening gown. The sun setting is what alerted you that it was now dinner time and instead of staying in your room to grovel over the event that took place, you wanted to make a stand against him if only to prove a point. 

So yes, the evening dress would do just that. Instead of opting for the tunic that would cover your neck you chose the gown with its thin straps, leaving your shoulders and neck bare. You thought about grabbing one of the necklaces that was laid out your vanity but no- let it remind him. 

Slipping on a pair of flats, you opened the door of your room and descended the steps, leading to the dining room with your chin held high. Let it remind him…

When you first came around the corner you could hear the deep voices and laughter filling the space, but they were immediately silenced when you first stepped into the room. Everyone’s eyes- Rhys, Cassian, Jake, Azriel and lastly, Daniel’s laid upon you but then slowly dipped down to your neck. Good. 

You didn’t acknowledge them or give any sign that you noticed their eyes staring at you or your neck. You silently strode up to the table and it felt like all the air in the room stilled and had been sucked up. 

You took your place at the table next to Cassian leaving you to sit directly across from Daniel. Jake and Azriel sat along either side of him and Rhys took the head of the table. 

When you sat down, you could feel Daniel’s eyes upon you, and you met him back with a cold and unwavering stare. You could still see the imprint you had marked across his cheek, but you also noticed the bruising around his cheek bone and the split lip. Rhys had certainly had a little chat with him.

Daniel’s eyes cast down to your neck and then you were left hearing your own blood starting to thrum in your ears, feeling all of its fury work its way back up. Rhys stayed silent at the head of the table and watched the two of you silently battle, seeing who would be the first to yield. Cassian did the same and you could feel his body stiffen beside you as his eyes darted from you to Daniel.

You finally ripped your eyes away from Daniel, but your face was still sneering even as you looked away. This wasn’t you yielding to him –no, never that. This was you telling him fuck all the way off. 

A deep sigh escapes you and you reach for the wine in the middle of the table. You slowly pour out its content into your glass, the room still cold and silent with all eyes set on you–watching and awaiting your next move. 

You take a sip of the wine and see Daniel’s eyes fixed on yours over the rim of the glass. It was the way he stared at you that truly pissed you off. All signs of anger were gone from his face and instead his eyes were soft and full of worry. You hadn’t expected him to give in so easily–so quickly. You had wanted him to go down swinging and fighting. You had wanted to fight and argue with him.

You slammed down your glass, gripping it so hard the tops of your knuckles turned white. Cocking your head to the side, you looked at Daniel and let your eyes slowly rake up and down his body. A chuckle escaped you and you leaned forward to rest your elbows on the table and then clutch your hands in front of you. “You know what’s funny?” you ask, letting your eyes sweep over everyone at the table, pinning them in a hard, unforgiving stare before solely landing on Daniel. 

Daniel’s glare returned to his face, and he looked back in a way that was rather unsettling. His tongue pushed against his cheek, and he cocks an eyebrow up as to ask ‘What?”

You took one of your arms off the table and sat back in your chair, draping it over the backrest so you appeared loose and casual “For as long as I could remember, I always dreamed about having a necklace that was full of diamonds and deep, rich colored rubies. Oh, but wait,” you lift a hand to your neck, “Well now I do. And I guess, I can owe that all to you,” you say waving a hand in Daniel’s direction. 

Everyone in the room stills and you can see them all trying to come up with something to say to ease the burning tension. Your eyes linger on Daniel, and you watch as he blinks and drops his head. “Fuck,” he mumbles under his breath. 

Your eyes narrow on him and you shift further back in your seat. “What’s wrong Danny? Is it not as beautiful as you imagined?” Daniel’s eyes were still looking down, utterly fixated on his hands placed in front of him on the table. 

After what felt like ages, he slowly lifted his head to meet your stare. You could see every line sketched upon his face, conveying just how bad he truly felt. It was almost enough to make you cave but you would not yield. When he spoke, his voice was low and soft- barely a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

The thrumming in your ears returns, making you clench your steak knife placed next to you. His eyes immediately spy your hand wrapping around the utensil and you swear you could see his body grow stiff– as if he were waiting for you to plunge that knife into the side of his neck. 

His eyes then turn away from the knife and come back to meet yours. He takes a deep breath, and you see his throat bop as he swallows. “C-can I ask you somethi-”

“No, you may not,” you say through gritted teeth. Daniel seems utterly stunned and at a loss for words. He looks back to your neck and it seems to truly cause him pain as he looks upon the angry bruise. He opens his mouth to say something but immediately shuts it and lets out a sigh that makes him sink back into his chair. 

You suddenly push your chair back and rise to your feet, your hand still firmly wrapped around the knife. You look back over at Daniel and lean so far over the table that your face is only inches away from his. You lift the knife from the table and point it at him. “If you ever do anything like that again, I won’t even give it a second thought before I cut off the part of you,” you angled the knife down, “that deems you as a man. Do you understand?”

Daniel seems to wince as you point the knife downwards. He doesn’t look at you while he says, “Yes, I understand.”

“Good,” you say and send the knife down onto his plate, piercing a piece of meat on it and sliding it onto yours. You sink back into your chair and take a bite of it before you turn to Cassian. “And how was your day, Cassie?” you say, smiling at him around your fork. 

Cassian shifts his once tense body, snapping out of whatever trance he was in as he watched us. “My- my uh, my day was good,’ he says with a small cough, ‘Although it certain wasn’t as interesting as y-”

“Watch it,” you hiss. 

“Sorry,” Cassian mumbles. 

You turn your eyes to look over at Rhys and see him stiffen under your gaze. “And how was your day, High Lord?” Rhysand blinks and takes a sip of his wine before he says in a short and low tone, ‘My day was…fine.”

You place your hands back on the table and smile at him, reaching for your glass of wine, taking a sip. “Didn’t have to wrap your hands around anyone’s neck then?” The muscles in Rhys’s jaw flex and his eyes dart over to where Daniel sat. “No. No I did not.” 

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing that our High Lord knows how to behave himself. Such a shame that others cannot…” Rhysands eyes drift to yours and he holds them. “Are you trying to insult me?” he asks, wrapping his hands around his glass.

Shit. “No sir,” you say, your voice dipping a bit as you hold his stare, unblinking. 

“Then may you explain the need for such a comment?” You can feel the tops of your cheeks flush feeling utterly embarrassed at the lack of being able to control your own tongue. You clear your throat, “Respectfully sir, that is none of your busine-”

“Then why bring such things to the table?” he asks, cutting me off. All you can do is lower your head and nod. “I understand, sir.”

Rhysand sits back in his chair, but you can still feel his eyes burning into you. “Now are you done?”

You clench your jaw, your hands gripping hard around the knife in your hand. “No…so may I be excused?” Rhys seemed to weigh your words, but he sighs and waves a hand at you. “Yes, you may be excused.” You give him a small nod and scoot your chair back. You let the knife clatter onto your plate and stride out of the room, aiming for the staircase, not bothering to take one glance behind you. 

You enter your room and shut the door behind you. Now being in the comfort of your own room, you feel like you can finally let your guard down. You walk over to your bed and sit on the edge of it, letting out a deep sigh. You bring your hands to your now unbound hair and rake your fingers through it, trying to sooth yourself. It was working but then you hear a knock at your door. “Go away,” you say through gritted teeth. The person on the other side of the door seemed to pause. The voice then finally speaks and it’s the last person you want to see. 

Daniel’s voice is on the other side of the door. “C-can I come in?” he asks, softly. 

“No, you may not.” The pause is longer this time, and you think he has accepted the defeat and walked away but his voice calls again. “May I please come in and talk to you?”

You let out a deep sigh and pull your hair at the root. “Go away Daniel.”

“Y/N please, I need to talk to you,” he pleads, his voice cracking. 

Gods why? The sound of his voice cracking as he said your name sent a ripple into your chest and threatened to make you cave but once again, you had to brush it aside. 

“I thought I told you to fuck off!” you yell.

“Y/N please. I have things I need to say to you.”

You are not sure why or how but with the exhaustion tugging at you, you no longer felt like putting up a fight and so you say, “Fine.”

The door to your room slowly opens and you see Daniel slinking into the room. He sweeps his eye around the room letting them stop at the wall he had you pinned up against before letting them rest upon you and you see him recoil at it.

He softly shuts the door behind him before taking a few steps into the room and then halts. He looks over to the chair placed beside your bed and then glances at you before making his way over to it to deposit himself in.

Your arms are crossed over your chest, watching his every move. When he slumps into the chair you send a glare his way. “What do you want?” You ask sharply. 

Daniel looks over at you but then looks away. He rests his elbows on the top of his knees and bows his head. He brings one of his hands up and rubs it over his face. “I- look, can we just talk?” You grit your teeth and keep that cold gazed fixed upon him. “I'm waiting.”

Danny brings his hand down from his face and rests it against his leg, leaving his hand to hang limply over the side of it. “Can I just ask you som-”

“Oh for fucks sake Daniel! Look you better make it quick because I’m at my fucking wits end with you,” you snap, waving your hands in front of you. 

“Before I ask this…can you promise me you won’t get angry with me?” Your arms go back to cross over your chest. “I cannot make such promises.”

“Well then just promise me you will listen without interrupting me.” You clench your jaw at his words but give him a small nod of your to him to let him continue. 

Daniel swallows hard before he takes a deep breath. “May I explain why I put my hands on you?”

You scoff and roll your eyes. “Oh! So, you’re not here to apologize then, instead you're going to try and justify your actions? Real fucking smart,” you say and then push yourself off the bed and stride over to him. 

Daniel doesn’t move back as you come to step in front of him. Instead, he angles his head to look up at you. He brings his hands together in his lap and clutches them. “You’re right. I am not here to apologize.” All you could do was expose your canines to him as you hissed. 

Danny sits back in the chair, moving one of his hands to adjust himself as he spreads his legs open. Gods.What a cocky and arrogant bastard. 

“Yes, I did put my hands on you but let me explain exactly why I did so.” You snarl at him and take another step to stalk towards him. “I thought I told you I’m running out of patients.”

Danny remains stationary as you snarl down at him. He puts his arms over his chest and sank further back into the chair, crossing his ankle over his knee, making his foot brush against the fabric of your dress. Fucking prick.

 “Let. Me. Explain,” he commands in a stern and unwavering tone that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on its end. You pray to the Gods that he won't notice the change in your scent as a small ripple of fear rolls up your spine. You push the fear aside and cross your arms over your chest and then lean down so your face is in front of his. “Speak.”

Daniel holds your stare, and you can see that cocky smirk starting to spread over his face, but he quickly washes it away. You straighten yourself back up and wait for his words.  “What I did was out of pure rage. Is it something that I wish I hadn’t done? Yes. However, that does not negate the fact that at that moment I was not thinking clearly.”

You let out a deep chuckle and throw your head back. You take a step away from him and turn on your heel, holding your hands behind you. Most people wouldn’t dare to turn their back to such a powerful male, but you didn’t care the slightest. 

With your back to him, you can practically feel his eyes roam over your body as they take in the deep cut out of the dress that exposes the skin of your back to him. You then stop your steps and swirl back to him and you were right. His eyes were lingering on your body. “I bet you are thinking of other ways to harm me right now huh?” 

Daniel sucks in a breath and leans himself back over his knees, his eyes going back down to stare at his hands clenched before him.  “I’m going to have to be very careful with this,” he seems to whisper to himself. Your eyes narrow on him, your brows scrunching together as you try to piece together what he could have meant. “With what?”

Daniel peels away his gaze from his hands and sets them on you. “With you.”

You feel your body stiffen. You? What could he possibly want from you? “W-what about me? Do you wish to harm me or strangle me again?” Daniel’s eyes seem to grow wide, and he shakes his head. “I wish to do neither of those things to you.”

You don’t why the question comes to mind, but it comes out of your mouth before you can even stop it. “Then, then what do you want to do with me?”

Danny’s body seems to grow rigid, and you watch as his pupils dilate. One of his hands releases from his own and you watch as it sinks into his thigh. He uncrosses his legs and lets his eyes rake over your entire body and it leaves you still and utterly breathless. “I would like to ask you a personal question, Y/N.” That seems to do the trick and snap you out of it. Your eyes narrow again and you feel your anger start to stir and something else. That same feeling from before. “And why the fuck would I allow you to ask me such a thing?” you hiss. 

“Listen you may say ‘no’, but just let me ask you the question.”

“You know I’m armed right?” 

You watch his eyes as they look over to the knife on your dresser. You let out a small laugh and shake your head. “No, that isn’t the knife I’m talking about.” Daniel nods and clears his throat. “I’m aware. So let me ask you this. I know that at this moment you are not going to forgive me for my actions, but I would like to know if you would consider it one day?”

You give him a small shrug and turn back on my heel away from him with my hands still clasped behind my back. “Who’s to say?”

You hear Daniel loosen a breath behind you. “Then may I ask you one more question?” You whirl back on your heel to face him. “I would be very careful with how you wish to proceed,” you snap back, your eyes narrowing on him again. 

Daniel takes note of your body language and the growl that came from you. His eyes again sweep over you. “Would you be open to the idea of possibly starting a relationship with m-”

Your body grows utterly stiff but then you find yourself unable to contain the fury that sweeps over and blinds you. “Are you out of your fucking mind?” You yell, stomping over to him. “Why would I ever do such a thing, huh? S-so I can grant you the liberty of possibly inflicting harm on me? A-and how would you even know, huh? How would you even know if there is some sort of bond between us? O-or the sheer fact that I would even accept it? Are you actually out of your fucking mind?” 

The pure fury that flies out of you leaves your body shaking. Daniel takes note of it and holds up a hand, his eyes growing wide at your outburst. Your body halts seeing his hand being held up. Daniel leans back against the chair and sighs. “If you would have let me finish my question before you decided to interrupt me, I would’ve explained further.”

“Then what the fuck do you mean ‘relationship with me’?” You hiss as you push aside his hand and lean over him. 

“What I meant was a civilized relationship. Get your head out of the fucking gutter Y/N,” he hisses back but you could see the amusement that started to spread on his face. Your body stiffens and you pull yourself away from him. “Oh,” is the only word you find yourself able to say. 

Daniel leans back in the chair, and you see him smirk as he runs a hand through his curls. “Mating bond though? That’s cute,” he says with a small laugh. You feel heat rise to your cheeks and this time you know it’s not out of anger. “S-shut up,” you say but your voice falters. 

Daniel moved his body and sat up slightly in the chair, his arrogant smirk still plastered on his face. “Why? Do you wish to find out?” he says in a cocky tone, this time letting his eyes linger on curved parts of your body without trying to hide it. Your hands bawl up to fists at your side. “No. No I would not,” you say through clenched teeth. 

Danny sighs and slumps back into the chair. 'Shame, cuz’ I wouldn’t have minded. I’ve always wondered if you are crazy and reckless in the bedro-” You hiss again and find yourself leaning back over so your face is right in front of his. “Oh!? So, you just want to ‘mate’ with me? Is that it?” you shout into his face.

Daniel’s eyes dip to where the front of your dress hangs down, exposing the upper part of your chest to him. He slowly lifts them back up and stares right into your soul. His eyes seem to gleam, and you know it has nothing to do with any sort of rage. When he speaks, his voice is low and gravely. “I’m going to be very honest with you Y/N…yes.” 

That was it. That was your final undoing. 

You reach under your dress where you kept the dagger strapped to the side of your thigh. You pulled it out of its strap and pressed it against his neck. “Is that what you came in here for? To tell me just how badly you want to fuck me?” Daniel doesn’t move away from the blade- doesn’t even try to push it aside. “No…but what if I said yes, then what?”

You grit your teeth and angle the dagger closer to his neck. “And why the fuck do you think I would ever grant you the access to share that part of me?”

Danny swallows and you see his throat bob against the blade. “Because I think you’ve thought about it before– I know you’ve thought about it before.” Your hand that clutches the blade starts to shake. “S-shut up,” you stutter out. 

You don’t know why you didn’t try to deny it or why you didn’t immediately protest as such an outrageous thing. And maybe, just maybe his words held an ounce of truth in them. 

His eyes hold yours and don’t make any sign or indication of looking away. “I know Y/N. I see the way you look at me…how your eyes sometimes linger over my body. I know because that is the way that I find myself looking at you. I know.”

Your mind had gone completely blank. Not at him stating that he knew your eyes would sometimes linger, but at his own confession. The fact that he looked at you the same way with nothing but hunger and desire. 

“I thought I told you to shut up,” you spit back at him, tilting your body so you hovered back over his face. Daniel does nothing except gaze back. His eyes began to swirl with smoke and flame. 

The mixture of emotions that courses through you makes your head spin. You knew it was true. All of it. There were times when you had come into the training ring and found yourself unable to take your eyes off of him. The way his muscles shifted each time he flung his sword and how by the end of it, his body was drenched in a layer of sweat that made those muscles of his glisten under the rays of sun. You knew that he noticed you watching him– could sense your eyes on him but he never acted upon it. All he would do is cast you a knowing glance and a smirk would be upturned on his face. All you could do was glare at him and then quickly avert your eyes, feeling warmth spread over the tops of your cheeks.

Leaning yourself further into his face, you press the dagger closer against his skin. “So what?” you say, with a cock of your eyebrow. Another small challenge for him. He swallows and lowers his voice to that gravely and dark tone that makes chills form across your skin. “So…would it be such a bad thing?”

Your chest tightens at his words, and you feel yourself not knowing how to think– let alone act. You open your mouth to say something snarky back, but no words seem to come to mind. With a shaky deep breath, you let yourself finally give into that nagging feeling that had been pestering you all day. 

With your legs failing to collapse under you, you deem yourself to take a step forward. Then another so you are now standing between his legs. You can see Daniel sink his hands into the soft cushion of the chair like he was fighting against every instinct that raked through him not to reach out and grab you. 

Another deep breath and then you move one of your legs and lift it over his. Then you follow with the other, so you are now sitting on his lap, straddling him. Daniel’s body stiffens beneath you, and you once again spot his hands sinking into the cushion, clawing at the fabric. You wouldn’t be surprised if you saw small tears in the fabric the next day. 

His eyes close for a moment and you can hear him mumble a curse under his breath before he lets out a ragged breath and looks back at you. 

You look at him over the bridge of your nose. “I-if you think that there is even the slightest chance of having a mating bond,” Gods, the words felt strange and foreign as they rolled off your tongue, “then now would be the time to prove it.”

Daniel doesn’t know what to do as he is pinned under you. His heartbeat pounded so hard and fast that the noise appeared to be rattling his brain. All he could do was blink up at you. Was she really going to allow him to try something or was this just another one of her games?

Daniel swallowed thickly and you could feel his body tremble beneath you. “I- I would like to try something…”

The cloud and whirlwind of emotions starts up again, feeling like it is ripping you from the inside out– gutting you. It’s worse than the feeling of a blade piercing your skin. You swallow and your eyes dart over the expanse of his face. “W-what is it?” you ask, your grasp started to loosen on the dagger.

The muscles in his jaw feather and you feel him shift beneath you. It takes everything in you not to gasp at the feeling of his body moving beneath yours. 

“There is a way…to test it. To see if there is truly anything that lies between us. Would you be open to finding out?” Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, but you manage to find the words. “H-how? What is it?”

“There’s a certain gesture–no gesture is the wrong word for it,” Daniel says stumbling over his own words, “I don’t really know how to phrase it other than it being a sort of test. But if it does happen to work and there truly is some sort of bond in place, then it should be almost instantaneous.”

You feel your body grow tense. You weren’t sure exactly what he had in mind and that only made the wheels in your head start to turn. For the first time, you let your guard drop in front of him and show him the nerves that made your body start to tremble. 

Daniel’s face grows soft, noticing the change in your demeanor. “Hey, hey, it’s nothing crazy or anything that will harm you…I promise you this Y/N,” he says, and you watch his hand come off of the cushion and raise it but then he drops it. It was like he was going to reach out and caress the side of your face but then opted against it. 

“What is it Danny?” you ask with a soft voice but you make sure to pull yourself back together and manage to throw in a snarky comment. “And don’t be smart about it. I can already feel your other gesture poking into my leg,” you say with a small smirk. 

Daniel’s mouth curves upward into a smile and you see his eyes quickly dart to where you are seated on his lap. “Yes, there is also that, but allow me to show you what I mean.”

You feel your body burning once again as you grow impatient. The tip of the blade angles deeper against his neck and presses, letting it sink into his skin but not deep enough to truly cause any harm. 

Daniel tenses beneath you and you watch as he turns his head slightly to try and put some distance between himself and the blade. He sucks in a deep breath, and you see his face harden, his brows narrowing in on you. “You may not like it. You have to fully submit yourself to me.”

Your body grew stiff and rigid. Your mind instantly felt leadened as you realized just exactly what he was saying– what he was asking you to do. And you couldn’t. You would not. 

What Daniel was asking of you was something that was far too much– too invasive…too intimate. The idea of it extinguished the growing fire that filled you and burned it away. The sheer thought of having to submit yourself fully to him and having to willfully show him everything made your stomach turn. 

There were things you couldn’t even bring yourself to acknowledge but you knew these things had happened and you felt nothing but shame and guilt for the things you had done. For him to even ask you of that, to fully allow yourself to show yourself to him– all the good, the bad and the ugly…it was all too much. 

“No,” you said softly and when that fog in your mind cleared, you started again, this time your words sure and steady. “No! I- I can’t! I will not lower my shields for you!” You try your best to control the trembling racking through your body, but it feels all too much. You weigh his words again and the trembling continues. 

You swallow and blink, trying to shake away the racing thoughts that blur your vision. You tried. You tried with all you might to remain strong in front of him, but it was too much. You let your eyes drop, your hair cascading in front of you to shield him out. If you were to have taken a glance, you would’ve seen the softness that crept onto Daniel’s face. 

“Why? Why not Y/N?” He says, his voice coming out as nothing but a whisper.

Your chest ached at the softness of his voice. The softness of it, the vulnerability in it as if he was truly trying to understand what burned underneath all the fire and anger you held in your heart. He was trying to understand. The thought alone made your eyes line with tears. 

You sucked in a shuddering breath and lifted your head. When your teary eyes met him again, you saw his face ripple with what looked like desolation and sorrow but not only that. Pain. 

The hand clutching the knife against him was now limp as your eyes searched his face, really searched his face. You took him in, letting your eyes linger on the parts of him that you hadn’t dared to let yourself get lost in for too long. His strong cheekbones, his chiseled jaw, the way in which his prominent nose stood from his face to arch down at the end to form a point. A point that led down to his plump, sensual lips.

Your eyes flickered back up to his and you saw his browns come together, trying to read through every thought that washed within you. “B-because…I don’t trust you Danny,” you whispered to him.  Danny actually winced, he winced at your words. The thick column of his neck bobbed as he swallowed again. With a slow and steady hand, he reached up and tucked back loose tendrils of your hair behind your ear. You felt yourself shudder against the touch and you knew it wasn’t from fear. 

            His hand brushed against the side of your cheek until his fingers crept under your chin and held your face there. This touch, this touch was far different from the hands that had been wrapped around you earlier. They were weary and seemed a bit unsure. 

            “I know Y/N…a-and I’m sorry. Truly I am. But, just,” he sighed, “Can you at least put the knife down?” Your fingers again wrapped themselves around the handle of the dagger but then you slowly loosened them and dropped the dagger. The sound of it clattered to the floor and you glanced at it briefly before your eyes slipped back to his. Danny let out a shaky breath and you felt his body relax under you. 

            “Good. Okay, now will you try? W-will you let me…please?” There was such uncertainty in his words, and you saw his eyes dance around your face trying to read the blank expression plastered on it. 

            Slowly, so slowly you nodded your head and relief washed over his face. But it was instantly gone as you stiffened your body and stared him down. “Wait. I want to try first. Let me in your mind.” Danny’s eyes grow wide a bit, surely taken back by what you now laid out before him but then the expression was gone. He nibbled against his bottom lip but then gave a small incline of his head. “Okay.”

            His words were the confirmation you needed, and you gathered all your strength inside you, felt it coil and rip into your veins. Daniel dropped his hand from your face and laid them back over the arms of the chair. With your hands now free of the dagger, you slowly let them come to rest on top of his. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to touch him, you did but you knew that the added connection would help you. Would wield you in a way to him. A sort of lifeline if you needed it. 

            With a final shaky breath, you let your gaze harden on his. The room was silent as he stared back at you blankly as if to show you know he was no threat and that for you…he would do this for you. 

            Slowly, you let your eyes close, keeping the frame of him wielded inside your brain as you sent a blind hand out to try and find just what you were looking for. 

            Everything was dark as you pushed your power forward and your face contorted into a grimace as you concentrated. Your jaw clenched as you pushed yourself further but still. There was nothing. 

“I-I can’t find you,” you said, feeling your eyes shift back and forth behind your eyelids. Your hands that rested on top of his now gripped the top of his hands as if doing so could help you further. 

            “Steady yourself. You're coming on too strong and you're letting your emotions cloud over. Try to relax and ease yourself in,” Danny spoke softly. You let out a deep sigh to ease everything stirring within you. You flexed your hands out over top of his and then let them lay gently on top of his. You cleared your mind and let it go blank before you tried again. 

            Slowly you let your mind go and this time you could feel it creeping to something–for something. It was still dark, but it now felt you were being guided down a tunnel. You felt all of its twists and turns as you reached with a hand and let your hand brush against it, trying to find a sliver or weak spot within it. “I-it’s still dark. I still can’t find you, but I feel something…like I’m being carried somewhere.”

            “Good. Keep trying, keep following that path. Let me guide you there. Just focus on the sound of my voice.”

            You gave a small nod of your head and felt him shift under you. Then one of his hands slipped out from under yours and you almost cursed at the lost connection until you felt it gently placed on the small of your back, steadying you in his lap as he leaned himself forward. His breath danced along the side of your neck, your ear and felt it send a shiver down your spine that made your back arch slightly. “Follow my voice. Focus on it. The pitch, the words. Use it and let it guide you.” With your eyes still closed you nodded. 

            “Are you listening, Y/N?” he asked and the way that made your blood run hot but this time not with rage or anger. You could feel his breath hitting your ear and the tone he used lapped around you, making your breath shutter. You silently cursed at yourself when you felt your core pulse. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice suddenly stripped from you. 

            “Good, now just listen to the sound of it.”

            “I’m listening.”

            “Good,” he says so softly and you swear you could almost feel his lips murmuring the words against you.

            You forced yourself to focus back on that task at hand and when you did– a small shimmering. An opening. You wanted to race to it, not knowing if the image would stay but you held yourself back. If you lunged for it too quickly it might vanish. Instead, you let your mind slowly creep towards it. 

            “I-I see it. I see a wall,” you said faintly. 

            “Describe it to me. What all do you see?” Danny cooed into your ear. 

Your brows knitted together, trying to focus on just what it was exactly that was in front of you. It was solid and blank. Just a high stone black wall that was so high you couldn’t see the top of it. It just stood there, looming in front of you. You frowned again and shook your head. “I don’t know, i-it’s just a wall. A big wall.”

“Then you know what to do, Y/n. Go through it. Try to find a way through it.”

You squinted your eyes further together and tried to find a door, a crack, a sliver of something. Anything. But it was solid. A hand reached for the wall trying to feel for any weak spots but there was none. As you reached that blind hand towards it, you heard Danny shudder slightly at the nails now trying to scratch in and open his mind. “That’s it. Keep going.”

So you did. You walked yourself along the wall that seemed to stretch for miles and miles but there was still nothing. All his training had paid off. The wall seemed utterly impenetrable. You tried again, now trying to picture an opening. Trying to find any way through.

You were about to give up but then suddenly– it was like a window appeared out of nowhere. You were now the one to shudder as you slowly made your way towards it. “I- I see something.”

“What do you see?” Danny said, breathing down your neck. You felt his hand that was resting against the small of your back, digging into you a bit.

“It’s a window…a-and it’s open.”

“Good, now climb through it.”

You approached the open window and took a step forward. You were about to push it open and step into it but it was stuck. You grimaced and tried to open it wider again, but it didn’t move. You let out a deep sigh and shook your head. “I can’t get through. It’s stuck.” You had tried your hardest, but it seemed like it was no use. 

‘I’m sorry,”’ Danny said but there was something off. He was speaking but the words didn’t come from his lips. 

As soon as you realized just what had happened you felt yourself stumble into the window. You opened your eyes, them growing wide as you took in the sight of him. His body was now close, so close to you. He pulled back a little so you could see the full shape of his face before you. But even now, seeing him before you, you could also see inside his head. There were many different doors. Some were lighter and looked welcoming and others– others were dark and just looking at them made you feel unnerved. 

 ‘W-wait…it worked? Can you hear me?’ you spoke to him now mind to mind. 

You saw the own shocked expression flash across Danny’s face as he too realized that you had actually done it. You had gone into his mind. Were in his mind.

‘Yes, I can hear you. Can you hear me?’ Danny said to you. 

You gave a nod of your head. ‘I can see everything,”’ you said as your hand grasped the knob of one of the more welcoming doors. You opened it and were met with a memory of him, Rhys, Cassian, Azriel and Jake who were all lounging on various chairs and couches. Their heads were tilted back in laughter as Cassian told a story about an encounter with a girl and clearly, she hadn’t known who he was– what he was and told him that she could very well take him up in a fight without a doubt. 

The sound of your own laughter filled the room, and you watched Danny’s lips curve upwards as he let out a soft chuckle. More warm memories infiltrated your brain, and you smiled but then the memories vanished, and you felt yourself being shoved through another door. This one was not welcoming at all. 

Images flashed in your head of– of war. It was bloody and gruesome, and you felt nausea turn in your gut as you beheld fallen soldiers, bloodied, and splayed out before you. They were scratched and bloody, so bloody. Some of the cuts were so deep that you could see the white of their bone at the opened gashes. 

Your body was frozen, and your hand dug into his. His own eyes grew wide at the sight of your fear. “Out! I want out! Danny push me out!” you screamed at him this time the words came from your lips. 

Danny beheld you in front of him, a frantic look on his face and then he grimaced, and you were instantly shoved out of the door and then slipped completely out of his mind. 

Your breathing was heavy, and you panted, trying to calm yourself down from the images that were now permanently embedded in your head. 

Danny slipped his other hand out from under you and reached up to troked the side of your cheek, but you flinched back. He instantly recoiled his hand and placed it back on the armrest. “I-I’m sorry. I don’t know why that door appeared, why it felt the need to push you through it. Are you okay?”

You gave a slow nod of your head, your breathing now coming out at a slow, even pace. You slowly braced your arms on the chair and pushed yourself off of his lap. Even though your breathing had slowed, your heart still beat rapidly under your chest.

You paced around the room trying to gather all the thoughts that invaded you and sort them out. If this truly was a test, then was that meant to happen? Were you supposed to see everything?  The good, the bad and the ugly…all of it. 

Danny sat perched in the chair, watching you as you paced the room. Ever so slowly, he pushed himself out of the chair and started to approach you. “Y/N,” he said but you couldn’t hear them over the thoughts that clouded and filled your head. He took another step and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. That same gentle touch from earlier that now seemed like a millennia ago. 

“Y/N,” he spoke again, this time his voice sounding clearer.

You whirled around instantly to face him, not realizing how close he was to you and had to take a small step back. You were so frustrated and– and confused by what this all meant that it made you snap at him. “What does this mean?” you hissed at him.

Danny pulled his hand away from you and let it drop to his side. His own confusion was now written on his face too and he looked at the floor, shaking his head. “I know as much as you do. I know that people– Daemati can speak mind to mind…but mates? I…I don’t know if that is something that is granted or perhaps just happens? It is beyond the knowledge I possess.”

“I know, but what does this mean?” you signaled with your hand, pointing between the two of you. Daniel again shook his head and raised his eyes to meet you. “All I know is that you can now enter my mind and maybe I can enter yours, if that’s something you would allow me to anyways. But it works both ways. Even with or without the mating bond…it still means there’s some sort of connection.”

You took in every word he said. Both of you seemed utterly lost. While yes it may be something. It wasn’t necessarily the answer you were looking for. You looked at him and you felt your eyes soften as the question rose into your head. “But how do I know if you’re truly my mate?”

Daniel’s eyes took you in and something flashed in them– something feral and wild. A smirk marked his face, and he stepped forward closing the distance between us. “Well then maybe we should find out. It could be rather interesting. Do you want to play, Y/N?” 

Your hands found his chest and you shoved him back as you scoffed. 'Prick.' You heard Daniel laugh and you cursed at yourself for not pulling your mental shields up. Daniel smirked and crossed his arms over his chest. He cocked a brow, that cunning smirk still on his face. “And here I was thinking that your anger towards me wasn’t anger at all. I think you rather enjoy it.”

You let your face harden as you glared at him. “What are you talking about?” You asked, mirroring him and now letting your own arms cross in front of you. Danny stared at you and his grin grew further. “Oh, come on, all the so-called anger you have towards me. You don’t think I’m that stupid do y-”

“Oh, it's definitely crossed my mind.”

Danny just rolled his eyes but let his hands fall to his sides. “I think all that anger is you trying to flirt with me. You like it. You like when we bicker and argue. It does something to you and I would be lying if it didn’t do the same to me.”You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “That doesn’t mean shit.”

Danny took a step toward you, and you could clearly see the challenge held in that step. “But it does. You want to play. You like it when we play.”

“Have you maybe thought that for one second that it’s because I think you’re an arrogant, annoying asshole?” Danny tilted his head back and laughed. “Oh, come on, we both know the answer to that. But I can see it– sense it when I’m around you and when I touch y-”

“Oh! Like you did early when your hands were wrapped around my throat?”

Danny’s gaze hardened and you watched the muscles in his jaw flex. “You know how sorry I am about that. I- that’s not what I meant,” Danny said with a shake of his head. 

When his eyes met yours again, they had that feral gleam in them. He took another step towards you. “Don’t lie, you know exactly what I’m talking about.” You swallowed as you looked up at him. “Just now, when you were sitting on my lap, you felt it didn’t you? Felt the way my hands felt on your body, the way you arched into me when I whispered in your ear. Did you enjoy that?”

All you could do was stare up at him. You couldn’t begin to deny it because it was true, and it left your body trembling…your core aching. 

You had had many lovers, some of them good, some of them…bad. But even with how amazing they were and how they left you pleased and satisfied it felt like nothing compared to the way his hands felt. 

You had noticed it the first time he touched you. It was an accident. You were up in the training ring sparring with Jake, and you had stumbled back only for Daniel to wrap your arms around it to catch you but when he did…it felt like lightning had been shot into your skin. You had whirled around to see who it was who had caught you and when you realized it was him your eyes grew wide, but you quickly replaced it with a glare. The same look had been plastered on his face, but he only gave you a nod of his head to signal to go back to training. 

“You felt it too?” Danny asked, looking at you once over. You stared blankly at him but gave him a small nod. “I think that’s when I knew.”

“Knew what?” You asked, your eyes narrowing in on him. Danny sucked in a breath and let it out. “It’s when I knew…you were my mate.”

Your eyes grew wide, and you just stared at him. Stared and stared and stared. The hands you had crossed in front of your chest dropped and you let them fall to your sides, your mouth gaping. “W-what?”

“Mate,” Danny said again, “you’re my mate.”

Mate. Mate. You were his mate. Your eyes scanned his face, searching for what? You didn’t know. Your body felt like it was a statue, and you felt your breath halt in your chest. Shaking your head, you closed your eyes, trying to process what he just said. You opened them. “I- what? How? W-when did you know?” Danny gave a casual shrug like any of this was normal. “I think I knew from the first moment I saw you.”

Your eyes grew wide, and your hands bawled into fists. “Y-you’ve known for that long, and you didn’t tell me?”  Danny gave another casual shrug of his shoulders. “Well yeah…I-I guess I didn’t know what to say– if I should say anything at all.”

A scoff escaped you and you threw your hands back over your chest. “You knew…and yet you still didn’t tell me. Why? Were you afraid I might reject you…it?” Daniel’s face softened and you saw that doubt and uncertainty flash onto it. “I- yes. I was afraid you would say no-”

You took a step forward. “And what would you do if I rejected it now?”

Daniel stiffened and opened his mouth and then shut it. He took you in, really looked at you, the same way you had looked at him moments ago. And the way he looked at you, it ignited something under your skin. 

“If I’m being honest…I don’t know. I think it would crush me…I’d get over it- I mean I’d have to.” You watched him speak with such sincerity and you felt that ache in your chest grow. Would it crush you as well?

You let out a deep sigh and ran a hand down your face. You dropped it only to see him standing there and you swear he almost looked uncomfortable. Perhaps this was rather uncomfortable. It was for you anyway, but you couldn’t imagine how it must’ve been for him since he’s the one who knew and had admitted it. 

“I wait…I have questions. Sit,” you said pointing back to the chair behind him. Danny gave a small nod of his head and walked the short distance and plopped himself into the chair shifting his wings, so they draped around the back. He clutched his hands together as he balanced them over his knees. 

You stalked over to him. “If what you’re saying is true…then is this why explain why we’re always at each other’s throats– feel the need to be? I mean what you said is true, I enjoy it…t-the playing, the taunting…the flirting. But is this the real reason why?”

Danny gave a small nod of his head and shifted in his seat. “Yes, I think that may have something to do with it. I don’t think it is much of a coincidence how easily we seem to rile each other up. I think sometimes we- well maybe more I would, I guess sometimes see it as a challenge, a way to almost invade me or my space but it almost felt…territorial, I guess. Like I wanted– still want to keep drawing you back to me because I knew…I know. I wanted to keep you coming back because that part of me deep down knew that you were mine.” 

“And when you put your hands on me…. Was there something more behind that?”

Danny nodded slowly and let out a sigh. “I think it’s because I was frustrated. And believe me I know it wasn’t right– isn’t right but it killed me to know something was bothering you o-or hurting you and you wouldn’t tell me. And in turn, I couldn’t do anything about it. And it’s not because I could see that you were clearly upset…it’s because I felt it. I could feel something was wrong.”

“B-because of the bond?” you asked softly. “Because of the bond,” Danny echoed. 

“B-but then why couldn’t I feel that? If you were upset or something was bothering you,” you asked with a small frown. 

Another casual shrug. “Maybe because you didn’t know? But then again, maybe you did feel something but mistook it as your own emotions, whatever that feeling was.” His words made sense. You were always a bit moody, and your emotions always seemed to run high but there were times when you would feel a strong wave of emotion hit you and you didn’t know where it was coming from or why. But maybe these emotions were actually his all along.

You stopped short in front of him and the ache in your chest grew. Not for what he was saying but for him.Danny laid everything out. All the things he had kept to himself for so long that he had finally confessed to you. 

His eyes stilled on you and something like fear flashed across his face– like he had said too much and regretted it. But no, you wouldn’t allow him to think those thoughts. Instead, you prowled closer to him. 

“You know, I can smell you, scent you when you’re around. And sometimes, when a room is packed and crowded, I still can scent you and it’s strong. It rises above all the rest even when I can’t see you. Like something in my body knows you’re there and is telling me to go to you…” Daniel swallowed and leaned back a bit. “I know, because the same thing happens to me.”

“You can scent me too?” you said, taking another weary step to him. 

“Of course, I can and sometimes it drives me fucking nuts. Especially when I know you’re there and can’t see you.”

The both of you stilled and blinked at each other for a moment. You took him in, his casual appearance and how he seemed utterly calm. “H-how are you okay with all of this? How do you look so calm?” Danny’s eyebrows raised upward, and his eyes grew wide. “Calm? I’m anything but that right now. I may not be showing it but I’m freaking out right now.” You gave him a small smile to try and reassure him and he returned it. 

You stalked closer to him. “And just how do I reject or accept the bond?” Danny went utterly still and looked up at you. He blinked a few times and then cleared his throat. “Well, if you want to reject it, you do just that. Reject it. But if you decide to accept it…well the act seems rather silly but it’s something deeply rooted into our traditions.”

“And just what exactly is that?”

“The female offers their mate food if she accepts. But with that they also accept everything that comes with it. Embrace it, but not only the bond but who they are. It means they accept everything about that person regardless of the flaws they may have. It means that they claim them as theirs and they claim them as the same. As one.” You swallowed and nodded, absorbing all the information he laid out for you. Your eyes traveled to the nightstand beside your bed. You slowly walked over to it and felt his eyes on your back. If he was thinking about your movements, he didn’t voice them. 

“But I guess there may be another way…another way we already know. And before you protest– no it’s not that. I mean of course it can certainly help in some cases but what I mean is touch. Some people know then and choose to accept it that instant if they feel it. But like I said…we already know that. Sometimes a pair can know just by looking at each other. It differs from everyone.”

You gave a small nod of your head as you closed the distance to the nightstand. “But even though we may have felt that…I didn’t accept it because I didn't know then,” you said as you opened the drawer to the nightstand. “That is correct. For us– well for you, you hadn’t known. So, in our case, it’s different,” Danny spoke.

You gave another nod of your head and rummaged around in the drawer and then you found what you were looking for. You grabbed it and held it behind your back as you walked back over to him. Daniel ran a curious eye over you as you stopped in front of him. 

“Well, I may not have known then, but I know now.” Daniel kept that watchful eye on you, trying to understand just what you meant with your words. Your hand tightly gripped the item behind you and then with a shaky breath, you extended the hand out to him.

In it was a small chocolate wrapped in a red bow. His eyes grew wide, and he looked up at me. “I know it’s not much, b-but it’s all I have.”

Daniel smiled at you, truly smiled and he plucked the small chocolate from your hand. This wasn’t just an offering. It was a sort of union. A knowledge and acceptance that you would now be his and that he would now be yours. 

You watched him carefully as he undid the tiny bow and plucked away at the wrapper. A small smile was on his face as he brought it to his mouth and when he did his eyes found yours. He held the small candy in front of his mouth, and you felt your breath catch not knowing if now he would accept. But then all the worries that clouded your mind soon vanished as he popped the candy into his mouth. 

A relieved breath escaped you and you watched him chew and then swallow. And maybe you were too caught up in the moment, but you swear something shifted within you. And maybe he sensed it too because something lit up in those hazel eyes of his. 

All you could do was stare at him, your mind racing at one hundred miles an hour as you realized what you had offered to him and what he had now gladly accepted.

The moment seemed to last forever as you both beheld the sight of each other. Mates. He was your mate, and you were his. That word echoed through you and felt foreign but something about it felt so…right. Danny was your mate. 

Danny reached out a hand and gripped the fabric of your dress loosely and Gods. The sight of him seated below you with his head angled up…It tore through you and ignited a fire that burned so deeply that it felt like all of the worlds had tipped on its axis. 

His hand slid up and cupped your thigh from behind, pulling you closer to him. His hand dug into while he pulled you in so close that his nose almost brushed the lilac fabric of your gown. It was enough to make your breath and body halt in their place.

Your hands were still hung loosely at your sides, and you rubbed your thumb over them, suddenly not knowing what to do with them– where to put them or if you should put them anywhere at all. Danny’s eyes glanced at them and then back up to you. ‘Just fucking touch me already,’ he said into your mind. So, you did. 

Your hands lunged for him and grabbed hold of his face in your hands while climbing back onto his lap. He shifted back into the seat, his hands now coming to hold onto your waist. 

You didn’t waste any time as you crashed your lips into his. The feeling of his lips moving beneath yours gave you the same electrifying feeling from the first time he had touched you but this time it was way more intense. Your hands and body worked on a mind of their own as they moved along him, touching, and exploring the parts of him that you had secretly pawned over for so long. 

If you thought that you were a mess, then clearly it was nothing compared to how Danny had felt. His hands moved along your back, gripping you tightly to him as they did the same and explored your body. You could feel his breath tangled with yours and heard the sound of him groaning as he pressed himself further against you. 

You felt one of his hands move to cup your backside while the other snaked further up your neck and grabbed hold of the nape of your neck. He gave a small tug to the hair there and your head tilted back, a low moan crawling out of you. 

He tore his lips away from yours only to replace them along the column of your neck. Danny let out his own soft moans against you while he kissed and nibbled along the sensitive skin. 

Your own hands traveled up his body until they were tangled in his curly locks. You came to the top of his head where half of his hair was tied up in a thin leather band and hooked your finger under it, letting his bounded hair fall down to his shoulders. He was so fucking beautiful. 

Your hands and body were now frantic as every thought left your mind and there was only one left. You needed him and you needed him badly. 

Your lips found his again and you practically melted into him when his tongue pushed into your mouth. If his scent was enough to drive you mad, the taste of him would make you go utterly fucking insane. Danny’s hands traveled back to your hips and gripped them, he shifted a bit and you felt his own madness poking beneath you. Your hands ran down the front of his body, feeling the hard, taught muscles of his chest and stomach until they gripped the bottom edge of his tank top and ripped it off of him, carefully minding his wings. 

You brought your mouth away from his and peered down at his bare chest beneath you. You felt his hungry eyes watch you every move. When you looked down, you could see the tattoos that slithered along his skin. You had seen them before but never up close. You let your fingertips trace along them as if to mark a new imprint of your own against him. 

Your eyes traveled along the expanse of him, and you noticed his golden tan skin that had small flecks of white lines– old scars. Some of them you noticed were cut so deep that his skin hadn’t healed smoothly and protruded out. Battle marks. Each from a different war or past encounter. Each a different reminder of all that he had faced in his past.

Your finger grazed over one of the more brutal looking scars and you casted your eyes up to his. “Do they hurt?”

Daniel gave you a soft smile and shook his head. “No.” You just glanced back at his body and gave a small nod of your head. One of his hands left your hips and came to cup the side of your face as he pulled your back to his lips.  His kiss erases all those daunting and looming thoughts that plagued your mind. 

You were completely consumed by the desire that raged and pressed into your veins. A groan escaped you when you felt his teeth nip along your bottom lip and it left your core aching. You nipped him back and felt him smile beneath your lips. “I knew you wanted to play,” Daniel mumbled against your lips. You smirked and let your mouth meet his again but not before you ground your hips against him. He hissed and his hands tightened on your hips. Play with me Danny, you spoke into his mind. 

It seemed like those were just the words he had needed to hear because his hands slid to cup your backside and he rose up from the chair in one fluid motion. Your legs tightened around his waist, further pushing his hardness into you that made you cry out at the pressure. 

He walked the short distance to your bed and gently laid you on it, not breaking the kiss. You felt him crawl up the bed, placing one of his hands beside your head while the other lingered on the crest of your hip. 

You pulled back for a brief moment just to cast a glance at him and when you did– cauldron burn and boil you. He was propped on his knees, kneeling between yours. His bare chest in the dim shadows only seemed to further enhance the ridges and dips of his muscles. His dark curly hair that was now unbound came to hang around the sides of his face. His dark wings that were tucked behind him now were splayed out. And his eyes– God's eyes. They devoured you from the inside out and were completely wild, his pupils shot. A picture of purebred power only that could be crafted by the Gods hands. 

Daniel’s dark eyes raked up the expanse of your body and you watched his chest rise and fall heavily. You pushed yourself up so you balanced on your elbows and reached a hand out and laid your palm flat against his stomach. You felt his muscles twitch and saw him look down at your hand, bringing his bottom lip between his teeth as that started to slide down lower and lower. 

You let it stop at the top of his leather pants and you leaned yourself up into a sitting position as you ever so delicately began to undo the laces of his pants. You were able to see the outline of just what exactly was being held and bound against his pants and the sight was enough to make your hands start to shake. 

Daniel’s hands came to rest on top of yours and you tilted your head to look up at him. A flash of concern was drawn on his face. “We don’t have to, you know,” he spoke softly, his hands tightening on yours to try and ease that shakiness. You looked away from a mere second but then quickly found his eyes again. “I-I want to.”

Danny gave a small incline of his head and then leaned down, so his lips tickled the shell of your ear. “Just tell me if it’s too much. I’ll try to be as gentle as I can, but I have been dreaming about this moment for so long that I don’t think I’ll be able to hold myself back.”

You felt your core clench around nothing as his words lapped against your ear. You continued with the task at hand and found your fingers quickly working to undo those final laces, this time trembling from anticipation alone. You got them undone and turned your head slightly and felt the side of his face against yours. “Please. Please don’t hold back.”

That seemed to be all he needed because he softly pressed his hand to your chest, and you fell back onto the bed. He gripped both of your thighs and slid your body down to him. He gave a small shift of his hips and fully pressed himself against you and that feeling alone had your back arching off the bed. You could see the outline of him behind his pants and knew he was big but it was nothing compared to how he now felt pressed against you. 

Danny’s lips pressed against the bottom of your neck and slowly trailed upward so his mouth was once again hovering by your ear. “I was hoping you would say that because I have no intention of holding myself back.”

A moan ripped from your throat, and you found your hips bucking up, grinding them against him while you tried to ease the ache that made your wetness start to pool. Your hands rested on his wrist while he held them on you and pressed his weight against you while you writhed underneath him. “Please Danny,” you begged, “I need you so fucking bad.”

That fiery flash rose in his eyes and Danny leaned up a bit and let his hands quickly went to his own body. He tugged down his pants and revealed himself fully to you. Your eyes grew wide seeing the full length of him, his cock hard and glistening at the tip with his arousal. He was fucking massive. 

He leaned himself back over you, bringing his mouth back to yours while his hand snaked up on the other side of your lilac dress, slowly dragging it upwards. The tips of his fingers brushed against the edge of your undergarments, and you bucked into his hand, signaling him further. 

Danny let out a low chuckle against you and his finger dipped under the elastic and pulled it back and let it snap against your skin. A shock squeal escaped you and his laugh rumbled through you. ‘Such a sensitive thing, aren’t you?’

‘Pri-’ but your thought was quickly cut off when you felt him drag a finger against the fabric and come to stop right at the apex of those nerves. A moan escaped you and he removed his mouth away from yours and pressed his lips back against the side of your neck. Your hips seemed to have a mind of their own, slowly rocking against his finger while you tried to get some relief from the building ache that lingered between your legs. 

‘Tell me what you want,’ Danny spoke into your mind, his lips still continuing to trail up and down the expanse of your neck. 

‘You, I want you. All of you. Please.’

Danny let out a deep growl and moved his hand and grabbed the edge of your undergarment and tore it off you –literally tore it. You felt the fabric sting and burn against your skin, and he tossed it over his shoulder and let it fall to the ground. 

‘How bad?’

‘So, fucking bad Danny.’

Without any hesitation, his finger brushed through your center and felt the wetness pooled there. “Fucking Hel, Y/N,” he growled. His finger made another pass through your wetness before it stopped at your clit and began to draw slow, coaxing circles onto it. You arched your back and a deep groan ripped through you. “Gods please Danny,” you cried. 

Danny nipped at the skin of your neck and moved his body down further along yours. He continued those small, daunting circles and you watched while he placed kisses over the fabric of your silk dress until his head was between your legs. 

With his other hand he slowly grabbed the hem of your dress and lifted it up. His eyes drifted to your face where your jaw was hung open, soft, shallow pants puffing past your lips while you anticipated his neck move. 

Danny pulled up the dress and you were fully revealed to him now. His eyes stared right between your legs, and you heard him cursed under his breath, his tongue poking out to wet his bottom lip. ‘You look fucking delicious.’

You were about to respond back but the words were knocked from you when you felt the brush of his lips against the inside of your thigh. He licked and nipped at the skin, and you felt your legs start to tremble just from the touch alone. 

He traveled his way up your leg, and you opened them further for him when they connected to the inside of your thigh where it met your hip. You cried out and released one of your hands from his wrist to tangle in his hair. You pulled at the root and jutted your hips up to try and catch his mouth. Danny let out a low laugh that sent shivers up your spine. ‘Is someone getting impatient?’

“Danny please,” you cried in a breathy moan. His fingers that were circling your clit stopped and you were about to try out again from the loss of contact but then you felt his tongue lick a stripe though you. 

Your back arched and you released the hand from him to have it clamp over your mouth as a loud moan was drawn from you. Danny groaned as he tasted you and you saw his hips grind down into the mattress, trying to release some of his own tension. 

‘You taste fucking delicious too,’ he said and licked up you again. You clamped your hand further down against your mouth and that hand he had stilled on your hip came up and yanked it away from your face. You looked down at Danny and saw his face set into stone. He removed his mouth from you and his jaw flexed. “Don’t do that again. If I’m going to make you cum, I want to hear every sound I coax out of you. I don’t give a fuck if others can hear. Do you understand?”

All you could do was nod and Daniel moved his head back down between your legs. His mouth clamped around your clit and this time the sounds of your pleasure filled and echoed off the walls of the room. 

He sucked on your clit and then rolled it gently between his teeth, making your fist a handful of his hair. His other hand was back and you and started to draw lazy circles at your entrance. You were absolutely drenched, and his fingers spread your arousal around. 

Danny moved his head to the side, taking his finger that was circling off of you. You whined and shifted your hips wanting more of him. His eyes flicked up to yours and you watched as he placed two of his fingers in his mouth and sucked. His eyes rolled back in his head while his tongue licked over his fingers and took in the taste of you. Your chest was falling rapidly and a heartbeat later you felt him push his finger into you and encompassed his mouth around your clit. 

You through your head back, a strangled moan clawing its way up through you. You kept your hand fisting his hair while the other clawed at sheets of the bed. He was good with his mouth alone but his fingers…Gods. Both of them worked in tandem, licking and pumping into you and your body trembled and shook around him. 

You were already so close, and he had barely scratched the surface. He groaned and it vibrated against you. His finger inside of you curled and brushed against that spot deep inside of you. You had never felt anything as intense as this. Nothing compared to this, and you knew nothing ever would now that he was yours. 

Danny pulled his finger back and slid them back into you, this time adding another digit into the mix. He had worked them into you slowly but now there was determination in each and every one of his moments. He curled his fingers, continuing to sweep over the spot while his tongue worked on your clit. You were close. So fucking close. 

Your breath grew faster and became more rapid. His eyes found yours and he sucked against your clit so hard that it had you shooting up. A low laugh rumbled against you, only making the pleasure grow stronger. He slowly pressed his hand to your chest to push you back down. ‘I know you’re close. I can feel how hard your pussy is squeezing my fingers…cum. Cum for me, Y/N.’

You bit your lip, looking down at him from your half-lidded eyes. The sight of him between your legs would forever be burned into your brain. His fingers gave another curl and with a flick of his tongue you came undone. 

Your cries of pleasure filled the room and your whole body trembled as you shook around his fingers. You had never come so hard before and you could see stars dancing behind your lids while you arched your back so high you thought it might snap. 

Danny removed his mouth from your clit but kept his fingers inside you slowly pumping them in and out while you rode out the length of your orgasm. His mouth peppered gentle kisses along the insides of your thighs, sometimes licking and biting but never enough to truly hurt. 

He withdrew his fingers from inside you and moved his face back up and gave a small kiss over your clit. Your body shuddered and you heard him chuckle. “So so sensitive for me, huh?” Danny said in a low voice and then proceeded to further his point as he blew against that sensitive spot that made your legs shake. Danny let out a hum of approval and then moved from his spot nestled between your legs to climb back over you. 

You let your free hand that wasn’t still tangled in his hair come to dance along his arm. Feeling the hard, strong muscle of it. Danny leaned down and brought his mouth to yours while his hands caressed the side of your face and neck. When he slipped his tongue into your mouth, you were able to taste yourself on him and you let out a deep groan.

Danny dug his hips into you, and you could feel his hardness pushing against the inside of your thigh. You moaned against his lips and felt him shift his hips, so his length was brushing higher and higher. 

“Please,” you moaned, grabbing the underside of his arm as you tried to push him further against your mouth. All he did was hum against your mouth and you felt his hand come off the side of your neck to grasp the edge of your dress. He tore his mouth from you and sat back on his heels while he pulled up the fabric of your dress. You too sat up, raising your arms over your head as he pulled the silk dress off of you and let it drop to the floor. 

Danny’s eyes scanned up the expanse of your body, the two of you now completely naked and bare before each other. You saw his cock twitch while he took in the sight of you and felt his hand slide up your stomach and then crept higher, pressing his palm between your breasts. ‘You’re fucking beautiful.’

Blush crept onto your face, and you gave him a soft smile. He brought his hand to the side of your cheek and swept his finger over the top of it, returning the small smile on your face. He slowly brought his mouth to yours and placed a gentle kiss on your lips. ‘You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this.’  Your lips started to move against his and you let yourself fall back against the bed and he fell with you. ‘Then please, give it to me Danny.’ 

Danny shuddered at your words and then shifted his hips, so he was closer to you. With his free hand, he grasped his length and began to drag it through your wet core. You moaned into his mouth, your back arching at the contact of him dragging his tip against your clit. ‘Just tell me if it’s too much’

You nodded and then you felt him drag his tip down further, so it was at your entrance. He pushed his hips and you felt him slip into you. Danny groaned and you let out a deep moan, your eyes growing wide at the sensation. He practically tore you in half. You gripped his bicep, and you watched his eyes that were fixated between your legs come to meet yours. ‘Shhh, just relax…you can take it. I’m not even all the way in yet.’

Your eyes grew wide but then you bit your lip and nodded to feel him give another push of his hips. Your back arched and Danny threw his head back, letting a moan slip past his lips. “Fuck Y/N.” He pulled his hips back and pressed into you again and you felt him slide in further, but you knew that still wasn’t all of him. You decided to wrap your legs around him and gave him a nudge to press into you further and he did.

“Oh, my Gods,” you screamed and felt your walls wrap around him as he pushed himself fully into you. Danny shuddered and fell onto his forearms to keep him upright. His mouth found yours and you felt your hands clawing at him to continue. 

He brought his hips back, almost fully pulling himself out of you before he plunged himself deep into you. You gasped and your body lifted off the bed as pure pleasure swept over and encompassed you entirely. His pace was slow and steady–sloppy even but it made every inch of your body stand on end. 

You brought your mouth back to his and let your hands travel along his back. Your finger gently grazed across the edge of his wings which made him let out a deep moan before you let them latch onto his shoulders. Your nails dug hard into his skin, puncturing it and you knew that marks would be left there. Good, you thought. You forever wanted to mark his entire body so he would forever be reminded that he was yours. 

Danny moved his mouth away from yours and then you felt him bite where your neck met your shoulder. His teeth sunk in and all you could do was groan at the sensation. It hurt slightly but it felt so damn good. 

He pushed away from you to grab both of your hips in his hands, angling your bottom half off of the bed and brought your body down against his. Something not short of a scream ripped through your chest while he continued to slam his hips into you, hard and utterly viscous. He told he wouldn’t hold anything back and he didn’t. 

Each thrust of his hips knocked the breath out of you and your hands didn’t know where to reach, to grab for him, your own body, or the sheets beneath you. You were a complete fucking mess. 

Danny’s muscles in his arms and across his stomach flexed while he pumped into you and the sight of him like this made your core tighten around him and a small curse fell from his lips. He bit his lip and watched where the two of you connected, the sound of wet skin ringing through the room. 

Danny brought a hand off your hip and moved it between your legs and let his thumb circle against your clit. “Fuck Danny!” you cried and felt your legs start to shake. You felt them starting to close, only to be interrupted by his body between them and he smirked. His hand left your clit only to give you a small smack to the inside of your thigh as he pushed them open. “Don’t you fucking close those legs,” he growled and then his thumb was back to circling against your clit. Your eyes roll back in your head and your whole body trembled, feeling him hit that sweet spot hidden so far inside of you. 

“D- Danny, I’m gonna cum,” you cried, your voice now sounding straightened and hoarse. “I know baby, I know. Let it happen. Cum for me,” he cooed. Your walls gripped him tightly and you felt him hiss. You tried your best to hold his eyes but found yourself unable to as they rolled back into your head. 

One of your hands fisted the sheets and the other gripped his wrist tightly and soon you were plummeting into that fire. You shook beneath him and cried out, feeling that wave of pleasure sweep over your body. It felt like your soul was floating outside and above your body and the sheer pleasure that drove through you made tears start to form in your eyes. You felt yourself explode around him and you were left as a panting mess but that didn’t stop him. 

Danny cursed and the grip he held on your thighs only tightened as he took you over and over again. With each powerful thrust he gave, you found yourself not knowing your name or seeming to remember you were a part of this world because this world, your world now belonged to him. The only thing you knew for certain was him. Danny. His name echoed like a chant inside your head and maybe it fell from your lips, but you were too encompassed by his actions and the pleasure he ripped out of you to know for sure.

He drove you further and further into that state of bliss where stars and colors danced with one another, and the sun and moon collided and filled the world in a fiery, bright flash. And then you felt it and you came utterly undone around him. Your body thrashed and withered underneath him and you felt the bond snap into place.

“Fuck Y/N!” he growled and continued with his merciless power, thrusting into your hard and deep while your body continued to shake around him. You knew in that moment he felt it too and it drove him utterly mad.

You could sense it in his body, the way he seemed to grow stronger and stronger with each thrust of his hips and it was either the dim lighting behind him but you swear that he seemed to glow.

With another couple of deep and powerful strokes, he collapsed on top of you, his chest now damp and sticky with sweat while he poured his release into you. Daniel’s breath was heavy and ragged, but his lips met with yours and his hips continued to find yours. ‘You’re mine Y/N. You’re fucking mine. You’re my fucking mate.’

“Say it,” you mumbled against his lips, already feeling him starting to coax another orgasm out of you. Danny gave another powerful thrust of his hips that rocked your entire body. “You’re my fucking mate,” he growled and the two of you found your release again and you traveled into that colorful world the two of you had created full of stars, light, and fire. He was yours and you were forever his. Your mate. 

Tag List:

@gretas-sweat @dannyshair @itsafullmoon @peaceloveunitygvf @darianh07 @thunderstomp-and-tequila @gretasfallingsky @bathingin-thelight @jordie-gvf @withlovegvf @jazzyfigz @iliana-gvf

[azrielbrainrot]

Maybe We Could Be The Start of Something

Band member!Azriel x College Student!Reader

Description: Your friends invite you to a bar and you could never imagine who you'd meet there.

Word Count: 3294

Warnings: none

Notes: I had this idea after seeing this art and couldn't stop thinking about it. I actually had a lot of ideas for little stories in this universe but it makes sense to start with how they met. Also I know that's a terrible band name but I never had to name a band before okay. I didn't proofread this because I think I'd delete the whole thing if I did, sorry. This is really self-indulgent but I hope you like it!

part of the band au

You could only blame yourself for agreeing to meet Viviane. Your skull felt like it was going to split open with this headache that has lasted all week. The only thing you wanted to do right now was try to sleep it off under your warm blankets, but instead you willingly came to a bar knowing it was just going to make it worse.

She's been telling you about this place and the bands that perform here occasionally for ages. Apparently it's a real hotspot for up and coming musicians ever since two bands made it big after starting out here. You've been turning her down for weeks so you had promised her that you'd finally come this friday, of course when you agreed you couldn't have known your week was going to be absolute shit. Though most of your days have been shit lately. That might be the actual reason Viv has been so insistent about you going out with her, she knew your mental health was ready to take a vacation and was just being a good friend.

This really hadn't been a good day to come though. Aside from your headache, your last class had also run late, making you lose your bus and barely have time to drop everything off at home and change to come meet your friends. As a little treat you also couldn't find your nice black skirt so you had to just wear jeans, you definitely needed the extra confidence the pretty skirt provided but the universe didn't seem to care about that.

The bar was already packed by the time you got there, you were almost being pushed around while you were searching for your friends. You look down at your phone to ask them where they are and see a text from Viv asking if you're still coming. Reading it makes you stop in your tracks. You can't really blame her for thinking you wouldn't show up since you've been declining every invitation lately, but seeing that she thought you wouldn't even give her a heads up hurt a little. You knew you had been distant lately but you were trying your best to deal with life and you never meant to do it at the expense of your friendships.

You're pushed out of your thoughts when someone taps your shoulder gently, making you look back at them. Turning your head you were faced with a muscular chest, slowly looking up a tattooed neck to meet beautiful hazel eyes staring back at yours.

“I'm sorry to bother you,” he says, breaking eye contact for a second before continuing, “but I think you dropped this.” He raises his hand so you can see him holding your keys. Your house keys, the ones you would undoubtedly only notice were missing when you went back home and tried to open the door. That would have been the cherry on the cake after this whole day. Maybe you should see a witch to make sure it's not actually a curse, no one should experience this much bad luck.

“Thank you so much,” you almost yell as you grab them from his hand in excitement. He just saved you from having no place to sleep tonight. You notice him tensing up when your fingers brush against his hand and realize you might have made him uncomfortable. “I'm sorry,” you take a tiny step back in the crowded bar, “I would have been locked out of my apartment if you hadn't seen that. Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” he said, giving you a nod and something close to a smile, before going on his way. You curse yourself again for acting so awkwardly. You hope you didn't make him feel uncomfortable, he was nice in picking up your keys and giving them back to you. He was also really cute which only made it more of a shame that you met like this. At least you didn't lose your keys, that would have seriously sucked.

Making your way to the table Viviane told you they would be at, you notice almost everyone is here. She was leaning against her boyfriend, Kallias, while they listened to whatever story Alba was telling them about. Ezio and Celia were both looking down at their phones and showing each other something while giggling like schoolgirls. As much as you love your friends, you don't know how much socializing you can handle today. You already fucked up what could have been a very simple interaction. Then again, with all of them here you know Viv won't try to ask you about Eleanor so at least you can keep avoiding hard topics. Viv greets you with a grin as soon as she sees you, everyone following right after.

“Hey, thought you weren't coming after all.” Yeah, you almost forgot about that. You smile anyway, knowing she didn't mean to remind you of how much of a bad friend you've been lately.

“Sorry, guys,” you sit down in the empty chair next to Alba before continuing, “Class ran late and then I lost my bus.”

“Oh. Bad luck.” You have no idea, Kallias. Conversation picked back up after that and you let them do most of the talking, taking a back seat and just watching them. You're glad that they either noticed you weren't in a talking mood or just didn't realize you were mostly quiet anyway.

You have no new stories to tell them since you've barely been functioning outside of school and talking about your feelings is definitely a resounding no, especially at a bar, so you just let them keep up with their conversations and just nod along every once in a while.

Eventually, the DJ introduces the band playing tonight. The Night Court. Judging by the screams and the way everyone moves closer to watch, they're very popular around here and you understand part of the reason for said popularity as soon as you see them step up on stage.

“Oh, they're really good!” Viviane's voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “The guitarist is Mor's cousin. You remember her, right?” You nod. Of course you do. The blonde with sparkly eyeshadow and red lips leaves a big impression, forgetting Morrigan is probably impossible.

You study the guitarist as he introduces himself and the band. He's extremely handsome, the type of handsome that would make you think he can't be human, like some kind of fairy or vampire. You can tell he's aware of this fact with every honey dipped word that comes out of his mouth, literally flirting with the whole crowd. Despite not having many physical similarities with Mor, that allure he exudes definitely matches with hers.

The drummer was already sitting in place, looking eager to play. It takes you a second to notice he was in fact already sitting down as he's probably one of the tallest men you've ever seen in real life. But, with the messy shoulder length hair and big boyish grin on his face, he doesn't look scary at all.

As your eyes travel to the bassist, half hidden in the shadows, you wonder why you didn't recognize him immediately. It was the same guy that helped you before. You had thought he was beautiful before but, considering the situation, you didn't have much time to linger on that fact. However now that he was standing on stage, you could fully appreciate it. He was tall - this much you knew since you were at head level with his chest - and by the way his arms strained against his black t-shirt as he picked up his bass, you could tell he was fit too. He was looking down at the bass in his hands, making the few lights that caught him cast an ethereal glow on his face and on his onyx hair. This man looks like he stepped right down heaven's gates.

They start playing what you think is an original song but can't be sure since you were too distracted checking their bassist out to hear what Mor's cousin had said. He does have a really good singing voice but as your mystery angel starts singing, you can't help but feel bewitched back to watching him.

You barely take your eyes off him during the whole performance but they're all undeniably good. It's easy to understand why this bar is so popular if this is the level of talent their bands have. You can definitely imagine them making it big. They all seem very comfortable and content on stage and the crowd can't get enough of them.

You're so distracted by them that you don't even notice your head pounding anymore, or how fast time flies because, before you know it, they're saying their goodbyes to the crowd and leaving the stage.

Conversation starts back up after that, everyone is gushing about how talented and hot they are and you find yourself easily agreeing with their sentiments. But, with no distraction and the dj back playing songs you've heard a thousand times and the pressure of keeping conversation going, your headache comes back. You wait out just a little longer until you think it's an acceptable time to leave without worrying everyone too much.

“I'm sorry guys but I think I'm going to head home.” You finish the last of your drink even though it's mostly melted ice by that point and start putting your jacket on.

“Already?” You're not surprised Alba is the first to speak up. You'll never understand how this girl has so much energy, you had the same morning class as her but she's still as energetic as she was at lunchtime.

“It's still kind of early,” Viviane looks up at you with her icy eyes and you can recognize the concern in them immediately.

“It was just a busy week,” you explain with a smile on your face, hoping no one reads too much into it even though you all know that's not all. “I think I need to go sleep it off.”

“Are you going by yourself though?” Out of everyone at the table, Enzo is the worst one at hiding his emotions. You can see as clear as day that he's worried about you.

“I'll get an uber. Don't worry.” You gesture to your phone hoping they'll drop it.

“I can wait with you outside.” Kallias offers immediately, ever the responsible one. You really wanted to stay alone right now though.

“You don't have to.” You put your bag over your shoulder to add some finality to your words. “It's cold and there's going to be enough cars out at this hour, I won't be waiting for long.” It looks like he's about to say more but Viv puts a hand over his arm subtly, making him shut up. The bass of the music keeps hammering at your head so you don't linger and just say your goodbyes, waving at everyone with what you hope is a seemingly content smile, before leaving.

As soon as you step outside the pressure you feel starts slowing down. The front of the bar is still full of people so you walk a bit more to the little parking lot on this street. The air is cold but it feels amazing after being in the stuffed bar and your thoughts don't seem so overbearing when you don't have to try to act happy with your friends.

You love them to death but everything about how tonight went just proves that they've been talking about you behind your back. You know this is just them being good friends. You've been acting so differently in these last few months that even one of your professors noticed so it's only natural that they also did, but knowing everyone can tell only makes it worse.

You didn't want to make anyone worry about you. Life has just been going for your throat lately, minor inconveniences keep popping up and piling on top of what was already a pretty shitty situation. But you know once the semester ends, you'll get the chance to finally breathe and solve some of the problems you've been ignoring. And then things will hopefully get better. It just really sucks that your friendships and even school life has been affected by this.

Sitting down on top of the small wall that wrapped around the parking lot, you look up at the sky, willing your mind to let you rest for a bit. Watching the stars twinkling and your breath turn into white clouds of smoke because of the cold. You should probably get that uber and go home before any of your friends find you here, but your body doesn't want to move for some reason.

You feel someone approach you and look back down to meet familiar hazel eyes. You both stare at each other for a second longer than what would be normal, not expecting to see each other again.

“We keep running into each other,” you can hear his voice better here. You didn't notice how deep it was in the crowded bar. His singing voice is also deep but a bit softer than this.

“Yeah.” You smile. Seeing him again after how he helped you and then watching him on stage is making you a little giddy despite your somber mood. He seems a bit less unsure after you respond as well.

“Are you here alone?” He asks as he stuffs his hands in his pockets.

“No, I'm just waiting for an uber.” You hope you're not making a bad impression again. He probably hadn't seen you with your friends before either.

“Alright,” he looks over to what you assume is his car and then back to you, “I can wait here with you.”

“You don't have to. It's cold,” you start but he shakes his head before you even finish speaking, “I actually haven't called it yet.” He gives you a look of amusement and it just makes you try to explain yourself faster. “I have a headache. The cold just felt calming. I'll get it now.” Opening the app, you start searching and, just like you expected, there's a car barely 10 minutes away from you. A wave of disappointment washes over you at the thought that you won't get to talk to him for longer but you push it aside quickly, you barely know him.

“A bar probably isn't the best place to be if you have a headache,” he tilts his head slightly in what you're almost sure is concern. He's a little hard to read.

“I know but I already had told my friends I was coming so…” You shrug and change the subject, trying to allow this moment to let you forget about your earlier thoughts. “Didn't turn out too bad. There was this really good band playing today.” You can see a flush take over his cheeks and the tips of his ears and you feel incredibly proud of yourself for being the reason behind it.

“I'm glad you liked it,” he says as he dips his head slightly in thanks. You feel like this might be the best compliment you could have given him.

“You were all really good. I even forgot about my headache while I was watching you play,” you try not to sound too excited and make it weird but you want him to know how good his band is, “Do you perform here a lot?”

“Yeah,” he leans sideways against the wall next to you, “At least twice a month.” You're starting to notice that, although his face doesn't show too much emotion, his eyes are a little more expressive. His band seems to be a topic he likes talking about. You can understand why.

“Isn't that a big deal? I heard this bar is really popular nowadays, there has to be a lot of bands trying to perform here.” The blush seems to be back but it could also be because of the cold you're subjecting him to.

“We always try to do our best but we've been playing here for a long time. That helps too.”

“You know that's not it,” you point to the entrance of the bar, where some people are smoking, “The bar was packed. I don't know if that's how it always is but I'm pretty sure it was mostly people wanting to watch you perform.”

“You've never been here before?” It looks like he's getting a bit embarrassed by the praise so you let him change the subject.

You shake your head. “Need to come more often though. When are you performing again?”

“We don't always have a schedule,” he looks down at your phone in your hands then back up at you, “But I can text you the details.”

“Oh.” He wants your number. The thought makes warmth rush to your cheeks. “Alright.” You unlock your phone and hand it to him. While he's typing his number, you can't help but notice the scars on his hand. They completely cover his hands, the skin completely marred. It looks as if they were burned. You look away from them, not wanting to make him uncomfortable by staring. He hands you your phone back and you see he saved his number under his name.

“Azriel,” you say the name out loud, tasting it in your mouth. He's watching you a little more intensely than before and you have to break eye contact to stop yourself from blushing. You quickly send him a text so he can save your number as well.

“I'll need yours too.” You give him your name and he repeats it, just as you had done. He makes it sound beautiful in his warm timbre and you can't help the flutter in your stomach. “I'll text you as soon as I find out when we're coming here next.”

“Okay.” You lock eyes and don't look away, just enjoying the moment, until you see a car pass by and realize it's yours.

You think you could have stayed there in the cold talking to him all night. You're not sure why but talking to him is effortless, it's like you've been friends for years. It just feels right and you find yourself wishing that he texts you soon with the concert information and anything else he comes up with. You wouldn't need much of an excuse to talk to him.

“That's my ride,” You say as you hop down from the wall. He looks at the car and when his eyes meet yours again you think you can see a hint of disappointment, hopefully at having to cut the moment short. “Thank you for waiting with me,” you smile at him again, “You didn't have to do that.”

“No problem.” He gives you a smile too, the biggest one you've seen on him. “I'll see you next time.”

“Of course.” You'd be an idiot to not want to see him again. You linger for as long as you can, suddenly not feeling like going home at all.

You wave at him again before getting in the car and something beats faster in your chest when he waves back and watches the car speed off down the street, it's almost like your heart is telling you to stay with him. You're not exactly sure what just happened but you hope you don't regret not staying with him for the rest of the night.

You keep thinking about him during the whole car ride and he's the last thing on your mind when you're laying down to sleep. And when he texts you the next day you know you'll have many more opportunities to spend the night talking to him.

[danikamariewrites]

Giving You Gifts

Mob!Azriel x reader AU

A/n: A look at how much Azriel loves to shower you with gifts (especially when he can’t see you)

Warnings: none

Azriel has a taste for extravagant items, especially if it’s something he wants (or you)

Knows your style/all your favorite things

He sends flowers to be delivered at work for you (just to piss off your boss and show that if he makes you mad/upset he will have Azriel to deal with)

The flowers Azriel usually sends you are large, colorful bouquets and are always different

Some of them include colors of your favorite paintings

You sometimes forget about the weekly flower delivery, especially when you get busy. But Feyre always remembers. She says it’s the highlight of her week because of how nervous Gavin gets

Every once in a while when Az asks you about your day you’ll mention getting your nails done or something you wanted to buy after work or what you were craving for lunch/dinner. Azriel will send you money, like more than you need for what you were buying, and he always adds cute little notes with smiley faces. He also sends money just bc

His lil messages are: “just bc I love you 💕” “get us matching Stanley’s baby” “for a book spree you deserve it :)”

With jewelry, Azriel is very selective. He doesn’t want to get you anything too big or flashy that you wouldn’t wear it

So it’s usually dainty but expensive

He wouldn’t get you rings though, only necklaces, bracelets, and earrings

Az wants the first ring he gives you to be your engagement ring 😌

You go to parties with Az and he always wants you to feel like you for in with his crowd of people

He felt guilt the first time he invited you and you had a break down over what to wear so now he always makes sure you get a new dress/outfit for any occasion whether it be a party or just going out to dinner

Before a date he always texts you that he can’t wait to see you (even if you just saw him that morning)

He also sends a mini bouquet of roses before a date

When he picks you up he never shows up empty handed

Azriel either has another extravagant gift or just a small thing he saw and thought of you

After a date night Azriel skips dessert at the restaurant and takes you to your favorite ice cream place

Azriel hates when work gets in the way of seeing you. But he knows he has an obligation to fulfill and unfortunately you have to come second sometimes

Azriel always makes up for when he can’t see you due to a work trip

Of course he sends you stuff but he likes to focus on quality time with you

If he could he’d keep you in bed for a week straight he would but you’d yell at him

But he makes sure to pay extra attention to you and put work down when he hasn’t seen you for a week or so

Az definitely does those just because baskets with little gifts

The first time you stay over night at his house he makes a little basket for you full of all of your essentials (so you can have them at his place now), new PJ’s, a blanket for the both of you, and snacks

[velidewrites]

Breaking Point

Six months after Catrin Berdara is presumed dead, Gwyneth abandons the Erudites in search for answers. Knowing there is only one faction with the ability to take her over the spiked fence that shields their world from the truth, she does not hesitate to spill her blood over the burning coals at the Choosing Ceremony. But to be taken over the Fence, Gwyneth must first pass Initiation—and, unfortunately for her, one of the Dauntless squad leaders seems hell-bent on making her life all the more difficult.

Pairing: Azriel x Gwyneth Berdara

Tags: Divergent AU

Notes: I was going to post this yesterday when I realised Divergent was released exactly 10 years ago today! If you were as obsessed with this series as me, welcome to the chaos. This fic was inspired by me seeing a tiktok of the knife throwing scene and thought oh yeah this is Gwynriel at its peak.

This is baby's very first Gwynriel and my humble contribution for @gwynrielweeksofficial! Thank you to @azrielshadowssing @ablogofsapphicpanic @octobers-veryown for being such patient betas and to @damedechance for being so brilliant and coming up with this title for me.

Before you proceed, please be advised of the TW for past SA.

Read on AO3 or continue to Chapter 1 below!

Gwyneth Berdara was risking her life, and it was the most exhilarating thing in the world.

Her sister’s ice-cold hand on her mouth had snapped her awake, and it had only been thanks to her quick “Shush!” that Gwyneth managed to stifle the scream in her throat. It had not been the first time Catrin woke her up in the dead of the night—still, their routine had never quite made either of them loose the reins on her instincts.

Catrin’s eyes had glinted like onyx as she’d quickly prompted Gwyneth to get up and get dressed. The nights were shorter during the summer, which made the next few hours all the more precious. The truck had already been waiting, parked two blocks west—only two minutes on foot if they kept a fast pace.

Gwyneth could see the urgency painted on her sister’s features, yet it had nothing on the excitement that had her leg bouncing near the doorway to their dorm. It had lit up her entire face like moonlight, all the dark heaviness of the risk they were taking skittering away at the sight. It was contagious enough that Gwyneth, too, had found herself smiling—a smile that lingered even as they’d made their way down the pristine white hallways of the Academy.

Frankly, she had never quite figured out who in Campus Security Catrin had managed to bribe. The only thing either of them had was each other, a fact that Catrin often joked would make them the perfect fit for Abnegation once they turned twenty-one. Gwyneth could see her sister there—could see her spilling her blood on the smooth, grey stones and devoting her life in the service of others. Not Gwyneth, though. She had always thought herself too selfish—too selfish to abandon the Academy and all the knowledge it contained. At heart, after all, Gwyneth was—and always had been—an Erudite.

It was only one of their differences. From the day Gwyneth and Catrin were born, people had a hard time believing the two of them were twins. Catrin’s eyes were darker than the depths of the ocean the city bordered, her hair a similar black and her skin pale as milk. Gwyneth’s eyes were the sort of teal their ocean never saw, not even now, when the sun blazed right above it every day. She enjoyed the way it reflected in coppery brown waves, though, and the way it brought out the freckles on her face.

But as Gwyneth moved carefully behind Catrin, her every step falling right into her sister’s quiet shadow, she forgot about everything that divided them. In this—the excitement of the rebellion, the danger of the risk—in this, they were the same.

The drive to Amity had been almost entirely silent save for the crunchy gravel of the road as they exited the city. Even so, she could make out Catrin’s grin in the shadows of the cargo bed, could hear the gentle tapping of her still-bouncing leg.

If anyone in the Erudites found out about their nightly escapades, Gwyneth and Catrin would be dead—or worse, subjected to whatever classified research the Erudite leadership was undergoing at the headquarters. Only the most brilliant of the Academy students were allowed to apply for their stewardship—to watch and observe. To learn, the way the customs of their factions demanded.

Gwyneth had no interest in aiming for the top floors of the HQ. There, she would have likely been guarded—supervised—every hour of every day. Catrin, if she would be allowed to see her beyond Visiting Days at all, would no longer be a constant in her life, their monthly drives to the farmlands beyond the Fence only a distant memory. It was why Gwyneth sometimes doubted herself. An Erudite without ambition, after all, was like a Dauntless without courage, an Abnegation without people to serve. Useless.

Studying alongside the most illustrious of her faction was perhaps the greatest ambition of all, but Gwyneth was happy to remain at the Academy, to learn and contribute in whatever ways she could, all while retaining the little pieces of herself she still owned. To think such thoughts was to betray the Erudite virtues, constantly in pursuit of wisdom and intelligence. It was a fear that lingered somewhere deep in her chest every night she and Catrin ventured out to the unknown.

She tried to dwindle it, though, as she now danced around the bonfire near Sector Five’s stables. One of the Amity girls, dressed in yellows and oranges as dictated by the Amity fashion, had grabbed her by the hand and dragged her into her circle of friends, her laughter rising over the crackling flames. Sometimes, Gwyneth wondered what it would be like to be a part of that—part of the Peaceful, the Kind.

She couldn’t imagine a life free of worry, a life dedicated to preserving what remained of their destroyed world’s nature without questioning its past. And while the joy on the Amity girl’s face felt true, Gwyneth couldn’t help but feel like right now, she was living a lie.

“Have you seen my sister?” she shouted over the fire, the music a small guitar band had begun playing a few minutes ago. She had not seen Catrin since the Solstice celebrations started—since all of Sector Five had gathered to honour the end of the longest day of the year.

The girl shook her head, the fire dancing in her brown eyes. “I’m sure she’s with Clare,” she replied with a smile. Then, she winked, “I’d avoid the stables, if I were you.”

Gwyneth blinked. “Clare?”

The smile quickly faded from the girl’s pretty face. “Oh,” she said, her shoulders deflating slightly as she halted mid-dance. “You didn’t know?”

She must’ve had the surprise written all over her face, and Gwyneth schooled her features back into that light, free-of-any-worry-in-the-world expression she knew would help her avoid suspicion. “Oh, Clare! Of course,” she lied. “Sorry. It’s been a long night.”

The girl waved a hand. “I get it. The way they keep you under watch back in the city is ridiculous to me.” She angled her head, that brown gaze studying her with mild curiosity. “How old are you, again?” she asked.

“I’ll be twenty-one in a few months.”

She clasped her hands together, her whole face lighting up at Gwyneth’s answer. “Ah, you haven't Chosen yet!” she exclaimed. “You always have a place here—we’d welcome you with open arms.”

“I doubt my results will sort me into Amity,” Gwyneth said truthfully.

The corner of her mouth twitched. “Well,” the girl said, leaning conspiratorially over her shoulder, “I know we’re all supposed to follow the Aptitude Test’s recommendations, of course.” She tilted her chin towards the dancing group before them—to the truck still parked in the distance. “Something tells me, though, that you’ve never been one to follow the rules, anyway.”

Gwyneth followed her gaze—but words died on her tongue before she managed to answer.

There she was—Catrin, sitting with her back resting against one of the truck’s large wheels, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees. Alone.

“Excuse me,” she said to the girl, and moved towards her sister without so much as a goodbye. It wasn’t as she, or any of her Amity friends, would ever take offense—they simply returned to their dancing, the band’s song slowly fading into the distance as Gwyneth kept on walking.

Catrin’s eyes were fixed on the fire even as Gwyneth took her seat on the cold ground beside her.

“Where’s Clare?” she asked, unable to keep the hurt from her voice. There had never been any secrets between them—whatever there was to face in this world, they had always faced it together.

But Catrin simply smiled, her gaze sad, somehow, as she said quietly, “Look at them, Gwyneth. Look at all the dancing—the singing. They’re all smiling.” Finally, Catrin peeled her gaze off the scene to meet her own. “Do you think it’s real?”

There was something in her sister’s tone that made Gwyneth pause—something so unbearably raw it made Gwyneth shelve all her questions in the back of her mind and consider.

She looked towards the celebrating crowds. “I think they believe it is.”

Catrin rasped a laugh. “Yeah. I think so, too.”

Gwyneth placed a hand over her sister’s. As gently as she could, she asked, “Why do you ask, Catrin?”

Her gaze dropped to her feet. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Clare,” she said, and it wasn’t lost on Gwyneth how she’d avoided her question in favour of another. “Dating outside our own factions is forbidden, and I suppose…” Her throat bobbed. “I supposed I didn’t want to burden you with the secret.”

She was so unlike the Catrin from a few hours ago that Gwyneth felt her own throat burning, all the excitement they’d shared earlier fading into the night along with the bonfire smoke.

The question nearly forced itself onto Gwyneth’s lips—what changed?—but instead, she managed, “You could never burden me, Catrin.” Then, “I didn’t mean to pry. If she makes you happy, then that is all I need to know.”

Slowly, Catrin turned to face her again. “She makes me happy,” she whispered. “Very much.”

Gwyneth smiled. “Good.” She squeezed Catrin’s hand. “No secrets, remember?”

Perhaps it was the smoke carried by the summer breeze, or the late hour catching up with Catrin at last, but Gwyneth could’ve  sworn she saw silver gleam in her sister’s eyes as she said, “Yeah. No secrets.”

***

Catrin’s funeral took place midday, and it rained the entire time.

Erudites had never been too spiritual in nature, and saw death simply as the time for the mind to finally rest. As such, there were no celebrations of the life she had lived like the ones held in Amity—no formal burials with lengthy speeches from Candor’s government officials, either. It was, perhaps, the one thing where Erudites and Abnegations found common ground—in the lack of spectacle surrounding their funerals. In Abnegation, death was only a tragedy because it meant an end to one’s servitude.

Gwyneth watched as her sister’s casket was covered by a deep-blue sheet, the colour slowly darkening as it soaked up the pouring rain. The entire Academy had gathered to watch it being lowered into the city’s foundations—to symbolise the collective knowledge upon which it was built, if nothing else. One of the Erudite representatives then murmured a few words about the tragedy Catrin’s death was, and the new, stricter regulations the labs would be implementing to prevent anything like this from happening ever again.

Gwyneth had not been invited to say a few words. The Erudite virtues did not speak of emotional attachment, of the importance of sentiment. Catrin’s pursuit of knowledge may have ended, but Gwyneth’s…Gwyneth’s had only just begun.

She was not permitted to look upon her twin’s face for the final time, either. The stone casket seemed impenetrable from where she stood, one lone student in the sea of blue umbrellas and Academy uniforms. It was not like Gwyneth would have asked to see her, either. Whatever spirit of rebellion had lived inside her before, it died today—watching its counterpart disappear beneath the ground.

As the plates of the burial site began closing in on each other, though, ready to swallow Catrin for the rest of time, something shifted—like a spark in the air, charging the weather with lightning. Gwyneth’s shoulders tensed as she braced herself for impact.

And then, someone screamed.

All one hundred—perhaps more—Erudite heads snapped towards the sound, some of the faces immediately twisting in a grimace, some in curiosity. Gwyneth’s eyes, though, only widened in shock, her mouth parting slightly as she realised who the voice belonged to—who had just lunged onto the stage, her orange dress muddy and torn.

Clare Beddor’s tears blended into the rain as she reached for the Erudite representative, her expression so wild and pained that Gwyneth felt it in her own already shredded heart. Even through the hauling rain, through the thunder booming somewhere in the distance, she could hear Clare’s words as clear as the day she had last seen her lover. Could hear the accusation that would get her reunited with Catrin at last.

“MURDERERS!” Clare yelled, the crowd gasping in unison. “You’re all murderers!”

Everything happened so quickly after that.

Someone had grabbed Clare from behind—one of the junior HQ researchers, a Dauntless transfer if his large, muscular frame was any indication—and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back with the kind of force that should’ve hauled her off the stage. But Clare kept on fighting, kept on kicking and screaming and digging her nails into the man’s forearms, leaving long, bloodied streaks splitting his tattoos. Still, the man did not let go.

Only when the rain began to leave the taste of salt in Gwyneth’s mouth did she realise she was crying, too. She watched as Clare was dragged off the stage and shoved into a sleek, black car—Candor, Gwyneth noted immediately—which appeared seemingly out of nowhere. She watched as it drove off, too, as the Erudite representative apologised for the intrusion and once again reiterated the tragedy of the incident before ordering all of Catrin’s fellow students to return to their daily obligations.

But Clare’s words lingered even as the crowd dissipated, echoing between the glass Erudite buildings before settling right in Gwyneth’s chest. 

Murderers. Murderers. Murderers.

When the rhythm of her heart started to beat alongside the syllables, alongside the truth Gwyneth had thought no one else believed in, that rebellion inside her reignited—blazed, like the fire she had danced to in Amity two weeks ago.

She wasn’t insane. She was not paranoid, and Clare all but confirmed it.

Catrin Berdara had been murdered. When and how—it did not matter.

The only question that mattered was why.

And Gwyneth was going to find the answer.

***

SIX MONTHS LATER

Compared to her old Academy dorm, Gwyneth’s apartment at the Erudite Headquarters felt ridiculously empty.

Truthfully, she had not exactly put any effort into decorating it in the past two months. The walls remained white and untainted by the vibrant prints and watercolour paintings she and Catrin used to sneak into the Academy from Amity. The entire space was simply occupied by her bed, wardrobe, and desk. The latter, at least, was filled with enough books to let the average visitor know someone was, in fact, living in this place.

Gwyneth had shoved one of those books into her bag before leaving, along with some crumpled papers containing notes she could hardly remember writing last night. It must have been well past three in the morning when she’d finally finished, but when it came to her supervisor, Gwyneth always prioritised being sleep deprived over unprepared.

Not that anyone had ever acknowledged her efforts, though. Her supervisor just so happened to be the Erudite representative, the faction’s very leader and the main voice advising their Candor-comprised government. It was a great privilege, Gwyn had always told the other graduates, making sure to dip her head an inch and blush slightly as she lied: I was certain it was a mistake, but Merrill was really impressed with my dissertation, it seems.

Gwyneth’s Academy dissertation just so happened to align perfectly with the Erudite’s research—a coincidence, and, of course, a great privilege. Gwyn had been planning to teach at the Academy post-graduation—that much, at least, was the truth—but when the HQ had made her an offer, she simply could not refuse.

She was the envy of other HQ graduate researchers, which was definitely one downside in the grand scheme of things. Gwyneth had been prepared for the attention, but the amount of eyes turned towards her in every lab, every hallway, was certainly making things…difficult.

After all, no one at HQ could ever suspect why Gwyneth Berdara, a previous history major, had suddenly taken up interest in genetics—why her dissertation, initially on the history of the Erudite faction, had suddenly shifted focus onto Aptitude Tests in the final two months of her studies at the Academy. No one could quite figure how, exactly, she had managed to produce a report worthy of the attention of the Head Erudite herself.

That part, Gwyneth did not have to lie about, either. She was an Erudite. She studied—she sought the knowledge and acquired it.

Getting to the HQ was the easiest part of her plan. Getting out of it, however, was going to prove a lot more…difficult.

There was one other thing cluttering her desk, its silver gleam drawing her eye before she finally made her way to leave. Gwyneth picked up the lighter, the metal cold against her skin, and pushed the small lever down with her thumb.

The flame came to life in Gwyneth’s hand, and she watched as it danced playfully in the air. All of her belongings, all the Amity posters and photos she had taken over the years—they were memories too painful to bring along for her final act of rebellion. The lighter, though, was the one thing of her own she’d allowed herself—she had purchased it on her first day at the HQ despite the voice of reason protesting in her mind.

“I’m almost there, Catrin,” she whispered to the little bonfire in her palm. “I’m almost there.”

With that, the lighter disappeared in the folds of her lab coat, and Gwyneth did not spare another look at the empty apartment as she made her way out.

Lost in her thoughts, Gwyneth hadn’t even realised she’d already made it to her supervisor’s office.

“You’re late,” Merril said in her usual manner of greeting.

 “I’m sorry. I’ve been preparing for tomorrow,” she replied, closing the door carefully behind her.

The Head Erudite looked up from her computer, its blue holo reflecting in her stare. “There is no preparing for the Aptitude Test. You know this, Gwyneth.”

“Emotionally preparing, I suppose,” she corrected herself, her response met with a deep sigh.

“I assume you have the notes I assigned you,” Merril said, not entirely a question. Everything was an order with her—an order that would never be satisfied no matter what Gwyneth did.

Still, she nodded, taking the papers out of her bag to place them on Merrill’s desk, the professor’s eyes already scanning over the writing. She couldn’t help but hold her breath as she waited, silently watching as Merrill took in the results of last week’s experiments, then finally, finally, nodded.

“Take these to Lab Six,” she instructed, Gwyneth’s shoulders sagging with relief. As far as Merrill’s compliments went, this one was the best she could have asked for. “Make the necessary preparations for next month.”

Already on her way out—Merrill did not appreciate anyone wasting her time—Gwyneth stopped.

“Next month?” she asked, turning over her shoulder. With the Choosing Ceremony scheduled for the last day of January, who knew what the next month would bring.

Clearly, Merrill thought Gwyneth was here to stay.

She raised a white eyebrow in scrutiny. “Is there a problem?” she asked.

In exactly a week from now, Gwyneth would finally do what she’d spent the last six months meticulously planning. Merrill said there was no preparing for the Aptitude Tests, but Gwyneth had not spent all those sleepless nights studying, all those days smiling and pretending Catrin’s death hadn’t affected her at all, only to let someone else decide her fate.

No. Gwyneth Berdara had figured out how to cheat.

Tomorrow, the Aptitude Test would sort her into the one faction with the ability to bring her one step closer to the truth behind her sister’s murder.

Next week, she would no longer be Gwyneth Berdara, Erudite.

She would be Dauntless.

“No,” she said to Merrill with a sweet smile. “No problem at all.”

***

It had been over twenty-four hours since Gwyneth had last slept, and she was seriously starting to worry she might just pass out in the chair if her name was not called out next.

As dazed as the lack of sleep was making her, Gwyneth knew that once she exited that room, she would thank herself for persevering. No one under the age of twenty-one was supposed to know this, but being Merrill’s protegé came with its benefits—all carefully researched and planned for six months ago.

The test would begin by having a simulation serum being injected into her neck, setting off a range of scenarios eventually leading to Gwyneth being matched to one of the five factions: Erudites, Abnegation, Dauntless, Candor, or Amity, all based on the choices she’d be making throughout. Fifteen weeks—Gwyneth had spent fifteen weeks studying the simulation patterns and the reaction of the brain every scenario it presented. The Aptitude Test’s results were meant to serve as a guide for the Choosing Ceremony, and if one did not wish to end up factionless–-end up an exile to society—following the Test’s recommendations was the only true choice.

Gwyneth knew—had always known—she was an Erudite, if the last few months were any indication for her to ground her confidence in. Her Test results today, though, would recommend a different faction entirely.

Her research suggested there were side effects to the serum. Sustained deprivation of sleep, Gwyneth found, would catalyse a heightened neural state—high enough for her to remain in full cognitive control of the simulation. She would recognise the patterns effortlessly—would know where to go and what to say for the test administrator to proclaim her as a Dauntless the moment she woke up. In theory.

A few hours into the tests, there weren’t many people left. From the colour of their clothes, Gwyneth noted two from Abnegation and one from Candor, his black tie and formal attire making her shift in her own seat. She could hardly register the light tapping of her foot against the linoleum floor, consumed entirely by the silence of the hallway. Waiting. And waiting. And waiting.

The Tests were being held at the Academy, and it made her all the more uneasy. These halls, the cafeteria they now sat in, this entire building—the Academy was so familiar Gwyneth had nearly forgotten what had driven her out of there. She half-expected Catrin to come out of the East Elevator leading right up to her old lab, to give her a small wave as she called out her name.

“Gwyneth Berdara?”

Gwyneth jumped in her seat.

The Candor boy snorted.

The test administrator—a woman that could not have been more than a few years older than Gwyneth—gave him a look. The Candor cleared his throat immediately, his eyes falling back into that blank, emotionless stare. It was then that Gwyneth realised the woman was from Candor, too.

She arched an eyebrow as she looked at Gwyneth again, her ice-blue eyes settling on her own. “Gwyneth Berdara, yes?”

Gwyneth nodded.

“Good. Come on in.”

The hallway, as Gwyneth already knew, hosted a row of ten rooms, and the woman led her to the one at the far left. The teaching classroom had been transformed into an empty space with nothing but a reclined chair that made her feel as though she was about to walk into her dentist’s appointment, the walls now covered in floor-to-ceiling mirrors.

Even though Gwyneth knew what to expect, she couldn’t help but swallow the tightness in her throat. She had volunteered to set those rooms up herself before—the administrator herself was a volunteer, too. Most of the Candor worked for the government—their inclination towards truth and justice made them the only objective candidates. According to their manifesto, at least.

This woman, though—she seemed nothing like the Candor Gwyneth had met before, perhaps save for the stern look in her gaze and the way she carried herself. As if nothing could bend her will.

There was something about her face that seemed familiar, and Gwyneth could not shake the feeling that she had seen her before. Her features seemed sharper than those faded images in her memory, her hair a lighter shade of golden brown, straighter and tied into a sleek, braided bun. No matter how hard she focused, though, Gwyneth couldn’t quite place her.

“Take a seat,” she instructed before Gwyneth could try searching her mind again. “My name is Nesta Archeron. I’ll be your test administrator today.”

The name did not seem familiar, and, frustrated, Gwyneth slipped into the chair, the leather cracked at the armrests. As though whoever had come in before her did not take the simulations well.

Great.

After an uncomfortably long pause, Gwyneth looked up to meet the administrator’s stare. Was the test not supposed to start already?

“Well?” Nesta asked, her arms crossed over the sleek, black jacket padded lightly at the shoulders. She might have been the only Candor Gwyneth had ever seen that did not seem stiff in their clothes.

She blinked in confusion. “Well…what?” she asked.

“Most people want to know if it hurts,” Nesta pointed out.

Oh. “I already know it doesn’t hurt,” Gwyneth told her. “My research focuses on Aptitude Tests,” she explained, her cheeks flushing slightly as she realised she might have fallen into the Erudite trap of sounding too pretentious.

“Your research,” Nesta repeated, a shadow of a smile playing in the corner of her mouth. “That is, perhaps, the most Erudite thing I’ve ever heard.”

Gwyneth huffed. “I thought the simulation was meant to decide my faction, not you.”

To her surprise, Nesta snorted. “I think I might like you, Gwyneth Berdara,” she said. Then, “Why do I know your name?” she asked, her golden brows knitting.

Gwyneth could see the exact second realisation dawned on Nesta’s face.

“You were Catrin Berdara’s sister.” She shook her head, her hair catching some of the white, artificial light at the ceiling. “I am so sorry. Horrible tragedy.”

“Yes,” Gwyneth said, unable to keep the tinge of bitterness from her tone. “Tragedy.”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “You know, in Candor, our most prized virtue is the truth. During Initiation, we spend weeks training how to detect lies.” She tilted her head to the side. “Why do I feel like you’re lying to me, Gwyn?”

“It’s Gwyneth.”

“Gwyneth,” Nesta corrected, that strange amusement returning into her face. “I have two sisters, you know. The youngest had her test earlier today.”

“How did she do?”

“You research our tests, don’t you? You know the results are not to be discussed—not even amongst family.” Nesta smiled. “I know, though—from the moment she was born, out and screaming her rage right into the world.” She snorted. “Feyre is going to choose Dauntless, because that’s who she always has been.”

“You sound excited for her,” Gwyneth started carefully.

“I am.”

“Won’t you miss her in Candor?”

“My sisters and I were born in Abnegation,” Nesta explained. “Four years ago, I chose Candor. Two years ago, Elain had left for Amity. Grey had never quite suited her, anyway,” she added. Gwyneth was not entirely sure she’d ever heard a Candor joke before. Then, Nesta said, “In a week from now, Feyre is going to leave, too. I’m sure of it.”

Gwyneth hummed. “Your parents must miss you very much.”

“Our parents are dead, I’m afraid.”

“Oh,” she faltered, her cheeks heating yet again. “So are mine.”

Nesta shrugged matter-of-factly, the gesture enough to keep Gwyneth from asking. “Then you know,” she said, her gaze dropping to whatever notes Gwyneth’s profile contained on the datapad. “I see you study under Merrill Dorset,” Nesta observed. “The Aptitude Test research makes a lot more sense now.” She shook her head, as though in disbelief. “Thanks to her, we no longer have sixteen year olds do these tests. Ridiculous—to make someone with such a young mind decide on the rest of their life.” She looked at Gwyneth again. “You must be very excited to work under her.”

Gwyneth shrugged. “It has its benefits.”

“I’m sure it does,” Nesta said—and if she weren’t Candor, Gwyneth might have thought it a lie. “Is that how you know not to be afraid?” she asked, pressing one of the electrodes to Gwyneth’s head.

Gwyneth scoffed. “Merrill has nothing to do with it,” she told Nesta, flinching slightly at the cold touch as Nesta attached yet another electrode to her head. “I’ve figured it out all on my own.”

The words escaped her without warning—and if Nesta were an Erudite, she would have been fully within her rights to drag her straight to Merrill’s office and filed for Gwyneth’s expulsion.

Instead, a smile—a true smile bloomed on Nesta’s face as she pressed the syringe to Gwyneth’s neck, the clear serum swirling lazily inside. “Perhaps not an Erudite, then.”

The word blurred into nothingness as Gwyneth slipped into the simulation at last.

***

Gwyneth woke up to the sound of screaming, muffled only by a thick wall of concrete and windows sealed shut by dark, bloodied wood.

She did not recognise her surroundings, and from the blurriness of the corners of her vision, she knew she was not supposed to. Even the words of the crying crowds outside had no meaning at all. The emotion they carried was clear, though—fear.

Gwyneth grounded herself in the sounds—became one with the simulation, aware of every pattern presented before her, every entrance or exit she could find her way to. There was a door behind her that had not been barricaded—only an iron handle stood between her and the screams. Turning towards it, she wondered why those people did not simply open the door.

“You’re late,” a childlike voice now spoke behind her. “He’s getting away,” it said.

Gwyneth whirled back to the sound—and found no one at all.

The setting before her had changed, though. There was a staircase now, tall and made entirely of concrete, too. A table blocked the way up, though, small and built from some light type of wood Gwyneth had never cared to study at the Academy.

“Who?” she asked carefully.

“Have you changed your mind already?” the voice spoke again from somewhere behind her back. “You’re our last hope, you know.”

Gwyneth turned again—once again facing nothing but the iron door and the screams behind. She was not supposed to see this child, whoever it was. So instead, she asked, “What’s happening outside?”

“You have a choice here,” the voice continued as though she hadn’t spoken at all. “Go up, and finish what you came here to do. You cannot proceed without this,” it then said, and when Gwyneth turned towards the staircase again, the table was no longer empty.

Atop a clean, ivory cloth laid a gun—a pistol, its silver glinting subtly beneath the streaks of sunlight pouring in through the cracks between the bloodied wood. Gwyneth sucked in a breath.

“You may decide to go back. Rejoin the others, if you wish. The choice is entirely up to you.”

The choice seemed entirely clear to Gwyneth. Turn back to the people—Abnegation. Amity, perhaps. The gun, however…

“I thought you hired me,” she told the voice.

It giggled—a shrill, eerie sound that seemed to carry all the way upstairs. “I cannot decide your fate for you,” it said, as if scolding her.

Gwyneth looked back towards the door again—then to the gun. What if this was a test, and the true display of courage would have been to save the people outside from whatever horrors had befallen them?

No—there were no underlying motives in these tests. Her choices, Gwyneth had learned, were plain and simple, the way the faction members’ lives had been designed to be. If she wanted to be classified as a Dauntless, the gun was her only viable option.

So Gwyneth picked it up—wrapped her hand around the cool metal, letting it slip down to the polished hilt.

“Go now,” the voice urged. “Go!”

Gwyneth did not waste any more time.

She started running, every step light as she made her way upstairs, the echo of the people’s cries following her all the way up to the sixth floor. She felt no weariness, no strain in her muscles or stiffness in her joints, the blend of the serum and twenty-four hours without sleep clearly taking effect.

The stairs seemed to end here, though. There was only one door at the very top of the building, made of the same dark, blood-stained wood the windows had been. Gwyneth reached for the doorknob—iron, too, she realised—and the door clicked open as she turned it to her left.

“Are you the one?” someone asked her—a new voice, male and hoarse coming somewhere from the back of the room.

“What?” Gwyneth asked, and the room lit up with the question.

She had to stifle a scream of her own as she saw him. The man stood at the very end of the narrow hallway, his back pressed toward the wall and a gun steady in his hands.

“Are you the one they sent after me?” he repeated, his voice rougher now, like gravel against her skin.

“No,” Gwyneth lied, fighting to keep her voice from trembling as her own pistol slipped down an inch in her clammy grip. “I’m on your side,” she told him.

“Liar,” he seethed, “I’ll give you one more chance. Tell the truth, and I will go—you and your people will never see me, never hear of me again. Peace,” he said. “So, what will it be?”

Gwyn opened her mouth—and the man smiled, revealing a perfect set of bloody, iron teeth.

Her mind raced, chasing every possibility that seemed to escape her the wider the man grinned. He must have been the reason for the carnage outside, all the pain and death that would have awaited her had she chosen to open the door. Perhaps the simulation would have made her tend for the wounded, or forced her to become one of them. Either way, there was no turning back.

She understood now—she had to kill that man. His promise of peace, while appealing to an Amity or maybe even an Erudite, was a lie. That left her with two choices.

Tell the truth—Candor.

Keep on lying—Dauntless.

So Gwyneth tightened her grip on her gun and told him, “I’m not here to kill you.”

The man’s smile became a long, vicious snarl. “Wrong answer,” he said, and pointed his own pistol at her.

“Leave her alone!” someone screamed then, a voice—a familiar voice, one she had met in this simulation before. The child materialised before her, a small girl that could not have been older than five—and lunged for the murderer aiming at Gwyneth.

All Gwyneth could see, though, was Clare Beddor’s face as she ran for the Erudites that killed her sister. The same Erudites that prized knowledge above all else, only to put an end to it whenever someone reached too far.

What had Catrin found out that day? How bad must it have been to merit an order for her execution.

Whatever truth the answers held, though, Gwyneth had already failed. But, perhaps, she could do this—could save this child, so ready and eager to sacrifice its life for those who could not have done the same.

For Catrin.

As if reading her thoughts, the man pointed his gun at the little girl.

“NO!” Gwyneth screamed, and jumped in front of the child the moment the gun fired.

***

The word still lingered on her tongue as Gwyneth shot upright with a scream.

“Sit up,” Nesta ordered, her hand steady on Gwyneth’s back. “Drink,” she added, a cold glass suddenly pressed to her trembling lips.

She obeyed, the water dripping down her chin as she gulped, the glass shaking alongside her sweaty palms.

“The whole thing,” Nesta nodded, and only when Gwyneth emptied the glass did she finally seem satisfied enough to let her speak.

“Well?” Gwyneth asked, wiping the salt on her forehead with the back of her hand. “ Not an Erudite, I’m assuming?”

Nesta’s lips pressed into a thin line, her skin somewhat pale as she quickly entered something into her datapad. “Not exactly.”

“What—what is that supposed to mean?”

Nesta met her gaze, her blue eyes wary. “Gwyn—Gwyneth, your results were inconclusive.” She sighed. “Is that something you have seen in your research, or do you need me to explain it to you?”

Gwyneth ignored the jab. “Inconclusive?” She frowned. “That is not possible.” She tried so hard—so hard to be matched to the Dauntless. She was prepared to shoot—to prove she wasn’t afraid, to prove she didn’t hesitate. If she only hadn’t let her emotions get the better of her—

“Of course not,” Nesta said, something like mockery creeping into her tone. “In theory. How many times have your theories been proven wrong, Gwyneth?”

She had to give her that one. “Many.”

“You have chosen the gun, effectively closing both paths that would have taken the simulation towards Amity—or Abnegation, for that matter.” Nesta looked at her datapad again. “That gave us Dauntless. Then, you lied to the man—then lied again, even when given a second chance and promised peace—that rules out Candor. You’re definitely not Amity, that’s for sure.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “You were smart enough not to believe him, displaying equal aptitude for both Erudite and Dauntless. But then you saved the girl,” she said. “Threw your body over her own. Abnegation again.”

Nesta set her notes on the chair’s armrest, leaning in closer—close enough for the distance between them to close almost entirely as she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “Gwyneth, people like you are called Divergent. And they are very, very dangerous.” Those icy eyes searched her own. “Tell me, Gwyneth, what does our society do with dangerous people?”

Gwyneth stopped breathing entirely.

Nesta nodded. “You, of all people, should know this.”

“You know,” Gwyneth breathed. “You know what my sister researched.”

It had been Gwyneth’s theory from the day she had found a stash of notes in Catrin’s bed—shoved deep into the mattress, nearly lost to the world after death. Notes containing Catrin’s own research, all of them detailing the hypotheses of her Genetics thesis. Catrin had been studying the factionless—had been seeking to understand why, no matter how hard they tried, they did not belong to any of the factions. She had nearly found the answer.

But Catrin’s notes ended abruptly, the final entry dated two weeks before her death. The night the two of them had last ventured out to the Amity farmlands. The night Catrin had promised her no more secrets.

“And look where that research got her,” Nesta said quietly. “Gwyneth, you cannot share this information with anyone. Under no circumstances can you reveal your test results. Do you understand me?” she asked, her tone inviting no protest.

Gwyneth swallowed. Hard. “I do.”

Nesta straightened. “I’m going to put your aptitude down for Erudite, and we’ll forget about this whole thing.”

She picked the datapad up again.

“No,” Gwyneth said then.

Half-turning over her shoulder, Nesta’s brows rose. “No?”

“Dauntless,” Gwyneth blurted out, her final attempt at salvaging six-months of pain and preparation. “Please. They will look—Merrill will look at my test results. She cannot know why I didn’t come back.”

“Gwyneth,” Nesta started slowly. “Whatever you think you’ll find at the Dauntless—”

“It’s not what I’ll find there,” she interrupted. “It’s where the Dauntless can take me.”

Understanding settled into Nesta’s beautiful features. “Going beyond the Fence is strictly forbidden,” she told her.

Gwyneth offered a tense shrug. “It seems to me like I’m already on the forbidden list.”

Nesta shook her head. “To live the life of a Dauntless is to die,” she warned her. “Not many Transfers survive their Initiation. Consider what you’re about to do, Gwyneth Berdara.”

Gwyneth was done considering. It was finally time to act.

“If it was your sister,” she started, looking Nesta right in the eye, “either of your sisters. What would you have done?”

Something like surprise sparked in Nesta’s gaze, and for a moment—for a short, beautiful moment, Gwyneth had hope.

But then, Nesta told her, “You are asking a Candor to lie.”

Gwyneth knew she had lost.

She’d forgotten—she’d forgotten that, in this world, factions came above all else. No matter what Nesta thought of her, no matter what she would have done for her own sisters in Gwyneth’s position—the primary Candor virtue was to never tell a lie.

Dishonesty is rampant. Dishonesty is temporary. Dishonesty makes evil possible.

The doctrine was practically written on Nesta’s face, her features practically writhing in conflict.

So Gwyneth braced herself—braced herself for the administrator’s next words, no doubt announcing her imminent arrest and exile following the betrayal of her faction, of conspiring against her own. Perhaps they would tackle her the way they had Clare Beddor—perhaps they would drag her down to her casket beneath the city’s foundations themselves.

But then Nesta’s datapad flashed red—and Gwyneth watched as her results disappeared, wiped from the digital memory forever.

“When you get to the Dauntless,” Nesta began, her voice tight, “Find a man named Cassian. I need you to pass on a message.” Her throat bobbed. “Tell him,” she asked, “Tell him I was right.”

Gwyneth could only stare.

“Go now,” Nesta ordered, jerking her chin towards the exit. “And try to survive.”

For Catrin—for her sister, Gwyneth always would.

“Thank you,” she breathed. “Thank you, Nesta.”

She did not remember the walk back to her empty room at HQ. The last thing Gwyneth truly recalled was the cold bowl of her toilet as she leaned over it and retched her guts out.

The Choosing Ceremony was held exactly a week later at the Hub, the very centerpiece of the city. Gwyneth had queued in her dedicated blue line of twenty-one year old Erudites all morning, unable to occupy herself with anything else but waiting.

She could trust Nesta. Couldn’t she? When had she ever met a Candor with the ability to tell a lie, or worse, keep the truth from reaching the rest of the world? One word to the wrong person, and Gwyneth would be dead before even entering the building.

She had entered it, though, the Hub so much larger than she had remembered it. She and Catrin had once visited it during a school trip, when they were so young they could hardly understand the power it would one day hold over them. The power it held over everyone else. 

The Ceremony had started about thirty minutes ago, and after a few brief speeches from the Candor government about the grandiose of this very moment, people’s names had begun being called out one by one. Gwyneth watched as those with an A last name made their choices, her gaze slipping occasionally to the sector at the far right, where the Dauntless would shout out their excitement each time a new Initiate’s blood was spilled over the hot, burning coals.

It was a sick display of devotion—Gwyneth had always considered it as such. Still, she was in no position to argue, not when her only other choice was to embark on a self-imposed exile. Or, apparently, submitting herself to the authorities for being an illegal outlier she had no idea even existed.

Slowly, she slid her gaze over the five white bowls, each the size of the large, sizzling cauldron she’d remembered from her childhood’s fantasy stories, their contents symbolising the five factions. Grey stones for Abnegation, plain and unassuming the way their lives were supposed to be; the hot coals for Dauntless; glass for Candor, clear as the truth; soil for Amity, like the farms they cared for; and, finally, water for Erudites, its flow representative of  the ever-changing nature of knowledge.

Somewhere behind those bowls sat Merrill, no doubt expecting to see Gwyneth stain the water red. Perhaps, in another life, Gwyneth would have done just that—would have returned to the Academy, studying history the way she had always wanted, sneaking out to Amity every Summer Solstice to celebrate Catrin the way Amity celebrated the sun.

That life, though…it would not have been enough for Gwyneth. Not when she had seen the rage in Catrin’s lover’s eyes, not when she felt it in her own heart every time she felt the weight of her lighter tucked into her lab coat. Honouring Catrin would have never been enough.

Gwyneth wanted answers. Gwyneth wanted revenge.

“Gwyneth Berdara,” the announcer’s voice boomed over the hall, some of the Erudites’ quiet gasps disrupting the space. Some of them, no doubt, had already forgotten the tragedy from six months ago, Gwyneth’s family name serving as an uncomfortable reminder.

Gwyneth did not look back at them as she walked down towards the five bowls at the hall’s centre. Her eyes were only on the knife laid out before her the way the gun in her simulation had been—waiting patiently to find its way into her hand.

Gwyneth took one, steadying breath before picking it up at last. Then, she flipped it over to the sharp edge and sliced through her palm.

The quiet hiss snuck its way past her teeth as her skin split open, and she realised with a tinge of embarrassment that she may have cut too deep. Within seconds, her blood would begin spilling nowhere but the floor. Perhaps it was exactly the place where the Divergent belonged—unable to be defined despite so many choices laid ahead of them.

Gwyneth allowed herself one look at the water before looking up to meet Merrill’s gaze.

She held it even as she outstretched her hand over the burning coals and opened her palm, her blood sizzling over the fire.

There was only a second of silence when the entire hall held its breath.

And then, the Dauntless erupted with a roaring cheer.

Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added!): @azrielshadowssing @damedechance @talons-and-teeth @octobers-veryown @foreverinelysian @sunshinebingo @aldbooks @climbthemountain2020 @trashforazriel @bibliophiliaxvignette

[mathiwrites]

Archeron's Anatomy - Dr. Rhysand's Specialization?

I think it'd be fun for @tamlinweek to have community input on the specialization of the attendings (high faeries) in the fic!

I'll be doing more throughout the week for different characters ☺️

So far, we have:

Dr. Tamlin "McSteamy" - Chief of Cadiothoracic Surgery

Dr. Thesan - Chief of General Surgery

Dr. Cassian - Orthopedic Surgeon

Dr. Amren - Surgical Resident

Dr. Feyre Archeron - Surgical Intern