#az: ah. how terrible

[extraaa-30]

broke: crowley tempted the senate to stab caesar

woke: crowley tempted the senate to stab caesar because aziraphale was upset about the library of alexandria

bespoke: aziraphale was in rome as part of the arrangement. he's the one who tempted the senate to stab caesar (and ten billion burned books cried out for vengeance) 😇📚😌🔪

---

*yes i know this was pre-arrangement but for the sake of unhinged delight no it wasn't

post inspired by this art

[illyrianbitch]

A Helping Hand

Pairing: Reader x Bat Boys

Summary: Even most powerful males in Prythian need relationship advice from their best friend.

Warnings: males bein males about females (but theyre well meaning), brief mentions of sexual encounters, crack & friendship fluff!!

Word Count: 3.3k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

There was one thing about Cassian that you’d come to know over the centuries you’d been friends: the male could talk. 

He was on a new tangent now, describing the details of a strange dream he’d had a few days prior, casually laying across the couch with his feet propped up on the arm rests. How his wings weren’t uncomfortable being smushed underneath him and the couch cushions, you weren’t sure, but you weren’t about to ask and risk another hour long explanation of how nothing phases him because he's “just that male.” 

“And the princess next to him looked exactly like Az-”

You let out a groan, pushing yourself to sit upright from your current slouched position, staring at Cassian with a confused expression. “Cass,” you said, “What the hell are you talking about?”

He stopped mid sentence, turning to look at you with an open mouth and a blank stare. “My dream. Were you not listening?”

You gave him a look. “No.”

He frowned. “Well, that's rude. I listen to all of your dreams.”

“No, you don’t.” 

He stilled for a moment, holding your stare, and then a giant grin broke out on his face. “Ah, you got me. I don’t.” 

You let out a small snort before shaking your head and taking another deep breath. “Can we get back to why you needed to talk to me in the first place?”

Cassian’s face lit up in acknowledgement, and then he was readjusting himself to a proper sitting position, leaning forward with his hands on his knees. “Right, okay. I need your expertise on matters of the heart."

You narrowed your eyes at him in suspicion. “Okay…”

"Alright, so you know that female I’ve been with?"

You raised your eyebrows. “You have to be more specific than that.”

He stilled for a moment, pursing his lips in thought. Then he grinned, “The one who I said tasted like honey?”

You grimaced at his description. But Cass didn’t notice as he continued, “She’s super pretty. Real nice too, she gave you those little treats, remember?”

You thought back to the previous weeks, faintly remembering running into a female in the kitchen. You were still hungover from the night prior, so you didn’t remember much about the small conversation you’d held with her, but you did remember those treats— and the way she stared at Cassian longingly. 

“I remember,” you finally said. “What about her?”

“I like her. I think she’s really cool. So, I want to do something to impress her, maybe ask her out for real.”

You smiled at him, a small, gentle, upside down smile that formed a small pout as you said, “Aw, Cass, you softie.” 

The male in front of you grinned again, offering you a small shrug. “What can I say, I’m pussy-whipped.”

Your smile fell and you rolled your eyes. Well, that moment was nice while it lasted. You took a deep breath before leaning forward more, matching Cassian’s posture. 

"She really liked you, so I don’t think you can go wrong. Just do what feels right.” 

Cassian’s grin grew as he nodded his head in contemplation.  "Alright,” he said, “Hear me out. I'm thinking of making a grand gesture outside her apartment, something to really show her how I feel."

You nodded, intrigued. "Okay, go on."

"And get this," He leaned in closer, a childlike glee in his voice as he continued, "I'll do it butt-ass naked, with a ribbon tied around my—"

Your hand shot up in front of you, a single finger pointed to cut him off mid-sentence. A deep sigh escaped you as you brought the hand to your face and pinched the bridge of your nose. 

"So, I stand corrected,” you said with a disappointed nod. “You can go wrong."

Cassian's expression faltered, confusion evident in his features as he frowned.  "What? You just told me—"

"Yeah, that was before you said that terrible idea," you interrupted, shaking your head in disbelief. "Don't do that. Do anything but that."

He sat up straighter, his lips slightly upturned now, a glint in his eyes. "Anything?"

You paused, remembering your earlier encouragement. Then you let out a deep sound of frustration.  "Dude, just get her some flowers."

"But that's so boring,” he whined, “Like, Rhys boring. I gotta go big or go home, you know?"

You let out a groan at the ceiling, letting yourself fall back into the couch with an exasperated flare of your hands. "At this rate, please go home. I'm begging you."

But then, just as Cassian was about to let himself fall back into the couch, a mischievous grin spread across his face. "I've got an idea,” he said, quickly jumping off the couch. 

He stopped midway, turning around to walk over to you in a few quick strides. He leaned down, managing to plant a quick kiss on your cheek before running away again. 

“Thanks, Y/n. Love you!”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

It was a quiet morning in the townhouse, gentle rays of sun shining through the opened kitchen window. You rubbed your tired eyes as you looked outside, waiting for the remnants of your sleep to disappear with the new day. Your hands held onto the small apple in your grasp, running your fingers along the fruit as you stared outside. With a small hum of contentment, you turned around to head back to your room. 

You bumped into a large mass as you turned around, a dark figure shrouded in shadows as it stood still before you. 

“Holy fuck!”

The apple fell from your hands as you jumped back, eyes blinking rapidly as Azriel’s presence registered before you, a small amused smile on his face. You let out a deep breath, hands flying to your heavily beating heart. You glared at him, your gaze quickly flickering down to your waist, where a small black mass floated around your apple— suspended in mid air as it was caught during its fall. 

You quickly snatched the apple back, watching as the shadows happily trailed back to Azriel, their black forms settling behind his back and above his shoulders. You brought your glare back to Azriel’s face.

He did this to you often, quieting the sound of hit footsteps with his shadows to make his entrances stealthy and unnoticed. It never got old to him, how often you’d get caught off guard and send a glare his way, usually accompanied by a string of curses he’d never heard put together. 

“Footsteps make noise for a reason, Az,” you grumbled, “So you don’t make your loved ones shit their pants.” 

His eyebrows raised slightly, and you didn’t miss the movement of a lone tendril moving towards you— you lightly swatted it away, redirecting it like a small, curious puppy. 

“I didn’t mean literally, you ass.” 

Azriel only grinned in response, a small laugh leaving his lips. “It just never gets old.” 

His hair was slightly tousled, messy across his forehead. He wore a simple black shirt and sweatpants, a casual, lazy look that he often adorned on quiet, slow, mornings like these— this version of Az, laid-back and comfortable, was one solely reserved for the townhouse, and only for you and your family. 

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes at him. “What do you want?”

Az frowned slightly. “Good Morning to you, too, I guess.” 

“It was a good morning, until you disrupted my peace. What do you want?”

Azriel’s face held a mischievous smile as he shrugged. “Why do you think I want something?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Because I know you. And you’re wearing your I need a favor face.” 

He scowled at this, letting out a small sound of offense. “That's not a real thing.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No,” he protested again, “I don’t have faces. This is just my face.”

“Az,” you groaned. “Get to the point please. What do you want?”

He let out a sigh of defeat before he shifted on his feet. “Fine, I need your he-”

You pointed an excited finger in his face. “Aha,” you said loudly, “I knew you needed something!”

Yet again, he scowled at this, lightly knocking your finger out of his face with his palm. He gave you a flat look. 

“Ow.”

“Can I speak now?”

You held your hands up in resignation, finally bringing the apple to your mouth as you took a small bite. 

“Pierla won’t leave me alone.”

You frowned at him, brows furrowing slightly. “Who?”

Somehow, Azriel’s face fell even flatter, and he stared at you with an unammused look. “Y/n,” he said, almost scolding you with an exasperated tone. 

“What?” you said. “I’m sorry I don’t keep track of every female you guys bed. My fault.”

He rolled his eyes, and you resisted the urge to either scoff in disbelief or mimic his movements. Sure, laid-back and comfortable Azriel was reserved for the townhouse and morning like this, but so was sassy Azriel and his impatience as well. You preferred the first— and only the second when it was directed at anyone but you.

“I slept with her like five days ago.”

“Okay,” you drawled, “And now she won’t leave you alone.”

He nodded, letting out a small sigh.

You stared at him, brows still furrowed, a frown now on your face that crinkled your nose. “Well that sucks.”

He stared at you again, the same flat and unamused look on his face. A flicker of irritation ran through his hazel eyes. “Y/n.”

You lifted your hands up in exasperation, the apple still held in one hand, adorned by the lone bite you’d been granted to take. “What?” you responded, “The hell am I supposed to do about that? That’s a pp.”

“A pp?”

You pursed your lips, preparing yourself to hold back a laugh. “A personal problem.”

He let out a sound of frustration. “Really?”

You let your mouth fall open in response. “Again, I reiterate, what am I supposed to do in this situation?”

“I don’t know!” His hands flew out in desperation as he shrugged, his shadows bouncing to the edges of his fingertips. “Help me, or something. Please.”

“Did you tell her you’re not interested?”

“Yes.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Did you tell her you’re not interested?”

“Vocally? No. Physically? Yes.”

You scrunched your face in confusion. “What does that even mean?”

Azriel brought a finger to the bridge of his nose. You rolled your eyes, not waiting for him to respond as you added, “Why are you acting frustrated right now? You put yourself in this position, Az.”

For what felt like the millionth time in the conversation, Az scowled. “I’m well aware of the position I’m currently placed in, Y/n.”

You brought the apple to your mouth, taking advantage of the moment of silence to actually indulge in the sole reason you’d been in the kitchen in the first place. Taking a few seconds to chew, you mulled over the options at hand.

“Next time you’re with her, just stare.”

Azriel blinked. “What.”

“You have this stare you do when you zone out, it's creepy. And unnerving. It makes me want to apologize for things I’ve never done.”

His eyebrows raised in amusement, a slight smirk forming on his lips. You narrowed your eyes before letting your face fall, as you frowned at him, arms falling lax at your sides. “You do it on purpose, don’t you?”

His smirk grew. “Never,” he replied, but the mischievous glint in his eyes gave him away. “But good idea, I’ll do that. Thanks, Y/n.” 

As he turned his back and began walking out, you quickly sent a vulgar gesture to his back, angrily sticking up your middle finger in mockery. 

“Saw that,” he sang over his shoulders. You casted your gaze down to a lone shadow that danced before you. 

“Snitch,” you whispered down to it, watching as it began sliding to Azriel’s retreating form.

His voice rang out from the hallway, “Heard that, too.”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Velaris was extra lively this morning, and it made your day even better. 

You always found it so special that despite his duties as High Lord, Rhys never missed the tradition of getting breakfast with you every other Wednesday. You couldn’t quite remember when the tradition started, surely centuries ago when you both were younger, deciding that Wednesday’s needed a specific pick-me-up to get through the rest of the week. But the tradition formed, and it stayed for centuries. And, truly, you loved it. It always gave you a sense of comfort— a reminder that things may always change around you, but never when it came to the bond you shared with your boys, and with Rhysand especially.

But Rhys was quiet this morning, absentmindedly picking at the flakes of the croissant on his table. 

You let out a small laugh. “Okay, spill. What the hell happened to you?”

Rhys slowly angled his head to look up at you, face distorted in defeat. “Females,” he muttered. “That’s what happened.”

You frowned, placing the croissant back down on the plate before you. You dusted your hands of crumbs. “Usually you say that word with a lot more excitement.”

He raised his eyebrows in response, and you watched as he rolled his eyes slightly. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

You lifted an eyebrow of your own. “What did you do?”

He brought his gaze back to you.  “I’ve been fucking around with the twins.”

You frowned in confusion. 

“...Nuala and Cerridwen?” You whispered, leaning closer to him, face scrunched. 

You let your mind wander for a moment, thinking about the two twins that Rhysand had welcomed into your home. You loved the sisters dearly, and even you can admit they were beautiful— a type of beauty you didn’t really know how to describe, but beautiful nonetheless. But they were more shadows than they were form, not tangible enough to….have sex with, you assumed. You blinked.

“W-What?” Rhysand said, eyes widening slightly. “No. The twins from Rita’s last weekend.”

“Oh,” you breathed out with a relieved smile. And then you thought back to the two females Rhys had left with, a grin forming on your face.” Oh,” you said, amused. You leaned forward bumped his shoulders with a gentle fist. “Nice.”

“Not nice,” he grumbled, letting his back fall against the metal back of the chair. He let out an exasperated sigh. Your gaze trailed to the streets next to you, catching the sight of a few passerbys taking in the scene of their defeated High Lord. You cleared your throat, leaning forward in your chair to place your elbows on the table. 

“Okay, I’m confused,” you said, “Why is this not a good thing? Seventeen year old Rhysand would be pissing in excitement right now.”

Rhys let out a small snicker at this, a small smirk on his face at the image. But then it quickly fell when he let out another grumble. 

“Rhys, people are looking at you and making fun of you.”

He sprung up at this, eyes quickly searching his surroundings. He made eye contact with a few citizens, sprouting a large, charming grin on his face as he lifted a hand in greeting. The groups hesitantly gave a wave back, opting for small smiles before they went on their way. 

Rhysand then looked at you once more, leaning forward to grab your hands in his. 

“I’m an honest male. I’m allowed to make mistakes, right?”

It was becoming suspicious now, and you narrowed your eyes at him with pursed lips.

“What did you do?”

He gave you a small, guilty smile, perfect teeth on display. 

“I bought them flowers, right? Just a sweet, classic, gesture to show them I was interested.”

You resisted the urge to laugh. It was, indeed, a sweet gesture, but Cassian’s words from earlier in the week rang in your mind, his joke about flowers being a boring move-- a boring Rhys move. You didn’t hide your amusement well enough, though, and Rhysand narrowed his eyes at you, tapping your hands lightly to draw your attention back.

“What?” he said.

You shook your head, giving him a small, inconspicuous smile. Then you offered him a shrug. “Nothing. Keep talking.” 

He kept his eyes narrowed for a moment, but then he gave up, letting out another dramatic-Rhysand sigh.  “But apparently, I gave each of the flowers to the wrong twin. And now they’re mad that I can’t tell them apart. I mean, they’re identical, Y/n. As amazing as I am, I’m no god.” 

You let out a small snort, staring at him with an amused smile. “You can literally read minds.”

He opened his mouth. And then closed it. 

“Well,” he said, clearing his throat, “That hadn’t occurred to me.”

You laughed, readjusting your hands so now it was yours that lay otop of his. You gave a gentle pat. “But that’s wrong. So you need to find a way to differentiate them, at least if you want to keep whatever it is you have going.”

“It’s fun,” he said, as a grin began to grow on his face. “One female is great, but sisters?” He let out a small whistle, “Whole other experience.” 

You grimaced. “Rhysand,” you scolded, “Don’t be such a male. I was going to offer to help you. I take it back.”

“No, no,” he said, looking at you with wide eyes. He then gave you a pout, “Please.”

You held his stare for a moment, watched as he titled his head and gave you an innocent, charming, boyish smile. 

“Fine,” you finally said, “But you owe me.”

Rhysand grinned, large and broad, as he sat back into his chair and picked up the small desert on his plate. “I always do,”  he said with a gleam in his eye, bringing the croissant to his mouth.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

It took you a few days, four to be exact, before you were able to fulfill the promise you’d made to Rhysand. It was nighttime now as you finally returned to the townhouse for the day. From down the hall, you could see the dim faelight pouring out from Rhysand’s office, his door wide open. 

Once you reached the doorway, you perched yourself in it, leaning against it as you cleared your throat. 

“Leyra is slightly shorter and has two dimples. Kerala has shorter hair, one dimple, and a freckle on her chin.”

Rhysand looked up from his papers, sitting up right in his chair with a smile on his face. “Have I told you how amazing you are?” 

You gave him a grin. “Add it to the list.”

Rhys laughed, tilting his head as he took in a relaxed breath. “Thank you.”

You gave him a small nod of your head as you began walking out. But before you took a step to leave, you popped your head back into the view of the doorway, wrapping your hand around the edge of the frame. 

“Kerala also has a freckle on the inside of her right thigh. Kinda looks like a little heart.”

Rhysand’s face furrowed, and then his mouth fell open slightly. He narrowed his eyes.

“How do you know that?”

You grinned at him for the second time that night, giving the frame of the doorway a pat with your hands. Then you shrugged. “You never told me how you wanted me to help.” 

Before Rhys could register your words, you were walking away, your figure disappearing from his open door. 

When it finally hit, Rhys let out a small chuckle. Then, he shrugged to himself, returning to his work with an amused smile. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: @rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria

bat boys tag list 🫶🏻: @willowpains @maevecrom @vansaddy

[lalachat]

"And there you were..."

Author's note: HI! This is my very first fan fiction, along with my first time writing. I do not expect anyone to read this, nor do i expect this to blow up. This is simply just a thought i had in my head that I wanted to write down. If you are reading this I will and fully apologize for any grammar issues or typos. Again, I have a lot of learning to do so if this lacks flow or has too much filler let me know... KINDLY!!! Emphasis on K I N D L Y! I love and appreciate anyone who is planning on reading this silly lil story i wrote. I do plan on writing more chapters for this... hopefully some smut later on if this gets enough attention👀 ANYWAYS, I will be quiet now :)

Summary: Your mating bond had snapped for you as soon as you saw the shadowsinger, but he was too busy pinning after the second eldest Archeron sister to notice the bond. After watching them pin for one another, you decided Az would be happier with Elain. However, Mor has an idea to get Az to notice you. A night at Rita's with a scheme made by Mor goes south when you catch the sight of someone you haven't seen in years.

This is for all my Lucien girlies❤️

Warnings: um none? basically filler bc i'm a newbie at writing:) use of some profanity, alludes to sexual theme

Word Count: around 3,200

Chapter 1: "DID YOU JUST BITE ME?"

Lucien POV:

And there you were... standing next to the High Lord of the Night Court, drink in hand as your head tilted back in laughter. You looked even more beautiful than the last time he saw you. The only difference now is that he had found his mate, but he could not help the bubbling of old feelings trying to resurface themselves. Cauldron burn him because he was damned, and he knew it. As soon as his gaze met yours, he knew he was ruined.  

Y/N POV:

You were completely unaware he was here. You were too preoccupied with nursing your wine and talking with your favorite high lord to notice his lingering eyes on you. Mor had sent you on a secret mission tonight. It was your sole purpose while being here at Rita’s. The dress Mor gave you hugged your curves in all the right places, showing enough skin but keeping some left to the imagination for others. The plan was simple enough, try to get the attention of your mate and make him jealous. It sounds terrible, but it was the only way to get his attention on you. However, as soon as you got there, his gaze never met yours. You saw Az off in the corner, eyes strictly on Elain as she talked with him. Completely blinded by her beauty, Azriel's bond never snapped for him. This was your last ploy before letting him be happy with Elain. You knew Az would never see you in the light that he saw Elain in. You figured he would be much happier with a female like her anyways. Luckily, Rhysand had spotted you before you could turn away and called you over next to him at the bar.

“Ah well if it isn’t the lovely y/n showing up late as always,” Rhys said smirking handing you a glass of your favorite fae wine.  

“For your information, Rhysand, Mor came to my room at the last minute with a complete wardrobe change. Where is she anyways?” you said as you glanced around the room taking the wine from Rhys’ hand with a smile. 

“Well, I must say she has fabulous style. You look stunning y/n, but as of Mor’s location... I lost her to the dance floor as soon as we walked in. You know how she is.” Rhys rolled his eyes playfully as he sipped his own drink.  

“I should have suspected that answer” you laughed. “I am assuming the rest of the group is somewhere on the floor too? Should we go join them and show them our horrendous dancing my high lord?” you teased with a smile and bow. Rhys gasped and placed a hand on his heart. 

“Oh y/n, how you offend me! My dancing is quite fabulous if I say so myself!” 

“Yes Rhysand, your white girl dance moves are fabulous. However, mine put yours to shame, and you know it!” you say as you down the rest of your wine and offer him your hand. Rhysand’s eyes twinkle as he finishes his drink and takes your hand before leading you to the dance floor. He spots Feyre with the rest of the inner circle on the floor, near the corner where Az was with Elain. Feyre’s face lights up as she sees you. 

“Y/N!!!! There you are! We have been wondering when you would show up! Even got my mate out on the dance floor. I applaud you!” as she gives you the biggest hug. “You look exquisite!” Feyre says as she leaves to see her mate. 

Mor hears Feyre say your name, and she instantly runs over to you. “Look at you!!! I knew that dress would be perfect for you! SO worth the last-minute change because you look fucking hot!” She spins you around and pulls you closer. She lowers her voice to where only you can hear. “He has been glued to her side all night, but it is nothing we cannot fix, hm?” she says with a hint of playfulness. You look behind her to see Nesta and Cassian dancing alongside Rhysand and Feyre. Your heart falters at the sight of both mates enjoying one another’s company with laughter and smiles. How you yearned for something like that. They were both cauldron blessed. Mor followed your gaze and sensed your uneasiness. She smiled at you. 

“Do not falter y/n! We have a mission, and it is now on! Let us go be the badass babes we are and have some fun” as she takes you over to the rest of the group to dance. She positions you purposefully close to Az and Elain. You are both giggling as you twirl one another around to the music, tipsy off the amount of alcohol you both consumed. Everyone was getting lost in the music. You and Mor could not stop laughing at each other. Throats and bellies feeling warm from the alcohol. You both began to forget about the reason you came tonight. Until your gaze left Mor’s and connected with burning amber eyes and bright red hair pulled up in a bun. You stopped dead in your tracks and turned towards Mor. 

“Is that Lucien?” 

“Yes, he’s only here to keep his eyes on his mate, and well because Feyre had forced him to come,” Mor said while looking at you. “Why do you ask? Do you know him?” 

“I do. I just have not seen him in years. Him and I used to... um.... This feels weird to say aloud knowing he found his mate, but we were friends with benefits a LONG time ago” 

“YALL WERE WHAT?!” You decide to grab her hand and go to the bathroom for more privacy. You do not want the entire inner circle hearing about your previous sexual partners. As soon as you shut the bathroom door you turn to her to finish the conversation. 

“Mor you act like I am a virgin.” 

“Y/n I know you are not a virgin, but out of all the people to hear you have had sex with, I was not expecting him! I did not even know you two knew each other!”  

“Yeah, it was when I stayed in the spring court for a while. We met at a popular bar in town, and we instantly clicked. One drink led to another, and I took him back to my apartment. We were so infatuated with each other that it quickly became friends-with-benefits.” 

“OH MY GOD AND YOU NEVER TOLD ME? Y/N this is positively perfect!” You were shocked she took the information so well that you could practically see the gears grinding in her head as she paced back and forth.  

“Mor whatever you are thinking stop it now. I am concerned that you are this deep in thought while being tipsy.” 

“Y/n there has been a slight change of plans” Mor said with full confidence. 

“Should I be concerned?” 

“That my love is up to you to decide, but this is what you are going to do. You are going to talk to Lucien and...” before she could finish her sentence you stopped her with a finger to her mouth. 

“MOR ARE YOU CRAZY?! I must have had too much to drink because I could have sworn you said that I should talk to--” before you could finish Mor bit your finger and you yelped. “DID YOU JUST BITE ME?!” 

“Yes, but that is beside the point. Y/n, you are here to make Az jealous over you, are you not?” 

“Yes, but--” 

She smirks as she says, “And what better way to do it than to flirt with Elain’s mate?” 

Your mouth goes slack. “Elain is Lucien’s mate? Why has no one told me this?!” 

“It is because you are off in your own little world sulking over Az. Besides, none of us even knew you knew Lucien. They don’t even act like mates let alone talk to each other, so we forget half the time. But Y/n this is your chance! Not only could you make Azriel jealous of you, but you could also make Elain jealous of Lucien! Like I said, it is positively perfect!” 

“Mor I can't... this is becoming too much. I do not think I can do this.” 

“GIRL you are drop-dead gorgeous! Any male who does not see that can go die in a hole! You are worth so much more than a mate who refuses to look at you y/n. You can and you will do this! I will not let you sit here and do nothing. You must fight for him y/n, and if the only way to do it is to play dirty, then you must play dirty!” 

“Fine! I will talk to him, but nothing more and nothing less.” 

“Yes! Let us get this new and improved mission going! I cannot believe you and Lucien did it” Mor said as she linked her arm in yours and strutted out the bathroom back to your group. 

“And I cannot believe you BIT me!” Mor giggles as you stick out your tongue and rub your finger to sooth it. You find Rhys, Feyre, Cassian, and Nesta at the bar getting more drinks.  

Cassian boomed as he said, “There y’all are! We were beginning to think you both fell in!”  

Nesta smacked his arm and said, “Not all of us thought that. Some of us have the mental capacity to know that it was for girl talk. And I must say, whatever it is I want in!” She smirks at the two of you.  

“Oh, oh! Me too! Me too! I love gossip!” Cassian says as he swings an arm over Nesta to get closer to your conversation. 

“Cas go be a busy body somewhere else!” Nesta said swatting away Cassian as you and Mor both giggle at their banter.  

“We were just gossiping, it’s nothing important really,” you say hoping Nesta would catch that you really do not want to talk about you and Mor’s trip to the bathroom. Luckily, she seems to understand and gets up to lead Cass back to the dance floor. “Come on Cass, we can gossip with them later, I love this song!” as Cassian whisks her away to go dance. You can hear him faintly say “This is not over ladies; I have to know what it was!”  

You laugh as Mor looks at you. “He's such a drama king. All right, the time is now! No better time than the present right?? Now go,” as she pushes you toward where Lucien was standing. You glare at her over your shoulder as you walk to Lucien. You can see her smirk before turning around to join Rhys and Feyre back at the bar. 

“Mother above only you can save me now...” as you take a deep breath and finish walking over to Lucien. Your eyes meet, and for a brief second, all the memories come flooding back to you. You had forgotten how handsome he was. His fiery red hair, gorgeously tanned skin, and his burning stare that made you feel like the only girl in the world. You had to stop your mind from lingering too deep into the memories y’all shared because most of them were sexual. You would hate to finally talk with him again only for him to notice your scent.  

“Well, well, well, who do we have here? It has been too long Lu!” you say, and you give him the most wholehearted smile that you could muster.  

“Y/N! I was wondering when you would pop by. Always unable to resist me huh?” he says with a smirk, reaching to give your hand a chaste kiss. Your cheeks flush at the feeling of his lips on your skin. You can practically feel your skin burn from where his lips had just been.  

“Still charming as always.” He chuckles at your comment, and it makes your heart flutter. You were treading extremely dangerous waters. You had not told Mor this, but your previous friends-with-benefits with Lucien had you harboring a secret crush on the male. If it were not for the fact you and he had mates, you were sure you both would not be sleeping alone tonight. “You look nice, Lu.” 

“Thank you, as do you y/n. What are you even doing here at Rita’s? Last I remember you were still in the spring court.” 

“I was, until I decided that I wanted to see the beauty of the other courts. I was nomadic for a while as I traveled, but that changed as soon as I saw the night court and met a certain High Lord everyone now knows and loves.” You giggle as you remember your first encounter with Rhysand. “I fell in love with Velaris and the inner court that I had decided to stay. The rest is history.” You gave Lucien a warm smile. 

“If I had known you were here all this time, I would have come to see you! It's nice to have a friendly face around that’s not a part of the inner circle.” He says with a huff. 

“I get a sense you don’t really like the inner circle all that much?” 

“It’s not that I don’t like them, it’s more so that I don’t belong or fit into their group. Feyre tries to keep me in loop, and I love her to death for it, but it will not change the fact I am that group’s wall flower. The only reason I really stick along is for-” he catches himself. He doesn’t ever finish the sentence, but you knew what he was going to say. He was going to say, “for Elain.” You decided not to press the matter. 

“Well Lucien, I think you are the prettiest wallflower!” you say with a smile and slightly push his shoulder. He smiles and dips his head as he says thank you. “Say, I could use some more wine and it looks like you could use another of what you were drinking, want to come with me to the bar?” as you batt your eyelashes at him. He smirks and you can see an emotion in his eyes, but you can't tell what it was. 

“How could I say no to such a pretty lady offering me another drink.” He places his hand on your exposed lower back and guides you to the bar. His hand feels like fire on your skin. You almost sighed into his touch but remained stoic as you finally reached the bar. He removes his hand, and you find yourself missing the contact. He orders a refill of his drink along with another glass of wine for you. You were surprised when you took a sip of your wine, finding it to be the same as before. Funny, you don’t remember telling him the exact fae brand you were drinking. 

“How did you know what to order for me? I don’t remember telling you what I was drinking.” you look mischievously at him as you take a sip. 

“How you vex me! You think after all this time that I’ve known you that I can't tell that you’ve been drinking your favorite wine? Y/n I may not be the brightest flame in the world, but I sure as hell remember the smell of your favorite wine in your breath.” he says with a smirk, remembering all the heated kisses shared between you two. You try to hide the creeping blush from your cheeks, and you too remember those moments all too well. You put a hand to your mouth and breathe out. He was right, you can smell the wine you’ve been consuming.  

“I didn’t think the smell would be that strong!” as your nose scrunches up at your breath. 

He laughs at how silly you looked trying to smell your own breath. You could not help but laugh at this situation too. You had forgotten what it was like to be around Lucien. The warmth that radiated from him as he laughed had you weak at the knees. You can't help but think how lucky Elain was to have Lucien as her mate. You don’t understand what she doesn’t see in him, and that made you think about Az. He would never see you the way he sees Elain. Hell, he barely even looks at you. So how could you even compete against someone like her?Lucien could tell something was wrong as your face went from laughter to disappointment.  

“Hey, what’s wrong? What’s that pretty little head thinking about?” Lucien had asked concerned, tilting his head to get a better look at you. Maybe it was the alcohol talking but you couldn’t help but to ask. 

“Lucien, do- do you have a mate?”  

“Do I have a mate? Y/n are you okay? Why are you asking this?” 

“I- I don’t know. I’m sorry for even asking. I am overstepping my bounds. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.” you take a big gulp of your wine. Lucien reaches out his hand and lowers your hand from your mouth. 

“Hey! Don’t ever apologize to me for asking a simple question! I was just shocked by how random it was. One minute were laughing and now were on the subjects of mates. It was a very big jump, so I'm sorry for my reaction earlier. Yes, I have a mate, but she- she does not want me...” 

“I am sorry Lu, she doesn’t know what she’s missing out on” you give him a faint smile. 

“It’s alright. All this time I thought it would be someone else, but the mother had different plans, I guess. What about you? Surely the lovely y/n has found her mate.”  

“I have, but it’s kind of complicated...” you look down at your glass as you start to twirl your wine. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, how is it complicated?” he asks. 

“He doesn’t know about the bond yet...”  

“Y/n why doesn’t he know?” Lucien asks, and his eyes are so intense you have to look away. You catch yourself looking for Azriel among the crowd to see if he was looking your way and spy him in that same corner with Elain. Unlike the other times where they were talking, this time they were kissing. A gasp escapes your lips as your heart drops. Tears threaten to fall from your eyes as you nearly fall out of your seat. If it wasn’t for Lucien bracing you, you would have. He studies your face for a moment before following and focusing his gaze on where you had just been looking. His grip around you tightens as he watches his mate with Azriel. You can see the realization hit him as soon as he makes eye contact with you again. He now knows... “How about we get out of here, get us a sweet treat, grab a bottle of your favorite wine, and go back to my place to decompress?” He asks rubbing your back. 

“That sounds perfect.”  

You both get up from the bar and walk toward the door, Lucien’s hand is still on your back. You can feel a gentle caress of your mental shields and you know it’s Rhysand. You lower your shields to let him know that you were leaving, that you would be safe, and that you would be back tomorrow. He doesn’t pry and trusts your judgement. However, that doesn't stop him from turning to his cousin and bombarding her with questions about what the hell was going on.

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Tags:

@thelov3lybookworm @justdreamstars @character---obsessed @stained-glass-eyes0708 @acourtofbooksandshadows

[u-makemeunpocoloco]

Kitsune!Cater

Why it's so hard to draw Cater's tails (╬ಠ益ಠ)

I went crazy when I told him to replace his last two droughts. Now I take them and- ahem

I drew this from my phone. And ah, below (the writing style, according to me, is terrible) kitsune!cater has a short fiction. Go forward with your own preference.

hah 6 yıl sonra gerçekten yazmaya geri döndüm ama… yazmanın ne kadar sıkıcı olduğunu unuttum. Uzun zamandır yazmadığım ve kendimi geliştiremediğim için yazdıklarımın bana ne kadar kötü gelebileceğini de hesaba katarsak, bu bir acı gibidir. (Bu acıyı kendime veriyorum. Şu anda 2 bin kelimelik bir "Kıtsune!Ace & Siren!Reader" hikayem var ve daha hikayenin yarısına bile gelmedim. Motivasyonumu kaybettim.) O yüzden bunu yazmaya karar verdim. Biraz daha fazla motivasyon için catering açısından yazdığım hikayenin fikrini (daha az kelime, daha az hikaye) bana aktarın.

Kitsune!Cater, who is pretty much good with people all near where he lives. Like a normal person, he talks to them, shares interests, and jokes.

Kitsune!Cater, who did not explain to people that he was kitsune because of the rules of the temple where he lived. He gets around so well that he thinks that even if he walks around with his ears, no one will think that he has a kitsune in his mind. Although he thinks about it, he always keeps hiding his ears and tail.

Thanks to this, Kitsune!Cater, who, unlike other temple dwellers, has more access to exiting as a senior. When he hears the story about the voice that is said to have divine beauty that reaches his ear at the end of the day, he understands that he has taken bone from all these labors.

Kitsune!Cater, who immediately realizes that he is one of the Yokai's who had been caught in the hunt for yokai years before when he hears the story, cannot stop pitying you because he remembers that the incident happened four hundred years ago. he immediately communicates this to the temple Oni!Riddle.

Kitsune!Cater who has to incapacitate you because you keep resisting going out, knows that this way of getting out is not healthy and he doesn't want to do it. But he sees with his own eyes how unhealthy it is for you here. a bunch of stamps poured in the bunch. You can very comfortably say that you did not feed for a century.

Kitsune!Cater, who always finds a topic to talk about despite what you have experienced in the past, tells you that even if it is not his duty to do so, he comes to visit you often in a day and sees you outside, he knows. Even if you don't answer, it doesn't break its route at all.

Kitsune!Cater, who makes you feel like a small child even though you are older than him. He is always happy to see your growing self when the days you live here become months, months and years.

Kitsune!Cater, who has been trying so hard to find the freshwater lake that you lived before he catches you with the story he heard from you, has unfortunately not been able to survive for 400 years and is a marsh that has been holding the memories that adorn your life. there is no news of your family.

Kitsune!Cater, who knows he should be upset under normal circumstances, but when he comes back and watches you smile with those around him, the feeling in him tells him the opposite.

you are now part of his family like those in this temple.

You're not going to leave them, are you?

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

SLUMBER PARTY

Pairing: Nesta Archeron x Velaris!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, femxfem, cun*ilingus, hurt&comfort, jealous Nesta, will admit MC is kind of clueless just for sake of story, first story I've done for Nesta's character, might be slight OOC, got a little carried away xDD, I honestly wouldn't mind Nesta dominating me

Words: 5051

Summary: Nesta can’t help the poison that fumed inside of her as she watched (y/n) interacting with every male in Rita’s that sought after the female’s affections.

Nesta didn't mind going out for a drink or two. Hell, it was her favorite thing to do. Or at least it used to be before she moved into the House of Wind. Right now she would very much appreciate a strong fermented nectar. But she had to keep her wits with her. She couldn't enjoy the numbing of the head that drinking brought on.

No, she had the responsibility of watching over you.

Who else would stop you from making a bad decision? If it wasn't for Nesta, more men would be harrassing her for a dance or any scrap of attention they could get from her.

There were two in particular that Nesta had her guarding eye on. And they just had to be the best friends of the night court's high lord. Even if she wanted to rip their linger hands off, she couldn't. There would be a terrible price to pay for that treason. Not that Nesta didn't debate the cost. She was starting to seriously devise a plan on how to get Cassian and Azriel away from you as you blindly giggle and lean against them for support. Azriel wasn't bothered as you bob against him in a drunken haze. He wraps an arm around her shoulders to assist her in standing upright. A few times he tries to coax the young fae to sit down but you weren't having it. To be the only one sitting would be admitting defeat. You'd boasted how you'd be able to drink them under the table. Bragged of your high tolerance (though to be fair, you were already about three drinks in before they arrived) you challenged them. Now your pride would most definitely be injured.

You were a stubborn thing.

It was something that Nesta loved and hated about you.

Cassian dips his head down to whisper something in your ear that has Nesta already making her way across the bar. That was too close for comfort.

Whatever he said made the pointed tips of your ears glow pink. You'd liked what he said and even flutter your lashes at him with your own reply.

"Uh-oh, here comes mama bear." Azriel chuckles at the approaching figure of Nesta that radiated with hostility. He can't take his arm off from you, otherwise you would completely fall into Cassian and make Nesta angrier.

You blink to refocus your sight and turn to where Azriel had gestured his head. Maybe it was all the drinks you had consumed in a short amount of time, but there was something about an angry Nesta that turned you on a little bit. Her eyes were always the lightest of blues but when enraged they intensified into an almost ethereal glow.They reflect the fury inside of her. The cerulean hue seem to dance with an electric energy. You also saw vulnerability in her. A raw authenticity that spoke to the depths of her soul.

"Nes!" The stupid grin you usually had on your face when drunk grew larger.

The spikes around her soften when you address her. Nesta reigns herself in. "(y/n), I think it's time we go home."

You frown at this. "But Az and Cass just got here!"

Ah. It was going to be one of those nights where she would have to be the bad guy and tear you away from having a good time.

Thankfully even Cassian seems to urge you toward Nesta. "She's right. Best to call it a night."

Azriel nods. "Get some rest and drink lots of water."

Annoyed by their sensibility, you grumble and call them a few choice words that only has them laughing as you follow Nesta out. She held your hand, making sure you didn't get lost or fall. Putting one foot in front of the other proved to be difficult in your state. Suppose it served you right for getting so drunk.

The cold Velaris night air is soothing against your warm face. Nesta has you close to her as she slows down for your sake.

"Don't look at me like that." You grumble when you feel her eyes on you.

"You overdid it. Look at you, you can barely walk." Nesta chides.

Hm, funny considering she had been just like you several months ago. Having drink after drink to numb your mind, anything to keep the agony at bay.

You don't give her a reply. Now you make more of an effort to walk by yourself and try to shrug her hand away with a quiet 'i'm fine'.

Your apartment building was coming up anyway and you wouldn't need her assistance from there.

She treated you like a child. You were young for a fae, but in worth of years you were far older than Nesta.

Putting distance between yourself and Nesta caused your unwanted companion to retract her hand as if she'd been burned. Hurt flickers briefly in her eyes but this is soon frozen over into an expression of calm acceptance.

You fish your small brass key out of your pocket and hold it up to the building entrance. Nesta still lingered close behind you. "Thank you for seeing me home, but I've got it from here."

In reply she skeptically purses her pretty pink lips, unwilling to let you go in alone. "I need to make sure you make it up the stairs."

"Nes-"

Her sharp eyes square off against you. "I won't chance you getting hurt. So deal with it."

Bossy. Were all first borns like this? You yourself were an only child and didn't have to deal with pesky siblings, either older or younger.

You knew she wouldn't relent. With a pout on your own face you give in and move so she can walk through the building's front door and help you up two flights of stairs until you were at your apartment door. Your fingers choose to play dumb as they struggle to get ahold of the suddenly slippery key.

Nesta takes your key ring from you and easily finds the one that matches your door's lock. Gently she pushes you aside so she could open the door.

After a long day it was good to be home.

When Nesta was drowning in her own alcoholism, her apartment had been sparse and unfurnished save for a lonely mattress on the floor. No, your apartment was truly your home. You fitted it with the finest tapestries and rugs along with little trinkets that tell the story of your life. You especially like your balcony garden that looks out to the sea of roofs under the beautiful Velaris sky.

Your bedroom is too far away so you settle for throwing yourself on your couch and immediately grab your comfy blanket that you liked to roll yourself in. Vaguely you hear Nesta in the background, most likely in the kitchen.

She sits next to you and offers a tall glass of water. "Drink this."

"I'm not thirsty." If anything you might have to pee soon.

"I'm not cleaning up your vomit again, (y/n)." she hisses. Tough love was definitely Nesta's display of affection. She only acted to tersely with you because of her worry for your wellbeing. She'd seen how violent your hangovers could be. Each time she was forced to nurse you back to relative health you didn't hear the end of it from her. She chastised you along with making sure to show how much of an inconvenience it was for her. She hated missing her valkyrie training. Her move to the House of Wind had been against her will in the beginning. Now she seemed to actually be enjoying it. Not only did she have training to keep her occupied, but also the massive library that lay underneath. Friends were even a staple in her life now. You'd met Gwyn and Emerie. They tried to get you into training too and while you partially entertained the idea, Nesta didn't want you anywhere near the training grounds. She didn't want you getting hurt. That excuse made Emerie roll her eyes and Gwyn laughed at Nesta's painfully obvious protective nature of you. She didn't seem too inclined to treat them like she treated you.

"I'm not your responsibility." You slur and sit up. "You know that right? Before I met you I was perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I may not know how to fight like you but I can still protect myself if the need arises."

Conflict storms her face, her lips part to say something but she couldn't will her words to come out. Instead she huffs and puts the glass of water on the coffee table. Without anything to occupy her hands, you notice Nesta anxiously toying with her fingers. "I know that." For Nesta, it was near impossible to admit her feelings. A few times you were able to crack into her to see glimpses of the Nesta she hid from the rest of the world. She guarded herself well. But you could tell when something was bothering her.

When you went out drinking (and with the hopes of finding someone to bring back for a quick fuck) you acknowledged the way Nesta glared at anyone who showed interest in you. And when you went off to flirt, there was a brief flash of hurt before she put up her wall. Not for the first time, you wonder if Nesta had deeper feelings for you. Maybe you were reading too much into things and fooling yourself. It would explain her protectiveness toward you.

For the first time in several hours, her eyes turn vulnerable as she looks at the floor. If you still weren't upset with her, you'd most likely be kicking yourself for making her look so sad. "I can't. . . I can't help it. You let those lesser men touch you with their grubby paws. It upsets me greatly." This was all new territory for Nesta but for you she was trying to be open about her true feelings instead of hiding behind her mask of indifference. These moments were so rare and you tried not to blink. In your drunken haze, you sober up slightly and lean into Nesta. At your nearness, you feel her body stiffen but once she accommodates to your close presence she relaxes. She still doesn't look at you but you don't mind.

Tongue loose from your drinking made you vocally question her. "Why do you think that is?"

She huffs impatiently at herself and by the ticking of her jaw you know she's fighting to get the words out.

Thoroughly making up her mind, Nesta lets out a short sigh and finally turns up her blue-gray eyes. How could anyone be so effortlessly breathtaking? Nesta never put on makeup as it was never needed. You'd heard from Feyre that when Nesta went into the Cauldron, she'd already been quite beautiful as a human. But as a high fae her good looks were almost terrifying. Her personality aided in enhancing her austereness. Many were intimidated by her. Even the general himself would admit he would not want to be Nesta's enemy. Especially now that she's been training and getting stronger.

You were never intimidated by Nesta. Not even when you were first introduced to her. Your first impression of her was one where you felt like you were struck by an invisible arrow. She had such an heir of authority around her, forbidding any from getting close to her.

There's a hunger in her eyes as she looks at you now. Her long, black lashes cast shadows over her eyes before she brings her hand to your face. Fingers trail along the line of your jaw, coming to rest on your chin as you stare dumbly at her. You didn't breathe, not even a little bit as the pad of her thumb runs across your plump bottom lip. The trail she'd made from your jaw to your chin burned as did your bottom lip.

"I can please you far better than they ever could." She says finally.

The heat from your face is making your head swim and for a moment you worry that you were actually going to pass out. "You. . ." Nesta had been with plenty before. You wouldn't be her first. But you'd never heard her talk about any sexual experiences with females. She'd only ever bedded males. Yet she was confident in herself that even without any experience with females she'd be able to give you pleasure.

And you didn't doubt that she could, especially if the way you were feeling from just a little touching indicated to how willing your body was toward her. And it would be a lie if you said you'd never had any weird dreams of you and Nesta making out or getting into some real heavy petting. They'd only ever been dreams though with no possibility of becoming real. You never imagined Nesta to be into females, let alone you.

That one word you were able to get out was enough for Nesta to give into her desire and stamp your mouth with a searing kiss. She tasted sweet, so sweet that you wouldn't mind suffocating in the taste of her lips. You never wanted her to stop kissing you. She was all the oxygen you required. Her touches would be enough to keep you sustained for days. You feel yourself becoming drunk all over again, just off of Nesta. She definitely kissed better than any man you'd tasted before. Her lips were definitely softer although her kiss was on the more passionate side. Her kiss held the power of whatever she had stolen from the Cauldron. When she pulls away you're admittedly left delirious.

You're pleased to see that even Nesta's cheeks are radiantly pink as were her newly pointed fae ears. Even she trembled from the intensity of finally giving into her month's long desire. You desire to know how long she'd thought about doing that to you. Or was it simply a spur of the moment thing?

She touches her fingers to her lips, as if to replay the whole thing and reassure what had happened was real.

In seconds she has your lips captured once more, leaning into you with her lean body. She's like a wild cat now that she has grown more confident. You let her do what she wished with you. Falling into her grabby hands that held onto your hips and falling in love with the way she moaned against your mouth. You drank it up greedily and tentative bravery had you placing your own hands on her hips. She freezes but only for a millisecond before continuing with her experimental groping.

Mother above, Nesta's waist was so slim yet her ass was well worked and possessed plenty of muscle mass from her exertions with the rest of the valkyrie. You give it a good squeeze and nearly climax from the guttural sound that is ripped from the female above you. That was all you wanted to hear, morning, noon and night you wanted to hear more of Nesta's moans that were made because of YOU. Your hands scramble for the under curve of her ass cheeks and do the same but while also pressing her closer to you. Slightly she starts to grind against you making you go crazier for her contact. There was a morbid moment where you wanted her to take a bite of your flesh, to get as close to her as was possible.

It's you this time who breaks away from the kiss to throw your head back and moan. She takes this opportunity to rip the front of your dress, her new strength even startles her when it proved to be an easy task. With the action, she frees your tits and by instinct her mouth latches onto your breast. How was it that she made you feel like you were on fire? Like your very veins were melting and your blood as searing as lava. You wanted to combust and Nesta hadn't really touched the part of you that you wanted her to. Her lips make a trail of sharp kisses and nips from your breasts, down your torso until she reaches the extra tender skin of your pelvis. The hair from her immaculate bun is coming loose causing locks of her hair to come free and bounce around her face.

A bad decision on your part for daring to open your eyes and look at her face. No man had ever looked at you the way Nesta did. If she wanted to break you, you would absolutely let her. At that point you would let her do anything to you as long as she kept kissing you with that scorching gaze of her's.

And still she continued her journey further down.

You were a gaping idiot at that point when her nose nuzzles the base of your pubis.

At this Nesta frowns and you're worried that it's something to do with you when she professes "I've. . . never actually done this." That must have taken all of Nesta's courage to utter.

"M-Me neither. I. . . It's okay." You offer her the upward curve of your lips. You move a few of her hair strands away from her face so you could truly admire her. Her skin was smooth like cream and just as silky when your palm strokes her cheek.

Oh.

Your words were like a hammer to a piece of glass. Her face, you'd never seen her quite that naked in her emotions. You felt it from just that simple caress.

Nesta gathers control of herself once more but her smile is beautiful when she kisses the soft inside of your thigh.

Never had you been more grateful to regularly keeping yourself trimmed down there than in that moment. She dives in with her tongue, the eagerness makes you jolt but soon you melt back into your couch cushions. At first her licks are tentative with the tip of her tongue, but once she got a taste of you, you were a goner.

You squeal and arch your back off of the couch. The vibrations of her groans shake you to the core. Using the flat of her tongue she tongues broad laps with her wet muscle. You bit back any noise that would have come flying out. If it had slipped out it would have been absolutely obscene. The urge to buck your hips is a frantic one but Nesta has a controlling hand pressed down on your pelvis to prevent you from moving. You were stuck in her web and at her mercy. Had she really never been with a female before? From the way she was eating you out you found that hard to believe. Even the males who had gone down on you had never made you a sobbing mess in mere minutes. Yet that's where you were right now. Whimpering and crying out to Nesta especially when her lips find your clit and she begins to suckle at it. She took your small bead, rolling her tongue around it occasional before she started sucking again. Now she'd involved her fingers as they prod at your wet opening. Her finger sinks into you with ease.

Nesta is lost in her own little world. She's determined to fill all of her senses with you. To immerse hers hearing with the sound of your moans and the wet noises she made with her mouth on your cunt. All she wanted to touch was your hot skin under her. All she wanted to see was you keening against her every caress. Your lewd blush that spread from your chest and all the way to your face lets Nesta know that you're about ready to explode from her ministrations. Squirming thighs that suddenly seize and quake around her head has her licking and fingering you more furiously. She read each of your cues perfectly. If she sensed that you wanted her to speed up, she did so or if you wanted more intensity, she stuck another slim finger inside of you and started to pump them in and out. No male she'd taken to bed had ever orgasmed as pretty as you did.

Your undoing was a work of art as the coil inside of you had strung so tightly that it snapped. A cry rips from you as the pleasure Nesta gave you drags you down into the depths of your climax. She shows no sign of slowing down even as you're gripping onto her hair and pressing her face closer to your pussy, as if that was possible. A sick part of you wants her to suffocate as well, to be just as swept up in your ecstasy. You want this moment to be the beginning and end of everything. Selfishly you think you don't ever want her to give this to anyone else. Just for you.

You rock your hips back and forth, riding out the last spasms against Nesta's face. Finally, she slows her licks and slowly retracts herself from you. You let out a disappointed whine, half afraid that she would leave now.

Heavily panting, Nesta uses the back of her arm to wipe at her glistening face. You'd made quite the mess on her and you will yourself to feel any ounce of shame. Instead you feel a funny bit of pride. Especially when her striking eyes still haven't left your face.

Now you're grateful for the glass of water she had brought you earlier. From all of your screams and moans, your throat was parched and nothing sounds better than a cold glass of water.

Nesta seemed to be thinking the same thing because she grabbed it before you could even reach over to your coffee table. She takes a long gulp first before generously handing it over to you. You chuckle. Well, she did do a lot more work than you had. She deserved the first sip.

A comfortable quiet wraps the both of you up better than any blanket could. Questions buzz incessantly through your mind but the only one to be loudly expressed was "Did I taste good?"

Your partner burst out laughing. You didn't think it warranted that loud of a laugh but you smile regardless. Any time you were able to make Nesta laugh, whether intentional or not, was a win in your books. "Could you not tell?"

The heat still hasn't left your face when you nod your head. "I...It sounded like you did."

"You were delicious." Nesta tells you seriously this time that it's you whose laughing now. She stretches her body across you languidly.

However, you flip her so now she's the one on the bottom and you on top. She looks stunned for sure as she blinks up at you with owlish eyes. You grin before kissing her.

"Well now I gotta have a taste of you." Even though you were sobering up well, you had your newfound confidence egging you on. You wanted to be the one to taste and touch.

Nesta is hesitant to let you be the one in control but complies and adjusts under you so that the both of you could still be liplocked as Nesta assists you in removing her skirt. It was a tight pencil cut that really showed off her amazing figure. Her teeth nip lovingly at your lips, the nails on her fingers rake against your bare thighs. Her proud and beautiful face all your's now to admire. This was a new side of her that you were enjoying very much. Full lips possessing small bite marks from your own excited bites.

Diving your face to her exposed neck, you bit the vulnerable skin there and she thrusts her hips in an upward motion. You lick the juncture of her neck and jaw before biting down and suctioning a small circle of skin like she had down with your clit. There will be a mark when you were finished. Possibly several by the end of the night but this would be the first of many. You pull your head up to admire your work. A lovely purple and red circle was blooming onto her peaches and cream skin.

Your fingers toy with the edge of the blouse she wore. With coy (e/c) eyes, you look down at her. "Can I?"

She smirks and nods, keeping her attention centered on your fingers as they pop open the many front buttons. When you got to the swell of her tits, you gulp suddenly finding yourself nervous. Slowly they pop each one open to reveal her mauve lace bra that holds up her well endowed breasts. You squeeze your arm under Nesta so you could unhook the back of her bra with a quick pinch. Immediately, her brassiere loosens in the front to where you could finally remove it from her being. Your hands cup under her breasts to weigh them in her hands. She had the definition of abs on her torso as she flexes due to your touch. Was her mortal body as perfect as this one? Yes, most likely.

From her heated eyes, she delighted in your gaze revering her body like a temple. And as any fervent devotee you bow before her. You worship first her thighs as she had done with you. Already you can smell her want and desire from her core, she parts her legs for easier access. You couldn't inhale her essence enough. Now that you were up close and personal with her beautifully pink pussy, you ignore her annoyed hand trying to pull your face back into her. With the softest touch, you part her lower lips to examine the glistening folds. Petting the outer lips with a feather light stroke. The muscles in her thighs have small tremors running through them. Nearly sighing at the sight, you slide your finger between her creases and grin at how wet she was. You gather her slick with your finger and use it to make small, smooth circles over her clit. All of your movements were of the barest pressure which makes her furiously buck against you for more traction. Could you be blamed for wanting to take your time in memorizing her? You didn't know what tomorrow would be like, if regret would curdle when the both of you woke up. That was if Nesta was even going to sleep over. It could be a simple one night stand where neither of you talk about it ever again. For now you'd take extra care to remember what you could.

You give her lower lips the softest of kisses that has her writhing. Nesta's fingers find your (h/c) hair and twist your locks around them for any kind of support as you were sending her mind spiraling. Nesta's past lovers probably had not been as generous as you. From what she'd shared with you, most of her illicit relations were done when she was black out drunk and didn't remember much the next day. Pleasure wasn't something she was looking for, only something to numb her brain and make her forget. You'd make up for the foolishness of males before you. Make her acknowledge that there should be no one else but you when it came to pleasuring Nesta.

Surprising her when you finally delve your tongue inside of her, Nesta's cry has you getting wet between your legs all over again.

Cauldron help you. Was this how you'd tasted to her?

Nesta was absolutely divine in taste. How was it possible for anything to taste as sweet as Nesta? No cock you had ever sucked could compare to the flavors that assault your tongue as you tongue fuck her in between kitten licks and paying attention to the swelling bead above.

Her thighs bracket either sides of your face and she clamps down on you without mercy. That was alright with you. If you died between her legs, it would be the most honorable death you could think of. Your fingers still had her wet lips pulled apart so you could fully consume her.

Breathing became inconsequential. Your lightheadedness was a ramification that prohibited you from noticing the thighs squishing your head were a seizing mess as Nesta came quite quickly, much faster than you had when she was eating you out. You didn't notice the impercetible jerks of her body as her climax ebbed and subsided.

Only when her legs slacken off to the sides and she's pulling your face up do you see her bright red face, her panting chest that made her tits move up and down. With her hand still buried in your hair, she pulls you up her body and smashes her lips into your's. Your face is still a mess from your meal but it didn't seem of concern to Nesta as she's sticking her tongue inside of your mouth. She must have tasted herself on you. It would be impossible.

Deliriously you kiss her back, still trying to get oxygen back into your brain.

Your living room is filled with your combined panting and Nesta's.

Weakly, you lay your head on her chest and her hand on your hair softens as she begins to pet it back into place. "You came really fast."

Nesta chuckles, making your head bob as she did so. "I've had little patience for males lately. It's been a while."

For neither of you having been with a female before, you'd say it was a success.

With a content sigh, you nuzzle your face between her breasts. "Well I guess that's good for me."

"Good for us." Nesta corrects before pushing herself off and out from under you.

Disappointment has your heart dropping to your stomach. Oh, you suppose since she'd had her's, it was time for her to leave.

Sullenly you sit up, ignoring the state of your undress to watch her.

Instead of putting her clothes back on and heading to the front door, she's making her leisurely way to your bedroom and casts a glance over her shoulder. "It's late. Lets go to bed." Nesta's face is uncharacteristically soft as she beckons you to follow her.

You couldn't move fast enough off the couch.

[ganymedesbussy]

idea: tailor Aziraphale

YOU KNEW IT WAS COMING

Now he's doing custom work tho for Rich But Touch Starved Crowley whose usual person is gone for Reasons

and normally he just emails measurements and it's Fine, but Mr. Fell insists on in-person fittings and draftings

"If you're looking for prêt-à-porter, my dear, there are a thousand stores you can go to. If you want a real, bespoke suit, though, you will show up at nine o clock on the dot."

"Mr. Crowley, while I understand that you are very wealthy and important and an expert in your field, please understand that I am also an expert in mine, and I know exactly what my time is worth, both in terms of money and of respect. If you will not provide the latter, there is no amount of the former that will suffice."

"Mr. Crowley, please remove the cucumber from your trousers before our fitting, unless you pan on wearing it to [event]?"

"to which side does sir dress? Ah, strike that. I see from here that your last tailor wasn't as exacting as I am"

HE GOES TO REMOVE THE """CUCUMBER"""

“Yes, yes, very funny, you’re not the first to-- oh”

A good tailor will cut to adjust for and disguise the side to which sir dresses

Crowley: "Is it possible to do the opposite of that?

Crowley asks for wang-emphasizing pants, Aziraphale snorts, it's the first time Crowley's made him laugh

oh, so he goes in for like a Traditional Men's Suit for some event, and then like

then he starts coming back for more gender-neutral stuff and tailoring female-coded clothes to fit him

He brings a dress for alterations and Aziraphale huffs. Crowley's all "oh no, he's gonna judge and be mean" but it's just that Aziraphale feels he can do better working from scratch

"That will hang off you terribly, you haven't accounted for your frame at all."

"That neckline is all wrong for you, your collarbones are entirely too lovely to go hiding them like that."

"Now, you need it when? Hmm. Well, I hope you don't have anything scheduled for the rest of the night."

"What do you mean you don't have any foundation garments -- you simply can't get the silhouette you desire with out at least a slip."

god, just Aziraphale casually manhandling him to test range of motion and how things lay

also also Aziraphale making him lingerie

"I do so love to see you in me, darling. I mean, wearing me. I mean, my work. Oh bother"

"You've had me on my feet all day, the least you can do is let me rest on my back when you fuck me."

Crowley in a front-lacing corset of some kind Aziraphale holding on to the laces while getting fucked Back lacing corset and fucking Crowley whilst holding the laces

Ok, so Crowley is getting laced in for the first time. Aziraphale shoves him forward and then jerks the laces back to get a good pull. Crowley makes A Noise and Aziraphale reacts

just just leans in a little and whispers good boy

that should happen at some point after Crowley has already had a full boner around him

You get some strength kink with the rough lacing. Maybe crowley asks to be laced very tight

and a little bit of lightheadedness maybe OH SHIT AZIRAPHALE'S FOREARMS

You gotta be unlaced slowly and gradually after being tightly laced like that or you'll take too deep a breath and possibly pass out

Az is internally like “ok I thought he WAS a colossal prick but turns out he HAS a colossal prick and my new mission is to get that inside of me”

then later he's like 'oh it's both'

"I do custom tailoring in Soho, my dear. I've worked as often in leather as wool."

[separatist-apologist]

A Fragile Little Flame

I know places we won't be found

Summary: Cassian has survived two wars and knows a thing or two about going up against a powerful adversary.

Nothing can prepare him for Nesta Archeron

Read more: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | AO3

Nesta never told Cassian what sent her dissolving into tears. He was reasonably certain it hadn’t been his cock or his touch, and so he’d merely scooped her up, dried her off, and put her into his bed. His mate was soft—no one understood that. All they saw was her icy exterior and assumed she was made of nothing else. 

She settled sometime in the night, soothed to sleep by his fingers caressing her long hair. Cassian couldn’t, though. All he could think of was her impending engagement and how badly he wanted to rescue her from that cruel, cold male. She’d asked him not to kill Tomas and Cassian was a male of his word.

To a point.

He was not giving Nesta to another male. Not in this life, not even if she hated him for it. He didn’t care about her sister’s marriage or if it enraged the town below. Not when the others kidnapped their mates so casually and certainly not so his own mate could live a short, brutal life filled with suffering.

She’d suffered enough. 

Cassian just needed a plan. It kept him up all night, hardly ready for Azriel and Nesta’s friends that would be descending later that day. He liked to help the females train, if only to watch Nesta drop into a multitude of squats. Back when she’d first started, it had been the only way Nesta would let him look at her body—encased in pants, no less—and occasionally let him touch her to correct her form. 

Now he could wake her with a kiss, if he liked. And Cassian liked that very much. Nesta blinked open those silvery blue eyes and Cassian stole another kiss, just because he could.

“Are you hungry?” he asked her.

Nesta nodded, swallowing hard. “I ah…Cassian?”

“Yes?” He rose from bed, still as naked as the night before, to dig out some pants and feed her. 

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be,” he interrupted quickly. He didn’t want to hear her apologize to him. Not then, not ever. “Az is bringing Gwyn and Emerie up today.”

“And Feyre? Have…have you heard anything about her?”

He shook his head. “I’ll speak to Rhysand. I’m sure he’s watching her.”

“Why doesn’t he just…” Nesta gestured around her. “Kidnap her?”

“Is that what you want? Our king to steal your sister and make her his bride?” He hadn’t meant to sound judgemental and yet it was clear that was how Nesta had taken his words. Her whole body sharpened, lips parting with anger.

“That’s what you did,” she snapped. “And Azriel. And Lucien and that terrible dragon prince, too. Why should she expect anything different?”

“Nes—”

“I want to know why you can drag me up here but Feyre—”

“Stop it!” Cassian whispered, his whole body on edge. He didn’t want to fight her. Not when he still had the taste of her burned in his mouth. “If you wish to go back, I’ll take you back.”

It was a lie. He was merely calling her bluff, certain Nesta was just frustrated that she would be forced into a terrible marriage because Rhysand was unwilling to risk the wrath of another of his human lords.

Nesta didn’t back down. “Yeah, Cassian? You’ll let another male bed me—”

“I’ll kill him,” Cassian whispered, crossing the room until there was only an inch of space between them. “I’ll kill him, and I’ll take a long time doing it. Is that what you want to hear, Nesta? That I have no intention of giving you up?”

She reached for his neck, surging forward on her tiptoes for a near violent kiss. Cassian snarled against her lips without meaning to. Instinct was riding him hard, was begging him to claim his mate. He needed to be inside her, to fuck her until she didn’t care if Tomas lived or died.

He pushed her back to the bed too roughly, hands skimming over her flesh as he tore at her nightgown. Nesta didn’t care, legs hooked around his waist so she could feel his erection pressed against her. He didn’t have the will not to notch himself against her slick entrance and certainly not to push himself an inch—just an inch—so he could feel if she was as tight as he remembered.

Nesta gasped, her back arching into his chest. Her nails, sharp enough to be talons, sliced down his arms until he scented the salty, coppery tang of blood in the air. He pushed again, daring another inch.

It was all Cassian got.

“Nesta?” Gwyn’s voice called distantly in the house and too late, Cassian knew Azriel must have realized what was happening. Had ordered his mate to call out to them, to announce their presence.

Nesta scrambled from beneath him, pulling herself away before he could sink into her wet, warm cunt. He didn’t move, falling face first into his pillow. She said nothing at all, either, though he heard her pause at the door to look at him. He didn’t dare look back—Cassian knew he’d push her against the wall and fuck her stupid if he did. His cock throbbed from the tease of her body, pulsating with unmet need.

Only when Nesta was gone did Cassian force himself upwards and into the bathroom. Azriel would understand what kept him and could start without him. Cassian needed to ask Azriel how he’d withstood Gwyn’s hesitations while sleeping in the same bed beside her each night because Cassian was going insane. 

He wrapped his hand around his cock and gave himself a near unwilling stroke. It was wrong to touch himself when he could still feel the silken head of her gripping the head of him. Every inch of him rebelled. It wasn’t in their nature to deny mates this way or wait so long. Females were claimed and quickly lest another male thought to take her for themselves. Cassian had been waiting for months, well aware instinct did not drive Nesta at all. Humans had bred those urges out centuries ago. 

He dragged his hand over his cock again, pleasure pooling in his gut. He could get through the day, he rationalized. Just one day and then he’d have her at night. That thought drove his pumping hand, pulling him upwards towards release. Cassian came with a grunt, still stroking until he’d alleviated enough of his ache to force himself into pants. He suspected it would not be the first—or the last—time he jerked himself that day. 

He met Azriel on the training grounds. They hadn’t been there in ages, so long that Cassian suspected Azriel’s hesitance was to the memories of being a younger male working with those who’d long since died. Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie were going through their stretches, each of them in the tight leathers Azriel had gifted. 

“Only thing that’s missing is Rhys,” Azriel murmured, eyes cutting towards Cassian. “Any chance he’ll join?”

“Unlikely,” Cassian replied. “Not yet, anyway.”

Azriel nodded. “Maybe if the younger sister comes up.”

Cassian’s head snapped towards his friend. “How do you know about that?”

Azriel inclined his own towards the females. “They talk loudly. Nesta wanted to know if Feyre could stay with Emerie.”

“And?”

“Of course she can. Have you considered bringing Elain up. Just long enough to entice her into Windhaven?”

Cassian and Azriel exchanged a look. Neither of them wanted the feral Lucien back in their city. “Maybe.”

“There’s another way,” Azriel murmured, so quiet Cassian might have thought it was the wind itself whispering to him. “How much does she know about accepting the bond between you?”

Cassian’s eyes snapped to Azriel’s face. “She’d kill me.”

A soft smirk graced his brother’s face. “Are you sure? Because she smells like—”

“Okay, alright,” Cassian grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. “Keep that to yourself.”

“Give her your scales,” Azriel murmured softly. “And kidnap the sister.”

“Are you insane?” Cassian whispered, yanking Azriel by the arm to pull him further from the ring. “Rhysand—”

“Would thank us,” Azriel interrupted, eyes flashing. “If it meant getting her out of that wretched, filthy city. 

“Nesta would not.”

Azriel only shrugged. “She’d forgive you eventually.”

Cassian wasn’t given a chance to respond. The girls began cajoling them to come back, demanding to know what they were whispering about. Guilt slid through Cassian’s stomach as he faced down Nesta. Lovely, nervous Nesta.

She might forgive him—but Cassian didn’t think he ever would.

NESTA:

“So,” Gwyn began, hands jammed in her pockets. “Cassian is looking feral.”

“Is he?” Nesta replied, her boots crunching through snow. She was still trapped up in the mountainside palace, though it felt less lonely with Gwyn and Emerie. The three, finished with their lessons, meandered the snowy courtyard rather than retreat back to the males. Azriel and Cassian offered the illusion of privacy indoors, and actually privacy outdoors.

Nesta needed it. After their near miss that morning, the cold kept her from crawling into his lap and finishing what they’d started. And then what? Then Cassian would know exactly how she felt and what she wanted and he’d hold all the power. No, Nesta needed the upper hand somehow. If she was going to do it, Cassian had to understand it was meaningless to her. That it changed nothing. 

No matter how much of a lie that was. 

Emerie pulled Nesta from her thoughts, knocking shoulders. “Oh, come on. The general lost to Azriel.”

“So what?” Nesta retorted, crossing her arms over her chest. But she knew the problem with that. Why her friends found it strange. Cassian was the general. Of them all, there was no one better with a sword, at casual combat. Cassian ought to have bested Azriel with one hand tied behind his back, a blindfold against his eyes.

Nesta knew exactly what was on Cassian’s mind. She could still feel the phantom touch of his cock pushing into her body. Nesta had to resist the urge to clench her legs, to wiggle even as she walked in an effort to alleviate the ache. 

“Right,” Gwyn laughed. “You’re such a bad liar, Nes.”“What have I lied about?”Gwyn rounded on Nesta so quickly that Nesta nearly went tumbling ass-first in the snow. “If I had to guess? Everything.” She pitched her voice an octave higher. “No, Cassian is SOooOOOOOoo awful and I don’t like him at all. Someone, please take me back to the human men—”

“Okay, alright,” Nesta grumbled, annoyed with Emerie’s loud, bright laughter. “I’m glad this is funny to you.”

“It’s not funny,” Gwyn rushed to assure her. “It’s pathetic.”

“What Gwyn means is,” Emerie interrupted, catching Nesta’s anger and heading it off before there was a potential fight, “is we can tell you like Cassian. He likes you. Is that so awful?”

Nesta only shrugged. That was as truthful as she was willing to be for the time being. Was liking Cassian so awful? No…until she had to leave him. Gwyn and Emerie didn’t understand, would never understand the rules Nesta was bound to. Cassian wss merely a distraction until real life caught up to her. 

There was no way out of Tomas without wrecking Feyre’s marriage. A terrible, miserable marriage Nesta was certain Feyre would regret one day. Likely saddled with too many children and a husband who only noticed her when it was time to breed another into her. And Nesta would lose herself, too. Her resentment would swallow her, would finally hollow her out. 

Cassian was waiting in a high-backed, leather chair in the den. He hadn’t wished anyone goodbye, which hadn’t bothered Azriel in the slightest. Nesta went looking until she found him, drinking in his pensive stair. Face tilted towards a frosted window, Cassian’s concern was etched over his handsome face.

She padded towards him nervously, secretly delighted when his hand shot out, snagging her into his lap. Cassian buried her face in her hair, inhaling deeply. “There you are,” he whispered, his hold on her tightening. 

Nesta had to remind herself it was okay to relax. Every inch of her went rigid, so unused to the care he so casually offered. Cassian was tactile, was loose with his affection. No one had ever provided Nesta with even a fraction of his attention and she didn’t know how to accept it. 

She kept waiting for a shoe to drop, to prove he was only acting that way to get something from her. 

Cassian, as if he heard her thoughts, nuzzled his nose behind her ear. “You smell like snow,” he told her before pressing a kiss against her skin. Nesta’s spine locked, keeping her rigid even as his mouth slid lower and lower.

“Cassian, wait,” she whispered, pulling back without pushing off his lap. “What are we doing?”

“Falling in love,” he replied, pulling her chin towards him with two of his fingers. 

Nesta balked, opening her mouth to protest. To hurt him. Cassian was quicker, his lips sliding against her own. She was silenced by the kiss. 

Drowning in the truth of his words. 

Calloused fingers rubbed against the softness of her cheek, creating sweet friction where there normally was none. Nesta relaxed without thinking, twisting to tangle her own hands in the wavy strands of his dark hair. It was enough to convince Cassian to part his lips and deepen the kiss between them.

Familiar urgency overtook Nesta. 

Do this now before you can’t. 

The whispering magic between them snapped, as if Cassian had heard the new color to her thoughts. He pulled back, his hazel eyes narrowed. Nesta didn’t care, too busy mapping the flecks of green against the brown, like stars in the sky. He was so beautiful.

He was hers. 

Connected by some cord only he could feel, woven by fate itself. 

“Where did you go?” he asked, thumbs stroking her cheek. “I lost you for a moment.”

“I’m not yours, Cassian,” Nesta said, forcing the words from her mouth. Even to her trained ears, the words were a lie. Cassian frowned, some brightness flashing over his features.

“You are mine,” he repeated, teeth to her throat. “I’ll prove it.”

Cassian hauled her upwards, strong arms wrapped around her body. She could have forced him to put her down. They both knew he was a slave to her will and always had been. Nesta didn’t want him to let her go. A better person would have begged him to keep her. 

Cassian would have. 

Might still, like he guessed what she wanted, what she couldn’t say. 

He kicked open the door to his bedroom, slamming it shut before placing her against his bed. Cassian didn’t join her like she’d expected, though. Panting roughly, he dragged one of his rough hands through his hair until it was just as wild as he was.

“For five hundred years, I did everything he asked me to,” Cassian began, turning his back to her. He was facing the window again, staring into nothing. “Without complaint, without resentment. I wrecked my very soul keeping it all going. I never asked him for anything.”

He turned then, his eyes suspiciously bright. 

“If I asked him to let me have you, he’d tell me no.”

“That’s not his decision,” Nesta snapped without an ounce of ire. Cassian took a measured step towards her. 

“It is,” he disagreed, “because I don’t give a fuck about your sister's marriage.”

Nesta froze. They were on dangerous ground. It ought to have disturbed her.

His words thrilled her. “What did you say?”

“You heard me,” Cassian dared, taking another too dangerous step towards her. “I don’t give a fuck about your sister's happiness. About her life with that human or my brother or at all.”Nestas hands shook in her lap. “Cassian,” she warned.

“No one puts us first, Nes. We’re soldiers, we do as we’re told. We sacrifice for some unknown future we don’t get ourselves. And I’m tired of it. I want you.”“Cassian,” she tried again, her voice more of a plea. Don’t do this.

She had no defenses for his unchecked vulnerability. For his utter, unguarded honesty. 

He was almost over her, then. Thighs touching the edge of the mattress, his eyes burning with heat. “Aren’t you tired of putting your own feelings last?” he whispered.  

“Cassian, I can’t…” She tried. She tried so hard to finish her sentence. That she had to. That this was what she owed her sister after the failure with their childhood. She could want Cassian until the stars winked out, but that didn’t mean he was for her. No part of him belonged to her and no part of him ever would.

“Say yes, Nes,” Cassian breathed, his breath sweet against her face. 

It was a fantasy.

“Yes,” she replied. She’d break the news to him in the morning. In four mornings. The day of the wedding—she didn’t care. 

“Yes.”

CASSIAN:

She wasn’t agreeing to forever and he knew it. Was a bastard because he fully intended to use those words against her in the morning. Right then, though, Cassian reached for her and she reached for him. The collision was messy—desperate. Her teeth cut his bottom lip, tongue sweeping over the hurt and swallowing the copper salt. Her ferocity made him growl, made him more animal than anything.

He tore at her clothes, slicing through the laces until she was stripped to nothing. Only miles and miles of soft, fair skin and the supple flesh he couldn’t stop dreaming about. She wanted him just as badly, was pushing at his own clothes until Cassian had to stop kissing her to fumble with the straps. 

He managed though he’d never know how. He barely knew himself until Nesta’s hand curled around the base of his cock and dragged him back to her, like she was pulling on a leash. Nesta wasted no time wrapping her legs around him, arms twined over his neck so he was lined against her perfectly. Just like that morning, he could feel the heat pouring from between her parted thighs, could feel the silken wet of her cunt teasing the head of his cock.

He had no control. Kissing like his life was dependent on it, Cassian groped for anything that might steady him. Her breasts weren’t helping, though he couldn’t pretend they didn’t distract him just enough to keep him from plunging straight into her. She made him mindless—desperate. 

“Nes,” he moaned, tugging at the rosy peaks. She bit into his shoulder, the pain arching his back in spite of himself. Nesta ran her fingers over his scales, up and down, up and down. 

“What are you waiting for?” she asked, her hips grinding against his own. It was as if she were trying to slip him in without him realizing it. Like it wasn’t taking every ounce of willpower he possessed from doing just that.

“What happened to practice?” he moaned, his mouth colliding with her own again. 

Bastard. You’re a bastard. 

She would have stopped if she’d known how sharp his fangs were in his mouth. That in the morning, Nesta would be irrevocably branded by his scales, just like her sister. Both sisters, he reminded himself, if only to absolve the prick of guilt he felt. Rhys might let Nesta sacrifice herself in the short term, but Cassian knew he had some long-term strategy for Feyre. 

Knew Lucien would have wrecked the world for Elain.

And Cassian was done pretending he ought to step aside. That she was the throwaway, the sacrifice for everyone else. Damn that fucking human and damn her sisters, too. Cassian’s army obeyed him.

Not Rhys. 

Not anymore. 

Nesta, unaware of his dangerous, seditious line of thinking, had snaked between their writing bodies to grip his cock. She pumped, her hold punishingly tight. Just the way he liked. Cassian was tempted to roll onto his back so she could scratch his belly, too. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, bucking into the touch. “Taste, I need–”

“You need to fill me,” she interrupted, yanking brutally. “Now.”

He was losing his mind. “Nes,” he pleaded, as if he wasn’t rubbing the weeping head of his cock through her cunt. She lifted her hips upwards as an offering. He knew she was using him—getting her first time over with, letting it be with someone who wouldn’t hurt her. A better male would have stopped.

Cassian was still a bastard. Notching himself against her, he lowered his head to lick at the side of her throat. He didn’t know the whole mechanics, had lost the book on such things to Elain. She’d told him once how Lucien had managed it, cheeks burning the entire time. Azriel had refused to say if it had been the same for him. Cock and fangs at the same time, then. Whether that was true, or just instinct that had prompted Lucien to want to do both, his method was now Cassians.

He pushed himself an inch into Nesta, listening to nothing but the frantic thrum of her heart and ragged breathing.

“Tell me if I hurt you,” he ordered, the thought intolerable. 

“Keep going,” she whispered, her eyes fluttering shut. Cassian scraped his fangs over the side of her neck, desperate to taste and feel all of her. His blood pumped through his veins, singing a siren song. 

Mate. Mate. Mate. 

How had he resisted for so long? Cassian pushed again, driving himself in, and in, and in. 

Nesta’s nails dug into his skin, slicing viciously until Cassian all but whimpered. He was nearly there, holding off the last little bit while she adjusted around him. Nesta was bruisingly tight, a silken fist gripping the bare skin of his cock until Cassian was feral with his want. He’d been prepared to give her to another male. Maybe he would have if she’d never expressed any interest. He could have pretended she wasn’t his mate and she meant nothing to him. Up until that moment, Cassian was still half trying to talk himself out of taking her for himself. 

It was a line in the sand. Nesta, he knew, would forgive him. Nesta would be furious in the morning, but calm when she realized she was free. Tha she could do whatever she liked, unburdened by whatever clock ticked loudly in her head. An immortality of time stretched before her. 

Rhys wouldn’t. With the theft of that western princess, and now human lords losing wives, there would be repercussions. Cassian closed his eyes to the thought. Rhys had been given five centuries of peace—might have been given five more had Lucien not fallen in love with human Elain. This was the price of doing nothing. Of letting the humans retain any power at all.

Rhys would pay it.

Not Nesta. 

Cassian thrust that last little bit into her cunt and buried his fangs in her neck. Nesta tightened around him, gasping and arching all at once. If it was pleasure or pain that made her writhe, he didn’t know. Blood filled his mouth while venom poured into her body, connecting them irrevocably. 

“Cassian,” she whimpered, pressing a hand to his chest. He pumped his hips, withdrawing his fangs so he could look down at her. If the little notches from his fangs bruised in her skin phased her, Nesta didn’t say. She held his biceps, whining when he dragged himself back out of her. 

“That’s it,” he praised, licking the hurt until those little red dots were nothing but a faded memory. 

Moving slow was for them both. Cassian was already too close and just as untested as Nesta. If he sped up, he’d come and she wouldn’t. And Cassian desperately needed to feel her fall apart around his cock. He needed to know what it felt like to have her entirely. Her body, her soul, every inch of Nesta, just like she had every inch of him.

And had ever since she’d slammed that iron poker into his face. Cassian was in love with her, maybe from that moment on the floor. Dizzy and half sick, irritated with Elain and her unwillingness to make his life easier, and then all at once, Cassian was gazing into the unsmiling face of an angel. 

“Nesta,” he breathed, the word really a prayer. “Nesta, sweetheart.”

She dragged her nails down the backs of his arms. Each new pump into that wet cunt was ecstasy, was heaven. Cassian pressed the softest kiss against her mouth while wedging his hand between their combined bodies. Searching for that little nub of flesh just as soaked as the rest of her. 

Rubbing tight circles against her flesh provoked an immediate reaction. She gasped, clenching around him. Cassian hadn’t thought it was possible to have any more of her, but Nesta planted her feet on the bed, drawing her knees upward until he was thrusting deeper, was buried to the hilt, and then some. 

“You’re mine, Nesta,” he told her. He needed her to know. Needed her to hear him say it–and know that he meant it. As her hips met his own, matching thrust for thrust, Nesta finally opened those silvery blue eyes. “Say it. Say you’re mine.”

“Mine,” Nesta repeated, restarting his heart with her breathless claim. “You’re mine, Cassian.”

Release gathered along his spine, stuttering his once careful control. Cassian was wild, was desperate, was nothing at all except hers. 

“More, Cassian,” she moaned, arching her back when his thrusts back rough and uncontrolled. He’d been so afraid of hurting her, had been taking things slow in order to show her that he cared. Nesta’s hands slid down his back to grip his ass, nails digging into tender flesh to spur him onward. Cassian lost the last final tether on his sanity, driving mindlessly into her until he felt her break apart. Nesta screamed, shaking the mountains around them with the force of her pleasure. Cassian rolled his neck, eyes sliding into his head. He couldn’t stop himself from coming, his orgasm a blasting, a breaking. He felt reborn, reforged into something wholly hers. 

And when Nesta, still tight around him, the aftershocks of her release still pulsating, said, “Again,” Cassian felt honor bound to obey her.

To do whatever she said.

To replace every ounce of loyalty he’d ever felt to his king and lay it all at her feet.

NESTA:

Nesta woke in the night wrapped up in Cassian’s arms. His face pressed into her hair, his breathing steady. Dawn had to be near, though the room was still bathed in black. They’d been at each other for hours, until there was nothing left in her body at all. She’d taken everything she could get from him with talons and teeth, offering him everything in return. Nesta intended to think of that night until she died. She could pretend Tomas was Cassian. She could, if nothing else, go somewhere safe that was Cassian, even if Tomas occupied her body. 

Nesta swallowed, extracting herself from his grasp. She needed to use the bathroom and then, maybe needed to demand he take her to the village so she could throw herself at Feyre’s feet and beg. Her pride balked at the thought. She couldn’t beg. Not even for herself. 

Especially not for herself. Feyre wanted to ruin her life, well…Nesta was happy to allow it back when they were all human and it seemed like the lord genuinely loved her. Better Feyre than herself, she’d rationalized. 

Nesta swanned into the bathroom, not bothering with a light. A glint from the mirror drew her back, halting her in her tracks. She blinked, trying to make sense of the sight laid before her. Her skin, just as it always had been, save for the ribboning red now draped around her neck. 

Scales.

The same as the gold her sister wore.

The same wrapped around Gwyn.

Nesta, gripped the edge of the sink, fumbling for a light. Nesta’s stomach splattered wetly at her feet. She’d forgotten, in the bliss of being with him, that Cassian had bitten her. She’d been momentarily paralyzed, so confused by the conflicting sensations she hadn’t truly registered it. Nesta touched, expecting cool, dry scales.

Her skin, only marked.

Branded.

“Cassian,” she gasped, unsure if she hated him or she loved him. There was no hiding what he’d done. No covering it up, no way she could complete her engagement now. Everyone would know what she was and who she belonged to on sight.

Palpable relief cascaded through her, mixing with her dread. Feyre would be ruined. 

“Cassian!”

He came thundering in a moment later, eyes wild with fear. “What is it? What’s…” he trailed off, eyes finding the red around her neck. Nesta was going to pummel him. Far from looking shamed for apologetic, Cassian’s golden brown skin warmed with pink. His lips parted with a visible wow, his eyes so disturbingly awed that she couldn’t resist smacking him in his bare stomach. She didn’t think he even registered it.

“You look—”

“I look all wrong, Cassian!” she interrupted impatiently. “Everyone is going to know!”

Still no apology. Only a defensive crossing of his arms. “So?”

Nesta was going to murder him. “So?” she whispered, noting how he took a careful step backward. “I told you—”

“That I was yours,” he interrupted, his temper getting the better of him. “Mine. I am yours, and you are mine.”

“I didn’t mean it!” Nesta shrieked, the lie oily and foul on her tongue. She’d never meant anything more. 

Cassian’s devastation was plain. For a moment there was nothing but an ocean of silence between them. Her anger and his despair made building a bridge impossible. Nesta didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to express that she was knee-wobbingly grateful he’d done something to try and protect her, and was furious with herself that she’d even needed it in the first place. 

Cassian blinked away what Nesta suspected might be gathering tears. Setting his mouth in a hard line and ignoring that the pair of them were both facing off in the dark utterly naked, she braced herself for his anger.

His hurt. 

“I’m not sorry.”

The words lingered between them, ringing in the air.

“As long as you get what you want, right?” she whispered, well aware it was an unfair accusation to level against him. 

“What I want?” he whispered, running a hand through his wild hair.

“Yeah, Cassian. What you want. I told you–”

“Undo it, then,” he said as if he couldn’t stand to hear her say it. Every inch of him looked defeated. Deflated. Like a man who had tried over and over, battering himself against a rock that would not break. 

She was doing that to him and for what? So Tomas could break her? So she could spend the rest of her life missing him? Wishing she was with him? 

“I’ll go to Rhys, I’ll—” a muscle worked furiously in his jaw. He couldn’t make himself say it. This was supposed to be a good thing between them and she had the sense she was ruining it. Nesta wrapped her arms around her trembling body to keep herself from falling to the floor. She opened her mouth, intending very much to say good, that’s what I want. 

“Don’t leave me,” she whispered instead. 

Cassian crossed the unbridgeable ocean like it was nothing. As if he had no pride left to wound, no shame at all. He held her against his warm, strong body, face buried in hair.

“What about you, Nes? Can’t I take care of you like you took care of them?”

“I don’t need to be taken care of,” Nesta said, lips against his skin. She was a liar and they both knew it. She didn’t want to need that. No one had ever offered, and Nesta had spent her whole life lying to herself that she didn’t need to be, anyway. Elain was fragile, Feyre was impulsive. They needed someone to keep watch, to manage the estate, to look after their best interests, even when they disagreed.

And neither of them had ever looked back and wondered if she needed the same. 

Cassian’s hand stroked up and done her spine. “Feyre–”

“If he loves her, who gives a fuck?” Cassian whispered, kissing the top of her head. “I’d take you in any scenario, under any conditions.”

She was going to start sobbing. Nesta pressed closer, arms tucked against his chest. “And Rhys?”

Cassian’s whole body went stiff. “Fuck him, too.”

“So what, Cassian? You…you damn everyone? For me?” Her tone very much implied the rational conclusion—she was not worth so much effort. Cassian would agree just as any sane person would. Would come to his senses, would realize the futility of having her. Red ribbon of scales or not.

Before he could say so, Nesta offered him an out. “We could still see each other. In secret, when we could It doesn’t…it wouldn’t have to be—”

“I don’t care about Rhysand or his policies. His peace, his realm, his rule. And I don’t care about your sisters or their mates. I don’t care if Elain is happy and I certainly don’t care if Feyre is allowed to marry the worst human male your kind has to offer just to spite Rhys.”

Her heart thudded painfully.

“What do you care about, Cassian?”

He lifted a finger beneath her chin, tilting her face so she had to face him. Hazel eyes burned not with lust or need, but with the sort of unwavering conviction she’d wanted to see her entire life.

Love.

“You,” he said with no hesitation. No fear, no uncertainty. “My mate. This city, this army is mine. And I am yours.”

Nesta shivered.

“Say yes, Nes. Be selfish. Take something for yourself without all this guilt. Let me worry about everything else.”

“And if it's war?” she demanded. Where was his limit? Where was wanting her too much?

Cassian’s grin was savage in its delight. “I’m owed five centuries of vengeance, Nesta.” 

Nesta didn’t dare let herself wonder if she was taking this too far. If she ought to step back, if only to prevent people from being harmed. 

“And me?”

“I want you,” Cassian clarified softly. “Do you think if Rhys or Lucien or Azriel were offered the same choice, they wouldn’t make it in a heartbeat?”

“I…” her voice trailed off.

“If you don’t want me, that's one thing. But if you do…I’m yours, Nesta. I always have been, and I always will be. Leaving me won’t change that.”

“Do you swear it?”

“On my life.”

CASSIAN:

Cassian left Nesta with Gwyn and Azriel, ignoring the questioning look his brother gave him. He knew what Azriel was wondering—Nesta would fill them in. She’d tell them what a bastard he was, how he’d forced his scales on her. Wrecked all her plans. Azriel could huff and chastise, but he didn’t know what Cassian did, which was how good Nesta’s cunt tasted.

Cassian would have done it again.

Not that day, thought. With Nesta safe in Windhaven, Cassian made his way to Velaris. He wanted to be equivocally clear that the support of his men came with strings. That his continued support came with strings. Rhys wanted Cassian to help track that missing princess, who was likely draped in scales of her own, with pregnancy well on the way. Cassian didn’t pity her at all, having met the terrible male she’d been engaged to. 

Cassian would do as he was asked so long as Nesta was not made to come back to Velaris. Feyre was on her own. Cassian would not line up his soldiers to die if he wasn’t given the assurance that Nesta was safe. 

And that the male who wanted her would have to back down or face Cassian’s unimaginable wrath. He was already too tempted to seek him out, to drag him up to Windhaven and let Nesta dispatch him herself. Every step towards the sprawling palace was an aching protest, forcing instinct to yield and obey.

Rhys was waiting stone faced in the doorway. 

“I suppose congratulations are in order,” he said without a hint of pleasure.

“You should stay out of her head,” Cassian snapped. He knew damn well Rhys wasn’t in his. He’d need to warn Nesta, teach her how to detect that sort of trickery. Elain had fallen prey to it, too. “Have you tried Feyre’s mind?”

Rhys barred his teeth. “You’re a bastard.”

Cassian only shrugged, unable to resist offering a smug, “A bastard with a wife.”

Rhys merely waved him off, gesturing for Cassian to follow him toward the study. Cassian’s muddied boots left little imprints on the marble moonstone, scuffing up Rhys’s nice life just a little.

He couldn’t pretend it didn’t give him some small measure of satisfaction.

Rhys collapsed into his chair with a heavy sigh. “Just another fucking lord who will side himself with Tamlin.”

“I can’t hand her over,” Cassian said, not bothering to sit. He was Rhys’s general and, maybe, the only person who had been unwavering in his loyalty, who believed he was alive. That he’d return. 

Cassian had laid his army back at Rhys’s feet. He was owed.

Rhys worked his jaw, but nodded his head all the same. “It wouldn’t have mattered. He likely would have sided with them if push came to shove. The lords of the city have whipped everyone into a frenzy. They think females are being stolen against their will and forced to breed.”

“Didn’t they hand one of their own over for that exact purpose a few months ago?” 

Rhys rubbed his eyes. “Yes. It’s fine when they brutalize their own females, but not fine if their females grow tired of their cruelty and come looking for something else. If it wasn’t this, it would be something else.”

“How many human females have chosen one of us over…” Cassian had seen precious few in Windhaven, though that didn’t mean they weren’t there.

Rhys scoffed. “Almost none. Elain is in the valley and Arina is fuck knows where. You have Nesta and Azriel that priestess…the missing lords daughter Morrigan is, I assume, in Windhaven as well. All these visible females, with powerful fathers, give the impression there is an epidemic. And now with Nesta, well…”

Cassian was too defensive. Waiting for Rhys to turn his eyes fully to Cassian and demand he give Nesta back. Rhys eyed him with a shrewdness that made Cassian’s spine cold.

“I can trust you, right?”

Cassian offered him a terse nod. 

“I need you to find out what happened with that princess. Don’t bring her back…just…I need to know if she’s safe. Alive,” he added.

“Az can do it,” Cassian murmured. He’d always been better at hiding, at spying. Cassian had no patience for it. 

Rhys nodded.

“I want to put guards in the city. A show of strength. They’re thinking of usurping me.”

“Fine.” Cassian was a soldier. Soldiers obeyed orders…so long as their wives slept safe, far from danger. 

Rhys offered Cassian one more long, careful look. “We’ve known each other a long time,” Rhys began, clearly hedging. Cassian gripped the back of the leather chair he usually occupied in Rhys’s office. The smell of wood and ink-covered parchment burned in his nose. 

“You’re staying in the palace in the mountains, are you not?”

“The House of Wind,” Cassian confirmed solemnly. 

“Still take wings or ten thousand steps to get in or out?” Rhys asked conversationally, drumming his fingers on his desk. 

Cassian hesitated.

“Yes.”

“No way down?”

“Not unless someone cares to brave ten thousand ice coated steps,” Cassian agreed. 

“Good. I want it back.”

“For what purpose?” Cassian demanded, “do you intend to rule us again?”

“Eventually,” Rhys hedged carefully. Cassian was going to bash his face in if he continued to be so evasive. Cassian raised his brows, silently ordering Rhys to explain himself.

“Feyre and I have a…bargain between us. I intend to call it in, just not the way she imagined.”

“By locking her in the House of Wind?” Cassian gaped, as if he hadn’t done the exact same thing. As if it wasn’t working spectacularly for him. 

“Yes,” Rhys agreed without an ounce of remorse. “I want Nesta to stay out of it. This is between Feyre and I.”

“Nesta will have your balls if she finds out,” Cassian declared, though he silently vowed he wouldn’t say a word about it. Not unless Nesta asked, at least. And he wouldn’t interfere…so long as

Nesta, again, didn’t ask him to. He had the feeling Nesta would climb those stairs herself when she found out Feyre was contained atop them.

For Cassian, he merely felt relief. Every hesitation Nesta had around their mating bond revolved around her sisters. He’d take Nesta to see Elain. Let her know Feyre was safe and far away from the male who meant to harm her.

“I want the human lord my mate was engaged to,” Cassian said quickly before Rhys dismissed him wholly. “His assets, too.”

Rhys leaned forward, fingers steepled beneath his jaw. “Oh? For what purpose?”

“I like the taste of blood in my mouth,” Cassian replied casually. “He scares her.”

“And his assets?”

“She likes fine things. Why shouldn’t she have his gold?”

Rhys held his gaze before nodding. “Fine. One human lord is your price for all these years?”

“My price is peace,” Cassian disagreed. “A quiet life with my mate. I’m tired of war, Rhys.”

“I imagine we’ll have to kill more than one human lord to achieve that.”

“Kill them all. Give their titles to Azriel.”

That made Rhys laughed. “Yes, I’m sure he would enjoy that.”

“Peace will bloody. It would be nice to have a friend with me…I feel your resentment, Cassian.”

Cassian couldn’t deny it. Wouldn’t deny it. “Five hundred years is a long time to say nothing.”

Rhys nodded. “I hope to explain one day. For now, though…Nesta remains and you will continue to offer support?”

“I won’t abandon you.”

Like you did me, was the unspoken words hanging between them. It would take more than the promise of one messy, bloody death to fix what was broken between them.

Still. Cassian had Nesta. He’d have a family. What did Rhys have, other than a crumbling kingdom and his regrets? 

Cassian inclined his head, a smile dancing over his lips. “Tell me when,” he murmured, turning his back to his king.

And walked straight back to his mate.

[aelingalathyniusrailme]

gwynriel appreciation week-day 5

au day

Pirate headcanons

They start out as rival captains of their own ships

Gwyn’s ship is called the silver majesty. gwyn used to work for the crown but went rogue and took her crew with her. She kept the name. But don’t be fooled by it’s cuteness because her crew is as cut throat as they come

what they lack in resources, they make up for in ruthlessness and determination  

Azriel’s ship is called the shadowsinger. His boat is dark as night and if they don’t want to be found, you could scour the entire world and won’t find a damn thing

they are clever and brutal. they do not make mistakes and when they hit, they hit fast and hard 

Gwyn’s first mate is Nesta: the strategist with a grudge. She’s the fire of the group. you do not cross nesta, And her quarter master is Emerie: the responsible rock of the group with a secret vicious side. emerie always has been the most creative. Gwyn is the captain. She won her crew and position through sheer will. Gwyn is the glue that holds them together

Azriel’s first mate is Rhys: he’s cold and calculating. Always thinking, always plotting. And his quarter master is Cassian: he provides the brute force. You need to get rid of someone, cassians your guy, for the right price of course. he is the friendliest of them all. Azriel is the captain: azriel is lethal and quiet. He lets Rhys and Cassian deal with the rest of the crew while he acts as the mysterious captain with secrets for days. He keeps his position because he never fails to provide. Azriel’s got grit and a way of knowing everything that goes around him. 

The silver majesty and The shadowsinger have crossed paths only once before when they both cost each other a job

To gwyn, the shadowsinger is a myth just as the silver majesty is a legend to azriel. Neither knew that they had crossed paths. But they both vowed when they found the ship that ruined that job, they would get revenge.

both respect the other as the second best in the business

Gwyn docks her ship in the summer court. There she takes her crew to a bar. 

they walk in, a bunch of scary ass pirate ladies and everyone turns away, not wanting to draw their attention 

Gwyn walks to the counter with Emerie and Nesta in tow. She asks for a women named Mor. 

Mor is the sweet blonde bar tender. Although she has been known to hear things she shouldn’t and well gwyn may or may not pay for that information 

“What do you got for me blondie” 

“I got a lot of things, depends what you want” mor looked her up and down and smirked. 

“maybe later, you hear anything since the last time we were around?”

“Maybe I have, Maybe I haven’t” 

Gwyn knows to be patient with her, they continue this back and forth for a couple minutes before finally mor mentions she been hearing of possibly the biggest hall they ever came across. but it’s hidden and you need the map to get there. and it is very possible that mor has someone willing to trade for the map. 

I’m just going to cut to the chase, she stalls the buyer (his name is tamlin) with pretty words and false promises while nesta and emerie steal it 

They get back to the silver majesty triumphant and drunk as fuck

But then they realize, the map is blank. Nesta has already pulled out her two katanas and is ready to start slitting throats. specifically tamlin

emerie has yanked her daggers from their sheaths and is halfway out the door

but gwyn holds them off. she examines the map more closely, she has a hunch but she need to meet with another acquaintance first

The silver majesty makes the rough trip to the dreaded spring court. terrible place. truly terrible. said to be haunted. 

They find elain archeron in her manor. it is overgrown with plants but gwyn knows she likes it that way. Elain is a witch but her gifts tend to fall into the prophecy sort. Nesta stays a step behind, refusing to look at her sister. 

“Hello sister, sister’s friends” nesta grits her teeth ready to bite but gwyn hushes her. 

“Witch” 

“Seer” Elain corrects. “Witch has such an awful stigma around it, it’s bad for business. but seer has the perfect balance of ‘I can tell you your future but you shouldn’t fear me’ brings in a lot more people this way.”

“so let me guess, you need my help for a certain treasure I’ve heard about recently” 

“guessing games aren’t fun when you can see the future but yes” 

“ah my dear-”

gwyn cut her off “I am older than you”

“Gwyneth, sweetie, the wise witch persona brings in business” Gwyn refrained from rolling her eyes, out of all the batshit crazy people she had to deal with, her first mate’s sister was by far the worst. 

it didn’t help that they used to date and everything gwyn used to find endearing now pissed her off

Elain brought out a pearlescent ball, she put her hands over it in a dramatic spectacle. Gwyn knew she didn’t actually need the whole get up but Elain lived for the performance so she let it slide. Her eyes began to change, one glowed a bright white while the other was pitch black.

Emerie shifted uncomfortably. She never did like magic. minutes passed before  Elain’s eyes went back to normal and she regained consciousness

“Name your price Seer” 

“I want one day with my sisters”

Nesta snapped to attention. her voice was cold, soft but lethal “did you say sister or sisters”

Elain to her credit did not flinch “yes feyre is here, it was just a happy coincidence that you both came today.” Elain winked. but they all knew nothing was ever a coincidence with the walking oracle. 

Gwyn looked at Nesta. Silently they conversed. Elain waited patiently while Gwyn tried to convince nesta to take the deal. finally they came to a conclusion

“One hour, I will spend one hour with you and her” Feyre was an assassin for the crown. Gwyn didn’t know how someone who murdered for a living could be so righteous but the archeron sisters were something else. The silver majesty spent a lot of time with her before they abandoned post and well feyre and nesta have never gotten along. but the falling out was not pretty. they haven’t spoken since 

“leave the katanas, If I get one hour with my sisters it will not be spent fighting” 

nesta begrudgingly disarmed and handed her legendary swords to emerie. “take care of my babies” 

“not a scratch” emerie said with a mock solute 

....

exactly one hour later nesta came back to the ship alone. Nothing shook her second and yet nesta’s eyes were wide. 

“well what do we need?”

“Not what, who”

“we need a myth. we need a pirate folktale. we need”

“The shadow singer” emerie finished with a whisper. an eeriness spread over the ship at the mention of that name. Shit, they were in such deep shit. 

Honorary headcanon but no scene: gwyn and az get down and dirty on a boat. I’ll let you guys imagine the rest. (though there is a chance I will get back to this and write it out)

[redisriding]

The Right Swipe - Chapter Eight

A Court of Thorns and Roses Modern AU Fanfic

All character’s belong to the wonderful Sarah J Maas.

Tags: @superspiritfestival @duskandstarlight @perseusannabeth @courtofjurdan @omg-aelin @keshavomit​ @rainbowcheetah512 @queenestarcheron @mis-lil-red @queen-of-glass​

Cassian sat in his truck, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music playing on the radio. It was some classic rock channel that his truck had picked up on the drive out of Velaris to the hiking trail where he had agreed to meet Nesta for their second date.  

He had been waiting for almost an hour. Not that Nesta was late, but because Cassian had arrived excessively early. 

He had woken before his alarm that morning and was too restless to try and go back to sleep, so he had got up and padded around Azriel’s plush apartment making himself breakfast. 

But even the elaborate spread he concocted disappeared sooner than he would have liked. He sat at Azriel’s kitchen table trembling with energy that he didn’t know what to do with. 

After cleaning up, he decided to make himself useful. Locating Azriel’s tool box, which was some search, he set about hanging the paintings that Rhys had ordered to brighten up the grey minimalist box that Azriel lived in. 

He had only drilled the first hole in the wall when Azriel emerged from his room, bleary-eyed and grumpy. “Cass, what are you doing?”

“Hanging the art Rhys bought.”

“I can see that, but do you need to do it before 8am on a Saturday?! The neighbours are going to complain.” 

“Right, yeah. Sorry.”

“Why are you even up so early?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Well, go watch TV or something.” 

“Do you want to—.”

But Azriel had already retreated back into his room, presumably to hide under his duvet for another few hours. 

Cassian closed the toolbox with a sigh. 

Lying down on the floor he began scissoring his arms and legs, making dust angels, while trying to decide how best to kill his morning. 

He wasn’t nervous about his second date with Nesta, for everything that could have gone wrong already had. Today’s date was a lucky second chance he didn’t think he was going to get, so he was determined that today Nesta was going to get to know the real him, and if she didn’t like it, well he didn’t lose anything he hadn’t already anyway. 

Climbing off the floor, he headed for the bathroom.

He didn’t think he had ever showered before a hike, it was the kind of thing you did after you got all sweaty, but given this hike was really a date, turning up smelling ripe wouldn’t do him any favours.

He did however take the opportunity, while he stood under the warm cascade of water, to stroke himself to completion…twice. Nesta’s presence already did things to him, he didn’t need to add unreasonable levels of horniness to the mix. 

After towelling off, he spent longer than necessary arranging his hair into a loose man bun, a style that Emerie always told him was sexy. He choose to assume she was an authority for all women and that Nesta would approve. 

Grabbing his phone off the vanity, he sent her quick message.

Looking forward to seeing you today :) 

Nesta’s rely came a few minutes later. 

Hope you can keep up ;)

Cassian’s chest clenched, that stupid grin he’d recently started sporting spread across his face.

Don’t worry about me sweetheart ;) 

Adjusting his towel, and himself, Cassian padded from the bathroom back into the room he was staying in at Az’s. 

He pulled a pair of trousers from the drawer he had hastily stuck the few clothes he brought with him into when he arrived. He then spent longer than he was prepared to admit debating which of his three flannel shirts he should wear. Cassian was just grateful he didn’t have to borrow anything ill-fitting of Az’s this time. 

After lacing up his boots with shaking hands, he decided that he couldn’t sit around in Azriel’s apartment any longer, he was going stir crazy, which is how he now found himself at their date spot, early. 

A few hikers who had passed in the hour he sat there had thrown him dirty looks. Men who sitting alone in trucks in the forrest tended not to be up to any good. To be fair to them, about half an hour in, Cassian did debate unzipping his trousers to rub a quick one out just to ensure that any lingering horniness was drained. In the end he decided against exposing himself, given, to do so would be to commit a criminal offence. 

It was then that he had started tapping his steering wheel and singing along to the classic anthems. 

The radio had just cut to a commercial break when a little red spots car appeared in his mirror. He laughed as it came to a stop behind his truck. 

Of course that was what she would drive. 

————

Nesta parked her car behind a massive truck. There was absolutely no reason for it to be the size that it was. She was sure that it was owned by some Velaris douche who thought anything outside the city limits could only be enhanced by the smell of exhaust fumes and the sound of an engine revving. She was nervous parking her car behind it, for fear the driver would simply reverse over her car, but it was the only space available in the small lot at the foot of the hiking trail. 

Switching off the engine she pulled her phone just her bag and sent Cassian a message. 

Hey! I’ve just arrived :) 

She hadn’t seen him while she was searching for a parking space, so maybe he was still yet to arrive. He didn’t really know Velaris particularly well after all. 

She shucked off the tennis shoes she had been wearing to drive and pulled her hiking boots from the back seat. She had her head down, lacing them up, when a knock on her window startled her. 

Jumping, Nesta looked up see a smirking Cassian crouched down looking in the window at her. 

Her stomach lurched, brain short circuiting. 

Gods. 

This was not the man she had met 10 days ago for dinner at the House of Wind. 

He was spectacular. 

Gone was the nervousness, dressed in clothes that didn’t fit him, with hair that was gelled like a helmet to his head. 

Instead, today, Cassian looked at ease. He was wearing a dark green flannel and his hair was tied in a messy bun. Loose tendrils framed his face. She wanted to touch them. She bet his hair was soft. Probably nicer than her own. 

If she could just run her hands through…

Nesta realised that she was gaping at him. 

Quickly righting herself, she swung open the car door. “Hey!,” she said.

“Hey yourself.” He kept that easy knowing smile, like there was something she was missing.

“You been here long?”

“Nope just got here.”

“Cool, let me just get these boots on and we can hit the trail.”

“Take your time, sweetheart.”

A little thrill went through Nesta at the casual way he called her that. 

She ducked her head to hide her blush, focusing instead on her laces. She didn’t look at Cassian but she could feel his eyes on her, watching her.

Her hands shook. 

She felt vulnerable, exposed, sitting in her low sports car, his presence looming. 

He was so much taller than Nesta remembered, broader too. She was eye level with his powerful thighs wrapped in black work trousers. 

There was something predatory about the way he stood. Dangerous. Not to her. Just that he was a powerful man, taking up space in a way he hadn’t the first time they met. 

Nesta’s blood heated. 

Finished tying her lace, she grabbed her backpack from the passenger seat and made to stand up. Cassian was beside her in an instant, arm outstretched like a gentleman to help her out of her car. 

With anyone else she would have not so politely told them where to go, but with Cassian, she was happy to accept any excuse to touch him. 

“Ready?” She asked, when she found herself parallel with his chest. 

“Yep, you know the way?” 

“Yeah I come up here all the time.” 

“It seems nice,” Cassian said. 

Nesta snorted a laugh, “This is the car park.” 

“Yeah,” pink tinged Cassian’s cheeks. Something inside Nesta twisted, she didn’t know how it could go from intimidating in one moment, to adorable in the next. “I just meant the forrest…it seems like a nice spot to go hiking.”

“If you’re impressed by this, the view at the top is going to blow you away,” she said, setting off down the trail. 

Cassian chuckled, he was behind her now, following her up the narrow path cut into the undergrowth. It would widen soon and they would be able to walk beside each other, but for now Nesta swayed her hips a little more than she normally would. “And if I’m not blow away?” 

“Oh you will be.”

“Willing to bet?” 

“Sure.”

Cassian paused for a moment, but when he spoke again, Nesta could hear the daring in his voice. “If you make me walk all the way to the top of this mountain and I’m not blown away by the view I want a kiss.”

“A kiss?” That liquid heat slicked through her again. Where was this bold Cassian the last time they went out? Trapped in that terrible hair perhaps?

“A kiss.”

“And if you make to the top and are blown away by the view?”

“Well then I’ll give you a kiss.” 

She snorted, “So either way, we get to the top of this mountain and we’re kissing?”

“Sounds like good odds to me.”

“Sounds like rigged odds!” 

“The first rule of gambling, sweetheart, the bookie always wins.”

She snorted a laugh.

“So what do you say, Nes, do you accept those odds?”

“Ask me again when we reach the half way point.” 

Silence fell between them then. Heated. Until they rounded a corner and the path widened. Cassian fell into step beside her.

“Do you hike much in Illyria?” She asked him. 

“No. I wish I could do it more, it’s so beautiful up there, but it’s…messy.” 

“Messy?”

“Yeah,” Cassian shrugged, “There used to be great hiking all over Illyria, but now, the land has all been carved up and sold to logging companies and private developers. The paths all cut through private property so you’re trespassing if you want to hike a trail.” 

“Ah, messy.”

“The old-timers really hate it.”

“I can imagine.”

“All of this wild land they had the free run of in their youth, now it’s all gone. Well, it’s still there but no one can use it.” Cassian ran a frustrated had through his hair. The movement showing off the size of his bicep. Nesta was sure it was bigger than her thigh. “There is this old guy in the town nearest me, real grumpy, his name is Beron. He always said that no one could push him off his ancestral lands, ya know?”

Nesta nodded. This was a story she knew all to well. 

“So one day, he goes hiking on this trail that cuts through land owned by some development company, they want to log the forest and then extract minerals from the soil or some shit,” Cassian rolled his eyes dramatically, “Anyway, a week later, old Beron get’s a cease and desist letter in the mail from the development company. Apparently they have cameras all over their land and were able to identify him. It’s fucked up.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“No?”

“No. Stuff like this is happens all the time.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, Velaris and Hewn City are growing exponentially, and developers are swooping in to try and make a fast buck.”

“Illyria is not growing, it’s the opposite. Nobody under 40 lives there.”

“You live there.”

“Yeah well I’m special,” Cassian said with a wink. 

Nesta gave him a playful shove with her shoulder, it did nothing to move the mountain of a man walking beside her. His shove back however…

It was enough to push Nesta off balance. Her foot caught on a rock. Her ankle twisted. 

And then she was falling. 

Her arms propelling in an attempt to grab hold of something.

To keep her off the ground. 

Just as she toppled backwards a thick arm wrapped around her waist catching her. Pulling her tight against him. 

“Shit sorry Nes, I didn’t mean…” his voice trailed off as is he realised the position they were in.

How close he stood to her. 

One big arm wrapped around her tiny waist, pulling her body tight against his. Her hands clutching onto his thick arms, a reflex from when he grabbed her, but now she wasn’t sure she would ever be able to let go. 

She liked the feel of him against her. 

A zing went through Nesta as she realised her breasts were pressed up against his solid chest. 

Her breathing hitched. 

He noticed. 

The laughter in his hazel eyes dying, only to be replaced with something more fierce, determined. 

Their faces were so close together it wouldn’t take much for her to close the gap, to press her mouth against his full lips. 

Her gaze flicked down in time to catch his tongue flicking out to wet his bottom lip. 

His grip tightened on her. 

The blood pounded through Nesta anchoring her to the moment. She was surrounded by Cassian, his strong body cocooning her. All she could see was him. All she could feel as he held her against him. She could hear her pulse beating in her ears, the shallowness of her breathing, the deep breath that Cassian took to steady himself before he learnt down, closing the distance between him. 

Their lips met, tentative at first but soon Nesta found herself deepening the kiss. Her hands gripping at Cassian’s thick arms as she melted against his body. 

She was on fire. 

Never had she felt a kiss like this. 

This was it. 

Whatever it was.

She had found it. 

————

Elain’s saw her hands trembling as she pushed the elevator button. The doors slid closed and she found herself staring at a mirror image of herself. She was dressed in a soft pink coat, with a matching pink scarf. Her makeup was simple but emphasised her eyes. Her hair was curled softly. 

She had just finished fluffing her hair when the doors slid open. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out into the hallway, and froze. 

There were two doors in the hallway, Azriel hadn’t told her which one was his. He had just said the penthouse. 

Pulling her phone from her pocket she sent a message to Azriel. They didn’t text very often, preferring to talk on the phone. She just hoped that now he would reply quickly. 

Hi Azriel, I’m outside but I don’t know which door is yours.

Standing in the hallway waiting for him to reply, Elain was suddenly overcome with a bout of nerves. She had been so excited to finally meet Azriel she hadn’t be worried, it felt like she had been going to meet an old friend, but it was in that moment she realised that she didn’t know this man. Had never met him. He could in fact be anyone. 

And she was meeting him in his home. 

This wasn’t safe. 

She needed to get out of here. 

Elain turned back to the elevator and pressed the call button just as the one of the hallway doors behind her opened. 

“Elain?”

Hesitantly, Elain turned around to look at Azriel. 

Oh. My. Gods. 

His face was exactly how it appeared when they video called.

No. 

It was even more beautiful in person. 

His dark features, his floppy hair, his hazel eyes that were both shy and kind. 

But the rest of him…

He was a hockey player. She knew that. What she hadn’t fully considered was what that meant. 

He practically filled the door way. Long lean muscle. 

He was wearing a grey jumper and dark grey slacks, so at odds with her pink. 

“Hi,” she whispered, her voice failing her. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Yes…I just…”

“You just?”

“Er…I just realised that maybe this was a bad idea.”

She didn’t miss the hurt that flickered across his face. He moved then, tucking his hands into the pockets of his trousers. It was only this movement that drew her attention to them; the scars that marred his hands. 

A hockey injury?

“Was I not what you expected?” He asked, distress settling in his features. 

“No, not at all.”

“I—.”

“No, I didn’t mean like that,” she exclaimed when she realised the way he must have taken that. “I just suddenly realised that it it maybe not a good idea to be in the apartment of some random man I don’t know.” 

A small smile played on his mouth, as if he was trying not to laugh at her, and Gods was it not the most beautiful thing that Elain had ever seen. She wondered then what he must sound like when he laughed. Some subconscious part of her decided it was her mission to find out. 

“I would say you know me pretty well.”

“I feel like I know you.”

Elain could have sworn his smile broadened slightly. “But I understand if you are uncomfortable.” 

“I think the whole reality of the situation just suddenly hit me.” 

“Yeah I get that.” He settled himself, leaning against the doorframe. He seemed in no rush to usher her inside, a fact that somehow set Elain more at ease. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course?”

“I’m terrified.”

Elain’s eyes went wide. “Why?”

“It’s been a long time since I was last on a date.”

“Sure.”

“No, it’s true! I haven’t been on a date in I don’t even want to know how long. I was with my last girlfriend for ten years and we broke up three years ago. I haven’t been on a date since.”

“But you’re so handsome.”

Azriel smiled now, a broad one, that lit up his whole face, and Elain felt something warm spread across her chest. “I’m flattered you think so.”

“It’s true.”

“Well that makes it all the more embarrassing then doesn’t it? Thirteen years since I last had a first date, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You’re doing pretty great so far.”

“You think so?”

“I do.”

“When was the last time you were on a first date?”

Elain hesitated. Her first date with Lucien had been just over two weeks ago. Her sisters had told her that dating multiple people was normal now, but after what Tamlin had said to her at dinner the other night…

She cut those thoughts off. If Azriel was the kind of guy that would speak to her the way Tamlin had spoken to her, the way Greyson used to speak to her, then it was better she found out now when she was able to turn around and flee in the elevator. 

“Two weeks ago.”

“Oh wow.”

“But I also got out of a long term relationship.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, two years ago. That was the first date I’d been on since.”

“How long were you with your last boyfriend?”

“Five years.”

“You’ve been on two first dates in the last seven years, and you still have more experience that me.” Azriel was fully grinning at her now. 

Elain felt her own smile match his. “It appears that way.” 

“I understand if you feel too uncomfortable,” he swallowed, “but if you want to come in maybe we could figure this whole first date thing out together?”

With a buoyancy in her heart, Elain stepped towards the door. 

————

Elain.

God’s Azriel had been struck stupid when he opened the door and she had just been standing there. Pretty in pink. 

He understood her nerves. Gods he felt them too. All the time. He had been so overjoyed when she agreed to have dinner at his place that he didn’t think about what that might mean for her. 

He was so grateful for her now, as she stepped across the threshold and into his apartment, that she had agreed to go through with it. 

He wouldn’t have just let her walk away. Not after seeing her standing there in the hallway. Something in his chest had begun singing to him then. He would have asked her to go to a restaurant instead. Not that he ever went to restaurants. His anxiety didn’t allow it. His life was spent in his apartment, at the rink, or holed up in a hotel room whenever his team played an away game. He absolutely hated being in public, but for Elain, maybe he could try. 

“This is for you,” Elain said, thrusting the potted plant that she had been hugging against herself, towards him, “It’s a snake plant. You said that you needed some plants to make your place more homely and this guy is pretty hard to kill. They don’t mind shady spots, or draughts, you can pretty much ignore them and they’ll reward you by purifying the air.” 

Azriel smiled down at her, “Thank you,” he whispered, “you didn’t have to bring me anything.”

Elain flushed pink, “I know…but I wanted to.”

“You’ll have to help me find a good spot for him.”

She smiled then, that shy smile of hers that stirred things within him, “Sure.”

Gods how had he let it go so long. 

Now he was finally around a woman and he didn’t know what to do with himself. He suddenly felt too hot and too cold at once. His gut twist, his heart pound, while other parts of him that he would never dare mention in the polite company of a lady began to throb. 

“Let me take your coat.”

“Oh thank you.” 

As Elain shrugged off her coat all of the electric heat in Azriel simmered to something closer to concern. He frowned. She was wearing a pink dress, with long sleeves and flowy skirt, it was beautiful on her but it did nothing to hide just how thin she was. 

He hadn’t noticed when they had called, but she was absolutely tiny. He was sure her waist was about as thick as his thigh. 

He hoped she was okay. 

Hanging her coat up, Azriel led her down the hallway and into the open plan living space. “So where do you think this guy should go?” He asked, gesturing to the plant.

Elain paused, looking around the big room. “Maybe he should go over there?” She said, pointing to table near the window that held only a lamp. 

Azriel padded across the room to position the plant on the table. “What do you think?” 

“Looks good,” Elain smiled that smile again, “something smells good too.”

“I hope you’re hungry. I’ve got loads of food.”

“Spend all day in front of the stove?”

A sheepish smile spread across Azriel’s face, “I was going to try and pass the food off as my own, but I can’t take the credit for work I didn’t do.”

Elain giggled, “You ordered in?”

“I ordered in.”

She rolled her eyes, “I thought you promised to make me dinner?”

“I think I promised to get you dinner, you definitely don’t want to eat anything I make.”

“You can’t cook?”

“I can barely make coffee.”

“I’ll teach you to cook, if you want?”

Making future plans, clearly Elain felt more comfortable in his presence after their initial wobble. Good. “Are you a good cook?”

“I’m an amazing cook.”

Azriel chuckled, “Then I might just take you up on that offer, at leasts I can sample some of your amazing cooking.”

Elain laughed again. Gods that sound was so refreshing, Azriel didn’t think it would ever get old. 

“So can I get you a glass of wine?”

“Yes, that would be nice.”

Azriel padded to the kitchen, to pour two glasses of wine. When he returned he found Elain staring dreamily at oneof the brightly coloured canvasses that Rhys had bought. He had hung them up this afternoon in preparation. He wanted his apartment to feel homey, not like he just moved in.

“Pretty cool, huh?” He asked, coming to a stand beside her. Gods she was dainty. Her head didn’t even come past his shoulder. 

Elain took the glass of wine from his outstretched hand. Her fingers brushed lightly against his, causing a bolt of electricity to shoot through Azriel.  “Where did you get it?” She asked. 

“My manager bought them, but I can find out for you?”

“No, it’s okay. I know the artist.”

“Oh yeah? Cheers,” he said, clinking his glass against hers.

“Cheers! Yeah, it’s my sister.”

“The artist? No way?”

Elain nodded, “I just didn’t realise she was selling her work again.” 

“Apparently so?”

“Indeed.”

“So, ugh, do you want to eat?”

The mention of food seemed to snap Elain from her reverie. “Sure.”

Padding back to the kitchen Azriel plated up to large plates of food. One for Elain, and then double for him. 

Elain’s eye’s went big when he sat the plates down in front of her at the table. “You eat a lot of food.”

Azriel shrugged, settling himself across the table from her. “Food is fuel for me. I need it to keep up with training.” 

And it’s nothing to be ashamed of he almost added. To Azriel’s great surprise however, Elain polished off the plate of food her served her, and then joined him for seconds. She did tap out before thirds, but it was still an impressive showing. 

Azriel just hoped that it was a sign she was in some sort of recovery, and she wasn’t going to punish herself later. Or that she was sick in some other way. 

After they had finished dinner they settled themselves on the couch to watch a film. Azriel preened over how close Elain sat to him. Their legs touching. He took it as a sign that she liked him, or at the very least that she was comfortable with him. 

As the opening sequence began, Azriel stretched his arm across the back of the chair. Elain glanced up at him, smiling, she knew his game, but she didn’t stop him. She seemed content to allow his arm, slowly over the course of the film, drift down until it was slung around her shoulders. 

By the time the film ended, Elain was snuggled into his side, her head resting against his chest. 

Azriel hadn’t been paying close attention to the film, he tightened his arm around her as the credit began to roll. He didn’t want her to move. He was just so comfortable with her. Physically, as they lay together on the couch, but emotionally too. Elain was so easy to be around, his anxiety didn’t flare up. 

Azriel knew he was starting to develop feelings for her. 

It was just their first date and he was already a goner. 

He could only hope that she felt the same way. 

————

“You know when you said that I could hang with you tonight, so I could give Azriel his space?”

“Yeah?”

“I kinda figured you meant we could go to a sports bar or something.” 

Rhys looked up at his friend. They were standing in the Velaris Gallery of Art, one of Rhy’s clients had a big installation opening tonight. Rhys had only planned to stop by for a short time, to show his face and congratulate his client on her big night, but Rhys had alway enjoyed art. What harm, he’d thought, if he just glanced at the exhibition. An hour later however, and he had only seen half of it. 

Cassian had patiently trailed along behind him, making the occasional confused comment as to what exactly he was looking at. 

The only paint strokes Cassian cared about were the weather proofing he slapped on his wooden cabin every summer to protect it in the winter ahead. 

Gods bless him, he did not fit in here. He was just so big. He kept awkwardly twisting his body to avoid knocking over any of the exhibits. At any moment, Cassian risked bumping into something and the place falling like dominos. 

His friend was clearly uneasy, in his work boots and a green flannel, he had come straight from his hike to the event so that Azriel could have his apartment for a date of his own. Rhys couldn’t help but feel bad for him, “I’m sorry man, I just got carried away.”

“It’s okay.”

“Nah, give me a half an hour, I’ll talk to my client and we can get out of here.”

“Yeah?”

“Just let me find her,” Rhys said, craning his neck to see if he could find her amongst the crowd. “There’s food over there is you want to park up and I’ll come find you in a bit?”

Cassian glanced to the table with a frown. “Is it, like, real food?”

“Real food?”

“I thought it was part of the museum?”

Rhys laughed, “It’s not part of the exhibition, no.”

Cassian nodded seemingly relieved, “I’ll be at the food table then.”

“Half an hour, and we can go, I promise.”

Cassian just waved a hand dismissively, as he headed for the snacks, “Take as long as you need.” 

————

Feyre kept her head ducked as she made her way through the crowd. She was supposed to be working tonight, well she was working tonight but only in the sense that she was physically at work. She was supposed to be working the crowd, making introductions, chatting with artists, schmoozing potential buyers, but it was taking all her strength not to cry, and she wasn’t even succeeding at that. 

It had been 48 hours since Tamlin proposed. 

48 hours since he had got down on one knee in the middle of the street and asked her to be his wife. 

48 hours since the tears had started spilling, not with the joy that Tamlin had first thought, but with fear. 

48 hours since he started screaming at her in the street. How dare she reject him? She was nothing without him. Everything she had in her life was because of him.

48 hours since he left her sobbing in the street.

It had been 48 hours since she had last talked to the love of her life and it hurt. 

Gods she needed a drink. 

Sniffling she made her way to the drinks table, and took a large gulp from the first glass of wine she could lay her hand on.

“Eh…are you okay?”

Feyre looked over to the man who had spoke, a snotty laugh spluttered from her. The guy was huge, like a giant, dressed in outdoor work clothes. His shoulders curled protectively over the napkin he held in one hand and the cheese laden cracker in the other. As if anyone would even attempt to steel it from him anyway. 

She wondered which artist had dragged him along to support them this evening.

He watched her with big hazel eyes. There was something about him that looked familiar. Comfortable. That was the only reason why the next words fell from her mouth. “I think I broke up with my boyfriend.”

“Aww shit,” the giant said, shaking his head like it was the worst thing he had ever heard. “That really sucks. Were you guys together long?”

“We were serious, he proposed,” Feyre’s voice caught on the last word and the sob racked her. 

The giant swore. “No girly don’t cry, it’ll be okay.” 

He somehow managed to ease himself around the table without knocking anything over, coming to rub Feyre on the back as she continued to so uncontrollably. 

She didn’t know this man who was comforting her, but she sound herself turning into his chest, her tears wetting his t-shirt as she cried against him. One hand continued to rub her back, the other, she felt rather than saw, popped the final cheese and cracker into his mouth, before he pressed the crumby napkin into her hand. “Here, have a tissue,” or at least that sounded like what he said with a mouthful of cheese. 

They stood like that for a few minutes until Feyre was able to get her breathing under control. She took a step back to look up at the man, dapping her eyes with the napkin he had given her. “I’m sorry,” she sniffed. 

“Don’t worry about—,” the giant frowned, “You kinda look like some I know, you know?”

“Oh yeah?” Feyre wiped her nose, couldn’t be anyone good if her swollen tear stained face was anything to go by. 

“Do you have sisters?”

“Two?”

“One of them called Nesta by any chance?”

Feyre froze, her eyes going wide as she looked up at the giant, “How do you know Nes—.”

A hand came out to clap the giant on the shoulder, “Hey man, you ready to go?” 

Shit. 

Well wasn’t this the last person she wanted to see right now.

The giant’s friend took one look at her and purred. “Feyre, darling.”

[khiroptera]

sweet omens: an angel and a demon discuss names (eden, 4004 B.C)

i’ve had this dialogue sitting in my drafts for months, as a way to explain their names a bit. but i didn’t know what to do with it, so i’m posting it with this little doodle for a visual. i wrote it in a script kind of format just for my own ease of writing. xP

CROWLEY: Gaderel. And you?

AZIRAPHALE: Sorry?

C: Your name, what is it?

A: Ah, it’s Azira- um. 

C: Hm?

A: Az. My name is Az.

C: Az? Or Azira-something?

A: We’re not supposed to use our old names. Not since… well, you know.

C: You miss it, though. Can you not use it?

A: Well, there’s nothing physically stopping me, no. But they wouldn’t very much like that, down there. I wouldn’t be surprised if Hastur tried to spin it as some lesser form of treason.

C: Oh, your lot’s ridiculous. It’s just a name! Lucifer still gets to use his, why not the rest of you?

A: Hmm… you know, I’m not sure, to tell you the truth.

C: Alright, forget about them. What would you prefer I call you?

A: Why– Az is not so terrible, is it? It is technically the beginning of my old name, after all.

C: Fine, I’ll call you Az too, if that’s what you want. But I’d like to know you the way you want to be known.

A: And how would you know how I’d prefer to be called?

C: I just do.

A: ... Aziraphale.

C: Aziraphale. [He sighs.] Oh, that’s a mouthful. Much prettier than mine, though. Been thinking of changing it.

A: You can do that?

C: Yeah, why not?

A: Angels don’t just change their names willy-nilly.

C: Oh, but demons are allowed, hm?

A: We were cast out of Heaven, and so we were told to cast aside our God-given names. It’s supposed to show where our alliances lie... I think.

C: Right. Anyway, I’m not doing it willy-nilly. I’m putting some thought into it. Haven’t quite decided yet.

A: What would you even change it to? Your name was a gift from the Almighty, you can’t just ask her for another one.

C: If being named for this blasted wall I’m guarding is a gift, Aziraphale, then I’m throwing it out, wrapping paper and all. Bet I can come up with something better.

[theladyofdeath]

Rags & Riches {16}

Summary: An A Court of Thorns and Roses Fanfiction. 19th century AU. Based on the prompt sent in by @cat5313 All characters belong to SJM, I am just a fan with a plot.

Warning: Mature content strung throughout.

A/N: I never realize how much I drop “fuck” until I proofread...ah, oh well. 5 chapters left. Do y’all mind when I post 2 chapters in 1 day? yay? nay? I’ll only do 1 if it’s too much, but either way, R&R will be finishing up, soon.

Enjoy (you know, if possible).

Leave a comment to be tagged & tell me what you think! :)

One month had passed since they arrived in Hybern.

They had endured one battle, which lasted two weeks. Many of Hybern’s men went down, but a large number perished from their own side, too.

Even when they relaxed at camp, they were always on alert, always kept one eye open.

Azriel, Cassian, and Rhysand sat around the fire.

The three of them had created quite the bond, never leaving one another’s side - both in battle, and out. Rhysand had an opportunity to stay away from the front lines because of his title, but he did not. He stayed with Azriel and Cassian, refusing the opportunity without any hesitation. 

“Elain says she should start showing soon,” Azriel announced, the other two looking up from their letters. “She also says morning sickness is getting much worse.” 

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Cassian grinned. “If a little you was growing inside of me, I would probably feel like shit, too.” 

Azriel chuckled. “Yeah.”

Cassian knew that Azriel’s chest ached as he wondered how long he would have to be away. It seemed as if the war had only just begun, but he felt like he had been away from Elain for far too long.

“Any news from Feyre or Nesta?” Azriel asked.

“Feyre says Nesta is being extra bitchy,” Rhysand mumbled. “Other than that, she says she wrote to Elain, telling her to visit soon and their father is finally getting back this week. Oh, and they got a dog. Named him Oswald.” 

“Oswald?” Azriel asked, brows raised. “That’s a….nice….name.” 

Rhysand snorted. “And Nesta?”

They both looked at Cassian, who was reading his letter with narrowed eyes. “She gave me an update on the weather, says it has been raining a lot. I also hear of Oswald, and it is a terrible name, so don’t lie. She said she put a gift in here for me, but there was nothing in the paper.” He looked around for the envelope to put the letter back inside, and once he found it, and opened it up, he froze.

Azriel raised his brows as Rhysand reached for the envelope.

Cassian quickly put it out of his reach. 

Rhysand’s eyes narrowed. “What is it?”

Cassian put the letter back in the envelope and closed it. “Nothing. A photograph.”

Azriel blinked. “Of what?”

“Hmmm,” Rhysand hummed, leaning back. “Is this photograph of Nesta?”

“You will never know, will you?” Cassian asked.

“Is she nude?” Azriel chimed.

Cassian backed up, toward his tent. “I am going to bid you both goodnight.”

Rhysand howled as Azriel’s grin widened. “Alright. Don’t get too vocal with yourself, no one wants to hear all that.” 

Cassian rolled his eyes as he climbed inside, shutting the tent flaps behind him. He used a match to light his lantern, and his pipe, as he laid back against his blankets, atop the grass. 

He pulled open the yellow envelope, once more, removing the letter and setting it aside as he reached for the other contents. He pulled out a long, silver chain, an oval locket attached to the bottom. When he opened it up, all the tension was released from his body. 

On one side was Nesta, and on the other, was Marigold. Cassian chuckled at the photograph of the horse before brushing his thumb over the one of Nesta. She sat, poised, her chin lifted high. Even in black and white, he could see the intensity of her gray-blue eyes. 

He closed it shut and clasped the chain around his neck, tucking the locket beneath his shirt.

There was another photograph inside of the envelope. Azriel’s guess had not been wrong. Cassian took it into his hands and brought it closer to the lantern, his heart beating wildly. Her hair hung loose around her pale shoulders, reaching just below her breasts, which Cassian admired as he brought his pipe to his lips. Her legs were open, waiting for him, and he suddenly had the realization that someone must have taken such a photo, and wondered how Nesta had swung it without anyone seeing.

He laughed, under his breath, at the thought of Nesta ordering someone around to take a nude photo, only to have it instantly taken away and put in an envelope to ship to him overseas. He turned it over and on the back, it read, I know what you are thinking. Do not worry, Helion helped me with such a project and kept all details to himself. Cassian snorted - knew what he would be thinking, indeed. Then, below, it read, For when you are lonely. At night, this is how I wait for you to return. Hurry back.

Cassian flipped the photograph back over and ran his fingers down the image. She was so beautiful, especially when she was natural, bare. Nothing but the locket in which she sent along, the locket that was now around his neck, covered her skin. The silver oval laid between her breasts. 

He studied her until he could no longer bear to keep still. 

After unzipping his trousers, he wrapped his fist around his cock and began to stroke himself. His head fell back and his eyes fell shut, but the image of Nesta, his Nesta, remained.

~~~~~

Rhysand was eating a bowl of some kind of slop the next morning when Cassian emerged from his tent and stretched.

“Have a nice date with your hand last night?” Rhysand asked, filling his mouth.

“Fuck off,” Cassian said, shaking his head but unable to stop his grin. “Where’s Az?”

“Bringing our letters to the post. They’re going out this afternoon.” 

Cassian nodded, reaching for one of the bowls Rhysand had brought. “Okay, I grew up poor, but even this shit looks disgusting to me...and my standards are fairly low.” 

“At least it keeps us from starving to death,” Rhysand said. “Hopefully.”

Cassian was just about to reply as a bell sounded from the middle of camp. Rhysand quickly met his gaze, his jaw set, as soldiers all around them got to their feet.

Azriel was running toward them, eyes wild. “They’re coming, less than a mile away. We have to go.”

Rhysand swore, dropping his bowl to the ground as Cassian reached for their guns. A moment later, helmets were atop their heads and rifles were tossed across their backs and they were running across the landscape. Once in formation, they marched as one through the valley and halted. Beyond was the battlefield they had already seen, the battlefield in which so many had died around them. Rhysand looked to Cassian on his left. His friend was focused, his breathing even. He had a good shot, if he ever had nerves, he did not show it. Then Rhysand looked to Azriel on his right, who was closing his eyes. Azriel was fast, could dodge anything. Rhysand was not worried about either of them. He would not allow himself to be. They would stick together. They would make it out.

“Stay together,” Rhysand whispered.

The other two repeated, in the same quiet calm, “Stay together.”

~~~~~

“Feyre?” Nesta called, knocking on her sister’s door. “A letter just arrived from Elain. She will be here next week, she says.”

The door was opened a moment later.

Nesta froze.

Feyre’s eyes were red and puffy. “Sorry, I just….” her words trailed off and Nesta pulled her sister into her arms.

“Has something happened?” she asked. “Is Rhysand okay?”

Feyre nodded. “Yes, it’s nothing like that, I just….Nesta, I’m pregnant.” 

Nesta blinked. “Pregnant?”

Feyre laughed, wiping at her eyes. “Yes.”

Nesta smiled, wrapping her arms around Feyre even tighter. “That’s great news. Why are you crying?”

Feyre allowed Nesta into her room before she closed the door. They both sat by the fireplace, on the floor.

“I knew when I last wrote Rhys,” she explained. “But, I did not tell him. Now I feel guilty.”

“Why?” Nesta asked. “Why keep it a secret?”

Feyre nibbled on her bottom lip. “Is it truly better to tell him?”

Nesta’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean...would telling him make him happier or just more upset that he is not here?” she asked. “He says he misses me, that all he thinks about is coming home, and if I tell him that I am with child, it would just be more of a burden. I thought perhaps I should wait, until he returns.”

Nesta nodded. “Well, I think you should let him know. He would want to know, considering he tried so hard to impregnate you to begin with.”

Feyre laughed, pushing her sister in the arm. “Perhaps. I do not know the right answer to anything these days.”

Nesta stared at her hands when she said.  “Would you like to know something that will cheer you up? Perhaps make you laugh?”

Feyre raised a brow. “You are going to tell me something that will make me laugh? That seems unlikely.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “In the last letters we sent, I put a photograph of myself inside.”

Feyre blinked. “Why would that make me laugh?”

Nesta could not control her smile as she said, “Because I was not wearing any clothing.”

Feyre’s mouth fell open before she broke into a fit of laughter. “You? Nesta? You sent Cassian a nude photograph?” 

Nesta nodded, her own laughter sputtering out. “Yes. I wonder if he has received it, yet.”

Feyre put her hands over her mouth. “I cannot believe you did such a thing! How was it? Was it awkward?”

Nesta shook her head. “No, Helion took it when he was here last week, in my room. It was actually quite invigorating. I have never felt so….I don’t know. Powerful.” 

Feyre’s laughter died down as she watched the flames. “How very risque of you.” 

“Indeed,” Nesta agreed, then looked at her sister. “I am happy for you.” She nodded toward her sister’s abdomen. “Truly.”

“Thank you,” Feyre said, patting her sister’s knee. “And I am so very proud of you.”

Nesta looked over at her sister and they both broke into laughter, once more.

They were not certain of much lately, but they were certain that when their worlds were full of the unknown, laughter was the best medication.

~~~~~

Cassian had never seen so much blood.

The explosion happened quickly, no one had seen it coming. At the time, Cassian had his rifle pointed at one of the enemy, and the moment he pulled the trigger, as if on que, the ground exploded.

He was knocked on the ground, into the dirt, his ears ringing as he looked around for his brothers.

Rhysand was on the ground a few yards away, but he was already pulling himself up, rifle in hand. 

To his other side, men lay scattered, motionless.

He called out for Azriel, and when he looked back to Rhysand, his violet eyes were wide and panicked. 

“There!” he shouted, but Cassian could hardly hear him. He turned himself around, pulling himself fully off the ground, as he followed Rhysand’s gaze.

Azriel lay still, his gun a few feet beside him, his helmet having flown from his head. He was covered in blood, how much was actually his, Cassian was not certain. 

They were all covered in blood.

Their fellow man’s.

Their enemies.

Cassian and Rhysand ran to his side, sinking down in the dirt alongside him. Rhysand instantly had his back to them both, his gun raised, protecting them. 

Cassian pressed his ear to Azriel’s chest. “He’s still breathing.”

Rhysand gave a curt nod, the only sign he had heard as he pulled the trigger, firing upon any threat coming toward them. 

Cassian found the gaping wound coming from his side and tore open his shirt, where blood was flowing. “Fuck,” Cassian breathed, pressing his hands down on the wound to stop the flow. “Fuck! Rhys….Rhys, we have to get him out of here. We have to get him to medical.” 

“Can you carry him?” Rhysand called, still holding up his gun, not looking behind him. 

Cassian panicked. He was losing blood. So much blood.

He tossed his gun up to Rhysand, who took it and put it around his shoulder without taking his concentration from his own. Cassian quickly pulled off his shirt and tore it into long strips, his helmet discarded. He bundled up a few of the strips and pressed them into the wound, then tied a few together to make it long enough to wrap around Azriel’s abdomen a few times. Once he tied it tight, he nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I can.”

“Okay,” Rhysand called. “Let me know when to walk, I’ve got you both.”

The blood was still pouring from the wound, although not as bad.

With a grunt, Cassian lifted Azriel off the ground, carrying him over his shoulder. “Fuck, you heavy bastard,” he groaned, getting himself into a steady position. “Alright, Rhys, I’m moving!”

Then they both were moving, Azriel unconscious, but his heart still beating within his chest, against Cassian’s back. He was heavy, and nearly Cassian’s height, but Cassian did not let himself think of it as he hurried through the gunfire and around those that were already dead.

“Do not die on me,” Cassian grunted, Azriel’s weight starting to slow him down, “Do not fucking die on me. Elain would kill me if I let you die. Do not die, you hear me? You’re going to be a dad, do not fucking die on your kid!” Cassian yelled, eyes still ahead, blurred with tears but determined. “Do not fucking die on me!” 

Rhysand’s gun fired from behind them. 

“We’re almost to the clear!” Cassian called.

“I don’t see many more from Hybern!” Rhysand called back. 

Cassian could feel the warmth of Azriel’s blood sinking through the shreds of his shirt, onto his own skin, down his arm.

He suddenly became lighter a moment later, once they neared the end of the valley. Rhysand, with both rifles slung across his chest, said, “I’ll take his legs, you take his arms.”

Cassian nodded, putting Azriel down as gently as he could among the grass. He put his fingers against Azriel’s neck and swore before putting his forearms underneath Azriel’s underarms.

Rhysand took him beneath the knees and they lifted him from the ground, and they hurried, as fast as they could, across the remaining distance.

When they reached the camp, the medical tent was the first to appear.

They brought Azriel inside and a nurse yelled for a table to be cleared. Rhysand and Cassian put him down, then both stepped back to let the nurses swarm him.

“He’s going to be okay, yeah?” Rhysand asked, face paled. “He’s still breathing? He’s going to be okay?”

No one answered him, which only made Cassian ask, louder, “Just tell us he’ll fucking make it!” 

A nurse pressed her hands against the newly unraveled wound as she said, calmly, “Yes, he’s still breathing.”

“That doesn’t answer my fucking question,” Cassian spat. 

Rhysand met him at his side and started to pull Cassian back. “Let them work.”

Rhysand’s hands were surprisingly calm as Cassian turned to him, Rhys’ face covered in the blood of others and dirt, his hair drenched in sweat and wild. 

“He can’t die, Rhys,” Cassian breathed.

“I know,” Rhysand said, taking Cassian’s face in his hands. “I know, alright? So we have to let the nurses work. Yeah? We have to let the nurses work, Cass.” 

Cassian nodded, and Rhysand did not let go of Cassian’s face until his breathing began to even.

A soldier poked his head into the tent a moment later and said, “Hybern retreated. It is done for the day.”

The nurses gave a sign of understanding and the soldier went away. Cassian had not even heard them coming back, had not even heard the shouts of victory from the outside. 

“You two may stay, if you wish, but you have to sit to the side,” a nurse said, the one with her hands against Azriel’s wound.

Cassian nodded as he and Rhysand went to the side of the tent and slumped to the ground. 

Neither of them spoke as they waited. 

~~~~~

Hours passed, the day had gone and turned into night, and he did not open his eyes. The nurses had sterilized the wound the best they could and sewed his skin shut. He had lost a lot of blood. 

Rhysand looked at Cassian every once in a while, but neither of them said a word, neither of them dared. Cassian still sat with his chest bare, covered in filth, dried blood matting his hair to his forehead. Rhysand assumed he did not look much better. 

The minutes were passing too slowly, it was agonizing. Rhysand had killed more than he thought he would have to since arriving at Hybern. The thought was unnerving, but he tried not to dwell on it. He was protecting himself, protecting Azriel and Cassian. 

“If he dies, how would I ever go back?” Cassian whispered. Face glowing in the lanterns that surrounded them. “How could I stand there, in front of Elain, and Feyre, and Nesta, and tell them that Azriel died?”

Rhysand cleared his throat, his gaze falling to his hands where he began picking off the dried, crimson coat. “I don’t know.”

Cassian nodded, eyes empty. “They have a baby on the way, Rhys.”

“Yeah,” Rhysand breathed, not bothering to wipe away the tear that fell down his tanned cheek.

Cassian shook his head, but said no more.

When the silence became unbearable, Rhysand stood and walked to Azriel’s side. His chest was still rising and falling, his wound closed. Rhysand reached up to feel his forehead. He did not feel feverish. 

“Before we left,” Rhysand began, quietly, “me and Feyre tried, for a baby. Seeing you here now…” his words trailed off and he shook his head. “Elain needs you. That baby needs you. Fight for them, yeah?” he used his torn shirtsleeve to wipe at his eyes, his nose. “If you can hear me, you have to fight for them. Because if it were me in your place, and Feyre was pregnant, that woman would cut off my fucking balls.” 

Cassian stood and joined them at Azriel’s other side. Rhysand knew Cassian was thinking of their conversation on the ship. I wanted to give her a baby, to look at, to love, to remind her of me, if I don’t make it back. 

Azriel’s eyes rolled behind his eyelids, and both Rhysand and Cassian froze. 

“Az?” Rhysand whispered.

Azriel’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. He stirred, then groaned, softly.

Cassian and Rhysand said nothing as they watched, as they waited. 

Rhysand thought he would collapse once Azriel’s eyes fluttered open and met his gaze. “Rhys. Cass….”

Rhsyand nodded toward Cassian where Azriel’s eyes slowly trailed to. Cassian stood completely still, as if he were afraid to breathe. 

Azriel let out a breath as his eyes closed, once more. 

But his hands found theirs. One in Rhysand’s, the other in Cassian’s. 

“My side…” Azriel began, as if each word brought him pain, “fucking hurts.” 

Cassian, unable to control himself, began to laugh, and when he couldn’t stop, Rhysand started to laugh, too.

Azriel’s hands tightened around theirs, smiling faintly, eyes still closed. 

That battlefield had been littered with the dead, husbands and sons and fathers who would be no more.

But Azriel would not be one of them.

They promised to stay together.

They would stay together. 

At least, for now.

~~~~~

@throne-of-ashes-and-beauty @mariamuses @a-happybird @amusicalbookworm @manoncrochanblackbeak @alifletcher2012 @candid-confetti @fandoms-everywhere-united @mis-lil-red@littlehoneyybee @abillionlittlepieces @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @awesomelena555 @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @tswaney17 @jemma-nessian-and-elriel @rhysandsrightknee @gendryaforthemasses @dayanna-hatter @thebluemartini @welcometothespeaknowworldtour @julemmaes @christiashadows @sleeping-and-books @itsme-malin @agnez312 @cat5313 @amren-courtofdreams @chemica @empress-ofbloodshed @islamonna @illyrianbeauty  @sleeping-and-books @queenofxhearts @sleeping-and-books @aedionashryver-wolfofthenorth @queenofillea1 @mynewdreamwasyou @levivlio @hellolenas @burritowithfeels @that-other-pineapple @girl-who-reads-the-books @raghad-50725@musicmaam @rowaelinforeverworld @negativenesta  @welcometothespeaknowworldtour @gloriouspaintercreatorbandit@sannelovesreading @nerdperson524 @ireallyshouldsleeprn @nerdperson524 @mariamuses @gorl-power @booklover242 @rowaelinforeverworld @regular-nessian-trash @izou1204 @aelin-rowan-whitehorn @opheliatheemerald @eversincebeirut @musicmaam @ladybookwrm​ @santas-dwynwen​ @starryandbooks​ @candid-confetti​

[vampirepiggyhunterdefensesquad]

dreams

It had been a fun evening, but Gaz could feel herself pleasantly getting sleepy. Her head lolled slightly, brushing against Zim's shoulder. She suppressed a smile at feeling him twitch slightly at the contact. 

"Why are you. . ." His voice trailed off as Gaz let herself snuggle closer, wrapping an arm around his lower waist and pressing her cheek into his neck, feeling him swallow. "Why are you. . . slowing down?" 

Gaz allowed her eyes to drift shut. "I'm falling asleep, Zim," she mumbled. 

His hand snaked around her shoulders and disappeared into her hair. She could feel him playing with-- studying it under his strange fingers, feeling it. Occasionally they brushed against her neck, and she shivered. 

"Ah, yes," Zim announced, "the human propensity to going into hibernation for several hours of each sun cycle." 

"Don't go all alien, 's weird." Gaz turned her face into his body and smiled against his neck. "Everybody sleeps." 

 "Irkens don't need sleep!" Zim barked, jolting her slightly and sending her careening back to consciousness. 

Gaz fought back the urge to hit him for waking her up. "Well, have you ever tried?" she snapped, pulling away and leaning on the sofa's armrest on her other side. 

Zim folded his hands in his lap uncomfortably. "Why would I try?" he managed. "Sleeping is something inferior species do to pass time and rejuvenate energy they barely spent in the first place. IRKENS have evolved past the NEED for sleep!!" 

His eyes kept flitting around the room, but his longing gaze kept snapping back to Gaz, who took no notice.

"I like sleeping." she merely said, settling down in her position and lying down sideways on the couch, careful not to brush Zim with her legs. Zim made an incredulous noise. 

"What?" 

"Come ON. You, a strong-willed and powerful human with the propensity for violence, loves to be in a state of physical vulnerability while you remain dependent on the needs of your HIDEOUS flesh to SURVIVE?? I'm sure it's a real blast." he finished snidely. 

"Well, you can't dream when you're awake." Gaz forced herself to sit up, making eye contact again. She wasn't so tired she couldn't argue, and the idea that Zim resented sleep and looked down on those who "indulged' in it left a bad taste in her mouth. "Plus, it's comfortable." 

"Dream?" Zim blinked. "I thought that was a myth." 

"You thought DREAMING was a myth??" 

"IT SOUNDS FAKE!!!" 

 "I like sleeping," Gaz repeated, more forcefully. "Just because your dumb leaders decided you shouldn't be allowed to enjoy it anymore doesn't mean it's not good. And dreaming can be some of the most pleasant experiences of your life." 

Zim turned in his seat, fully facing Gaz. She'd come to recognize this as his "I-am-giving-you-my-full-attention" pose, and repressed a sigh. 

"I would like to know more about these dreams.” he said, staring at her carefully. “Inform me of the sorts of dreams you have." 

"Well, sometimes I dream about flying or something. That's always fun. Sometimes I dream I'm spending time with people or characters I like. Sometimes it's just weird, like I have something to do, somewhere to be, and I spend the whole dream trying to figure out how to get there. . . sometimes it's just a jumble of stuff I saw throughout my week. Sometimes, days when I played a lot of vampire piggy hunter, I dream I'm actually in the game and taking down vampire piggies myself." 

"This sounds. . . . less than unpleasant," Zim admitted. "You have no control over what your brain decides to show you?" 

"Kind of, not really though. I don't lucid dream all that often. That's when you can control what happens and you're aware it's a dream." 

"Hm. And you can control everything that occurs?" 

"Yeah?" Zim sat bolt upright, grabbing her hands in his. Gaz had no time to react before he scooted forward, pressing his forehead into hers. "TEACH ME. NOW."  

She was wide awake now. Instinctively, Gaz's leg shot up and she kicked Zim in the stomach, pushing him forcefully away from her and landing with a thud on the floor below. 

"I can't teach you how to lucid dream," Gaz spat, a bit more venomously than was probably necessary. "You have to just go to sleep yourself and figure it out." 

"I don't want to sleep!" Zim whined, legs and arms tangled up. He didn't seem perturbed by Gaz's lashing out, instead extricating himself from the uncomfortable position he'd landed in. "I just want to dream." 

"You can't dream without sleeping, stupid." 

"YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!" he shouted back. "WITNESS my AWAKE-DREAMING!!!" With that, Zim jumped back onto the sofa (landing a bit closer to her than strictly necessary, but who was paying attention?) closing his eyes and going limp on the cushions. Gaz hoped he could sense the disapproval radiating from her glare despite not being able to see it. 

"What are you doing?" 

"Having a DREAM!!! obviously. Ohhhh, the dream I am. . . having. YES!!! Amazing things are happening in my amazing brain!!!" 

"You're not dreaming, you're imagining. There's a difference." Gaz rolled her eyes. The eyes popped open and Zim's face fell into a childish pout. Gaz bit her lip to keep from smiling. It wasn't cute.

"C'mere. I'm gonna go to sleep now. I don't know if you even can, but. . . I wouldn't be mad if you tried. Right now." 

"Now? Here?" His eyes bored into hers. "With you?"

"Don't. . . make it weird." Gaz coughed into her elbow, an excuse to look away. "But yeah. It's whatever." 

Zim's mouth had closed, and he seemed to be cowed, for the most part. As a reward for his shutting up finally, Gaz returned to her spot on his shoulder, curling up and leaning against him. Zim's arms gratefully went right back around her, and his slight purring returned as she closed her eyes and let the comfort of her position and thoughts carry her away. Maybe Zim would sleep and dream and maybe he wouldn't, but either way, he wasn't going anywhere. 

When the morning sun came peeking through the window, Gaz's eyes fluttered open again. A sour feeling somewhere in her chest threatened to rise up (she was always so easily woken, even by the sun, and kept the blinds in her room shut tight every night as a result) but hearing Zim's soft snore from under her cut the unpleasant feeling out from under her entirely. Gaz closed her eyes again and smiled. Judging by the mumbling from Zim's sleeping figure, Irkens could get to sleep, but they were kind of noisy. Maybe their paks kept at least a part of their brain awake during the process, in case of emergency. . .? Or maybe it was just a unique Zim thing. 

Either way, she leaned back into Zim's slumbering body, strewn out across the sofa, uncaring of how it might look to anyone who could walk in. They had shifted in their sleep apparently, as Gaz was curled up on top of Zim's stretched out body. One of his arms was still up and over her back, and occasionally a finger would twitch along with a sigh or murmur from his perpetually moving mouth.

She probably could have stayed there forever if he hadn't started sounding a little more lucid. 

As soon as Gaz's body returned to where it had been against his chest, a self-satisfied purr rose up in his chest, and his other arm went up to her hair.

",, az."

It was like her stomach had bottomed out and released everything in her body, organs included. She inhaled.

"What did you say?" she asked, in as soft a voice as she could.

"You," he chuckled slightly. 

"What about me?"

Zim didn't respond verbally to this question. He merely grunted and tightened his grip around her body, pressing his face into her neck.

It was a wonder he hadn't woken up from the heat radiating from her face and body. Gaz wanted to disentangle herself from him, but she also didn't want to move a muscle for fear she'd wake him up.

She was wide awake now. 

"What are you doing?" she asked, softly as she could without outright whispering.

He giggled. He GIGGLED at that. Gaz felt her breath catch, then cursed herself for having that reaction. 

The giggle was slightly menacing, which made sense in retrospect as Zim's claws tightened on her back. 

"Mine," he purred into her ear as they subtly slid downwards. 

Gaz panicked. She jumped to her feet, out of Zim's ever-tightening grip, and stumbled backwards a few steps, trying to regain her balance and composure. He had no right to make her stomach do flip-flops like that. He had no right to be even the least amount of smooth or competent, asleep or not. Gaz clapped a hand over her mouth to steady her breathing, then frantically began rubbing her arms up and down and told herself she did NOT miss the contact as the chill of the room hit her.

Apparently, Zim did, as his eyes slowly flickered open and leisurely made their way over to hers. 

A lazy, half-lidded, goofy smile broke out on his still sleepy face.

"Gaz. . . human." The suffix was an afterthought, savored in his mouth.

"Did. . ." Gaz swallowed. "So did you dream?"

"Dream?" Zim looked slightly confused. "Did I . . . dream?"

"Yeah, you definitely did," she answered. "I heard you sleep talking."

Zim's face went from self-satisfied to shell-shocked in heartbeat. His hands snapped together and he stared at her.

"What did-- what did I say?" 

"Nothing!!" Gaz answered, waving her arms frantically. "It was just nonsense words, just babbling. You didn't say anything out of the ordinary, nothing weird or strange or cute or terrible, I'm gonna head home now, this was weird, bye!!" 

"You're leaving??" Zim looked completely forlorn. "Already?"

Gaz flushed. "Get a grip," she said, as much to herself as to him. "It was just a dream."

He sat up slowly. "That was. . . unpleasant."

"It seemed pretty pleasant," she mumbled before she could stop herself. Zim's eyes swiveled to her again.

"But it wasn't REAL! What's the POINT????"

"The point? There's no point. It's just your brain entertaining you while you're asleep or whatever. . ."

Zim folded his arms and scowled. "I didn't like it."

"Of course not." Gaz was feeling tired again. It was barely sunrise and he was already yelling. "I'm gonna go home and go back to bed. See you later."

"There is no need!! It would be acceptable for you to, eh, continue staying in my living room."

"Thanks, but I want to go home," Gaz insisted.

He hopped to his feet and bounded over to her, sticking his arms out. "I COMMAND YOU TO STAY. We have not yet finished the levels we intended and you can't go home until we do!!! SLEEP HERE. dream HERE." 

Hitting him with an elbow and rushing out the front door was satisfying vengeance for the topsy-turvy stomach feelings she was getting bombarded with, but it didn't stop her mind from racing all the way home. And it certainly didn't help her mutinous body stop wanting his warmth when she crawled gratefully into bed at home and closed her eyes. And it didn't keep her treacherous brain from coming up with all sorts of soft, cuddly scenarios to push on her in her weakened state.

Zim was right. Dreaming was dumb.

[abraxos-is-toothless]

Surprises (7)

Ah here is chapter 7, hoping for 8 tomorrow if all goes well:))

Previous Chapter.

Masterlist.

Ask Box.

Warnings: In this chapter there is talks of past violence and death. There will be swearing, mature themes, mentions of alcohol at times, and mentions of sex. I will update warnings as I go if needed.

My beautiful beta @bryaxisthefaceofnightmares was very happy, I’ll leave it at that;)

Chapter 7

—————

Azriel decided to take her to a place he only ever went to alone, not even bringing his brothers out here, the ones that meant something anyway. He’d brought her to his old house, or, at least, what was left of it. The outhouse where his mother spent the majority of her time was still standing, but the main house was no more than cinders, the remaining few parts of its foundation were the only signs that it had existed in the first place. Elain was a quiet presence beside him, her hand linked with his again- he had told her that path was overgrown and didn’t want her to trip, but he just wanted an excuse to do so once more. When they were finally in his mother’s old house, he told her to sit while he got her a glass of water, ignoring her protests that she was fine. She didn’t look fine at all, she looked like she was going to be sick or something and he told her as such.

He took a seat opposite Elain after handing her the glass, the reason they were here coming back to him when she spoke again.

“It’s the morning sickness. Well I should say daytime sickness, because that’s how it feels. That’s why I don’t look too great.”

Azriel’s mouth was moving before he could stop the words, yet he didn’t regret them.

“You look beautiful. You always look beautiful.”

She blushed then, ducking her head said slightly, and the sight made his chest hurt. It wasn’t just that, it was looking at her in the place he grew up, looking as though she belonged. Like she was meant to be there with him. He stopped those thoughts in their tracks when the words ‘morning sickness’ actually clicked something in his mind, and he forced himself to ask about the reason for such a thing. “You know, I meant what I said, about the baby. I really would like to be there for you, for both of you. If you’ll let me, that is. But I’m not asking to jump into some kind of relationship; I thought maybe we could try to be friends? We never had that to begin with and I would like to get to know you. Even if we weren’t in this situation, I’d still want that.”

His heart broke a little bit when she looked back at him with tears in her eyes, just like back at the diner. He had wanted to wipe them away then, but hadn’t been sure whether or not she would let him. Screw it. Moving from his own chair, he got down on his knees in front of her, gently lifting his hands to cup her cheeks and used his thumbs to brush them away.

“Please don’t cry, El. Please, I didn’t mean to upset you. Gods, how do I keep fucking this up?”

Mother above, she was even more stunning up close. There were little freckles scattered over the bridge of her nose, her eyes were so bright with hope he never wanted to look anywhere else. And that mouth. He just wanted to kiss it. All of the time. Elain giggled then, a soft and adorable sound that he wanted engraved into his brain. She smiled when she spoke once more, and he thought he’d died right there and gone to heaven.

“You didn’t upset me, Az. Stupid hormones are making me cry over the littlest things. But did you mean that? Are you sure this is what you want? Because you can walk away, you don’t have to bear this with me, I’d understand.”

If Azriel was any other idiotic, pig–headed teenage boy, he might have taken her up on that offer. Might have walked away from them and never looked back. But that wasn’t what he wanted. He always knew he’d wanted kids, and yes this might be earlier than he had planned, but maybe this is how it was meant to happen. And he knew for certain he was not going to be his father, he wasn’t going to let his child grow up thinking its father didn’t want it. Didn’t love it. So, he nodded and smiled back, and answered with all the determination he could muster.

“Yes, this is what I want. I’m all in, Elain.”

He hadn’t expected it, but she brought him into a bone crushing hug, like she hadn’t expected him to agree with her. Hesitantly, he put his own arms around her shoulders and rested his cheek on the top of her head. She smelt so good, fit so right in his arms that he never wanted to let her go.

Azriel thought he could get used to this and decided to do everything in his power to keep it.

oOoOo

It had been a few weeks since their talk about the baby, and Elain found that she was smiling almost constantly. Azriel had been texting her every day, asking her how she was, and for the first few days her answer was simply just ‘I’m fine’. He seemed to know that she never really meant it, phoning her one evening a few days ago, to call her out on her bullshit while she was lying in bed.

Elain had just been about to put her phone down, telling Lucien goodnight, when it lit up with Azriel’s name on an incoming call. She hesitated for a moment as he’d never called before, but then told herself to stop being stupid because they’d talked in person, there was no difference.

“Hi Az. Are you alright?” Why the hell was he calling?

“I’m going to ask you a question, El, and I want you to be honest with me. How are you feeling?”

“Wha- fine. I feel fine Az, I’ve told you.”

There was a huff of breath on the other end, a frustrated huff, like he was mad at her. But she didn’t know why, didn’t know what she had done to piss him off. Everything was okay when they texted only a few hours ago.

“Feyre and Nesta were talking at lunch today,” fuckity fuck, “they were saying that you were sick this morning with a bad headache, so you didn’t come into school. But when I asked you this morning, you said there was nothing wrong. You said you trusted me Elain, but you’re not telling me things. I don’t ask just to ask, I genuinely want to know, and I know I can’t begin to understand, but I did this to you and I just want you tell me that yeah, sometimes you feel like complete shit.”

What did she do to deserve this boy?

“I’m sorry. It’s just, you already feel terrible about the whole thing, I don’t want to make you feel any worse.”

It was true. Whenever that night was brought up, when they were trying to remember things or tell the other that they had remembered something new, he always got this distant look on his face. And when she asked about it, it was always the same answer. He wished that it hadn’t been like that, wished he could do it all differently, to take care of her how she deserved and be gentler than he had. He was always scared of hurting her, when he’d already hurt her too much. However, he finished every time saying that he’d never regret her or the baby, because now they were all he wanted. Thinking of that made her say how she felt, even though she didn’t want to add to his guilt. But he’d asked.

“Every day, I feel so goddamn awful Az, and it sucks ass.”

He laughed then and gods, she would do whatever she could to make him do it again, again, again.

Elain looked at him now, standing at the kitchen counter, in the house he’d explained was his mother’s. His real mother’s before she died. That story, when he’d told her, had made her cry for what felt like hours. His biological brothers had decided that day that they had wanted to play with fire, using him as a test dummy. They had him pinned and set fire to his hands, not letting him go until he was screaming at the top of his lungs. When they did, the flames were gone although the burning sensation was still there, his flight or fight response kicked in, and he just bolted, running all the way to Rhysand’s house. He was only eight. And by the time Rhys’ mother- a nurse, he had remembered his friend telling him–had cleaned up his hands and he’d gathered the courage to go home, the whole place was ablaze, taking his family with it. She pushed that to the back of her mind and couldn’t help her smile as she watched him make her a sandwich, cutting it into to small squares so she didn’t eat too much and make herself sick, knowing that she couldn’t really keep any food down.

Azriel sat across from her after handing her the plate, just watching her, but after a few minutes, she had noticed a contemplative look become apparent on his face. Lifting a piece of her sandwich, she asked him with a bit of amusement, “Why are you looking at me like that?” He shook his head at that and turned away from her.

“It’s uh, it’s nothing. Eat; you said you’d barely had anything today.”

Not suspicious at all that, was it?

“I thought we agreed to stop lying to each other. You can tell me. What’s wrong?”

“I just... I just really want to kiss you right now.”

Elain was hearing things. She’d finally lost the plot. He couldn’t have possibly just said what she thought he did, there was just no way. The butterflies that were always in her stomach whenever she was near him became ten times worse. He couldn’t want Elain. Yes, they’d spent that one night together, but they were both drunk, he was probably just going for what was closest in his hazy state of arousal. And sure, there were kisses he’d placed on her cheek when they managed to get some time alone but they were just friendly. He’d asked to be friends. All of a sudden, her chair was being dragged around next his, and he lifted one hand to cup her cheek.

“May I kiss you, Elain?”

It was actually happening then. She’d fantasized about this a few times since he’d first brought her here, but she never thought she’d get to experience the real thing. Closing her eyes tightly, she nodded to let him know it was a yes. That it was okay. But for Azriel, that wasn’t enough.

“Open your eyes, El. I need to be sure; I’m not taking something that isn’t mine again.”

She did so, and staring into those beautiful hazel eyes, Elain let out a breathy, “Yes.”

He leaned in slowly, so slowly she thought he wasn’t moving at all. But then she felt his breath on her lips and his eyes were flicking between her own and her mouth. She closed them again at the first touch, just a peck. Then another. A few more until his mouth was opening slightly against hers, and she followed his lead, not really having kissed anyone- the ones she didn’t remember not counting. For a minute, it was a clash of teeth and tongue, but he wasn’t put off and stayed slow as not to rush her. Gods, he tasted good, like mint and something she couldn’t quite place. She brought her hand up to tangle in his hair, making him groan against her mouth, causing her to giggle.

Az pulled back slightly then, smiling at her as he asked, “We can go as slow as you’d like, but I want you to know that no matter how this makes me feel,” he brought her hand to his chest and she gasped at the feeling of his racing heart, “the choice will always be yours.”

Nodding enthusiastically, she kissed him this time, with more confidence than before. Only one word pushed to the forefront of her mind.

Yes, yes, yes.

—————

So they finally kissed! Are you happy? Was it good? Let me know your thoughts:)) if you want to be added/removed from tags I’ll be happy to do so😊

Tags: @starlitfangirl @starsauroras @drunken-starz @myfriendscallmeraba @thesirenwashere @empress-sei @elrielllll @stars-falling @cirieael @verifiefangirl @theshadowsinger-and-thefawn @mirainthedark05 @fancyclodpaintercookie @acourtofterrasenandvelaris @azriel-archeronn @queen-of-glass @bamchickawowow @slightly-sane-fangirl @empress-ofbloodshed @sleeping-and-books @b00kworm @kvi-arts @rhysandhlcor @tswaney17 @awkward-avocado-s @judexcardanxgreenbriar

[nicnacsnonsense]

Aziraphale & Crowley's D&D classes?

Short version:

Aziraphale is a paladin, and Crowley is a bard.

Long version:

Aziraphale originally created his character as a paladin at the suggestion of the DM because it was going to create the best team balance and be the best fit for the planned campaign. However, as he played he found he didn’t really enjoy the melee combat and would much rather be support class. He’s continually tried to change classes to cleric, but the DM won’t let him.

And Gabriel’s not even the real, original DM. She stopped answering anyone’s calls ages ago. They know she’s not dead because they managed to get a hold of her... husband? flatmate? assistant? attorney? dude who speaks for her, but she’s not talking to any of them. So the group decided to elect Gabriel to take over as DM to continue the campaign.

I say the group decided, but Aziraphale was not consulted on this policy decision. And quite frankly he’s not really enjoying playing anymore; Gabriel is a terrible DM, and the whole group has gotten rather overbearing. He considers quitting on a semi-regular basis, but always feels bad about potentially leaving everyone else in the lurch, and besides, where else is he going to go? He doesn’t know of any other D&D groups he could join or how he would go about finding one.

Meanwhile Crowley started out with his group as a bard, but then one of the other players basically tricked him into making a warlock pact with a demon prince, forcing the class change. And what’s worse is the guy texted everyone the day after that session to let them know in the most condescending way possible that he was quitting. The DM decided to narratively address this issue by revealing his character was actually the demon prince in disguise and shifting the character to a sporadically appearing NPC, so now this arse gets off scot-free while Crowley is stuck with him.

Crowley hates playing as a warlock, admittedly partially because it was forced on him, and feels like the group as a whole is getting pretty toxic. He plans on quitting, but first he’s trying to find a way to force the story to dissolve his pact with the demon prince on principle/out of spite. He just has to keep his plotting from the DM because he knows Beelzebub would stop him if they knew about it.

And Beelzebub isn’t even the original DM. They just took over when the first DM basically vanished. Crowley hates them as a DM, and feels like they’re part of the reason this whole thing has gone toxic.

In a twist that shocks all the players but precisely zero members of the reading audience, it turns out both groups’ AWOL DMs are in fact the same DM. She was running both campaigns concurrently and had been secretly weaving them together. The plan was for a big reveal and then to do one last story arc as a joint effort before closing out the campaign. Which means now Gabriel and Beelzebub are trying to co-DM, despite the fact they can’t stand each other and 2 minutes and 13 seconds is currently their record for longest they’ve gone without one of them insulting the other. And the both of them swear they’re moving things forward exactly the way the DM had planned based on her notes, as though they didn’t all know she always had a million and one things going on in her head and wrote less than half of them down. The whole thing is quickly turning into a shit show without any actual playing happening.

So Crowley is watching all this go down and seriously considers leaving for a minute, before screwing up his courage and sauntering over to sit down next to the good-looking blond guy from the other group, Az-something his name was. “Well this is going down like a lead ballon.”

Az, Az... Aziraphale! That was his name, Aziraphale. Aziraphale glances over at Crowley and chuckles a little, but he looks extremely nervous. Hopefully it’s a general social awkwardness thing, and not something about Crowley in particular that he’s finding off-putting. “Sorry, what was that?” Aziraphale asks.

“I said, ‘Well this is going down like a lead ballon.’”

“Yes, yes, it is rather,” Aziraphale agrees.

Emboldened by his success so far — given that Aziraphale is the type of person to show up for a casual game night in a waistcoat, bow tie, and pocket watch, whereas Crowley’s the type of guy (well, guy-ish) to wear snakeskin boots, women’s jeans, and get a snake tattooed to the side of his face, he’s willing to consider not getting immediately shut down a success — Crowley leans closer to whisper conspiratorially. “You know my disaster of a neighbor runs sessions with the local gang of eleven year olds, and I bet even they run a smoother game than this lot.”

“I shouldn’t doubt it.” Aziraphale huffs in annoyance. “At this rate we aren’t going to get anything done today at all, and I can’t possibly stay late just because everyone else is bickering and disorganized. I have dinner reservations for that new Italian restaurant; I hear they do remarkable things to oysters.”

“I’ve never eaten an oyster,” Crowley replies.

“Oh, well, let me tempt you to—“ Aziraphale cuts himself off and quickly looks away, blushing.

Crowley grins. “Tempt me to what?” he asks, gently knocking Aziraphale’s foot with his own.

Aziraphale darts a sideways look at him, and then back down at his hands, still blushing faintly. “I was just thinking it’s such a shame you’ve never tried oysters before and that, well, if you aren’t busy of course, that you might want to join me tonight.”

“I wouldn’t want to wreck your dinner plans,” Crowley says, which is half true. He has no problem with wrecking dinner plans in principle — he finds he especially doesn’t have a problem with crashing a date that Azirapahle might hypothetically be on — but he doesn’t want to do it if it would upset Aziraphale.

“I doubt it’ll be a hardship to ask the restaurant to bump my table for one to two.”

“Well, in that case,” Crowley drawls. The two of them are both smiling at each other now, and that’s... good. It’s very good. Very, very good. In fact, “Why don’t we head out now? Go see a movie before dinner.”

Aziraphale looks scandalized. “We can’t leave early. Everyone else is counting on us to be here to play.”

Crowley nods over toward Beelzebub and Gabriel, who look about two seconds away from an actual fist fight at this point — Crowley’s money is on Beelzebub; they’re small, but they’re scrappy, and Gabriel might be built, but he doesn’t look like he can take a punch for shit. “You really think they’re going to miss us?”

“Ah, well...” Aziraphale hems.

“It doesn’t have to be a movie.” Crowley says. “We could go for a coffee, a walk in the park, to the museum...” Aziraphale lights up at the last suggestion, and Crowley’s heart starts to beat a little faster. He firmly tells it to calm the fuck down; they’re trying to play it cool here. “Come on. You tempted me to dinner, only fair to let me tempt you to a museum, huh?”

Aziraphale takes on last glance at the rest of the group before turning back to Crowley. His smile is small but extraordinarily pleased, and he wiggles a bit in his seat. “Temptation accomplished.”

After that the two of them leave for their “is it a date? Who the fuck knows; definitely not these two idiots.” The following week they go to Newt’s D&D session instead. Crowley is allowed to immediately revert his character back to a bard. Meanwhile Aziraphale ends up staying a paladin, but the kids have enough big damage dealers in their group that he can play the character as an unusually tank-y healer.

[annhellsing]

Best of Dark and Bright

notes: i disappeared for over a week and come back with...... yet more a3! oh my god. anyway shrugs, it’s more azuma angst!! rating: explicit tbh. it’s not super detailed but i mean?? yeee pairing: azuma yukishiro / reader word count: 2,317

He has curled up before, like a cat in the arms of a lover. This is a poor imitation.

Azuma holds his knees to his chest, the blanket thrown over most of him and his hair spread out against the disorganized pillows. He feels small like this, but not safe. No, he’s helpless, choking back hard sobs in an attempt to quiet himself.

He’s never liked sleeping alone, some things never change. Even when he was a child, he would wake missing his brother’s snoring in the bed next to him. Of course, it’s more than discomfort that keeps him from finding rest now. 

There are screams every night when there is no sound of another’s beating heart to drown it out. There is a crash, three sickening thuds of skulls against glass and rubber and metal. Sirens. Then, silence.

He has not tried to go to sleep, not after slumping heavily in bed with his clothes still dotting the bare floor. He tried not to cry in front of his almost-bedfellow as the man departed, that would have been a sorry sight indeed.

Azuma can’t say this is the first time it's happened. It serves him right for assuming, he supposes, that everyone looks forward to a cuddle after a roll in the hay. Not this man. He rose like he cared very little for who he just made love to and tugged his suit back on.

Work in the morning, he said. Thanks for understanding.

There is nothing to be understood. Azuma lets hot tears come now, the feeling of hollow emptiness settling in with the fullest force. He likes sex, of course, and has never once regretted it. But to watch the back of a lover as they decide he is not worth staying for--- nothing on earth stings quite like it.

He drops his head, leaning forward until he can’t distinguish the dark of the room for the warm black of his folded arms. He closes his eyes, trying to slow his breathing to a human pace. It is a difficult task.

---

The salaryman tips his head towards you as you walk by. The hallway is otherwise quiet, still lit up so soon after dark on a weekend night. You watch him go, trying to guess which room he came from.

Sakyo seems unlikely, more the type to arrange motel visits if he wanted to bring someone home. Homare-- maybe, but the man looks a little plain for his tastes. As you brush by the otherwise dull-seeming man, you catch a whiff of a familiar shampoo and the faintest trace of lilac.

The salaryman says nothing, he offers only the cocksure smirk of a man who’s gotten some. It doesn’t set your mind at ease, most of Azuma’s lovers leave just a bit before sunrise. You’ve almost never seen them up close.

A feeling rises in you, not necessarily one of fear but instead that things might not all be right. You turn back to the hallway, walking faster now and heading towards the stairs. You’ll check on him first and work your way down the floors in more detail when you know he’s all right.

Azuma’s a good judge of character, you're sure he could take care of himself. It’s likely nothing’s happened, you’ll hear the sound of his soft breathing when you open his door. You’ll find him sleeping, nearly purring.

But his door doesn’t need to be opened very much. It’s partially ajar, showing the dark beyond and the faint outline of a figure slumped on the bed. You grip the handle and push it open fully.

“Az?” you ask, “Honey, are you okay?”

The shape on the bed moves, his breathing is far from peaceful. It sounds ragged, too similar to sobbing for you to hover for very long. You close the door and realize that the bathroom light to the left is still on, too.

“Azuma, it’s just me. What happened?”

A silver head lifts from the mattress, though his hair is half in his face you can see that he’s been crying. Before you even make it to the bed, he’s reaching for you. You sit behind him, careful to give him space. Azuma wholly discards that, shifting and twisting as much as he can until his head is safe in your lap.

“Sweetheart,” you try again, even though he’s done little else but cry since you came in. Your voice turns cold, something you don’t recognize, “Did he force you?”

“No,” Azuma sighs, sounding congested and exhausted in the same breath. He turns, brushing his hair out of his eyes. You find his golden stare unnerving, you’ve never seen him look so upset. “But he left me, he wouldn’t stay. I begged him to, but--”

“Oh, Az,” you sigh, relieved and yet still pained to see him so sad. “I should’ve kicked him in the shin, I knew he was no good.”

Azuma doesn’t say anything. He drops his head, closes his eyes. He looks tired, it’s getting late. Your lap is comfortable, he thinks.

“How about some water, okay?” you start, “I can make the bed while you put your pyjamas on and I’ll stay the night.”

“You will?” he sniffles. You nod.

“I know you--- you’re working on sleeping alone. But it’s not your fault he was a jerk,” you say.

“I thought I was a better judge of character,” he admits. You shake your head.

“No, come on,” you say, your fingers find his hair. You brush it back from his face, revealing high cheekbones and soft skin. “None of that, we all make mistakes.”

He huffs, half in an agreement and half in relaxation. Your hand feels good in his hair, cool and gentle. Azuma sighs, but rears up when your hand leaves and you start to shift.

“Don’t move,” he exclaims, reaching out again when you turn your knees and try to stand up. “Don’t leave.”

“But--” you start, “Az, I’m just going to turn the bathroom light off so you can sleep. I’m not leaving.”

He huffs again, but this one edges towards a whine. You bite your lip and go still. You can hold him a little while longer.

“Poor thing,” you mumble. His cheeks are wet, you notice. Despite your promise, he’s still crying. “So he just-- he just left.”

“As soon as I was done, yes,” Azuma admits, “I wonder if he even liked me.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” you tut, concerned at how easily doubt creeps into his mind. “If an ass like that did like you, it would be an insult. You deserve better.”

“I deserve you,” he sighs. You, to his unending surprise, nod.

“You have me, honey,” you say, “I’ll stay all night, don’t worry. But you should get cleaned up.”

“I barely want to move,” Azuma counters. You smile, just a bit.

“You don’t have to,” you say, “let me up, I’ll get a cloth. Let me take care of you.”

And the sigh that leaves him is like the last of his stress has gone up in smoke. Azuma goes almost limp in your lap for a moment, before stiffening up and rising enough for you to stand.

“Good boy,” you whisper, giving his head a pat before slouching off to the bathroom.

The bathroom looks orderly, even with bottles of product lined up on the shelves around the mirror. You find a face cloth and run the tap until warm water pours out. Then, you turn it cold and fill a glass. On your way out, you turn out the light with your shoulder.

The curtains flutter in the breeze, there’s enough moonlight to guide you back to the bed. Setting the glass on the side table, you turn to look at your new bedfellow. He’s still curled up, but less stiff than before.

“Can I turn on the light, sweetheart?” you ask. He rolls his shoulders and you see him nod.

You flick the lamp on and sit down on the bed again. This time you’re somewhere else, reaching for the edge of the blanket and guiding it gently down.

“Can I see?” you ask this time. Azuma pauses and then, after a moment, he unfurls.

He’s unmarked, it seems. Not even a love bite adorns his pale neck. His chest looks soft and his breathing seems to have slowed a bit. He stares at you, all the while, while you look. It feels strange to be the cast-off, but it isn’t the first time he’s been that.

But it is the first time, he can admit, that someone was there to want him in spite of that.

“That’s it,” you whisper, your tone turning breathy and sweet. Before you reach anywhere intimate, your hand finds his cheek. You wipe the tears from his red face with your thumb. “You can cry if you need to, but you’re not alone any more. Okay?”

“Okay,” he replies after a short breath.

“Come on,” you say, your tone is still languid and careful-- even as you pull the blanket down farther.

It’s as you expected, his cock is soft against his stomach and Azuma’s a terrible mess. He’s not shy, at least, about the way you look at him. Nor does he resist when you carefully part his legs.

You take a moment, admiring how long and pretty they are. He has legs some people would die for. Others, like you, might even kill for them. But you shake that thought from your head.

“Tell me if I’m too rough,” you say, deciding to start between his spread thighs.

He lets out a soft whimper when the warm cloth touches his skin. You start to wipe away evidence of his departed lover from the backs of his legs, moving inward and going slow.

“Too much?” you ask. He shakes his head. “Okay.”

You continue, Azuma stares at the ceiling. This is nice, nicer still that he knows it's your hand doing the work. He slumps back on the bed, wiping at his own cheeks and hoping he isn’t too puffy. He’s so tired, but he supposes an eye mask is in order.

Any thoughts of skincare falter, however, when he thinks for even a second about how good you are to him. He looks down, between his legs to you cleaning his most intimate parts like you were the one to put him in such a state. The thought makes him oddly warm.

Azuma stiffens up again when that warm, unassuming cloth and your hand moves over his dick. 

The result is instantaneous. Even exhausted and spent, his body reacts to your gentle attention. He supposes he shouldn’t be ashamed of that, out of everything you’ve seen tonight. But it bothers him, oddly enough, that you might be disgusted by such a shift in his mood.

You might stop if you notice, but his cock gives another twitch. It’s useless to try and dismiss something he’s never bothered to control. It feels good, the way you’re taking care of him. Azuma closes his eyes, waiting for inevitable embarrassment on your part.

But you move on, cleaning traces of his own orgasm from his stomach. The cloth has mostly grown tepid by then and you toss it towards the bathroom without a second glance.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, “you’re all tense again. It’s fine. It’s normal to react like that. Did the cloth feel good?”

He imagines someone bashful might close their legs. Your pointed, downward look tells him any hope he had of you not noticing was foolish from the start. He nods, almost absently.

“Actually, your hand did,” he says. Honesty is the only thing that sits right with him. He can see your face, lit up by the lamp on the bedside table. You’re smiling.

“How flattering,” you say, “do you want me to--”

“What?” he exclaims, his eyes go wide. As lazy as he is at the moment, Azuma sits up and props his elbow underneath him.

“Look at you, now you're blushing,” you smile a little wider. “Don’t tell me you’re so used to rejection. That’ll make me sad.”

“I’m not,” he replies, “but I thought--”

“I said I’d take care of you, honey, do you want me to?” you ask.

His cock twitches again. Azuma nods.

“Good, then let me get comfortable,” you say.

He’s not sure why that makes his stomach twist. His cock, pretty and thin as he is gives a pleasant throb. But when he moves to reach down and relieve himself, you guide his hand away.

“Give me a second, my goodness,” you sigh, rising quickly to turn off the light. You kick off your shoes and crawl over him into the bed.

You tug the covers over you, pulling your bedmate against your chest like this is a time-honoured tradition. Azuma’s slack-jawed, stunned speechless while you move him to where he’ll be most comfortable.

Across your chest is warmer and safer than in your lap, he finds. Your hand moves down his stomach, taking his now half-hard cock against your palm.

“Be good,” you kiss the end of his nose, “it’s late, so you have to be quiet.”

He nods dully, his eyes flutter shut when you begin to stroke.

Azuma is proud of himself for keeping his senses. You have one hand in his hair and the other idly works over his shaft. It’s surreal, how differently you behave under the cover of dark. But it isn’t unnatural or odd. It feels as if you might’ve always offered this to him, quietly, in your own way. He only needed to ask.

“More,” he sighs, now. Because you’ve proven that it’s never too late to do so. The end of his request is turned up like a question, in spite of himself.

You kiss his nose again. Your hand moves faster.

[gaslightgallows]

Jack and Phryne reunite in London and go book shopping and happen upon AZ Fell & Co. I rather not on the smut.

Oh my lord this is the silliest thing ever. ♥

(Read at AO3)

"I don't know if you'll have much luck in there, Jack," said Phryne, as they stood on a street corner in Soho, and Jack eyed the well-stocked windows of the venerable "A.Z. Fell & Co." book shop. "My cousin Guy once got thrown out by the owner."

Jack couldn't help a grin. "That's not too difficult to imagine. I'll wager your cousin Guy's been chucked out of most of the respectable shops in London."

"True, but he wasn't doing anything untoward this time. He just wanted to buy a book."

"...And the owner threw him out?"

Phryne nodded. "Apparently, Mr. Fell is chronically averse to actually selling any of his stock. According to Mac, it's more of a esoterically curated private collection, than an actual retail establishment. She spent a lot of time here, when she was a student, and got to know him rather well."

"Dr. Macmillan knows this Mr. Fell, Guy Stanley knows him... and you, Miss Fisher? Are you acquainted with him?"

"Only in passing. I'm afraid I don't have any patience with people who run shops but won't sell anything."

Jack's grin widened. "Not your type of man?"

Phryne's eyes twinkled, but she shook her head. "Not any woman's type of man, I'd say."

"Ah."

"Mac and I got thrown out, too."

That made Jack blink. "Oh, well, now I have to go in. Any man who has the fortitude to toss both you and Elizabeth Macmillan out on your ears is someone who deserves at least my theoretical patronage. Unless you're banned from the shop?"

"Well... I was... but that was a long time ago. Fell probably won't remember me."

It was wishful thinking, as Jack realized within seconds of opening the shop's front door.

"You! I thought I told you not to come back." A pale, slightly plump figure swirled out of the back and made shooing motions with his exquisitely manicured hands. "I'm a patient person but I do draw the line at shoplifting, young lady!"

Jack swallowed most of a laugh and looked down at the Honourable Phryne Fisher, who had the grace to appear at least a little abashed. "Hello, Mr. Fell, I wasn't sure you'd know me. It's been well over a decade."

The shopkeeper cocked his head slightly with an expression that reminded Jack of a deeply disappointed school mistress. "I never forget a face, especially the face of someone who tries to make off with one of my books, no matter how much they've grown up in the intervening years. Now, I really must ask you both to--"

"Is that an original Morte D'Artur?" Phryne asked, breezing past the owner. "Oh, how splendid."

Mr. Fell blinked.

Jack coughed politely. "I'm sorry to have brought trouble to your doorstep, sir. It was my idea to come into the shop. I'm visiting London and--"

"Oh no, my dear fellow, no apologies needed." Mr. Fell sighed. "There's very little point wasting energy trying to resist Miss Fisher when she's made up her mind, I quite understand that. I learned that when she was a girl."

"You, um." Jack stopped and looked the man over with a professional eye. Average height, a little too well-fed, clothes of good quality, if having seen better days, white-blond curls that seemed to resent being so neatly combed, and suspiciously guileless blue eyes. Jack decided three things, based on his observations: one, that he wouldn't trust this man within an inch of his life; two, that he would absolutely trust this man, when the chips were down, and three, that Mr. Fell was one-hundred percent the sort of bloke who would be taken up in a police raid at a Certain Type of Establishment.

What he couldn't put his finger on was how old Mr. Fell was. Because he didn't look any older than Phryne or himself... but he'd known Phryne when she was a child, probably since shortly after her relocation to England.

It made no sense.

"You've known Miss Fisher long?"

Mr. Fell scrunched his nose. "Oh, yes. Long enough to realize that what she can't pay for, she'll make off with--oh, for--don't touch that!"

Phryne rolled her eyes and waggled the fingers of her free hand. "I'm wearing gloves!"

"I assure you, Mr. Fell," said Jack quietly, not sure of the undercurrents happening but deeply amused, nevertheless, "she can pay for anything she decides to buy."

"Hmph. That's a long chalk from where she was the last time she was in my shop."

"I was fifteen!"

"You were a menace to society. You and that Macmillan girl."

"Well, that hasn't changed," Jack said, with a smirk. "Why did you toss them out?"

"For trying to buy a book," Phryne replied, before Mr. Fell could open his mouth.

"No, I threw your cousin out for trying to buy a book. I threw you and your friend out for trying to steal a book. A first edition of Gray's Anatomy, I believe, or possibly Harvey's "On the Circulation of the Blood. Some important medical title, at any rate. And you're lucky I didn't do more than chuck you out!"

Phryne snapped Le Morte d'Artur shut, making Mr. Fell wince. "Mac had the money, you just wouldn't sell it."

"Those funds were ill-gotten, as you knew perfectly well. It would have been wrong to sell either of you anything."

"How did you know the money was stolen?" Jack interjected, before things got too out of hand.

Mr. Fell made some unintelligible noises, before settling on, "Well, it was obvious! One gets to recognize such signs, in my business! And what would have happened to me, if I'd sold it. I'd have had the police round here after me as an accomplice!"

"Well, she got the book in the end, didn't she?" said Jack. "I've been to Mac's flat, she's got that gorgeous copy of Gray's Anatomy on her desk. Pride of place, too."

"Yes, funny thing about that." Phryne was looking at Fell now with an unfamiliar mixture of amusement and awe. "After we reluctantly went home and, er, returned the funds to their rightful owner, Mac found that very same book in her room."

"She might have said thank you," Mr. Fell muttered, turning away to brush some dust from a nearby shelf.

"How could she? You banned us from the shop."

"Doesn't seem to have stopped you."

"It was twenty years ago! Now, if you're done lecturing me over childhood misdemeanors, I'd like to buy this."

Fell snapped out what to Jack's ears sounded like an utterly obscene price, but Phryne accepted it without a murmur and pulled out her chequebook.

"Cash only," said Fell loftily. "No cheques."

"That's fine, I'll just run to the bank--"

"I'm closing in five minutes. Then I'm going on holiday. Won't be back for months."

Phryne's face fell so sharply that Jack suddenly felt a lump in his throat. "That's a shame," she said, with complete sincerity, and carefully laid the book down. "I was hoping to give it to my daughter as a present."

"Oh, that's... well, that is unfortunate."

Was it Jack's imagination, or did the dapper little man look uncomfortable? No, not his imagination, and nothing that Phryne was doing, either. He'd seen her delicately manipulate people of both sexes into getting her way, and there was none of that tactic here. She simply looked... disappointed.

And Fell didn't appear to be on board with that.

"Right, well... anyway, terribly nice to see you again, do stop back the next time you're on this side of the world. Must close up now." He all but shoved them out of the shop, and in a moment they were back on the sidewalk and halfway down the block before they realized what was happening.

"Silly old fool," said Phryne, taking Jack's arm for the walk back to their hotel.

After the story about Mac and the book, Jack was half expecting something miraculous, but seeing the small oblong parcel sitting on the desk of their hotel room still sent a shiver up his spine. He hadn't seen Fell leave the shop, and there hadn't been any time for him to slip out, let alone...

Let alone what?

"Phryne. The money you and Mac tried to use when you were children. Was it stolen?"

"I'm afraid so, though the only till we'd rifled was my father's hidden stash. But how Fell could have known that..." She sat down at the desk and gently untied the parcel, revealing the beautiful little copy of Le Morte D'Artur and a small card:

For Jane. Compliments of A.Z. Fell.