#elaines cooking for the soul

[radicalreliablerandomness]

Podcast Rec Masterpost

I've been asked a couple times for podcast recommendations so I thought I'd post a compilation of some shows and a bit of info about them. Most shows I talk about are tagged below (I ran out of tags) so you can look through fan content as well if you're not one to care about spoilers. My asks are still open for personalized recs if you send me some others that you've listened to just because I love you, yes that's right! You. The person reading this right now!

Here goes!

Dungeons And Daddies *not a BDSM podcast

This show is a dnd actual play podcast. The first season is about four dads from our world lost in the Forgotten Realms in search of their lost sons. It’s a comedy but as with all comedies, you will cry by the end of it. It's super easy to get into with great chemistry between all the cast players and the dm, no prior knowledge of dnd is necessary. They do invoke slight horror sometimes so do keep an eye out for content warnings. Season 1 has 68.5 episodes along with bonus content and a mini campaign in between seasons 1 and 2. Season 2 is currently ongoing. Transcripts available.

The Bright Sessions

This is a science fiction podcast. The premise is a collection of clinical recordings of superpowered people's therapy sessions. The plot gets more interesting and convoluted as you get further in. Incredible voice acting filled with emotion. Does have some heavier discussions so be on the lookout for content warnings. It has 7 seasons (the last two are technically not part of the first five seasons' plot) and is completed. Transcripts available.

Hello From the Hallowoods

A post-apocalyptic fiction podcast. A beautifully written and preformed podcast that explores identity, religion, and other themes in vignettes throughout this haunted world narrated by an omniscient being. Some heavier topics are included so check the content warning before each episode. Seasons 1 and 2 are completed and season 3 will be done soon. Transcripts available.

The Magnus Archives

A horror fiction podcast. A well written chronological story told through anthology which seem to be tape recordings from a paranormal investigation institute. Incredible writing and actors that really bring it to life. This is horror so make sure to check the content warnings. The show is completed at 5 seasons. Transcripts available.

Neighbourly

Another horror fiction podcast! An interesting look into all the houses on Little Street and their peculiarities. Some more peculiar than others. The podcast is absolutely delightful with a horribly fun narrator. I would suggest checking the content warnings as some episodes are more intense than others. The show has 2 completed seasons. Transcripts available.

The Fall of the House of Sunshine

A musical mystery fiction podcast. The first season is about an investigation on the murder of a beloved host of a children's tooth-themed show. That's all I can say without spoilers. There are 3 incredible seasons along with short stories in between each season. Transcripts available until halfway through season 2.

Welcome to Nightvale

Possibly the most well known science fiction podcast, it really speaks for itself but I'll do my spiel anyways. Recorded as snippets of a daily radio broadcast, the show details the weird goings on in this strange desert town of Nightvale. Narrated almost completely by the radio host's smooth voice. It's ongoing and is currently sitting at 233 episodes. Transcripts available.

The Two Princes

A fictional queer romance podcast. It takes place in that special part of fiction that always starts with "once upon a time," it feels like a story book almost. The show is based around two boys meeting in the woods. Spoiler alert: they fall in love. It's just a cute feel good show. The podcast is complete at 3 seasons. Spotify auto-generated transcripts available.

What's the Frequency?

A self described psychedelic noir podcast. It's an absolute blast even if it is a bit hard to follow. Takes place in the 1940s in LA when all radio broadcasts were turned to static. You kind of just have to go with it until you get to the end. Completed at 12 episodes. Transcripts available.

Story Break

A writer's room podcast. The basic concept behind Story Break is 3 Hollywood writers in a room together take a prompt and try to make a story for it in an hour. There are many laughs in this podcast and just all around good humor and vibes. The show is complete at 169 episodes plus two full movie scripts. No transcript.

Who Killed Avril Lavigne

A science fiction podcast. It's about a time traveling pop punk loser and that's all you need to know. It's a podmusical so you'll be getting great nostalgic pop punk type songs along with crying from laughing so hard. Completed at 8 episodes. No transcript.

The Behemoth

A fiction podcast. Based around an unexplainable creature emerging from the ocean and how the world, and one girl in particular, deal with this phenomenon. It is pretty short with the longest episode being about 12 minutes. Completed at 20 episodes. No transcript.

Rude Tales of Magic

A dnd actual play podcast. It is mainly focused on the actual roleplay and story telling as opposed to the actual play. A handful of college students from Polaris University fuck the world up by completing a hazing ritual which in this case is a supposedly demon summoning. Obviously now they need to fix the world. Currently 64 episodes and ongoing. No transcript.

Midnight Burger

A very well written fiction podcast. It’s about a time/space traveling diner where the employees try to help solve a problem every place they land. Think Doctor Who adjacent vibes but with more drama. There is an overarching plot that comes together so look out for that. It has incredible characters that are really nicely fleshed out. You’ll somehow like and hate all of them as much as possible in the best way. Currently has 29 episodes of the main feed and a 9 episode mini-series. Transcript available.

Monstrous Agonies

A fiction podcast. It’s an radio advice segment on a station for “liminal Britain” aka the monstrous world to put it plainly. It’s really chill and comforting. There’s very good advice there and the intermittent ad reads will have you giggling to yourself. Episodes are on the shorter side, averaging about 15 minutes each. It does have some heavier discussions so make sure to check the content warnings. The show is completed at 111 episodes through 3 seasons. Transcripts available.

Desert Skies

A fiction podcast. The voice acting in this one is incredible, it’s the same person the whole time. The show as a whole is also just super well done. The premise is that when you die you show up on a highway and get to this astral pit stop. I’m not going to spoil it anymore you just have to experience it. There is an additional show, Desert Skies FM that's a buddy to this one. I recommend listening to both. Season 1 was completed at 12 episodes. Transcripts available.

Wooden Overcoats

A sitcom dramedy podcast. The show is about two siblings that run a funeral home on an island. It used to be the only one, it isn’t anymore. It has a wacky cast of characters and even wackier plot points. The dialogue can be a little hard to get used to at the beginning but once you get into it it flows easily. The show is completed at 4 seasons. Transcripts available.

Greater Boston

An audio drama podcast. It's set in Boston if you couldn't tell from the title and starts with the death of a man on a rollercoaster. It blends real life with some subtle (and at times not-so-subtle) fantasy elements. It's currently at 4 completed seasons. Transcript available.

Gay Future

A science fiction podcast. In a world where everyone is gay in the future we focus on this one straight kid. Following his journey to destroy the government who are making everyone gay. This is a satire by the way. 1 season completed at 6 episodes. No transcripts.

Death by Dying

A dark comedy podcast. The show follows an obituary writer while he does things that are totally under the jurisdiction of his job. A well written and preformed show. There are a lot of laughs and obviously some heartbreaks as well. Currently 1 completed season with season 2 sitting at 2 episodes for a bit now. Transcript available.

Not Another D&D Podcast

An actual play dnd podcast. This one's more mainstream than my other podcasts so I don't talk about it as much but that doesn't mean it's not incredible. The first campaign is about 3 adventurers off to save the world. Obviously. It can be a bit slow in the beginning but anything past the second half of the first season is incredible. There's humor, drama, love, and much more. The DM is also just incredible. 1 completed season, a couple mini campaigns, and the second season is currently at 43 episodes. No transcripts.

Forgive Me!

A fiction podcast. It starts based around vignettes of confessionals in this small town taken by a new father in the local church. An overarching plot is present but it's generally a feel good, sweet and simple show. They have 2 complete seasons with season 3 currently at 9 episodes. Transcripts available.

Real Housewives of D&D

An actual play dnd podcast. This show is based around the concept of a "Real Housewives..." type show but you don't need to know anything about those to listen to this. It's about 4 reality TV stars thrown into a magical fantasy world with no knowledge of how to get home. There's drama, excitement, danger, and lots more. The first season was just completed at 16 episodes. Transcripts available.

The Silt Verses

A horror fiction podcast. Two people who worship a banned god travel together up a river in a pilgrimage. There is incredible worldbuilding in this show along with acting and sound design. This is horror and a very good one at that so make sure you check content warnings. Season 1 and 2 are completed and season 3 is at 2 episodes so far. Transcripts available.

The Land Whale Murders

A comedy fiction podcast. It takes place in the year 1899 and is about a pair of friends? maybe not, that metaphorically explore the world they're living in. It is a commentary on the world we live in and the problems in it through a hilarious and wacky cast. There are currently 17 episodes between both seasons 1 and 2. Transcripts available.

Elaine's Cooking for the Soul

A post-apocalyptic cooking podcast. The show is about a dentist who makes her way through the fallout of an apocalypse while also making a cooking podcast. It does have depictions of violence, war, and dentistry so check out the content warnings. There are 2 completed seasons. No transcripts.

Fawx and Stallion

A mystery podcast. If you hate Sherlock Holmes you'll love this podcast. Also if you love Sherlock Holmes you'll love this podcast. It's based around the detectives who live across the street from Holmes at 224B Baker street. It's pretty goofy. Season 1 is completed. Transcripts available.

The Amelia Project

A fiction podcast. Follow the shenanigans of this death-faking organization as they take in new clients and hear their stories. It does develop an actual overarching plot later on but every second is fun. Seasons 1-4 have been completed and season 5 is in progress. Transcripts available.

A Voice From Darkness

A horror podcast. It's centered around a radio show hosted by Dr. Malcolm Ryder, Parapsychologist. He helps people who call into his show with supernatural problems, gives PSAs and warnings about strange happenings, and more. Season 1 is completed and season 2 is at 9 episodes. Transcripts available.

Station Arcadia

A dystopian fiction podcast. Formatted through a radio show, it tells the story of a world that's slowly dying. There are vignettes of different characters through different areas of the world. Season 1 is completed at 25 episodes. Transcripts available.

Margaret's Garden

A science fiction podcast. It has two plots running at the same time which keeps you on your toes but makes for an intriguing story line. In one plot line, two agents are sent to investigate the strange happenings of a weird little long abandoned town. Simultaneously, we hear from the past of that town as it catches up to the agents. Completed at 10 episodes. Transcripts available.

Camp Here & There

A horror comedy podcast. It's recorded as a set of daily announcements over a loudspeaker at a totally normal summer camp. The announcements are made by the camp nurse and he's also totally normal. I promise. Make sure to check in with the content warnings as some topics are a little mature or graphic. There are currently 34 episodes. Transcripts available.

Wayward Guide for the Untrained Eye

A companion horror podcast. This is actually a bit meta because it is the result of a youtube series. This show is the one the podcast hosts in the series release, it's definitely worth both the watch and the listen though. It's got werewolves and drama. Completed at 10 episodes of video and 10 of the podcast. No transcripts.

I am in Eskew

A horror podcast. It's about a man who's trapped in a city where the buildings always change and the rain never stops. There's a weird monotonous creeping horror in this show that just draws you in. Check for content warnings definitely. Completed at 30 episodes. Transcripts available.

Traveling Light

A comfy cozy fiction podcast. It follows The Traveller on their exploration through space, visiting alien planets and collecting stories to send back to their community. For supporters of the show, it almost functions as a choose-your-own-adventure with choices to vote on and listener submissions. It's made by the same people as Monstrous Agonies so if you enjoyed that, you'd enjoy this and vice versa. There are currently 16 episodes. Transcripts available.

Not yet described but still recommended:

Eeler’s Choice

The Secret of St Kilda

The Endless Ocean

The Department of Variance of Somewhere, Ohio

The Sword & The Stoner

World Gone Wrong: a fictional chat show about friendship at the end of the world

[boombox-fuckboy]

Ooooooo podcast based on username looks so fun! Always looking for new podcasts to listen to

Food and poison?

Elaine's Cooking For The Soul

Post-Apocalyptic • Cooking • Comedy

A post-apocalyptic dystopian cooking show hosted by a dentist from her office. While potentially a little depressing if dystopian flavour isn't your thing, it's got a sense of humor, and the recipes are all stuff that's easy to make at home with long-lasting, cheap ingredients. An interesting concept with good execution.

[skyfullofpods]

E is for Elaine's Cooking for the Soul!

A post-apocalyptic comedy, hosted by Elaine Martinez. Each week Elaine prepares a recipe with a fellow survivor, in her dental clinic. They must make do with rations, and avoid the now-illegal bread.

[lalachat]

"And there you were..."

Author's note: Hi loves! I am going to apologize for this one because it is basically just filler because the next chapter is going to be a good one(in my personal opinion). I have been in a chaotic-evil kind of mood recently and I got something good cooked up! However, I am sad to announce that I will probably end this story soon, maybe 2-3 more chapters. Do not fret though! I fully plan on writing some one shots, maybe another series 👀 That meaning, I got some good ideas for my future projects ehehehe! ANYWHO, I hid a harry potter reference in here. I wonder if y'all can find it! Tbh I hide a lot of my favorite movie quotes in my chapters. So far no one has picked up on any😭 anywho, enjoy this one before shit literally hits the ceiling.

Summary: You and Lucien wake up after your eventful night to have an early morning snack before your breakfast with the rest of the night court. However, can you and Lucien hide your growing feelings for one another? And most importantly, does anyone know what you two did last night?

This is for all my Lucien girlies❤️

Warnings: profanity, potential grammatical errors, and LOTS of filler/banter

Word Count: ≈ 4,053

Chapter 9: Pretty Pink Bows

After a much-needed bath, you and Lucien decided that it would be best to get some rest. You both changed into your pajamas and crawled into your bed. Lucien was too tired to go back to his apartment, and with Elain’s uproar, he felt it was best to stay. You did not complain. Sleeping next to Lucien was always peaceful, like your soul knows his entirely. These were always your best nights of sleep with him next to you.

You awoke to the first appearance of light on the horizon shimmering through your window. Lucien was sprawled out next to you comfortably, hair slightly tangled. His chest falling rhythmically with every breath. Poor guy was probably spent from the energy he was channeling into you last night. You smile at the sight of him.

Without waking up the slumbering male, you slipped out of your bed and out your room. You walked on the balls of your feet through the noiseless halls, trying not to wake anyone else who is still asleep. You were headed to the kitchen to grab y'all some tea and snacks. After last night, your body was craving for something to fill your aching stomach. You're sure Lucien felt the same.

You finally reached the kitchen, the beautiful colors of dawn now starting to come to light. You grabbed a pot and filled it with water, knowing a teapot would be too loud. You placed it on the stove to heat up as you set aside two teacups. While you were waiting for the water to boil, you mindlessly went to the pantry to search for your favorite tea. You grabbed two teabags and put them into the cups. The water started to bubble; you decided you still had some time to scrounge for snacks. You cut up some fruit, cheese, and meat and placed them onto a plate. You smiled as you made a little smiley face out of the arranged foods. You walked back over to the water to see that it was boiling. You carefully poured it into each cup and set it aside to cool as you cleaned. Shortly after, you grabbed everything you prepared and headed back to your room.

“Good morning sleepy head,” you sang to the sleeping figure wrapped up in your sheets. Lucien mumbled something you couldn’t comprehend as he still lay there asleep. You rolled your eyes, “Jackass.”

A smile crept up onto your face as you sat your breakfast aside, “This is your last warning, Lu.” A moment of silence passes, and you shook your head, “So be it!”

You jump onto your bed like a child on solstice, the sudden motion startling Lucien. He jolted awake as you kept jumping up and down in a fit of giggles at his reaction, “Wakey wakey Lucy!”

“You are a jackass,” he mumbled as he shook his head and threw himself back onto his pillow. You laughed at his choice of vocabulary because you threw that same word at him earlier.

“Am I still a jackass if I said that I got up early to get us some tea with a complimentary charcuterie plate?”

“What a big word for how early it is,” he smiled at you as he ran his hand through his hair, fingers getting stuck in some tangles. He groans in frustration, you laughed.

“Your hair looks like a bush on fire,” you chuckle as you grabbed your hairbrush and gestured to his hair, “May I?” All Lucien could do was nod, still not completely awake yet. He leaned up allowing you to slot yourself behind him, his muscled back pressed against your chest.

“You’re not tender headed, are you?” You slowly started to brush the ends of his hair first, Lucien hummed at the feeling.

“Obviously not when you were the one tugging at it last night.” You could feel the smirk on his face without even having to look, you pulled the brush a little harder through a knot at the comment.

“Ouch!” He turned around to look at you over his shoulder. You gave him an innocent smile.

“Oops- sorry, the brush slipped,” you halfheartedly apologized as you continued brushing his hair. “You should let me braid it!”

Lucien laughed, “And what’s next? A huge pink bow?”

“Obviously-” you said as you brushed out the last section you were working on and moved on to start braiding his hair.

“Good gods you're going to get me made fun of,” he sighed as his body relaxed at the feeling of your fingers in his hair.

“Anyone who makes fun of you is just jealous of how good you’ll look,” your voice vibrating through Lucien’s back. You worked quietly as you braided his hair into Dutch braids and pinned the ends in a low bun, Lucien just sat there marveling your presence and how close you two were now. Your breath hitting his neck sent goosebumps across his entire body. His body was betraying him from the feeling of you pressed against him.

“Turn around please,” you asked him. He happily obliged as you both shuffled around to a comfortable spot facing one another. You scooted closer to him to pull out some hairs to frame his gorgeous face. Your brows furrowed in concentration as you bit your lip, scared if you pulled too much it will mess the braid up.

Lucien just watched you. His eyes roamed your face while you were distracted with his hair. Having you this close he was able to study every detail. You were astonishingly beautiful. Your captivating eyes that sparked whenever you smiled, your nose that was sprinkled in tiny sunspots, your beautiful rosy cheeks, and gods, your kissable lips that he could never get enough of. He couldn’t look away, not with the way you bit your bottom lip. All he could think about was what it would be like to kiss you again…

“All done,” you smiled as you looked at your work.

Lucien’s eyes glanced up to meet yours, “Thank you.”

You looked back at him, just now noticing how close your faces were. Your cheeks flushed as you let out a small breath, “you’re welcome.”

You did not dare move, not with the way Lucien eyes kept dipping down to your lips. There is something so intimate about the way he was looking at you, and you thought to yourself every kiss you two shared was heated and an act of lust. You and Lucien had never shared a legitimate kiss before. That thought alone sent nerves through your body. Could he actually have feelings for you? Because the way he is looking at you right now makes you feel like you're not just a hookup anymore, that you're something much more.

“Lucien-” you glanced at his lips as you sucked in a breath. Your nose was now brushing against his. One of you had leaned in. You didn’t know if it was you, him, or both but at this moment neither of you cared. You didn't care as his breath kissed your cheeks with warmth causing more of a blush. You two should not be doing this! Friends don’t kiss. This is so wrong, but gods did nothing ever feel so right. Just as your lips brushed against his, it was like Lucien snapped out of a trance at the touch. WHAT IN THE HELL JUST HAPPENED?!

He nervously coughed, “I’m hungry, what about you?” He got off the bed and grabbed the tray you prepared; the tea was now room temperature.

“Oh yeah! I'm starving,” you shook your head trying to clear your mind of the moment he abruptly put an end to. Shit- are you disappointed? This cannot be happening, he’s just a friend! You’re mated to Azriel for gods sake!

“Tea got cold, but everything looks lovely y/n,” he politely thanked you as he grabbed each teacup to rewarm them. “The smiley face is a nice touch.”

“You’re welcome, I thought it was cute! Now, bon appétit,” you smiled. You both were hungrier than you thought. You both devoured the platter you had prepared in minutes as you sipped on tea. The once cute smiley face now nothing but crumbs.

“Such a shame we destroyed the smile though,” he laughed as he downed the rest of his tea.

“At least we made a happy plate right?” you said as you finished your own cup.

“Always the cleaver one in the mornings,” he smiled at you as he gathered his clothes off the floor to get dressed. You figured you would do the same as you pulled out a long skirt and a plain shirt from your dresser. You took a quick look in the mirror and ran your brush through your hair a couple of times before putting it up in a messy bun.

“Ready?” You glanced at him as he was looking at himself in the mirror.

“Hell yeah I am, I’m ready to show off this new dew! This looks really good y/n” he exclaimed as he kissed you atop the head.

“Can I please, please, please add a bow?” you stuck out your lip.

“Absolutely not,” he said as he opened the door for you.

“Are you sure? It would make it look even better,” you wiggled your brow at him as you walked past him through the door.

“Yes, I am sure. If Feyre caught me with that, she would never let me live it down.”

“That’s actually a fair statement,” you laughed as he shut your door.

Just as he turned around Lucien’s gaze went to your wrists, his mouth turning upwards into a wicked smile, “y/n?”

“What?” You looked at him confused as he tilted his head in emphasis to look where he was. You followed his gaze, and your eyes were met with faint red rings around both of your wrists. Tendrils of flame still remnant. “Oh. My. Mother. Above-” was all you could say as you traced your wrists gently. They were beautiful in a way you could not describe...

“Is it obvious?” You looked at him worriedly as you stuck them out for him to see. Pain struck his features like you were ashamed of what you two had done. However, you were only scared of Elain and Azriel noticing them.

“When you do that, yes,” he chuckled. “Here, I can glamour it for you,’ he grabbed your wrists, ‘Such a shame to get rid of my beautiful work.” His grip on your wrists made you blush as you slowly watched the marking go away.

“Thank you,” you breathed closely analyzing your wrists to make sure all proof of last night was officially gone. Lucien still had a pained look on his face but hiding it with wit.

“You should really get those tattooed, they look too good on you to hide it,” he mused as he started to walk to the lingering voices echoing through the halls.

“Maybe you should do that to me more often then,” you clapped back with a wink as you followed.

He shot you a playful smile as he grabbed your wrist gently, “You want more my little fireling?”

That’s a new nickname, you thought. The possessiveness of it shook your core. You tried to hide your liking for it, as you shot him a cheeky smile and walked into the room that your friends were gathered in. Everyone gathered around the room waiting for breakfast. The table set with plates, silverware, and glasses of water.

“Morningggggg,” Mor smirked, leaning against the wall with a cup of tea in her hands. Her eyes gleaming with a knowing look as she dramatically sipped her tea with a wink sent your way.

You look at her confused, “Good morning to you too Mor.”

“Ah good, y/n! We are about to eat breakfast, still waiting for a couple others to join us.” Feyre smiled at you. Her gaze met Lucien’s as he walked into the room shortly after. “Oh, good to see you’re up Lucien, come sit!”

Everyone soon began to make their way to their seats. Mor nudged her elbow in your hip as she whispered, “You are going to tell me everything!”

You hissed, “Yes, but can’t a girl eat first!”

You looked around the room to find Rhysand and Feyre seating themselves at the head of the table. Cassian pulling out the chair next to Rhysand as Nesta chose the one beside her mate. Mor sat beside Feyre, shooting a look to sit next to her so you two could gossip. You rolled your eyes as you sat down with her. Lucien felt awkward being the last one standing, not really having a specific spot at the table. It was either sit next to Nesta, his body trembled at that thought, or sit next to you. He shot you a smile as he gracefully pulled out the chair next to you.

“Where’s Amren?” you asked.

“Went home already, last night was more than enough socializing for her,” Rhysand said with an understanding.

“Gotcha,” you nodded as you sipped some water.

“So, how did everyone sleep?” Mor asked with a smile, obviously up to something, as everyone murmured “good.”

With you occupied with your water and not answering previously, Mor directly asked you this time.

“You sleep okay y/n?” She wiggled her brow slightly as you choked on your water from remembering what kept you up in the early morning hours. Everyone’s eyes looked at you with worry from your choking, but you gave them a thumbs up and a scratchy, “I'm okay!”

“Sorry, the water went down wrong. I slept okay,” you said through small coughs, your face flushed from your thoughts and from coughing. Lucien pats your back reassuringly.

“And what about you Lucien?” Mor asked. You glared at her as he kept patting your back.

“Just fine Mor,” he deadpanned. Not revealing a single thing about either of your nights. Mor hummed, unsatisfied with your answers.

“Where the hell is Az?! I am fucking hungry,” Cassian muttered in frustration. Lucien’s hand stilled at the name. You looked around and noticed the shadowsinger was not here.

“Would you just be patient for once in your life,” Nesta quipped.

“I am sure he will be here soon Cass, along with Elain.” Rhysand said, amused at that neither of them are here yet. You and Lucien shared a mutual glance of, “Oh fuck.”

You mouthed to him, “Do you think they are together?” He gave you a curt nod. His breathing becoming long inhales and exhales as he tried to calm the storm raging within him at the thought of them together again. You could sense his battle and grabbed his hand reassuringly.

“It will be okay,” you mouthed to him once again as the others were engrosed in a conversation about gods knows what. He pursed his lips into a thin line as he rubbed his temples.

“You okay Lucien?” Feyre asked. He looked up at her, and he could tell she knew what was wrong. She was the only other person besides you that knew him, truly knew him.

“Yes, sorry! My head just hurts from this new hairstyle. I'm not entirely used to it yet.” He smiled at her. She knew he lied to cover up what he was truly feeling from the others, so she went with it.

“I understand. I am sure all of us long haired people have experienced the feeling,” she grinned, “It looks good though!”

“Thank you,” you and Lucien said at the same time. You both glared at each other.

“What do you mean by ‘Thank you,’ I am the one who she complimented,” Lucien said.

“Yes, but I am the one who did it! You would not have gotten complimented if it weren’t for me,” you stuck your tongue out.

“You braided his hair?” Mor looked at you. Only then did you realize what you had just exposed. You had to divert! Lucien only looking at you playfully with what you were going to say about the situation now.

“Yes, I ran into Lucien earlier this morning when I snuck to the kitchen to make myself some tea. Neither of us could sleep with what’s going on, so we just stayed up together in the library until you all woke up,” you shrugged. Was that a good enough cover up? You prayed it was, as Lucien just nodded his head as he drank from his cup.

“Can you do that to my hair?” Cassian asked.

“Why?” You asked.

“Because I like it, and it will keep it out my face while I eat,” he said.

“Why not ask me?” Nesta said.

“Because I know you will say no,” Cassian shrugged his shoulders.

“Fair,” Nesta replied as you got out your chair and rounded the table to the other side.

“I wish I had long hair,” Rhys pouted.

“No, you don't,” Feyre said as she patted his shoulder as you stood behind Cassian's chair and started braiding. Everyone began talking about their mornings, chattering back and forth. Every now and then Cassian would move too much, and you would have to push him back in the chair.

“Sit still Cass or you’ll mess it up!” You rolled your eyes at the restless male.

“Sorry,” he mumbled as you continued with his hair.

Mor began talking about having the group do something together to bond after all that’s happened. Everyone at the table agreed except for Rhysand. You looked at him as you finished braiding one side of Cassian's head. It looked like he was deep in thought. He wasn’t talking to Feyre because her and Mor were bouncing group ideas off each other. Cassian, Nesta, and Lucien listened to their conversation, so he wasn’t relaying anything to them either. What could he be thinking about, you wondered.

Suddenly, his gaze snapped to you. Those piercing violet eyes assessing you. You were just now braiding the other side of Cassian’s head.

“What? Does it look bad or something?” you asked.

Rhys shook his head, “No it looks fine, but I cannot help but sense something off about you y/n.” His eyes twinkled as they took a quick glance at your hands. You followed his gaze. He was looking at your hands! Did the glamour wear off?! You panicked, you looked at your wrists while braiding Cassian's hair and saw no swirls of flame. What the fuck is he on about then?

“I don’t know what you're talking about,” you finished the braid you were working on and began to put them together into a high bun. Those always looked best on Cassian.

“Oh really? Y/n, you must forget I am a high lord. I can sense ALL magic,” he put major emphasizes on the word all. Just then it hit you. Rhysand is a high lord. Your high lord, and the most powerful one at that. He can sense all magic… even glamours.

You shot him a look as you tried to keep your hands focused on Cassian’s bun. All Rhysand did was smile at you as you felt the familiar caress of claws on your mental shield. “You have a glamour on, don’t you?” he spoke to you in your head.

“Get out my head you prying prick,” you thought outside your walls.

“What are you hiding y/n?” he purred. His claws once again cascading down your shields.

“Cassian do you have a hair tie?” you asked as he mindlessly handed you one, you were now securing his hair.

“I am serious Rhys, get out of my head,” you thought back, but he kept his presence in your head as he crossed his arms at the table. If you kept yourself occupied with Cassian’s hair and maybe he will go away.

“I am not going until you tell me why you are glamoured. What are you hiding y/n?” His voice felt foreign in your mind, but he was still respectful. The power and information he has on you right now was overwhelming. You could feel your shields slipping at it. You tried to re-ground yourself with the feeling of Cassian’s hair, but you ended up giving into Rhysand. He already knows everything. You could trust him. The people you were hiding from aren’t even here. You let your shield down to show him the image of your wrists. You could see his eyes lighten in surprise as his cheeks grew a shade darker.

“I told you not to pry,” you thought inside your mind.

“He can do that?” he thought back to you in shock.

“Yes,” you thought back.

You bit your lip slightly as you started to reminisce about it, completely forgetting your shields were still down. Rhysand seeing everything before you could stop it. You quickly finished securing Cassian’s hair before you clapped him on the shoulder with an “All done!”

“WOAH!” Rhysand shouted out loud at the images of you and Lucien flashing through your mind, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. You slammed your shields backup in an instant. Rhysand’s face now completely pink.

“What?” Cassin asked confused as Rhysand coughed.

Please come up with something good Rhys... you thought.

“Nothing! Your hair just looks really good like that brother,” Rhysand mused.

“Awe Rhysie Poo- am I so handsome with this hair that it made you blush?” Cassian got up to smother Rhys in a hug.

“Yes, it’d be even better with a bow!” Rhys laughed as he bopped Cassian’s newly braided bun.

“That’s what I think too, but Lucien said no!” You tried to remain calm and continue as normally as possible as you made your way back to your seat. Thank fuck for Rhysand coming up with a cleaver cover up story.

Lucien shrugged, “It would not go well with my outfit.” Everyone at the table laughed.

Rhysand couldn’t look at you or the male without blushing. He has seen too much, but gods it was true everyone undermined the autumn court male’s power in the bedroom.

“What’s got everyone in such a good mood?” Elain asked sweetly as she entered the room with Azriel at her side. Lucien imediently tensed at the sight of them together. You on the other hand were ready to strike at any given moment, scared she might attack you for sitting next to Lucien.

“Rhysand got all hot and bothered over my new hairstyle Y/n did for me,” Cassian boomed as Elain blushed uncomfortably at his words. Azriel laughed at his brothers, your heart skipping a beat at the sound. Damn thing always betraying you when he's around.

“Well I'll be dammed Rhys, you’re picking favorites now?” Azriel smirked as he pulled Elain’s chair out for her beside Nesta.

“Absolutely not! This-” his hands wave around Cassian’s hair, “just threw me off guard! I’m so used to his hair being all up in his face,” Rhysand said as he watched Azriel sit next to Elain.

“It is rather nice to see your face again Cass,” Feyre teased and he glared at her, “Now that everyone is here, let’s eat!”

At the snap of her fingers the entire table was filled with all sorts of breakfast foods. From fresh fruits to eggs and bacon, the table had it all.

“Thank fuck-” Cassian said as he started to pile food onto his plate, everyone following suit. Filling their plates with whatever they pleased.

“Good morning, Elain, how did you sleep?” Lucien asked her as he buttered a bagel, not really hungry after your snack earlier. Azriel smiled at the question, and your blood boiled. You knew that smirk all too well. Lucien had that same smirk when Mor asked about why you braided his hair. Something happened between them and you were dead set on finding out about it.

Elain’s sweet stature faltered for a moment before she recomposed herself and answered, “I slept good.”

“That’s good to hear,” Lucien said awkwardly not expecting the conversation to be that short.

“Good going dude,” you whispered to him.

“I’d like to see you try-” you kicked him under the table. “Ouch-”

“Shut your mouth before I do it for y-” he kicked you back, you glared at him as you rubbed your shin. “Ass-” before you could finish your name calling Mor interrupted you, Lucien only laughed.

“So, Feyre and I were discussing about having a group bonding day today. Everyone else agreed to it, what do you think Azriel?” Mor asked.

“Sounds fine,” he said blandly as he took a bite of eggs as Elain spoke beside him.

“I think that’s a great idea Mor!”

“Okay so it is settled! We will have a group bonding session today!” Mor said as she raised her glass of water and drank it.

"This outta be interesting," Rhysand said with a smile.

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[kingofsummer93]

Plant a Jasmine in the Night

Summary:

On her first ever assignment as Night Court emissary to the human lands, Elain stumbles onto something she shouldn't have seen.

What was meant to be her chance to have a taste of freedom might just end up pushing her towards the one person she's been avoiding all along.

Rating: E

Read it on Ao3

Inspired by an @sjmkinkmeme prompt. Elain's dream was inspired by this gorgeous comic by @artcraawl.

The dream started as it always did. It was night, and Elain was in her garden at the River House. The air was fragrant with late summer blooms, and something else- something that she couldn’t place at first, but that tugged at her heartstrings like a distant, fond memory.

A crisp wind sent goosebumps erupting along her skin. She rubbed her arms, teeth chattering with cold. The next moment a warm wind encircled her, a bubble of warmth wrapping itself around her like a cocoon. That distant scent became stronger- woodsmoke, crisp apples, and something else. Something like the scent of sun-warmed skin, musky and so inherently male that a small whine escaped her lips as she filled her lungs with it.

Elain closed her eyes and sighed. It was so pleasant, the warmth and that mouth-watering scent, that she could have stood there forever. She was aware of a presence behind her, but she didn’t mind. Not even as a familiar noise interrupted the silence around her- a steady, unfaltering thump, calling to her like a port in a storm.

It grew louder as he came closer, that golden thread of light coiling tight in her chest, buzzing in response to his closeness. His arms wrapped around her, those large hands settling on her stomach, and then his lips were near her ear, tickling her skin. Elain tipped her head back against his chest, melting into the solid warmth of him.

“I’ve missed you.”

--

Elain woke with a gasp. For a moment the scent and warmth lingered around her, and she clung to it even as it slipped away from her like sand through her fingers. And then it was gone.

She hadn’t had the dream in a long time. It was usually triggered by Lucien’s presence, and she hadn’t seen him in months. Not since Nesta and Cassian’s mating ceremony, where he’d avoided her like the plague.

The memory of that night made her burn with fresh embarrassment. He was always impeccably dressed, but he had looked particularly handsome that night, in a white shirt and emerald green vest trimmed with gold embroidery. His long hair had been unbound, with two little braids snaking around his ears, revealing their elegant, pointed tips. She had thought that perhaps Lucien might ask her to dance- and that even if they went back to their usual rhythm of avoidance, she might at least have that memory to cherish in secret.

Instead, she had looked on with growing jealousy as he asked every other female in attendance to dance, except for her. She could hardly blame him- no doubt he had expected her to say no, and had wanted to avoid a particularly public rejection. Still, it had felt like a rejection of its own.

I don’t want it, Graysen had told her, after she had offered him her heart.

Mistake, Azriel had told her, after she had offered him a kiss- and perhaps more, if he had wanted it.

And then silence and avoidance from her mate- her cauldron-blessed soul mate, bound to her forever. Whom she couldn’t even escape from in her dreams.

Lucien wasn’t even supposed to be here tonight. It was partly why she accepted the job in the first place. With her mate permanently stationed in the Spring Court to keep an eye on the situation with the Autumn Court border, he had less time on his hands to act as Night Court emissary to the human lands. Elain had volunteered for the job, eager to finally do something.

Feyre had been hesitant, at first, and more than a little surprised, but Elain had stood her ground. What was the point of all the freedom that her new life as fae offered her, if all she did with it was tend to her garden and help cook meals for her family? She was familiar with court politics of the human lands, and knew how to act around their nobility. The social season was a kind of court warfare of its own, after all. And besides, with Lucien spending most of time in Spring, she wouldn’t need to worry about running into him.

Or so she had thought, until she had done precisely that.

She had breathed a sigh of relief upon her arrival when it had become apparent that her mate was not around. Vassa had been cheerful and kind, and Jurian, though Elain was still uncertain how she felt about the man, had been polite, if a bit sarcastic. Given the fact that Vassa was only in her human form after sundown, the pair had graciously offered to host her for the night, and Elain had agreed. She’d even started to enjoy herself by the time they sat down for a late dinner, her nerves put at ease by Vassa’s relaxed irreverence, and Jurian’s witty remarks.

Until he had waltzed in, looking casually handsome in a breezy white linen shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest. Elain had cursed herself for not noticing his arrival. Maybe her senses were somewhat dulled by the lack of magic in the air. The way he had frozen upon seeing her had been so comical that Elain would have laughed, if she hadn’t been so mortified.

After a painfully awkward dinner, during which she had studiously avoided his gaze, she had politely declined Vassa’s offer of a game of cards, and had retreated to her guest room like a scared mouse.

It was too much, seeing him like this, relaxed and joking with his friends. The only person he ever acted with this way was Feyre, and occasionally Varien and Cassian. It made him more real, somehow, and less like a vague, occasional visitor that she could pretend didn’t exist. She didn’t need any opportunity to start seeing him as someone that she might like. That was a dangerous road- one, she was keenly aware, that only ever led to being hurt.

If only she had the power to winnow, she might have written a note to Jurian and Vassa, thanking them for their hospitality, and disappeared into the night. But she couldn’t, which meant she was stuck here, under the same roof as him, until morning.

And now she couldn’t sleep.

Elain kicked off the covers in frustration. There was no use trying to go back to sleep now, not with the memory of that dream still rattling her nerves. She had once asked Madja for a sleeping tonic, thinking it would help, but she had learned the painful way that though the tonics indeed helped her sleep, they did not keep the dreams at bay.

She wrapped a robe around herself, thinking she’d slip down to the kitchens for a cup of tea. Perhaps with a splash of whiskey in it, if she could find some. Maybe then she’d be able to sleep.

She hesitated a moment before opening her door before checking the small clock on the bedside table. It was well past midnight- surely everyone was asleep by now? Lucien’s heart was a steady, even beat, a mockery of her own jangled nerves. Surely asleep, then.

The upstairs landing was quiet and dark, a single oil lamp at the top of the stairs confirming that her path was clear. The sight of that oil lamp was jarring, somehow. She’d grown so used to the sight of fae light that she had almost forgotten it didn't exist here.

The thick carpet absorbed the sound of her footsteps as she crept down the hall and towards the stairs. Maybe being back in the human lands was messing with her, she told herself. Maybe that was why she couldn’t sleep. Even the food at dinner had tasted wrong, though it had looked and smelled delicious. The fish, glazed and flaking under her fork, had tasted like the bottom of a river, and the wine, though she recognized the vintage as being a fine one, had burned all the way down her throat like a mouthful of vinegar.

Perhaps that was the problem. Not the dream, or him, but being here. The wrongness of being here only highlighted how used she had gotten to her new world, to the strangeness that now felt normal. Something about that made her feel sad.

She had almost reached the bottom of the stairs when a light from the foyer snapped her out of her reverie. The door to the sitting room was halfway closed, even though it had been thrown wide open during the evening. Maybe the others were still playing cards, and hadn’t wanted to disturb her sleep.

Elain hesitated. There would be no hope of sleeping if she went back upstairs now. The best she could hope for was a sleepless night spent tossing and turning. She’d simply have to sneak past the door and hope Lucien wasn’t there to sense her presence- or that he’d ignore her if he was.

She took another step, moving as quietly as she could- and then a noise made her freeze, her foot hovering over the stairs. A soft gasp, throaty and definitely feminine. Elain gripped the banister, holding her breath. Her heartbeat was so loud in her own ears that she was once again grateful that Lucien couldn’t hear it.

Had she imagined it? Maybe it was her mind playing tricks on her after that blasted dream…

Another noise drifted from the sitting room, one that she had definitely not imagined. A high-pitched whine, but muffled, as if whoever was emitting those sounds was trying hard to be quiet.

Elain might have been inexperienced, at least by fae standards, by she wasn’t clueless. Her face grew hot as she deduced what exactly was going on in the sitting room.

She wanted nothing more than to turn on her heels and bolt back up the stairs, but she was rooted to the spot. Lucien’s easy manner with Vassa at dinner flashed through her mind on a loop. White-hot jealousy hit her like a brick, so overpowering that it almost took her breath away. Surely…surely he wouldn’t, not while she was staying with them? Surely…

But then again, she reminded herself, that hadn’t bothered her on Solstice. Why should he hold himself to higher standards?

Her hand clenched tighter on the banister. An inexplicable mix of emotions was coursing through her veins, making her feel as though she was a second away from bursting out of her skin. She couldn’t move- her feet somehow didn’t belong to her anymore, and she could no more control them than she could alter the weather.

Elain had just managed to lift one foot from the stairs when Vassa moaned. Not a quiet whine or gasp like before, but a deep, low, dragged-out moan. The restraint was gone, as if she simply couldn’t hold herself back any longer.

That single moan was so erotic, so uninhibited, so unabashedly joyful that Elain froze again. Heat pooled low in her stomach as she felt herself flush even deeper.

This was wrong. It was wrong on so many levels, but still she couldn’t move. She just wanted to hear it one more time.

There was a low rumble of laughter, wicked and decidedly male, followed by the unmistakable sound of a slap. A gasp (delighted, by the sounds of it) and then more wicked laughter.

Elain tasted copper in her mouth, and she winced as she realized she’d been biting her lip so hard she had drawn blood.

“Yes,” Vassa gasped “yes, yes!”

Elain’s skin felt too tight, too restricting for the heat flowing through her veins. She felt like her blood had been set to boil, and soon she’d either melt or burst into flames, right here on the stairs.

Move, she urged her feet. Do something.

She took another step down, and then another, and it wasn’t until her feet hit the landing that she realized she had walked down the stairs instead of up. Vassa’s moans were quickening, her gasps becoming edged with desperation. What could Lucien be doing to her, she wondered, to elicit such sounds from her?

Her stomach clenched with a strange mix of jealousy and want. Lucien was meant to want her. Not Vassa. She had thought he did, at least in whatever primal, physical way the bond urged him to. But could she really blame him for seeking a willing companion, when all she ever did was reject him?

A new and horrible thought occurred to her. What if they were in love? Physical pleasure, she could understand, but being cast aside once again so thoroughly…

“Jurian! Yes, oh Gods…”

Jurian. Not Lucien. The relief she felt was nothing short of a tidal wave. And yet- why was it that she was somehow disappointed, to know that it hadn’t been her mate who made such wanton sounds come out of another female?

She was just curious, she told herself, even as she edged closer to the door to the sitting room. It was perfectly normal to be curious about these things, especially when her own experience was so limited…

A flash of movement caught her gaze. There was a large gilded mirror on the wall of the foyer, and from this angle she could perfectly see the reflection of the sitting room- and its occupants. Elain had to bite her lip to keep herself from gasping.

Vassa was kneeling on the ground, her thighs on either side of Jurian’s head as she rocked on his face with wild abandon. She was wearing nothing but a thin silky shift that had been yanked down to expose full, luscious breasts that bounced with every rock or her hips.

A rush of heat zapped through her, the faint ache between her legs growing to a thrumming pulse. She couldn’t look away as Vassa cried out, her body seizing uncontrollably from her pleasure.

Sex with Graysen hadn’t been anything like that. Elain had enjoyed the closeness, and the intimacy, but the act itself had been mostly uncomfortable and she’d been much too nervous to feel any pleasure.

This sort of pure physical lust, the pursuit of pleasure for the sake of it, fascinated her. She wanted to see what they would do next. The scent of their combined arousal was heavy in the air, salty and musky. She was glad neither of them had fae senses, or they’d surely be able to scent her own. It was wrong- she was a voyeur at best and a pervert at worst, but they didn’t have to know.

But then Vassa’s eyes snapped open, and caught her gaze.

Elain inhaled sharply, and then stopped breathing altogether. She was frozen, a marble statue with nothing but a thundering, racing heartbeat to betray her.

Move, she urged her traitorous feet. Make some excuse and run. She’d never more wished that she had the ability to winnow than at that moment.

She opened her mouth–to say what, precisely, she had no idea–but no sound came out.

If it had been her getting caught like this she would have yelped, and stumbled to cover herself, but Vassa did no such thing. Her arresting blue eyes widened in surprise for the briefest of moments, and Elain prepared to launch herself into a tirade of apologies and excuses.

But Vassa only grinned, and then she lifted a finger and beckoned to Elain. Something about the gesture jolted her out of her frozen stupor.

“Sorry!” she squeaked, whirling around so her back was to the sitting room. “Sorry, gods, I didn’t mean to-“

A low laugh, some whispered words, and then wicked, delighted chuckles. Elain bolted for the stairs.

“Wait!”

The voice was male, and laced with enough authority that Elain halted with her foot on the bottom stair. Oh gods this was mortifying, they’d tell Lucien about it and he would tell everyone and she’d never live it down…

“Where are you running off to?”

The voice behind her was Vassa’s, accompanied by the soft patter of bare feet. Elain didn’t dare turn around.

“Sorry!” she said again. “I didn’t mean, I was just going to the kitchen for tea and-“

Vassa tsked. “Poor thing, can’t sleep? We could help with that.”

Elain peered over her shoulder in surprise, and immediately blushed as her eyes landed on Vassa’s bare breasts. The woman seemed completely unperturbed by her nudity.

“What?”

“How long were you watching us?”

“I wasn’t- I didn't mean to-“

“I like to watch too,” Vassa whispered. She stepped closer, until her peaked nipples pressed against the thin fabric of Elain’s robe. “I could watch while you have a turn with Jurian. He knows how to use that tongue for more than mouthing off.”

Elain flushed with a strange combination of mortification and heat. An image flitted through her mind for just a moment- her nightgown ruched up to her waist, fingers gripping her tightly by the hips as she moved. Except it wasn’t Jurian beneath her, but someone with long, silky red hair, and two-toned eyes that shone with fire and mischief.

“Oh! Um.” She had to get out of here. There was no way she’d ever be ever to continue her role as emissary, that was abundantly clear. “That’s, um-”

She went to take a step but froze as Vassa’s fingers landed at the nape of her neck, brushing her hair aside. Her fingers felt deliciously cool and yet sinful against her heated skin.

“Or we could have him watch us. He’d love that.”

A low chuckle from just inside the sitting room. “Indeed.”

What was she doing? “No thank you!”

She didn’t turn around again before sprinting up the stairs, half expecting Vassa to chase after her. When she reached the top landing she pressed her forehead against the wall, letting her racing heart slow down. With her fae hearing she could hear the muffled sounds of quiet laughter from downstairs, but thankfully no footsteps on the stairs.

Elain couldn’t decide what was more mortifying- that she had been caught, or that she had enjoyed watching. There was no way she’d be able to face either of them ever again. She’d just lock herself in her room and wait for Rhysand to come bring her home in the morning, and that would be that. So much for taking advantage of her freedom.

Her pulse slowed enough that her blood was no longer pounding in her ears, and that’s when she heard it. Another heartbeat, one that did not belong to her, reminding her of who else was currently in this manor. What had she been doing? She’d never be able to face him now, either.

She turned towards her room, and stopped short as she realized she wasn’t alone. There he was, leaning against the open doorway to his room. Her mate.

He was wearing nothing but low slung pants that looked to have been hauled on carelessly. His hair was unbound, dripping over his shoulder like a river of dripping embers. Elain’s gaze caught on the expanse of muscled chest and rippled abs on display, down to the carved hip muscles and the trail of auburn hair that led into his waistband.

She felt herself blush, but caught herself before her eyes could trail further south, snapping her gaze back up to his face- and to the positively devilish grin on his face.

“Everything all right?” he asked, eyebrows lifting in feigned ignorance. That gesture told her everything she needed to know about what he had overheard.

“Fine,” she replied, too quickly, too breathlessly. She cleared her throat. “Just…I couldn’t sleep, so I went down to get some tea, and-“

“And you walked in on Jurian and Vassa fucking?”

Elain winced at the crude language, but mostly at the fact that she had. As if to emphasize the fact, a loud groan sounded from downstairs.

“Don’t they know that doors close?” She had been aiming to sound stern and annoyed, but it fell more than a bit short.

Lucien’s grin widened. He took a slow, almost feline step towards her. Elain instinctively backed away from him, but there was nowhere to go.

“They like having people watch.”

“So Vassa said.”

She wanted nothing more than to end this mortifying conversation and lock herself in her room, but Lucien was barring her path.

“Are you well, my lady?” Lucien continued, taking another step towards her. He was close enough now that she could see as his nostrils flared slightly, his russet eye growing dark as he registered her scent. “You look flushed.”

Damn him. Damn the fae and their senses, and damn the humans downstairs–definitely still entangled, by the sounds of it–and damn him most of all, and-

“I’m not your lady,” she snapped. The words shocked her even as they came out of her mouth.

Lucien blinked in surprise, and then his shock slowly melted into a delighted smirk.

“Maybe not. But you are my mate.” Elain shivered at the word, and then gritted her teeth as she saw Lucien track the motion. “Can’t fault me for wondering why you’re looking so feverish when you were perfectly healthy earlier.”

His grin was so smug that she felt like clawing it off his face. He knew. He knew and he found it hilarious.

“I’m just…a little warm, that’s all.”

She was struggling to look anywhere but his face. It was proving to be more and more difficult as he prowled so close to her that she was finally forced to crane her neck to look up at him.

Immediately she wished she hadn’t. The low light of the torch burning at the top of the stairs cast the sharp panes of his face in stark relief, his long hair practically alive with flame where it flowed over his shoulders. She could feel the heat emanating from his bare skin, and it was an effort not to reach out and touch it, to see if she could feel the flame that everyone said ran through his veins. Elain would have melted in embarrassment at the impropriety of it all, if she hadn’t been so desperately attracted to him.

Mate, she reminded herself. He’s your mate that you don’t want, don’t need, didn’t ask for-

His gaze dipped, slowly trailing down her body until it snagged on her bare legs. He swallowed thickly, his fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides as if he longed to touch her but didn’t dare.

Elain wished he would. The thought was at once shocking and yet blatantly obvious. Maybe just this once, to satisfy a curiosity that was clearly two sided. And then they could go back to avoiding each other. She’d never be able to face him after tonight, anyway.

“Pity,” he murmured. “Here I thought you liked what you saw.”

Her breathing quickened as he slowly reached out and ran the silken belt of her robe between his long fingers. There was something sensual in the gesture that made her stomach clench in anticipation.

“Maybe I did.”

A sharp tug, and the knot holding her robe closed fell apart like a wisp of smoke. Lucien’s eyes dipped again, and when they slowly dragged back up to her face a flame had kindled to life in his russet eye. An actual, dancing flame, as real as the flame fueling the lamp on the wall. Her breath hitched at the sight of it.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, grinning so wickedly that she knew he was well aware of what he’d done. “Afraid of a little flame?”

Elain backed away another step, until her back hit the wall. “I’m not afraid of you,” she snapped.

She wasn’t, but this- this game they were playing, whatever it was, it scared her as much as it aroused her. The temptation to run away was as strong as the desire to touch him, smell him, kiss him. To mark him as hers.

He stepped closer until he was hovering over her, one arm braced above her head, the other still innocently hanging at his side. She wanted him to actually do something, if only so she would be forced to decide what to do about it.

“Good.” He dipped his head towards her neck, until his breath tickled her skin. It was so like her dream that she had to dig her nails into her palm to remind herself this was real. “Did they ask you to join them?”

Elain almost choked. She was blushing so aggressively that she felt a bead of sweat run down her back, but she couldn’t bring herself to speak. Judging from Lucien’s delighted grin the answer must have been written all over her face.

“Why didn’t you?” he asked, as casually as if they were talking about the weather.

She did choke this time, on a combination of half-hearted affront and shock. “Wh-what?” As if she hadn’t entertained the idea, at least for a moment. As if she couldn’t still feel Vassa’s cool touch on the heated nape of her neck.

“They like that too,” he continued, unperturbed. “They asked me to join, once.”

That shouldn’t have surprised her, and yet it did. She blamed her conservative upbringing, but somehow the idea of a threesome between two men and one woman seemed even more debauched.

She forced herself to breathe, to relax. “And did you?” she asked, lifting her chin brazenly.

She wasn’t sure what sorts of mechanics that would even involve, but her imagination ran away from her, filling her mind with all sorts of lurid thoughts. Jurian’s large calloused hands caressing Lucien’s golden skin, Vassa’s full breasts bouncing as she-

“Yes,” he replied simply.

Elain’s mouth dropped open at the admission. She wished she hadn’t asked, and yet she desperately wanted to know more, even as jealousy tore through her, so violently that her blood roared in her ears. She might have been trembling, from want or from anger, she wasn’t sure.

“Oh,” was all she managed to say.

Lucien laughed. She wasn’t sure whether it was at her expense or not, but it made her burn all the same. Was this who he really was, beneath the veneer of manners and careful, hesitant longing he usually put up around her?

“Tell me,” he continued. “What were they doing?”

Elain gulped, remembering Vassa’s bouncing breasts as she gyrated on Jurian’s face. A rush of heat settled like a weight between her legs. A small noise came out of Lucien, as he no doubt scented her every emotion. His own scent was so strong with him this close to her that she was having trouble thinking logically. It was so heady and warm, tinged salty from what she knew was his own arousal.

“Nothing I care to say out loud,” she said as primly as she could.

Lucien laughed. “Right. I forgot you were so uptight.”

“I am not-“

“I forgot, you see, seeing as you’re standing here with your panties soaked.”

Elain sputtered indignantly, her cheeks growing even more hot than they already were. “How dare you, I am not…” It seemed to be the only words she was capable of saying.

“You’re not?” Lucien asked, tilting his head as if they were making simple conversation. “So if I reached between your legs I wouldn’t be able to prove that you’re a little liar?”

Elain pressed her legs together, but in reality it was more to feel some kind of friction than in shock at his words.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Is that an invitation?” When he spoke his lips grazed against her ear, and Elain shivered. She clamped her lips shut, curious what he would do next. This side of him was thrilling, and intoxicating. She felt drunk on the novelty of what giving in to the pull of the bond would entail. It didn’t have to mean anything. The fae didn’t have any qualms about these things, after all, as Nesta loved to remind her.

Slowly, so slowly, Lucien’s fingers inched towards her leg. His touch was feather-light, and yet she felt it like a brand on her skin. He grazed his fingers up her thigh, pushing the hem of her nightgown up along the way. His heart rate was quickening along with her own, an echo of her raging pulse.

He paused then, as if giving her a chance to say no. And then his fingers dipped between her legs, right over the–as he had assumed, soaked–fabric of her underwear. Elain gasped, both in surprise that he had actually done it and at the current of heat that small touch sent fizzing through her veins.

Lucien groaned weakly, as if that touch had shocked him just as much as her. “Thought so.”

He started rubbing slow, tight circles through the wet silk of her underwear, and Elain’s knees nearly buckled.

“Tell me what you saw,” he murmured.

For a moment she didn’t remember what he was talking about, too focused on the fingers rubbing at the ache between her legs. It hadn’t been like this with Graysen. They had kissed, and he had fondled her breasts a bit, but he had certainly not touched her like this. She could only imagine what else Lucien could do, if this was how he made her feel with her underwear still on.

But then he pulled his fingers away, and Elain nearly whined in protest. “What are you-“

“Tell me,” he urged. “And you’ll get a reward.”

She wanted him to keep touching her. She needed him to keep touching her, or she’d combust.

“Vassa was…” She didn’t quite have the vocabulary for what she’d seen. Of course she knew the mechanics but Graysen certainly hadn’t done it. The men in Nesta’s smutty books always did, though, and claimed to enjoy doing it. She wondered if Lucien would.

“Yes?”

“She was…sitting on Jurian’s face.” That seemed the only way to describe it, but her face heated all the same as she said it.

Lucien chuckled so low and deep that Elain had to bite her lip to keep a sound from escaping her throat. “Is that so? Lucky him.”

Elain felt a hot pang of absurd jealousy at that. For a moment the memory shifted, and it was Lucien’s hands gripping Vassa’s thighs, his long hair spread out beneath him as he lay on his back.

Mine, that ancient, primal thing roared in her chest. He is mine, and I am his.

Lucien’s mouth dropped to her neck as he left a series of soft, warm kisses up her throat. “I told you good girls get rewards. Tell me what you want.”

Elain squirmed, or as much as she could do so standing up. She wasn’t quite sure what she wanted, other than for him to keep touching her, keep talking to her. Keep calling her a good girl.

She wanted him to kiss her until she lost herself, but for some reason she thought she might have to earn that particular privilege first.

One of his hands trailed down her neck, knuckles first, and then lower still, over her peaked nipple. Elain arched into the touch. This, she wanted to say. This and so much more.

A hard pinch on her nipple made her gasp.

“Tell me what you want,” Lucien repeated. His hand drifted to her neck, tilting it up so she was forced to look into his blazing gaze. It felt dangerous, like if she looked too long she might burn. “Or I can leave you alone with only your fingers for company.”

Elain wanted to growl in frustration. “I’d like to slap that cocky grin off your face, for starters.”

Again Lucien’s eyes flashed in surprise, and then melted into delight. “Much better.”

“Excuse me?”

“This is much better than that meek mouse act you usually put on around me.”

Her hand moved so fast that the sound of flesh hitting flesh rang out before she even consciously made the decision to slap him. His skin smarted immediately, into a vulgar imitation of a blush.

The world seemed to slow down as Elain held her breath. She’d never hit anyone before, much less a grown male, save for maybe some half-hearted shoves with her sisters when they were little. The act itself shocked her less than the thrill it gave her.

Lucien’s eyes flashed. Do that again, they seemed to taunt her. Elain raised her other hand, but before she could so much as lift it Lucien had grabbed both her wrists and pinned them above her head.

“I think you’ve forgotten who’s in control here,” he growled. The breathlessness of his voice betrayed the lack of threat behind his words. Elain knew in her bones that one word from her and Lucien would stop.

She desperately didn’t want him to.

His lips were still curved into a maddening smirk. They were so full and lush, made for whispering secret words, for flashing devilish smirks, for stolen kisses in dark hallways in the middle of the night.

“Kiss me,” she breathed. “That’s what I want.”

Lucien didn’t wait for further prompting. He crashed his mouth to hers, and as their lips met it was like a damn breaking after years of strain. There was no finesse to his kiss, no gentle touches. He kissed her like a drowning man drinking in his final breath, like there would never be enough of her to fill his lungs. It was all lips and teeth and tongue, not a slow exploration but a claiming, as if nothing else existed but this moment and everything depended on it. Lucien released her hands and she tangled them in his hair, pulling him down even closer.

He kissed her until her legs threatened to give out. She felt drunk on him, on this.

And then a loud moan echoed up the stairs from the sitting room, and Lucien laughed against her mouth. Elain had been so lost in him she’d almost forgotten about them.

“What do you think they’re doing?” he murmured.

She knew the drill by now. An answer for a reward. She saw it reflected in Lucien’s gaze, the gleam there like a challenge and a question at once.

Another moan, male this time, followed by the unmistakable sound of skin hitting skin.

“They’re probably…” She trailed off, embarrassed, even now, to say the word. Making love didn’t seem right for what she’d seen, and what she was hearing. “Fucking.”

“You’re learning,” Lucien whispered. “What a good student you are.”

He pressed his hips against her, and Elain inhaled sharply at the hardness pressed against her stomach. She couldn't help but glance down, and the sight of the bulge straining the front of his trousers made her mouth go dry. The room had been dark when she had lost her maidenhead to Graysen, and besides, she had been much too nervous to really look. But she wanted to look at Lucien- look, and touch, and lick every inch of him.

“You’ll have to earn that,” he said, as if reading her mind.

“I answered your question. That means I get a reward.” She hoped her voice sounded less desperate than she felt.

The grin he shot her was nothing short of devilish. “Indeed. Tell me.”

She felt absurd saying it, as if one wrong word and Lucien would laugh and declare that this had all been a game. A tease. A joke.

A mistake.

“Touch me,” she demanded, with as much authority as she could muster.

Lucien groaned, his hips thrusting into her as if he couldn’t help it. She was beginning to think that he might like it when she was irritated.

Another moan trickled up the stairs, and it occurred to Elain how thoroughly exposed they were. Jurian and Vassa could walk up the stairs at any time- although, from the sounds of it, that didn’t seem likely.

Any thoughts of getting caught disappeared from her mind as Lucien’s hand drifted back to her thigh, inching up much slower than she would have liked. When he reached the waistband of her underwear she held her breath, expecting him to slide them down. Instead, his fingers kept going up, over her stomach, up her ribs, until her breast was cradled in his palm.

“Like this?” he asked, squeezing softly. He tweaked her nipple between two fingers and Elain sucked in a breath at the mixture of pleasure and pain.

“Yes,” she said, though it wasn’t enough.

“Yes,” Vassa echoed from downstairs, her moans quickly dissolving into screams.

“She’s a loud one,” Lucien needlessly informed her as he switched his ministrations to her other breast.

Elain wondered how much of it was real and how much was an act. It seemed almost impossible for it to be a genuine reaction. “Why?” The question was out of her mouth before she could stop it. She clamped her mouth shut, feeling idiotic.

Lucien grinned broadly. The gesture made his cheeks crinkle and somehow made him even more handsome. He was so beautiful when he smiled it was almost painful to look at. It made that golden coil tighten even more inside her chest, flooding her with longing and an almost melancholy want for something she had never had, and perhaps never would. She almost wished he would stop.

“Because Jurian knows how to fuck.” He kept his eyes fixed on hers as he said it, as though he expected her to be shocked by his language.

“You seem to have a lot of knowledge on that topic.”

“On what?” he teased. “Jurian? Or fucking?”

He was messing with her. Elain huffed in frustration, but before she could say anything he cut her off.

“Touch yourself.”

She blinked up at him, her pulse increasing. “I answered one of your questions,” he continued with a wicked grin, “now I get a reward.”

Elain squirmed. For some reason she couldn’t explain, touching herself in front of him was so much more embarrassing than letting him touch her.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, little mouse.”

“Don’t call me that!” she snapped.

She was starting to take back what she’d thought about liking this side of him. He was insufferable. Insufferable and cocky and-

“Then prove that’s not what you are. Unless you don’t want to keep playing…” He started backing away from her, and panic made her heart skip a beat. She’d never be able to look him in the eyes after this, so she’d be damned if she didn’t get him to at least touch her before he ran away and disposed of her.

Elain made sure his eyes were locked on hers as she shoved her hand into her underwear. She was so aroused that her fingers glided easily through her slick folds, and a sigh escaped her lips. Lucien’s gaze turned almost predatory.

In a movement too quick for her to follow he yanked her hand out of her underwear and stuck her fingers coated in her arousal into his mouth. The flame in his russet eye intensified, and Elain found she couldn’t quite breathe.

A low groan rumbled deep in his throat. “Gods, Elain.”

He dropped to his knees in front of her as he said it, making her name sound like a plea, or worship.

Elain kept her gaze locked on his as his hands slid up her legs, leaving her skin burning in their wake. When he reached her underwear he locked his fingers around the waistband and then stopped. She wriggled her hips slightly, thinking he was waiting for permission, but still he didn’t move.

“What position do you think they’re in?”

The noises from downstairs were growing louder, the moans breathier, the wet sound of skin against skin echoing sharply in the quiet. Several scenarios flashed through Elain’s mind, but it was difficult to think clearly with Lucien’s mouth so close to her throbbing center. Her knowledge was once again lacking for the question he was asking, but judging from the way Lucien’s fingers were shaking slightly she had a feeling any answer would have been acceptable.

“They were on the floor earlier,” she said lamely, trying to think of something clever to say.

Lucien dragged her underwear down an inch. “Oh?” he prompted.

Elain remembered the ugly pink couch she’d been shown to when she had arrived earlier. A giggle threatened to escape her, despite Lucien kneeling before her and her racing pulse.

“I think she’s on that ugly pink couch,” she said, as confidently as she could.

Her underwear slid down her legs in a cool brush of silk. Elain gulped as Lucien’s eyes snagged in between her legs. The urge to snap her legs shut was almost overwhelming, but then he looked up at her and licked his lips. Her core went molten.

“Tell me more,” he urged, gently pressing her legs apart.

“Um.”

Lucien pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh, his gaze never leaving hers. Her knees were shaking with a mixture of overwhelming lust and nervous anticipation, and if it wasn’t for Lucien’s hands on her she might have slid to the floor.

Lucien kissed her other leg, higher this time. If he went any higher he would surely feel the evidence of her arousal, no doubt dripping down her leg. Elain couldn’t remember ever feeling anything even close to this. Lucien’s teeth grazed the soft skin of her thigh, reminding her that she still hadn’t answered him.

“I think she’s kneeling on the couch, holding on the back. And Jurian’s…”

She didn’t have time to finish before Lucien leaned forward and licked a single stripe clean up her center. Elain gasped at the sensation, all other thoughts melting out of her head along with any lingering hesitation.

“Good girl,” Lucien murmured, and then his mouth was on her again.

She didn’t have anything to compare it to, but it was clear Lucien knew exactly what he was doing. He attacked her with his mouth the same way he had kissed her earlier- hungrily, savagely, like there was no time for finesse. She had expected it to feel wet but somehow every broad lick of his tongue felt like a wave of fire spreading through her.

Every cell in her body felt alive, like she was seconds away from bursting. Nothing had ever felt this good, and she didn’t care who heard the wanton noises coming out of her, as long as he never stopped.

He drew her clit between his lips and sucked, and Elain’s knees buckled. Lucien laughed against her, the vibration ripping a low groan from her throat. He hooked one of her legs over his shoulder and she gasped at the new angle. Pleasure was coiling tight in her belly, so hot and fast that she thought it might tear her apart.

“Lucien…” It was her turn to say his name like a prayer- or in this case, a desperate plea to not stop.

“That’s right,” he growled. He reached up and kneaded her breast gently, and Elain’s head thumped back against the wall. Her fingers were gripping his hair so tightly she knew it must be painful, but if Lucien cared he certainly didn’t let on.

He slid a finger inside her, and then another, thrusting in and out slowly as he continued to devour her with his mouth. And then his fingers curled inside her, hitting a spot that had her gasping for breath.

“Lucien!” Do that again, is what she meant, but he knew without being told.

He thrust inside her again and again, his tongue keeping time with his fingers as they hit that spot that had her seeing stars. She was going to come undone right here in the hallway, and fought against it, not wanting it to be over.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his lips grazing her sensitive flesh. “Be a good girl and come for me.”

He clamped his mouth around her and sucked, and she let go. Pleasure tore through her in a hot wave, a ragged cry falling from her lips as her vision exploded in stars. Lucien didn’t let up, groaning against her as he licked and sucked her through her orgasm.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Fuck, Elain.” He sounded as lost as she felt, like she was lost at sea and he was the raft keeping her alive.

Her legs were trembling so hard that she started sliding down the wall, but then Lucien’s arms were around her, hauling her to the floor as he stretched out on his back.

“Take that off,” he growled, pushing her nightgown up her body.

Elain slipped the offending garment over her head without a second thought. Lucien’s eyes burned her skin like a brand, melting away any embarrassment she might have felt at her nudity.

“Gods, Elain, you’re so…” He trailed off, his throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly.

Elain wanted to lean down and lick his throat, kiss every inch of it like he had hers. She wanted to leave little marks to physically mark him as hers.

Hers.

“Tell me,” Lucien urged. There was a note of urgency to his voice that made her feel wild. “Tell me what you want, and you can have it.”

One final question in their game, then. His hands drifted towards her breasts and she slid her fingers through his and held his hands there.

What did she want? She wasn’t sure what she would want tomorrow, but tonight-

“You.” Elain forced herself to meet his gaze. It was somehow easier to do so when he was being wicked than when he was soft like this. She wasn’t sure which side of him she liked more, but she suspected she might like all of him, which was more terrifying than anything that had happened tonight.

“I just…”

He didn’t tease her, didn’t prompt her. He just kept staring at her with that mismatched gaze, a soft flame still dancing in his russet eye. On impulse she reached forward and lightly traced his scar, all the way from his brow almost to his jaw. Lucien shivered, his eyes shutting tight as his forehead creased with some emotion she couldn’t read.

She wanted to be able to read it- to know him well enough that she could tell right away what he was thinking. But that would require her to open up just as much, and that was a cliff side she wasn’t ready to step off from. Not until she’d figured out how far she might fall.

Vassa and Jurian’s moans were reaching a final crescendo downstairs. Elain held Lucien’s gaze until their cries faded, resisting the urge to grind against his cock to relieve the ache still burning between her legs. She still felt desperate for him, even though her body was still tingling from the orgasm he’d given her.

“I want you to make me scream that loudly.”

Lucien smirked. “And here I thought you’d be more of a gentle love making type.”

Elain hummed. “I like that too.”

There must have been something written all over her face, or else Lucien was better at reading her than she was him. “But?” he asked.

“But it’s easier to get your heart broken that way.”

Lucien’s mouth fell open in surprise. Elain held her breath, bracing herself for a dismissal or a taunt. He’d say something lurid about fucking having nothing to do with hearts. Whatever seed of madness had started to grow inside her would be trampled, and her heart would be safe.

“Oh, Elain.” He loosed a breath, something about the wicked gleam in his eye making her squirm. “You have no idea how wrong you are about that.”

Before she could react he had stood up and hauled her to her feet in one swift motion. He spun her around, planting hot, wet kisses down her throat as he guided her towards the railing at the top of the stairs. She was putty in his hands, bending forward to lean on the banister as he nudged her legs apart.

There was a soft woosh of fabric as he kicked his pants off, and then his fingers were on her, swirling tight circles around her clit. Elain bit back her moan, thrusting back into his hand to increase the friction. Nothing he did was ever enough. It felt like her own blood was alive with the flame she’d seen dancing in his eye, and his every touch only made her burn hotter.

“Tell me you want me.”

His fingers suddenly stopped, replaced by the feel of his hard, thick cock teasing her entrance. Elain looked over her shoulder at him and nearly whined. Nobody had ever looked as beautiful as he did right then, with his golden skin glowing in the lamp light and his vibrant hair mussed from her ministrations.

“I want you.”

“Good girl.”

With that he slid into her with one long, slow thrust. Elain gasped at the feel of him stretching her, filling her so completely that it seemed their bodies had been made for this.

“Fuck, Elain.” He sounded on the edge of losing that maddening control of his. She wriggled her hips, urging him to move.

“Impatient, are you?”

Elain started to growl in frustration, but it turned into a ragged gasp as Lucien slowly pulled out and then slammed back in. She grabbed onto the banister tighter as he set a wicked pace, thrusting into her to the hilt only to pull out maddeningly slowly. Every pound of his cock inside her had her seeing stars, moans falling from her lips with every thrust.

“They’re probably listening, you know.”

Elain’s eyes fixed on the partially closed door to the sitting room, the occupants of which were suspiciously quiet. It should have bothered her, but she found she couldn’t quite care.

“Good thing I asked you to make me scream.”

Lucien groaned, bringing his hand to her ass in a hard slap. Elain gasped at the sting, and then moaned as Lucien started pounding into her.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, his voice ragged.

“Yes.”

“Louder.”

“YES!”

Her voice echoed embarrassingly loudly down the stairs, but Elain couldn’t have cared less. That delicious pressure was building inside her again, and she chased the feeling, dropping her forehead against her arms gripping the banister.

“Elain…”

From the strain in his voice she could tell he was on the verge of release himself. His fingers were gripping her hips so tightly she knew there’d be fingertip-shaped bruises there in the morning. She pictured Lucien kissing them gently, his hair mused from sleep, and eyes glazed with affection as he looked up at her.

That was all it took to push her over the edge.

She cried out as pleasure exploded through her again, her body seizing with wave after wave of ecstasy. A moment later Lucien gave a choked groan as he spilled himself inside her.

Her vision had barely returned to normal before he turned her around again and gathered her up in his arms. She was too exhausted and too thrilled at the feel of being in his arms to protest about where he was taking her.

He carried her to his room and kicked the door shut before gently placing her on the bed. His scent wrapped around her in a cloud, and she couldn't stop herself from pressing her nose to his pillow and inhaling deeply. Gods, it should be illegal to smell this good.

Lucien chuckled above her. Had she said that out loud? She supposed it wasn’t the most embarrassing admission she’d made tonight.

“Look at me.”

Elain turned back to face him as he hovered over her, bracing himself with one arm as he gently brushed loose tendrils of hair from her face. The gesture was so tender that it made her heart ache.

“Can you promise me something?” he asked.

Her eyes hadn’t adjusted to the darkness of his room, and she couldn’t make out the expression in his eyes. “That depends.”

“Promise you won’t just disappear in the morning.”

There was a raw edge to his voice that felt like a gut punch. Or else, like a gentle shove, edging her closer to that ledge she had so far managed to stay away from.

“It would be impressive if I did, considering I’m in your bed.”

Lucien chuckled. “Bold of you to assume you’re sleeping here tonight.”

“And here I thought you were the chivalrous type. But if you’d rather I go…” Elain made to roll out from under him, laughing darkly when he blocked her path.

“Not so fast.”

“Oh?”

“I have a few more questions for you, you see.”

Elain bit her lip as her blood started heating once more. She had a feeling that in the end she’d be getting very little sleep tonight, and found she didn’t mind at all.

Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added/removed!): @areyoudreaminof @separatist-apologist @tuzna-pesma-snova @labellefleur-sauvage @corcracrow @autumndreaming7 @octobers-veryown @velidewrites @sunshinebingo @vulpes-fennec @asnowfern @hallway5

[theladyofbloodshed]

You're The Closest To Heaven I'll Ever Be - Part One

The last of the family staff hurried into a waiting carriage, likely prompted by hefty purses of money. The light was bleeding from the sky, casting the grand mortal manor in a muted light. There was no soul to the house. No bleeding red stone walls like the House of Wind or worn love of the town house.

It wasn’t often Azriel ever ventured this side of the wall. Once or twice perhaps. It hadn’t ever been for pleasantries. His spying never took him this far. Mortals had nothing worth gaining. They were not worth establishing any connections with because their lives were so fleeting.

Feyre’s silhouette stood out as the ornate front door was opened.

‘They’re very afraid,’ she murmured to Rhys.

He offered a wry smile. ‘We’ll play nice.’

Beside him, Cassian let out a low whistle as he turned in place, surveying the grand entry hall, the ornate furniture and paintings. They were simply there to show off wealth. Azriel knew the type. He had suffered enough of them.

‘Your father must be a fine merchant,’ Cassian said. ‘I’ve seen castles with less wealth.’

A clever way of questioning the father’s whereabouts. He had gathered little intel on the family on Rhys’ orders. Feyre wasn’t to be spied on. His only information had come from snippets overhead by the wraiths. A father with lofty ambitions. A mother who wanted greatness for her daughters. One living. One dead. Two sisters. One soft. One hard.

‘Come,’ Rhys said, offering a subtle nod for Feyre to lead the way. ‘Let’s make this introduction.’

Azriel trailed in last after a silent plea to his shadows to make themselves scarce whilst they were here. There were many others they could listen to in the village.

***

There was no mistaking the family resemblance. The light of the chandeliers coaxed the golden hues of their hair to glisten. They stood beside a window where a heavy curtain was drawn across it. The mortals stood so still they could well have been posing for a portrait. One reminded Azriel of a doe, frozen to the spot, but ready to run at a moment’s notice. The other stiffened as her eyes roamed over their wings. This one was not a runner. No, she formed a fist then edged closer to her sister. That movement told Azriel everything he needed to know. It was the only piece missing from the jigsaw he had been building. The shorter one with darker hair was Elain; the father’s favourite who could win anybody around. Which meant the one stood poker-straight, ready to fight three Illyrians with her bare hands was Nesta Archeron.

‘Cassian, Azriel, and Rhysand, the High Lord of the Night Court.’

He bowed to the sisters – a gesture undeserved. No other high lord would bow to a mortal, especially not females. ‘Thank you for your hospitality – and generosity.'

Elain tried to return Rhys’ smile but balked. The taller sister scrutinised them once more then decided she was thoroughly unimpressed with any of them. ‘The cook left dinner on the table. We should eat before it goes cold.’

And with that, she strode off. The heels of her shoes clicked on the wooden floor.

Azriel watched her go, the skirts of her dress wafting around her feet as she moved. It wasn’t arrogance that had her marching from the room, or fear. He couldn’t even pin the dismissal on ignorance either. There was something else there that he couldn’t pinpoint – a total indifference towards them. That sort of behaviour from a mortal female was unsettling. She would be the issue in hosting the mortal queens, Azriel could already surmise.

‘Nice to meet you,’ rasped Elain before scurrying after her sister towards the polished cheery wood dining table.

They were the guests in the home, but politeness was in short supply towards Illyrians across Prythian.

As they followed through to the dining room, Azriel was already running through ways to convince the sisters to be more aligned with their plans. Clearly love for Feyre wasn’t enough. There needed to be an undercurrent of fear running through it; judging by the eldest’s protection of the middle sister, Elain may well end up being the leverage they needed to convince Nesta.

The eldest assumed the mantle of lady of the house in lieu of a mother or father present, so had taken the seat at the head of the table. There was a silent challenge in that to see where Rhys might place himself. On her left, Elain trembled. Her fear clouded the air as Cassian took the chair beside her. Feyre opted for the one beside her elder sister, perhaps to contain her, followed by Rhysand then Azriel sat on his left.

Elain’s fear mottled the air. It was a cloying scent. A brief glimpse at her hands revealed the bone-white knuckles that clutched her knife, perhaps debating whether to ram it into the arm of the Illyrian beside her. A faint smile bloomed on his lips, imagining Cassian’s reaction if it occurred. His brother was trying not to make too much noise as he forced his wings into the back of the chair. It creaked under every slight movement of his heavy weight.  Even better if the chair broke beneath him. Maybe the eldest sister’s steel veneer might crack. No, he doubted Nesta Archeron was prone to smiling, much less laughter.

In silence, they filled their plates. The mortal food lacked a smell or even much colour. But they had had worse. He had had much worse. There had been days locked in that cell below the ground without food. Days where his brothers made him beg and beg until he cried out of frustration for a morsel of a meal. It didn’t matter if the food lacked taste, as long as it filled his stomach.

‘Is there something wrong with our food?’

Nesta was staring at Feyre, rage simmering in her gaze.

It likely tasted of ash to her now she was fae. Feyre exaggerated her chewing then swallowed with a gulp before washing it down with half a glass of water. ‘No.’

‘So you can’t eat normal food anymore – or are you too good for it?’

Rhys dropped his fork. His brother was showing the heart on his sleeve too readily to a female who didn’t know. Maybe she was unaware of faerie mating bonds entirely. Azriel didn’t know. Or care.

Her hand splayed out on the wood. ‘I can eat, drink, fuck, and fight just as well as I did before. Better, even.’

‘If you ever come to Prythian,’ said Rhys, intervening with a cool breeze of words, ‘you will discover why your food tastes so different.’

She squared her shoulders then blinked slowly. ‘I have little interest in ever setting foot in your land, so I’ll have to take your word on it.’

Mother above, this female was not right. Azriel could read people easily. Within a handful of minutes, he knew a person. A few conversations and he knew what they believed in, what they thought for. Not this one. This female was a mystery. There were no outward signs of fear as she completely dismissed Rhysand and Azriel was sure it wasn’t foolishness blighting her. Nesta Archeron was a female who didn’t care how close she flew to the sun because she’d already been burnt.

‘Nesta, please,’ murmured her sister.

A chair creaked. Cassian swung back on the legs to give himself more room at the table. There was a gleam in his eyes that Azriel recognised. It usually had cocky Illyrians, who thought they were up for a challenge, scrambling to escape.

Sharply, her head swung to him. ‘What are you looking at?’

That would rattle his brother. His brows lifted, amusement fading. ‘Someone who let her youngest sister risk her life every day in the woods while she did nothing. Someone who let a fourteen-year-old child go into that forest, so close to the wall.’ Cassian shook his head, strands of black hair loosening from the bun at the nape of his neck. ‘Your sister died – died to save my people. She is willing to do so again to protect you from war. So don’t expect me to sit here with my mouth shut while you sneer at her for a choice she did not get to make – and insult my people in the process.’

Anybody else might have crumbled. Might have dipped their head in shame or fear. Not this one. Nesta did not bat an eyelash as she studied him – then she turned away, completely disinterested in continuing any sort of conversation with Cass. That would wound him. And he'd end up hearing about it for the next decade.

His chest heaved as he readied another battalion of words for the sister, but Azriel swooped in. For once, the words hadn’t been carefully practised to slot into a conversation. ‘Apologies for the disturbance to your evening. We must remember our manners.’

Both of his brothers were staring at him. And Nesta. Her silver eyes landed on his face, combing over it in a way that had him ready to pull his shadows back to conceal himself. For once, a stranger’s gaze did not dip to his hands. There were no rushed, repeated glances at them. No, Nesta held the eye contact longer than anyone else would dare. Then, once satisfied, she gave the slightest dip of her chin and turned back to her food. He was certain the corners of her mouth had lifted.

A flare of pain hit him squarely in the chest. He glanced over his shoulder, anticipating an archer readying another bow. His brothers hadn’t reacted. Nobody had. Azriel stared down at the siphon on his chest, half-expecting to see an arrow protruding from it. He rubbed at the ache under his ribs. It was like a hook beneath his skin, tugging and writhing as it burrowed deeper. It was a noose pulling too tight, strangling him.

Again, Azriel looked to his brothers, certain that the food was laced with something. Neither had paused from their quiet eating. Elain took small forkfuls whilst Feyre pushed most of it around. Still, his chest burned like something had hooked itself to his rib.

He felt the heat of a stare on his face. Azriel raised his head and was met with a pair of simmering, quicksilver eyes.  

[nikethestatue]

Elain's Potatoes

Elriel Month: Happy Solstice

Summary: It's Solstice and Elain Archeron is suffering from her cycle. Azriel sneaks out to see her, and cooks her Solstice dinner, and some potatoes, with a twist. He is also on the forefront of the advances of menstrual pad design. Romantic fluff ensues.

(what book was Elain reading?)

Nobody dies in this one, but it's a biggie--8K words

“Elain cancelled on me.”

Nesta’s lower lip jutted forward, and even though she attempted not to show that she was upset, Cassian could see that she was in fact, upset.

“Elain cancelled?” he peered at his wife in confusion, “Elain never cancels,” he argued and Nesta sighed and sipped her coffee from her huge cup, which Azriel brought her from the continent–along with this new drink, called coffee. Cassian’s had it before, because Azriel was a fan, but coffee was bitter and strange tasting. Personally, he preferred tea. Nesta found a kindred spirit in Azriel, and they liked their coffee as black as their souls. 

“Did she say why?” he asked, taking a bite of his eggs.

This was a busy week–Solstice week. It was possible that Elain was running around, preparing, buying gifts and all that, but still, it was unusual for Elain to cancel on anyone, let alone Nesta. The two of them have been looking forward to a day together–shopping, buying mantle ornaments and tinsel, and then they were expecting to meet Feyre for afternoon tea at one of the Tea Houses. Cassian had no say in the matter, but he frowned upon these afternoon teas, because it was just an excuse to eat unhealthy things such as scones and pastries, but it’s not like anyone would listen to him if he told them to indulge in a nice salad. So he kept his mouth shut. At least the three sisters were happy(ier)--nicely filled out, all three with a purpose, one a mother, two mated, the third…well, she was a head-scratcher that’s for sure, and Cassian didn’t exactly know what was happening with her. Elain, so very beautiful, soft, likeable, kind, good natured, and sweet, had way too many men problems. 

“She has her cycle,” Nesta grunted.

Cassian cleared his throat and buried his face in his tea cup. He wasn’t in the mood to discuss his sister-in-law’s bleeding. But he did ask, “so she’ll be indisposed for the whole thing?”

“I don’t know,” Nesta admitted, “but we won’t make her come to dinner if she doesn’t want to come.”

Cassian took a sip of his tea and turned the page of the newspaper that he was reading. He loved these quiet mornings with his wife, his beautiful mate. It’s been less than a year since they had their gorgeous mating ceremony, followed by a much quicker and quieter wedding, where it was only their families present. Nesta wanted a human ceremony and Cassian didn’t mind it. Since then, they’ve been falling in love. The time’s been quiet, and wholly theirs. They went on their honeymoon to Day Court, where Helion offered to give them a seaside villa, which was absolutely enchanting. Nesta wouldn’t leave the azure waters of the sea, swimming from morning ‘till night, only leaving to eat, nap and make love. 

“Azriel will be disappointed,” Cassian muttered absently, turning the page again. 

Nesta threw him a sharp look and raised a brow at his comment. 

“Why would he be disappointed?”

Cassian shrugged and explained, sounding very casual, “Well, you know how he likes the odd little gifts that she gives him for Solstice. I think he will miss that.”

Nesta hummed to herself but didn’t say anything further. 

Did Cassian finally begin suspecting something?

-

Azriel arrived at the River Estate on time, as usual, but without any enthusiasm or any pep in her step.

The shadows that swarmed him already informed him that Elain was not at the house, and he wondered if she was just running late. That was unlike her though. She was punctual, just like he was. Additionally, he assumed that she would be busy preparing dinner, maybe baking Feyre’s birthday cake. But the shadows confirmed that she was definitely absent.

The moment he opened the doors, he was swallowed up in the glitz of the estate, the abundant and glamorous decorations and the scent of roasting chicken.

Try as he might, Azriel couldn't get used to the River Estate. It didn’t feel like anything to him. A shell. In the past, they’d all cram into the townhouse, and it was tight, but heaps of fun all the same. Sometimes, they celebrated Solstice at the House of Wind, and that was a free-for-all of wild shenanigans. One time he woke up dressed as a cow. Another time Mor and Cassian were betting that they could swing from a chandelier–not surprisingly, both fell on their asses and the chandelier fell on the floor, which resulted in the five of them sweeping a million crystals the following day. Cassian swore that he wouldn’t go barefoot into that room even now. Mother’s tits, those were some fun times!

The River Estate made him tense. Like he was in the presence of his High Lord, and not his brother and friend. The baby and Elain were the only two things that he liked about being here–they softened the edges, and made the vast place feel more homey. There have been a few times when Rhys and Feyre were out, and Elain stayed with the baby. Azriel made sure to ‘accidentally’ drop by on those days, under the pretence of delivering something for Rhys. Or ‘forgetting’ that his High Lord wasn’t around to see him. Whether Elain realised that he was chancing an evening with her, he was not entirely sure, but Elain always managed to see right through him. It doesn’t matter. Those evenings were special. They cared for the baby together–fed him, played with him, bathed him, changed him and put him to sleep. Elain had a terrible singing voice, though she played the fortepiano, as he found out. He, on the other hand, had a very good voice, but he never sang…not in front of anyone. When it was just the three of them though, he felt pretty comfortable, and he sang some Illyrian lullabies to his nephew. Elain sat, with her cheek propped on her knee and listened quietly.

“Where is my beautiful mate?”

It was the first thing that reached Azriel’s ears the moment he stepped into the house. Lucien’s voice. Attempting to school his scowl into something presentable and not frightening, Azriel removed his jacket and then stepped into the large parlour where the family and guests were gathered. His eyes immediately went to the window seat, where Elain liked to sit when there were larger gatherings–observing, being part of the party, and yet, always separate. Much like he did himself. Tonight, the seat was empty, and something broke inside his chest at the sight of it, at the absence of her. That’s all he was looking forward to tonight–just stealing a few moments together, exchanging a few sentences, brushing his hands over hers, maybe the opportunity to wrap his finger around her braid. Between Rhysand and Lucien hovering on the periphery, he knew that any chances of something more meaningful would be impossible, but he was used to living on crumbs of opportunities and affection that were thrown his way.

“She won't be attending tonight,” he heard Feyre answer.

“Oh, what happened?” Lucien sounded concerned.

There was a pause, and then Feyre offered, “she is indisposed’.

“Doesn't she live here?” Lucien pressed.

“No,” Cassian boomed, “Ellie moved out and now lives at the townhouse.”

“So, I won’t see her at all this week?” Lucien inquired meekly.

“I am sorry, Lucien. I don’t think so. I should’ve let you know…”

The shadows immediately peeled away from Azriel’s body and slithered off and away, rushing to investigate further. 

-

Mor was getting a platter of cookies and another bottle of wine from the kitchen, when an iron grip clasped her upper arm.

“Aw, Az, what the Hel?” she hissed, not having heard him materialise behind her.

“I need you to do something for me,” he said quietly.

“Now?” she cried and he squeezed her arm tighter, warning her to keep quiet.

“Get off me,” she growled, ready to go to battle with him. “What do you want?”

“Yes now,” he said simply, and gently, but urgently dragged her into the hallway.

“What in the world is so urgent on Solstice?!?” she slapped his chest. 

It was cute, but not as cute as when Elain did it. 

Sometimes, he did something incorrectly on purpose, so Elain could get all adorably frustrated and huffy with him, and push him or slap his chest. He really loved it. 

“I need you to winnow me,”

Her brows knitted together and she gave him a look of pure incomprehension and disgust.

“Are you drunk?” she demanded.

He wasn’t, but he wasn't so sure about her. 

“I am not winnowing you, Azriel,” she grunted at him angrily, rolling her eyes at him. “You can winnow yourself! Why are you wasting my time when I just want to go and get more ham and drink more wine,”

Hissing through his teeth, he muttered, “you don’t need any more wine, trust me.”

“Fuck you,” she snapped rudely.

She could feel the response on his own lips, but he held back. 

“Mor, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important,” he said seriously. 

She finally set the bottle down on the counter and he let go of her arm, which she then crossed on her ample chest.

Sometimes, it surprised him that he’d been so attracted to her once in his life. He supposed that when he was a seventeen year old virgin, who barely even spoke to women, let alone saw them in Widnhaven, she seemed amazing. Indeed, she was–brashly beautiful, with her golden hair and big lips and large brown eyes. He even saw something of Elain in her–same intense beauty, though Elain’s was always softer and more delicate. But personalities–-why did he think that this could ever work? They had nothing in common. Their temperaments were polar opposites–she pushed and pressured, she needed things to be done her way, she wanted and if she didn't get it, she demanded it. Azriel did not mind, generally. However, it did grate on his nerves at times, and also, emotionally tired him out. He wasn’t one for endless conflict, acquiescence, and arguments. 

Thinking about all of this, only made him want to get out of here sooner and go where he really wanted to be.

“Why can’t you winnow?” she insisted. 

“I can winnow, but you need to come with me. It will only take 2 minutes of your time. You don’t even need to put on a coat,” he assured her. She frowned, disbelieving, but at least she was listening.

He continued quickly, “I just need you to let me into the townhouse.”

The request clearly confounded her. Her expression was befuddled to say the least, and she just stared at him dumbly.

“Rhys’s townhouse?” she asked at last.

He nodded.

“Why in the world……….oh,” her brown eyes blew up and turned into orbs, as comprehension dawned on her. “Ohhhh…ohh,”

“By the Cauldron, stop it!” he snapped at her.

Thinking, she cried out, “what are you going to do?!? Stalk her creepily?! She has her cycle, and I don’t see why and what you can do for her,”

“Exactly!” he nodded. “It’s Solstice, and she is completely alone. Suffering and in pain,”

“She might be just sleeping,” Mor argued reasonably.

“Or not,” he cut, “and even if she is sleeping, someone still should be with her. Caring for her,”

“And you are the one to care for her?”

“And why not?” he asked defensively, suddenly wondering if this was actually a bad idea. What was his plan, exactly? Barge into Elain’s bedroom, while she was bleeding and in pain? They were…what were they? Friends? Unresolved lovers? Definitely not lovers. He could only wish and hope, but that was in the past. Now, he was to be content with just being her acquaintance. Who desperately wanted to care for her during her cycle. Something that only mates and husbands did for their females. Lucien, certainly wasn't breaking down doors to get to her right now. He was happy to drink Rhysand’s expensive wine and eat the delicious roast. 

Mor looked him over and said, “you aren’t exactly the caring type, Az.”

“I care when I want to,” he said, getting tired and annoyed with this conversation. “Can we go now?”

She hummed and pursed her lips, saying, “I am not sure we should. It’s her personal space, I don’t want to intrude.”

“You don’t need to come in,” his patience was running out. “And if she gets upset, I will take all the blame,”

“Hmm, I don't think so,”

“Morrigan!” she snarled.

“No, I don’t think I will do it,” she concluded. 

“Fine,” he said calmly, but a clear threat was thundering through his deep midnight voice.

“I am glad we agree,”

“I will tell everyone that you are seeing Gwyneth,” he shrugged nonchalantly.

She gasped and clamped her hand over his mouth.

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Try me,” he challenged.  

Azriel was the only one who knew about the two of them. Furthermore, he was the only one who knew about Mor’s ‘secret’, though why the hell she kept it so, he had no idea. 

It was scandalous though–Mor and Gwyneth. Mor was the teacher, regardless of Gwyn’s Carynthian status, and Mor was 500 years older, vastly experienced, and one of the founders of the Library, in charge of the priestesses’ well-being, and identities. A relationship with one of her students would be considered unethical at best, especially since Gwyn still lived in the Library and still served as a priestess there. 

“You asshole,” she moaned. “You are such an asshole!”

He smirked and offered her his arm.

“Ready?”

“I hope she fucking throws you out!”

“She won’t,” he said confidently.

“And I’ll tell Lucien,” she threatened.

Breezily, he waved his hand and muttered, “Oh, I am terrified!”

-

A minute later, they stood in front of the white marble townhouse, which was decorated with pine wreaths and had a crooked snowman standing in front of it from the snowfall that they experienced in the fortnight. The snowman had a carrot for a nose and seven blue dots scattered around its body. Mor blew on her hands and chuckled at the snowman.

“Maybe she won’t throw you out after all,” 

They entered the front garden and she poked at the two giant wilted leaves from some plant, which were stuck in the snowman’s back.

“Wings,” she noted.

He noticed everything as well and was quite pleased with the snowman.

She turned to face him and prodded his chest with her finger.

“You promise you won’t say anything to anyone!”

“I promise,” he agreed. “Though I don’t know if it’s me you should be worrying about.”

“Who else knows?” she exclaimed worriedly.

“No one. But I am curious how you’ll explain getting that pegasus from Helion and gifting it to Gwyn, after Gwyn will inevitably blabber about it to Nesta, who’ll blabber about it to Cassian, who will definitely blabber about it to Rhys. Because there is no fucking way that Gwyn isn’t going to be talking about her new flying horse.”

Mor let out a muffled, pathetic sigh and grabbed Azriel’s arm, turning him to face her. 

“By the gods,” she lamented breathlessly, the seriousness of the situation dawning on her. “Az!”

“What?”

Pleading, she asked, “What do I do?”

He shrugged, still feeling petty over how she almost refused to take him here.

“Azriel!”

“What do you want me to say, Morrigan?” He opened his hands widely. “I can do many things, but keeping Gwyneth Berdara silent isn’t one of them.”

“But if Rhys finds out…” her voice died in a heavy exhale. 

“Yeah, there would be hell to pay,” he agreed callously.

“But I love her,” she murmured.

“Not sure it matters to him.” 

It definitely didn’t matter to Rhysand when Azriel was in a similar situation only recently.

Azriel regarded Mor for a long time, considering whether he should give her advice. 

Azriel held grudges. It wasn’t his finest trait, but he couldn't help it. He was an Illyrian, and a Fae, and his grudges lasted for thousands of years. Could and did he forgive Mor for all the years of incomprehensible rejection? No, not even a little bit. At the same time, he also moved on. There was someone that he was interested in and who reciprocated his feelings and who concerned him much more than Mor ever would again. 

“It might not be the perfect solution,” he said at last, “but use magic. There is a secret keeping spell that you can use, or a Confounding spell,”

“Oh yes, yes…” she was nodding eagerly.

“It’s not ideal, but it’s something. It will tide you over until you figure out what to do. She is young and impulsive–I wouldn’t trust her to keep a flying horse a secret.”

“You are right. Maybe a Confounding Spell, where she’d just forget to talk about it and it won’t be on her mind…”

“We done talking about Gwyn? I want to go inside,” he stomped his feet. “It’s colder than Apollion’s asshole!”

She cocked her brow at him and muttered, “I wasn’t aware that you were so familiar with his asshole.”

-

Elain was in her bed, on top of the covers, curled around her stomach.

Fae periods were atrocious. They were uncomfortable and painful, though not as frequent as when she was human. But her new body still confused her. Why go through so much pain and discomfort only to have to wait years, sometimes decades to get pregnant. It seemed pointless. Why suffer this much, only to wait and wait in vain to have a child?

She couldn’t complain really–her cycle was pretty bad, but not as debilitating as Feyre’s, or even Mor’s. Somehow, she and Nesta avoided being subjected to the horrors that so many other Fae females experienced during their cycles. It wasn’t pleasant by any means, but she wasn’t crying and sweating, or shaking and moaning like her younger sister. However they were Made, she and Nesta were given a little bit of a reprieve from the fate of all other Fae females. 

The pain was manageable, but she was bleeding profusely. It was so abundant, it didn’t allow her the opportunity to leave the house for at least 3-4 days. 

Did she want to go to the Solstice celebration at her sister’s? Frankly, she was glad that she was missing it this year. Because he would be there. And the other he. The one she wanted, and the one who laid claim on her. And she didn’t want to deal with either one of them. She was lonely, but by now, this was something to be expected–she didn't have many friends beside the wraith twins, and she didn’t have a male either. She was almost 27 years old and she definitely thought that her life would’ve been very different right now–she might have had a loving husband in Graysen, and perhaps, even a baby by now. She would’ve been Lady Nolan, wife to a Lord’s son, mistress of the domain, wealthy and respected, and maybe even happy. Instead, now, men ran away from her, knowing that she had the blasted mate bond, which rendered her invisible in their eyes. Even Azriel seemed to have lost interest–why wouldn’t he? He was prohibited from seeing her and to him, she was unavailable anyway. 

She was feeling sour. Unhappy with herself, unsatisfied, unaccomplished. How did Nesta of all people get married before her? Nesta, who never had a relationship in her life, was happily, joyfully mated to a great male, and Elain…well, Elain needed to find it in herself to go downstairs and warm up some soup or something. Nuala promised to bring her leftovers from today’s celebration, but for now, she had vegetable soup to look forward to.

She turned onto her side with a grunt, feeling the blood sloshing between her legs, and wrinkled her nose. Gods. It was so gross. Tucking her nose into the book she was reading, she got lost in the world. She wondered if there was really an academy for the Fae, where they studied and honed their skills and powers? That would be amazing to attend. Not just stumble about in the darkness, not understanding her own capabilities, but actually learn how to harness it and how to do spells and other incredible things. If she had a handsome vampire Professor, she wouldn’t have minded either. He reminded her of Azriel–brutal, brash and solitary. She also liked the other character, the big dragon shifter, who was dripping with raw masculinity. Biting her lip, she turned the page eagerly reading about the angry dragon chasing his love interest across the bubbling hot springs, until they finally finally kissed. Elain’s been waiting for this moment for four books and it was here, at last!

She didn’t know what it was, but she suddenly shifted on the bed, feeling someone’s eyes on her. The townhouse was well-protected, with ironclad wards, fit for Rhysand. No one could get inside. Ever. And yet the feeling of unease spread over her and she lifted her eyes from the pages of the hefty tome. She looked around her bedroom, but there was nothing amiss, except for the unusual clump of darkness in the corner. The shadows typically didn’t gather like that in that spot. And then, to her horror, a figure stepped out of the darkness–a figure of murky gloom–a huge male body, swathed in shadows…

“Aaaahhhhh!!!!!!!” Elain bellowed at the top of her lungs, deafening her own ears with her scream, as she hurled the thick book at the male. 

“Auuuu!” she heard the man’s voice. “By the gods, Elain! What the fuck,” 

Shockingly, it was Azriel who was now standing in her bedroom, the book in one hand, while he was rubbing his forehead with his fingers, where she smacked him with full force. “You could’ve taken my eye out!” he complained.

She scattered back, pulling her robe, her eyes wide with both fear and relief, her heart beating wildly in her chest.

“What are you doing here?” she cried out. “How did you get inside?!?”

He was still grunting and wincing, rubbing his face, “Mor let me in,” he growled.

She began to calm down a bit, but then crossed her arms on her chest and repeated,

“It doesn’t explain what you are doing here? Shouldn’t you be celebrating Solstice with the others?”

“Yeah, come to think of it now, I should be,” he growled. 

“Then why aren’t you?”

His left eye winked a couple of times and she couldn’t help, but giggle. He looked so...defeated. Like she sprung on him and completely took him by surprise.

“I think it’s obvious that I came here to check on you,” he said dryly.

“Oh,” she sat back on her heels and looked guiltily at him. 

His shadows were gone, and he wasn’t wearing a jacket, which told her that he probably winnowed straight from the party.

He walked to the white stone fireplace and poked the burning logs with a poker, adding another log into the fire. 

This was enough excitement for Elain, and she was now feeling exhausted, so she slipped back onto the bed, wincing from pain and discomfort. He caught her expression and turned to her, asking, “how are you feeling?”

“Like crap,” she admitted and he chuckled. 

She wore a comfortable pair of cotton leggings and a hoodie. Her feet were bare and he looked at them, taking in her painted toes and a thin gold anklet, which surprised him for some reason. He looked at her for a while, in complete silence, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the room. She watched him too, silent and serious, and then extended her hand to him, and held it there, waiting. He took two steps to the bed and grasped her small hand in his, while sitting down on the edge of the bed. She smelled heady and the scent of blood, arousal, her womb, her skin, her natural scent of jasmine and honey almost made his eyes roll back in his head. It was the most delicious aroma he’d ever scented. He brought her hand to his lips, kissing her wrist, feeling her pulse beneath his lips, before opening her hand and kissing inside it. Her breathing became uneven and he watched a lovely pink blush spread over her cheeks and her exposed neck. He loved kissing her hands, small and calloused, and covered in a thin net of various scars. She explained that most were from gardening, some were from burns, knife cuts, splinters, scalding water, from doing laundry in the winter and chopping wood, from weeding, and mending clothes. Gentle, pretty, but working hands. 

“Thank you for coming to check on me,” she murmured, reaching up and tucking a strand of his thick, black hair away from his eyes. “You should get a haircut,” she then decided.

He nodded, “I should.”

His rough, scarred knuckles brushed against her cheek and he admitted, “I wouldn’t have wanted to spend Solstice with anyone but you.”

He looked at her bed, and then smiled, “now, who is this?”

She glanced over her shoulder and then took a stuffed pig that rested by her pillow and handed it to him. Azriel chuckled, stroking the soft toy.

“It’s Darius,” she explained.

“Darius the pig?”

“Yes. I used to have a stuffed pig when I was young and then it…” she stopped talking and swallowed heavily. 

He rubbed the pig’s fluffy head with his thumb and pressed, “What happened to him?”

Her eyes suddenly filled with tears and she murmured, “When the creditors came…they ransacked our house, taking everything and anything that was of any value. They even took our hair ribbons and pins. And I was holding him and crying, because I barely understood what was going on and then one of the men snatched him from my hands. He tore his head off…and then stomped on it, so it wouldn't be possible to reattach it later.”

Two fat tears rolled down her cheeks and Azriel just…moved. He couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to, and he didn’t want to. He wanted to love and comfort her. He wanted to protect her and cherish her. So when he pressed his lips to her face, gently kissing off the tears, it was not lustful or domineering, but a promise. A promise that he would always comfort her and hold dear what was important to her.

“I found this one here, because he reminded me of my Darius.”

“I’ll always take care of Darius,” he vowed, kissing her soft, beautiful face. “Of you. Of everything that is yours and ours.”

Her arm fell across his shoulders and she looked at him, her eyes wet, her lips parted, the pig squished between their bodies.

“You are just,” she whispered breathlessly, “you are…extraordinary.”

“No,” he shook his head, as his nose slid down her cheekbone, “just a male, who’d worship and adore you if you allowed me to.”

She cupped his face between her hands and pressed her lips to his forehead.

“You may…you know. You will always have my permission.”

He kissed her hand again and then pulled away. Truthfully, he didn't trust himself. Even now. Even knowing that she was bleeding and aching, tired and weak, but also ripe and ready for him, he didn’t trust himself and certainly didn’t want to take advantage of her. Because he knew that he could. And she’d be willing. And it’s not like he cared about blood either…But he knew that this wasn’t the time and she wasn’t ready. Besides, as much as he desired her, he also wanted to court her and taking advantage of her willingness and proximity didn’t seem fair. So, he pulled away, even though he was gritting his teeth. 

“May I take the pain away?” he offered.

Elain leaned on her elbows and looked at him with a perplexed expression on her face. Her hair was a mess, slipping from the knot on top of her head and it endeared him even further.

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t heal, but I am able to take away pain,” he explained.

“How?” she was shocked, for this was an ability that only some of the more powerful High Fae possessed. Rhysand, she’d seen Helion assist his soldiers on the battlefield, and perhaps Morrigan was also capable. Elain wasn’t even sure that Feyre could, or Lucien. Feyre was powerful in her own right, but she couldn’t take pain away. 

He shrugged and didn’t answer. Maybe he didn’t know.

But…there was always something odd about Azriel. His power was vast. It was like a churning ocean of dark, mysterious raw energy that spoke to her own. It responded to her, drawing her own like a magnet, pulling it to her skin, so it vibrated and sought to escape so it could dance and play with Azriel’s power. They’d never discussed it, but the most acute sharing of power that they experienced was during the final battle of the war. She could sense it: his power of Death, deeper than the swirling eddies of the Cauldron, and her power, bright and calm, benevolent and immense–the power of Life. 

“You can do that?” she murmured, looking at him in awe.

He smiled softly at her and said,

“You know me better than anyone. You always have.”

She supposed that she did. The mysterious shadowsinger was never much of a mystery to her. He allowed her in.

Azriel lifted her hoodie a bit over her stomach. It allowed him the view of a sliver of her flat belly. She lay back, a little tense, and he whispered,

“Think of me as a healer.”

She raised her brow at him, giving him a look. He smirked and then placed his large palm on her stomach. She concentrated, and then her eyes lit up and she grinned, after he pressed and held his hand to her skin.

“It’s working!”

“I would hope so,” he nodded, holding his hand to her belly longer than was necessary. His index finger moved lightly near her belly button, writing something that only he understood. Mine.

“It feels so good,” she almost moaned and Azriel sighed. He wished that she would whisper the same words, only under different circumstances. When it was from the pleasure that he gave her, when her beautiful body opened up to him, and welcomed him inside. Gods, she would love it. He would make it incredible for her, her body bowed beneath his, writhing, begging him for more, needing him, yielding to him, falling for him, submitting to him. 

He smiled softly, mostly to himself. He was going to have a fun time filling his Elli’s belly with his babies. This little tidbit might not have been something that he shared with anyone, but Elli was his. And the desire to create a family with her, make them children, ran almost rabid in his blood. He was a patient male, and he was willing to wait. But the fact that she was going to become his wife, his lady and the mother of his children was all but a guarantee. He was even more careful on his missions now–not because of any sort of fear, but because he wanted to ensure that Elain got what she wanted–and that was him. He needed to be hers just as much as she was going to be his. 

Elain’s slender finger wrapped around his wrist and she whispered, ‘thank you’.

“You are welcome, beautiful,” he whispered and then dropped the hem of her hoodie down. “Now, have you eaten?”

Unenthusiastically, she muttered, “I have soup.”

“That is thrilling. Soup.” He tsked sarcastically, but then added, “it didn’t answer my question though. Have you eaten?”

“Nuala made me porridge in the morning.”

“Alright then,” he got up and then fluffed her pillows, announcing, “I shall tend to you and make us a fine Solstice meal indeed.”

“What are you going to do?” she asked. “I don’t need to eat…I am not hungry…”

He hummed and said, “Keep reading your thick smutty book that you’ve used as a weapon,”

“I am sorry!”

“Good aim, by the way.”

She laughed softly. 

“Did I hurt you?”

“Only my pride.”

“You know,” he jerked his head towards the book, “I’ve read it,”

“You have?” she exclaimed excitedly.

“Yeah, where are you at?”

“The dragon shifter and the phoenix are in the hot springs,”

Azriel’s long whistle interrupted her. 

“They are about to do it.”

“Do what?”

“It. Elli. It.”

He winked and then disappeared, but not before smirking at her blush.

-

In the kitchen, Azriel took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and headed for the basket of potatoes.

In Illyria, produce was often scarce, but potatoes were always available, and dozens, if not hundreds of recipes, included or were dedicated to the humble spud. Females had all sorts of secret recipes for their cycle times, and while Azriel never bothered to find out much about them, he could cook up amazing mashed potatoes, roast them with garlic and rosemary, fry them, smash them with cheese and butter. 

He filled a large pot with water, grabbed the basket and sat down. Considering his options for a moment, he decided on using Truth Teller to peel them. His dagger wasn’t only for killing and maiming–he used it casually as well, but only for himself. Shrugging, he figured that Elain might actually benefit from a mash made with a Made utensil. 

Once peeled and cleaned, he dumped the potatoes into the pot, put it on the fire, and began setting the table–he pulled out the nice china from the cabinet, crystal glasses, and the real silver silverware. Then he lit candles in a large beautiful candelabra and grabbed one of Elain’s flower-filled vases, and placed it on the table as well. 

When Elli was going to be his and they’d be living here together, he was going to make some design changes. The place was a bit stuffy for his taste, and could benefit from fewer walls. He liked wide open spaces, air, lots of light, windows, unfussy furniture. 

“Az!” he heard her yell from upstairs. 

Smiling, he yelled back, “What’s going on, beautiful?”

“I am bored!” she complained.

“I’ll come and get you in a few minutes, gorgeous. I am just finishing up here.”

“Whatchya doing?”

“Preparing Solstice dinner, because we are not savages and we’ll have a proper celebration.”

Azriel found some cold ham in the ice box, pate, smoked chicken, a few varieties of cheese, and then headed to the cellar for the wine. 

-

Elain was feeling hot and heavy. Not because of her menstrual pains–not at all, because Azriel successfully took all of that away–and not even because of her blood, but because of the highly erotic chapter that she just read. And quickly re-read. She couldn’t believe that Azriel read the same thing! It made her tingle in places where she shouldn’t be tingling right now, and brought a wave of heat to her cheeks, and between her legs. Her breasts were aching and her nipples grew hard. It didn’t help that the object of her affection was downstairs, preparing dinner. Gorgeous and red-bloodied Illyrian warrior whose touch drove her wild with lust and desire. And he read this very book–its erotically charged chapters, with the handsome dragon shifter doing things to his phoenix lady that Elain could only dream of. She was so engrossed in the book that she didn’t even notice Azriel, who stood in the doorway, his tattooed forearms crossed on his chest, an amused smirk on his lips.

She blinked at him, pulled back into reality. 

“So?” he asked, “did they do it?”

Elain snapped the book closed and exclaimed, “I can’t talk to you about that!”

He laughed and teased, “but why not? I’d like to know what your thoughts are,”

“Well, you can’t!” she argued primly.

“Well…” he sighed. “Maybe later. When you are mine.”

She looked up at him from the bed and he enjoyed watching her squirm under his penetrating gaze, watching her little bare toes scrunching, as she pressed her thighs together. 

“Azriel,” she breathed, almost frightened by the intensity of his gaze.

“It’s not negotiable, Elli,” he told her firmly. 

“But,”

“It’s all superfluous, you know. All the barriers, real or perceived. You’ve made me the happiest I’ve ever been, and I won’t let go of the feeling. You’ll be mine.”

Then he tossed her some kind of white lump and said, “for now, go change–I’ve made some adjustments to your pads.”

Elain grabbed the cloth that he gave her and got up from her bed, scurrying to the bathing room. She was still not used to the ease with which Fae males approached menstruation, seemingly unconcerned about it at all, and willing to assist in any manner, treating these messy, violent female cycles as part of their lives just as much as they were part of the females’. Still, at least he didn’t offer to go inside the bathing room with her. 

What she was holding in her hand was her usual cloth, but it was folded and stuffed with cotton balls, as well as a strip of bandage inside, which made the whole thing water resistant. She glanced at it, awed. It was genius!

She washed and changed and instead of stuffing her underwear with six cloths, she only needed the one pad. It was actually perfect–comfortable, provided ample coverage, and Elain was thinking how to replicate the design for further usage. When she opened the door into the bedroom, she found Azriel sprawled on her bed, long muscular legs crossed at the ankles, reading her book. 

“This is quite the scene!” he decided, looking at her. “Ready to go?”

“Thank you,” she said softly, her cheeks rosy. She had rebraided her hair, put some blush and lip tint on, and changed into a different, prettier shirt. “For the pad…it’s very cleverly made,”

He sat up and said, “glad you liked it. I’ve made you a set. It’s downstairs.”

He got up, took two strides towards her and then swiftly picked her up off the floor.

She absolutely didn’t mind it, though she attempted to protest rather feebly and he basically ignored her with a chuckle.

“No, take the bag!” she pointed to a bag by the door and he grabbed that as well, groaning,

“What the hel is in it, beautiful?”

Azriel carried Elain downstairs and into the dining room, and she gasped, as she took in the beautifully set table, resplendent with lit candles and flowers. The fireplace was lit now, and it made all her Solstice decorations glow and sparkle to her great delight. Azriel gingerly placed her down in the chair and filled her glass with wine, knowing that she liked white. He filled his own, and then stood with his glass raised, saying,

To the blessed darkness from which we are born, and to which we return.

“Happy Solstice, Az,” she smiled at him and he lowered his head and pressed his lips to the top of her head.

“Happy Solstice, Elli.”

“Thank you for spending it with me.”

“Of course, beautiful. I’d rather be here, with you, than anywhere else. Now, let’s eat.”

Elain felt like a queen, being cared for and served hand and foot by a mighty Illyrian warrior no less. It was surreal, but it felt nice, and what’s more, it was obvious that Azriel wanted to do this with her, and for her. 

He brought platters to the table and then a big bowl of some of the creamiest looking mashed potatoes she’d ever seen. Just the sight of them made her salivate.

“You made these?” she gushed, once he sat down at the table.

“Potatoes for my Elain,” he grinned and placed a heaping serving on her plate.

Elain attacked them ravenously, and Azriel had a satisfied look on his face watching her eat.

“Remember our first Solstice?” she asked him, as she helped herself to more mash. It was truly amazing. Not only delicious, thick and rich, creamy and satisfying, but there was something special to them as well, which she couldn’t quite figure out. It’s like every spoonful gave her strength, made her feel better, eased the heaviness of her cycle. 

“How could I forget?” he leaned back in his chair, twirling the glass stem between his fingers. “It was the first time you served me food.”

She swallowed another forkful of potatoes and argued, “it so wasn’t’.

The glass paused mid-air and he looked at her surprised.

“Wasn’t it?”

“Nope,” she popped her lips. 

“So when was it then?”

“The potatoes–which I did serve you directly–were just the first time I fed you in public. So everyone could see,” she explained patiently. “But you’ve been eating my food for a long time. All the blackberry tarts and lemon cakes–I make those for you. They are your favourites.”

“You made them for me?” he repeated, his voice quiet.

“Sure did. So, if you believe in all that mating nonsense, then we’ve been mated a long time ago.”

He raised his brow and asked, “Mating nonsense?”

Elain shrugged and sipped her wine. She was feeling pretty good actually. Normal. Like she felt when she had her period when she was human.

“I mean, you can’t possibly believe that a big pot is somehow able to find your perfect counterpart?” she challenged him. “Someone who fits you perfectly, and will love you forever?”

Azriel was so taken aback by her argument, he didn’t know what to say. His belief in the existence and the power of the mate bonds was so ingrained in him, and so unquestionable, he always took it as fact. But…what if…

“Look at Rhys and Feyre,” he threw back at her. “Or Nesta and Cassian,”

“Yeah, bad example,”

“Why is that?”

“Nesta fell in love with Cassian at first glance,” Elain said simply. “A lightning strike. He was everything she ever wanted, ever dreamed of, ever needed–he was perfection in her eyes. It was cute,” she smiled, remembering, “watching her back then. How besotted she was, how she wanted to talk about him all the time, how she’d look up at the skies to see if he might be visiting. All I am saying is that she fell in love with Cassian long before she knew anything about any mate bonds. Even the fact that we were different species didn’t stop her.”

“They do exist though,” he insisted.

She cocked her head and waved her fork around, looking like she was humouring him and his silly beliefs.

“Sure, I guess explain then why I am eating your delicious mashed potatoes on Solstice with you and not with my mate? Why you came here to care for me and cook and why you wanted to spend Solstice with me, and not him?”

To that, Azriel had no answer.

“I don’t believe in mate bonds,” Elain admitted truthfully. “But if it makes it easier for you, then I will feed you all the food you want.”

Lightning struck me too, Azriel wanted to tell her. I’ve loved you from the first moment I saw you as well.

“What did you add to them?” she wondered, changing the topic and pointing to her plate.

“A little magic,” was all he said.

So she could feel the presence of Truth Teller’s magic. It was good to know.

“I want to give you your presents!” she almost bounced in her chair, rejuvenated by the potatoes and Azriel’s healing magic. 

He smiled, “what about dessert?”

“We’ll eat it later. I want to give you your presents.”

“Fine, I want my presents too.”

Impatiently, Elain reached into the bag that she insisted Azriel bring with them.

He wondered what it would be this year. It was always something odd and hilarious.

“The bag is for you,” she said, and sat back, watching him, while he rummaged inside.

Firstly, he took out one book, and then, another.

How to Use Your Words and 10,000 New Words for Your Vocabulary

“Excuse me?” he glared at her, though a smirk threatened to break out on his lips.

She was laughing silently.

“You like?”

“Hmmm…I know there is a message somewhere in there,” he told her, “not sure what it is though.”

“There is one more,” she nodded to the bag.

He took out something soft and then unfolded it.

It was a scarf. It wasn’t a beautiful scarf. It was black, knitted somewhat inexpertly, with a cobalt blue thread running through it.

Azriel’s heart jerked in his chest.

“Did you…” he glanced at her, “did you knit this?”

She nodded, suddenly feeling shy.

“I am not good at knitting,” she confessed quickly. “I know it’s very ugly,”

“It’s not ugly!” he cut her off immediately, feeling the texture of the scarf in his hands, loving it already. “It’s perfect.”

She licked her lips and finally said,

“I think it’s Made.”

“What?”

“I wanted to Make it, so it’s magical,” she wrung her fingers, “it’s supposed to keep you warm at all times. I wanted you to be comfortable when you are out there, on your missions.”

“Elli,”

“Try it tomorrow, when you go to your snowball fight. When the other two are freezing, you should be warm,”

“You are giving me an unfair advantage?” he laughed.

“Umm yes! All is fair in love and war,” she winked. “But then you are expected to win, you know.”

“With this thing warming me up?” he puffed his cheeks, “I will destroy them. They won’t know what came at them.”

She clapped with a nasty little giggle and Azriel couldn’t stop laughing. 

Then he got up and went to retrieve something from his jacket. He  handed her a flat box and said,

“I know you don't believe in mates, but it’s the prerogative of a mate or a husband to give his woman jewellery for Solstice.”

When she opened the box, she found an opulent hair pin inside. It was stunning–large, so it could actually hold the mop of her thick hair, but also…

“I wanted something that spoke to you and of you,” he began explaining softly. “So I made it look like a flowering branch.”

The delicate branch was gold, and leaves were made of various gemstones–mother of pearl, diamonds, pale sapphires, and tiny specks of stones that she did not recognise.

“Azriel,” he gasped. “I can’t…it’s too much…”

Wordlessly, he picked up the pin from the box and then gently, but firmly thrust it in her hair.

“Beautiful,” he marvelled.

A rush of…power suddenly engulfed Elain. It was different from her own, but also familiar–she recognised it immediately. It was Azriel’s.

Her fingers flew to the pin and she whispered,

“What is it?”

“Tiny bits of my siphon,” he said softly. “For luck, and for you to always have someone of mine. And protection. And when you need a little more power, I hope they give it to you.”

“Az…” she looked up at him, her eyes filled with happiness and tears.

He cupped her cheek and his thumb stroked her face, before drawing slowly over her lips.

“I am tired of hiding, Elli,” he said gravely. “You and I–we are written in the stars. I know it’s more than you expected, but I want the world to know that you are mine. I am your man. No one else. You wear my gifts, my jewels. And you will be claimed as mine. The pin took a year to create, for every stone I found myself, in different parts of the world. When you are mine, I will explain the meaning behind all of them.”

His thumb lightly wrote Mine on her lips.

“I might be Death, but you will forever be my gentle fawn.”

[maddithefangirl]

In the Cove - Part 2

Pairing: Azriel x Mermaid!Reader

Warnings: None

a/n: hiya! finally here is part two for you all!

Part 1

He gazed into your eyes as he began to move closer. His lips brushed yours and a spark seemed to move through him. It was magical. 

“Meet me here every week at 3 pm, I have to see you again, please.”

You smiled in response and swam away.

…

He flew as fast as he could back to the River House. He needed to talk to Rhys. He had to know something that would be able to help him. He slams open the door to his office and screamed out, “Rhys, I found her, my mate.”

“Holy fucking shit, no way! Who is it? When can I meet her?”

“Well, there’s the problem. She’s… a mermaid.”

“... What? How?”

“I don’t know, it just happened I was with her, and she ignited something in me that I had never felt before, and… we got the golden string between our souls, I saw it.”

“Well, brother, what are you going to do?”

“That’s why I came here, I need a way that I can be with her, do you know any spells or anything that would be able to help me?”

“I’ll do some research and get back to you.”

…

It took two weeks for Rhys to get back to him. And he wasn’t going to like the answer. 

Rhys had found a witch that lives in the middle that he can get to transform him into a mermaid to be with her… but he would have to give up his wings. 

When Azriel heard that, he was in utter disbelief.

“What do you mean give up my wings… there’s no way that I’d be able to see you guys ever again.”

“I know. Brother, the choice is completely up to you.”

That sent Azriel into a tailspin. This was something that he had been searching for since he was young, and now that he has access to this, does shit have to hit the fan. Could he really give up his family for true love? Rhys spent at least thirty minutes trying to lecture him on all the cons that this plan would have if he went through with it, and he pondered whether love was enough. 

…

That night was the monthly meeting with the Inner Circle.

It was going swimmingly as usual before Azriel stood up amongst his family and said, “Guys, I have an announcement.” 

He looked over to Rhys and said, “I’ve got a mate, and the only way I can be with her is if I say goodbye to this world and move to hers. She’s the last remaining mermaid, and I have to be with her… This will be my last dinner with you all.”

Silence filled the room as Azriel sat back down. 

Elain left the room in tears, and everyone chose not to stare at her.

Mor erupted, “You can’t do this Az, we’re your family!”

Azriel looked at his wine as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

Feyre chimed in, “I’d do anything to be with my mate, I understand you, Azriel.”

He smiled. Finally, someone was on his side.  

Cassian was the last to say anything. “Then, if this is the last night we have, let’s let it be the best one ever.”

Wine and games and food abounded the room as the entire Inner Circle partied like it was their last night together. 

…

The day after that was your weekly meeting. The last couple of meetings have been hours trying to get to know each other, but today he never showed up. 

…

Azriel had missed your assigned meeting day to prepare for his new life that he was going to have. It had completely left his mind as he began packing ford the travel to the middle. Rhys knew about where the witch was, but knew it was also going to be a search as well.

By the time they made it to the witch’s hut, they were exhausted. It was just Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel that went. 

The hut was covered in dust, as if nobody lived there anymore, but there was a glow from within. When they entered, they were met with an old hag that must’ve been thousands of years old. She whistled as they piled in the just large enough room. 

“Hello, High Lord and his cronies,” she said with her back to them still.

“We’re here for-”

“I know what you are here for. I have been waiting many moons for you.”

She pulled out a cauldron and many different ingredients and started cooking. They waited patiently as she did her work. At the end, she weaved a band long enough to fit Azriel’s wrist and dunked his hand with the band in the cauldron. Rhys and Cassian jumped from their positions as his hand was being dunked and went into a warrior’s stance. The witch laughed a maniacal cackle. 

“What have you done?” Rhys yelled.

The witch just smiled in response and said, “Once you touch the water with your mate in hand, you will transform into a merman. Break the cord around your wrist, and you will transform back, but your wings will not come back.”

Azriel was silent. 

This was it. 

He could be with the love of his life.

…

The day had come. It was the day that he would turn for you. He took a joy ride fly for the last time in his life. Goodbyes and ‘See you soons’ were exchanged, and he was off.

The cave was cool as you once again sat and waited for your mate to walk in. The water was clear as it always has been. There were sea creatures about the cove and that kept your attention as you grew bored. 

When he arrived, he looked as beautiful as ever. The afternoon sun illuminated him from behind, so he looked like an angel. He looked nervous as he walked in, which you had never seen before. It was the weirdest thing because he always had this confident aura around him. 

He made his way over to you and grabbed your hands. They were calloused and rough from an apparent injury, but you didn’t mind. He had a bracelet on that you had never seen before. 

“I have something to show you, something that will let us be together forever,” he said to you softly. As soon as he said it he entered the pool. Then all of the sudden, he was being lifted up and was covered in light and sparkles. It was the most interesting thing you had ever seen. You had no idea was was happening until he was being lowered down in the pool and he was… a merman. 

“How- how did you-?” you muttered.

He came back into your hands and said. “I did this for you, I want to be with you forever. My mate.”

“But what about your family? And your wings… you’ll never be able to fly again. How could you give that all up for me?”

“Because I love you. Family will always be there, but love is a fleeting thing. I want to be with you always and be able to live life with you. I couldn’t do that from the shore. Are you not happy?”

“I mean of course I’m happy, but what if love isn’t enough for you?”

“It has to be, my mate.”  

[peternureyevplsdontbetraythecrew]

HELLO I AM HERE FOR PODCAST RECS. I haven’t listened to TMA (way too big, I’m too intimidated) and only a little nightvale, BUT some of my favorites (in absolutely no order bc I can’t brain enough to do that rn) are: Hello From the Hallowoods, Tides, Second Star to the Left, Wooden Overcoats, The Last Show, Para.docx, The Mistholme Museum of Mystery, Morbidity, and Mortality

Things I didn’t like: Old Gods of Appalachia (really wanted to like, but it was way too graphic), Hello From the Magic Tavern, Girl In Space (the isolation creeped me out), Marsfall (too depressing, not enough hope)

hello !! that's very interesting, okay so I have a few ideas :

Elaine's Cooking for the Soul -

SCP find us alive - I believe you could really like this one, it's a very lovely listen weirdly hopeful and sometimes surprisingly funny

The Antique Shop - I deeply enjoyed this one and think you may as well

Midnight Burger - the length of the episodes may be a tad intimating but you definitely should try this one

If you liked Wooden Overcoats I got a feeling you'll enjoy The Vanishing Act just as much !!

there you go !! :D

[duskcowboy]

Elain’s Hobbies

I think Elain’s hobbies say so much about her, and paint a very good picture of how SJM sees her.

Gardening

“To plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow” - Audrey Hepburn

“The glory of gardening: hands in the dirt, head in the sun, heart with nature. To nurture a garden is to feed not just the body, but the soul.” – Alfred Austin

Elain is a dreamer. She’s optimistic. She believes in the beauty and goodness in others. She believes in tomorrow.

Baking

“Cooking and baking is both physical and mental therapy.” - Mary Berry

“Nothing says home like the smell of baking.”

“The secret ingredient in baking is always love.”

“The smell of good bread baking, like the sound of flowing water, is indescribable in its evocation of innocence and delight.” - MFK Fisher

Elain is a lover. She’s nurturing and kind. She puts love and effort into what she creates.

Both these hobbies are tedious and meticulous—they take nurturing and focus. And it’s not a coincidence that both of these hobbies are linked to therapeutic benefits and are known to improve mental health. This article by The Gazette highlights how baking and horticulture became extremely popular during lockdown. I found it interesting that it made these notes:

“A very technical and absorbing activity, baking is believed to help people to relax, and can improve mood.”

“As baking is often done alongside other people, it can also encourage social bonding”

“According to a survey by Arboretum last year, 42 per cent of 2,000 participants said that being around plants improved their mental health.”

But anywho—just some hobby appreciation, and a bit more of a glimpse into Elain and her personality.

[neighbourlypod]

Can I ask for some good fiction podcast recs? If its horror, even better

(i Just cant stand sci fi)

The Secret of St Kilda is god level horror with terrestrial manifestations. The Silt Verses is a world in which there is a god of everything but not every god is good.

The Night Post is a story about supernaturally conscripted postal service workers, and the lengths that desperate people will go to. Spirit Box Radio is about destiny and how it changes you. Care and Feeding of Werewolves is about balancing care and revenge. Hello from the Hallowoods is about love and pain and fear and love. The Sheridan Tapes... you should listen to it, it's very good. What would you do to save yourself?

For a chill vibes podcast: Monstrous Agonies is a cathartic world to inhabit. Also, it's not as indie, but Everything is Alive is pretty good too for when you want a calm show that embraces the strange.

For a silly podcast with undertones of the most visceral agoraphobic existential horror you can conceive of: you really cannot beat The Stench of Adventure. And if you like that, try Human B Gon next.

For absurd podcasts that Will freak you out: The Great Chameleon War and The Milkman of St Gaff's.

Best post-apocalypse is Elaine's Cooking Podcast for the Soul.

I also think that everyone should listen to The Amelia Project.

And, it's a pretty new one, but you should also check out Among the Stacks.

If you wanna listen to an audio guide for a museum or gallery that does not exist, check out the Godfrey Audio Guide and The Mistholme Museum of Mystery, Morbidity, and Mortality.

Something that is not science fiction but might not really be your vibe if you don't like sci-fi is Station Arcadia, but I like it and I think everyone should try it. It has a rich lore and benefits from relistens.

If you want something more like it's based in the real world, In Strange Woods, 36 Questions (both musicals), Patient 33, Wooden Overcoats (absurdist, maybe magical realism?) and Seen and Not Heard (podcast made by d/Deaf and HoH creators).

[radicalreliablerandomness]

world gone wrong pod is friends with elaines cooking for the soul in my heart

[ramim]

Elucien; In love or not?

So first of all, I am not an Elucien shipper; I am currently waiting to see what sort of plot SJM has cooked up!

But, when I read Elucien fanfictions (to get more content on Lucien), one thing the bugs me a lot is the fact that some of the writers like to write Lucien as this lovesick person who is already far in love with Elain.

Well, let me disagree with you with utmost respect.

I believe, as humans who have no understanding of the ways of fearies, we are unable to comprehend the real meaning behind a bond. But considering we can guess, here we go:

Even though it was canonically confirmed that the pull of the bond is stronger for males, it was never confirmed that they feel any sort of love; I believe it's more of a need rather than love. it's like a rope, tying them together and even though the rope gives Lucien less freedom to move around, he still can think for himself; so even though he is drawn to Elain, he's not in love with her.

Lucien is a rational person; I believe he doesn't fall fast for people, but when he does, he falls hard and even though the bond is pulling on him, he probably can distinguish between the effect of the bond and the love from within his soul.

They don't know each other; this important point often is brought up by antis but it's important nonetheless. even though I don't approve of Elain's former relationship (Greyson) and believe that she probably was too much of a romantic to see Greyson for what he was, she has grown a lot ever since and she is not going to fall in love blindly this time! And Lucien is too old to fall in love with a person he has never had an actual conversation with before and has seen her a few handfuls of times. So, starting an Elucien fic by a lovesick Lucien is not really a good idea.

If anything, ever happens between Lucien and Elain, it's so slow that it probably makes our skin wrinkled and our hair grey! Those two have a lot to learn about each other and they need to first deal with their own trauma (either separately or together); so, no love for them, until they at least become friends!

I think at this point both of them have trust issues; Elain has lost the love of her life to prejudice against Fea and her human life was ripped away from her just to be thrown into a mating bond situation which canonically we know is a lot to take even for the fearies themselves. Lucien has lost two homes already, had his lover murdered in front of him, was betrayed by his best friend, he was sexually assaulted as a result of that betrayal; he then faced an unwanted mating bond, which considering he believed he had already lost his mate, is a lot to take! so until they find a way to heal through these things, I don't think any of them is going to actually fall in love!

of course, anyone can write anything they want as long as it's not insulting or triggering, and these are just a few musings I constantly have when I'm reading Elucien fan fiction. it's just that I believe the beauty of Elucien's ship is the slow build-up, the mutual friendship and understanding and the agonizingly cluelessness of this two while interacting with each other.

[skyfullofpods]

Random Podcast Recommendations Mega-List Part 1!

Updated: 07/12/23

Collected here in part 1 because tumblr has a limit of 100 links per post of my alphabetical list are the fiction podcasts from A-M I've recommended so far for my random podcast recommendations! Part 2 is here

A A Ninth World Journal Afflicted Aishi Online Alba Salix Among the Stars and Bones Apollyon Arden ars PARADOXICA

B Back Again, Back Again The Ballad of Anne & Mary The Beacon Believer Black Friday Breaker Whiskey The Bright Sessions

C CARAVAN Chaika Chain of Being Civilized Coexistence Come On In, The Water's Fine Copperheart Counterbalance

D Death by Dying Desert Skies Desperado Diary of a Space Archivist Dining in the Void Directive Do You Copy Dos: After You Down

E The Earth Collective Echoes (In) Between Elaine’s Cooking for the Soul Electromancy The End of Time and Other Bothers Ethics Town Exoplanetary Everything is Alive

F Falling Forward Fan Wars: The Empire Claps Back The Far Meridian Fireside Folktales Folxlore Forgive Me!

G Gay Future Georgie Romero Is Done For Girl in Space The Goblet Wire Gone Great & Terrible Greater Boston Greenhouse

H Hallway to Nowhere Hand in Glove Harlem Queen Hauntingly Humdrum Hello From the Hallowoods Hi Nay Hit the Bricks Human Error

I Immunities InCo Inhale Inn Between In Transit

J Janus Descending Jar of Rebuke Joy to the World Jupiter Saloon

K Kalila Stormfire's Economical Magick Services Kane and Feels Keep It Steady The Kingmaker Histories

L The Last Echoes Less is Morgue Liars & Leeches Life On Pause Light Hearts LIMBO Lost Terminal Love and Luck

M Margaret's Garden Margaritas & Donuts The McIlwraith Statements Me and AU Mercury: A Broadcast of Hope Meteor City Middle:Below Moonbase Theta, Out

[moonlightazriel]

weeeeell, for the bingo, first things first, I would say moonlightazriel x fieldofdaisiies mating ceremony?✨ (and of course not only because I want you to cook for me one of those amazing meals)

“Do you need help?” Elain asked, as she watched Moonlight mixing a boiling sauce in the stove, the thing created air bubbles, splashing hot sauce everywhere, Moonlight cursed for the third time as it touched her skin.

“No need to worry, I just want everything to be perfect, it’s not always that you find your mate in non romantic way.” She said, eyeing the Archeron sister as Elain steal a piece of bread.

“I didn’t even knew that was possible.” She confessed and the other female nodded.

“Neither did I, I guess we’re just meant to be friends forever.” She giggled, turning the heat off.

“It’s nice having someone like this, someone that will have your back no matter what. She’s literally your souls sister.” Elain smiled.

“She is and I’m so happy.”

“But why are you cooking this amount of food anyways?” Daisiies entered the room. Looking around at the huge mess.

“We need to do this right, accept this blessing the right way.” She winked.

“It’s not like she likes to fill people with food.” Cassian appeared, stealing another cookie.

“I swear if you take any other thing, I’ll break your hand.” Moonlight growled and Cassian showed her his tongue.

“She’s serious Cass.” Daisiies warned. “See you tomorrow then, to make our friendship forever.” The girl smiled, dragging Cassian out of the kitchen.

“See you then.”

[ae-neon]

The House of Mirrors

Chapter 5

Nesta watched the city slowly fade around her as they drove East, inwards and away from where the Sidra met the sea.

Watching the businesses give way to apartments, suburbs and then the forest; she imagined herself going home. Not to her mother’s house in Northside or even her grandmother’s in Scythia but to Silver Lake and that gilded cage she had learned to love.

She imagined for a moment that she would be sitting on the deck overlooking the misty lake, sipping tea by sunset. And that she would be alone. Forever. The thought pressed on a bruise in her soul.

Is that what I want?

“What are you thinking about that has you frowning?”

Rhysand was beside her, one hand on the wheel and the other resting by the gear. He still hadn’t told her where they were going.

“What if someone does recognise me?” she asked over the low music, never truly free from her worries.

He hummed like he was thinking, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, “If someone does recognise you, I promise to give you my car as an escape method...and an apology, for not keeping my word.”

Nesta crossed her arms and legs, angling her body towards him. He met her look with a grin. “I already have a car, a better car.”

“Ouch,” he cocked his head and hummed again, “It's a bit pricey but I have a house in Illyria I might be able to-” she laughed.

Nesta rolled her eyes, unable to stop her own smile, “If someone so much as raises their eyebrows that house is mine.”

Eventually the trees gave way to large gates and ivy-covered walls so tall she couldn’t see over them. But through the gates and houses with fencing rather than brick walls, Nesta was able to piece together they were in some old money enclave.

From what she knew about Rhysand, his father’s family, she guessed at where he was taking her. A part of her wondered if he meant to impress her, to sway her in his favour. Not that it mattered what she thought, her job was to oversee not interfere.

The only reason it was Nesta and not Elain was because Nesta had been made ready for men like Rhysand, like Tomas – even at 19, she’d been used to walking among wolves.

Her grey eyes flitted from the street of palaces to the prince beside her and an unease bloomed in her chest.

Nesta was rich. Tomas’ own wealth had been kept secret from both their families, but he’d taken her to parties and villas all over the world. And yet there was something about this place, this kind of wealth that made Nesta nervous.

She had seen money unleash the monsters men hid inside themselves, allow them the freedom to act out their dark desires. But what about men who were born and raised without those chains, who had never been brought to heel under the threat of consequence? What did families like Rhysand’s do to build and maintain their wealth not for years or even decades but centuries? And what kinds of people did places like this make?

They pulled into a gravel driveway and after passing through a huge black gate, the world seemed to open up and reveal the largest front yard Nesta had ever seen.

Tall trees lined the yard, and the very ground was cut into huge steps leading up to a pool and then onto the house itself.

“Here,” Rhysand offered his hand and Nesta took it, careful to put her weight forward so her heels didn’t sink into the soft, fertile earth as they moved off the gravel to cut across the grass.

When they reached the house - a huge, cream colored, three-story building with wooden doors and window frames – Rhysand pushed open the double doors and led into an airy entryway.

The floors were polished wood, covered here and there with intricately woven Bharati rugs and the walls were dotted with colourful art pieces from artists even Nesta recognised.

Feyre would love this. The thought brought with it a pang of guilt. It was the least she could hope for for her little sister, to find comfort in her cage.

~

When they were done cooking their half Illyrian half Scythian brunch, Rhys led Nesta out to eat in the backyard. The almost tropical garden provided a less stark space than the openness of the house or front yard.

He texted Helion to bring over some cheesecake, enough for 5 people in case Nesta wanted more.

Nesta had perched her sunglasses on her head and rolled up the sleeves of her dress to dig in. Looking at her like this it was difficult to imagine the pale ghost in the black dress was the same person. Hard to think of this woman in blue ever shaking in fear.

She reached over for her half of the Illyrian style sandwich he’d made – shredded bits of air-dried beef marinated in spicy sauce with cold cucumber slices and lime drizzled over it. Her eyebrows shot up appreciatively and she gave him and approving nod.

It should have been easy now, to broach the subject of her past, but Rhys wasn’t sure he’d manage without putting Nesta on the defensive. A defense he didn’t think he had the ammunition to overcome, not yet. He wondered if Mor had found anything on Tomas Mandray.

He wasn’t even sure what he meant to do with the information. Nesta had presented herself amicably at every turn with no hint of resistance to either him marrying her sister or taking over TST. Was Cassian right? Was he overthinking? Was it fair to suspect her?

Nesta lifted her grey eyes from her plate, meeting his with an unflinching ease. Not a thing many could do once they knew who and what he was. And he didn’t take her for a fool, not when Amren had been her mentor and they remained close even after parting ways. No, he was sure his instinct was right, that before him lay a sleeping jaguar.

Later, he stood beside her while she made quick work of the dishes, having insisted she payback his and Cassian’s act from the dinner. He leaned against the counter, “Surprised I can cook?”

She thought for a moment then shook her head. “No, actually I would say it tracks.”

Oh? He raised his brows and motioned for her to continue.

“Men like you tend to pick up hobbies that produce tangible things. Reassurance that it isn’t all just luck and money and connections; that you’re capable of doing something by yourselves.”

He might have been a little offended at such a blunt read if she didn’t add, “My father makes wood carvings. When I was little, I thought he worked at a toy factory because he spent so much time making us figurines. Never got upset when they broke either, just made another – a little better, a little stronger.”

She had a soft smile on her face and something about it made him-

The sound of a car blasting music as it pulled up floated in through the still wide-open double doors.

“Dessert has arrived,” he forced himself to move away and headed towards the door.

“I almost didn’t believe you were back! And asking for cheesecake no less. You have to-” Helion was already halfway across the room when his brown eyes swept passed Rhys, a strange look passed over his face and he skirted Rhys’ waiting embrace to wrap himself over Nesta.

Rhys could feel his brows shoot up in confusion as Nesta accepted the embrace, then said to him, “Looks like you owe me a house.”

~

Helion had been a surprise. Nesta hadn’t seen him in almost two years. His embrace was crushing, and he planted three pecks on her cheek before she managed to swat him away.

She felt herself grin, even when she’d been married, Helion always seemed to get away with treating Tomas like the third wheel. Nesta squeezed his hand, a measure of her own affection which ran just as deep. He gave a warm, beautiful smile in return.

It turned mischievous when he glanced back at Rhysand.

“When you told me you were courting a Scythian girl, I had no idea you were talking about Nesta fucking Archeron.” Helion finally hugged Rhys, “I’d offer an early congratulations, but I think you owe me an apology instead.”

“Why the fuck would I owe you an apology for that?” Rhysand asked and Nesta’s brows rose at the exchange.

“Nesta tell him, I was supposed to be first in line after that horrible husband of yours.”

“I only told you I’d consider it.” Nesta moved forward to take the bag she assumed carried the dessert and turned to the kitchen, “Besides, it’s my little sister he’s marrying.”

“Oh? Well, that sorts it. You marry the sister, I’ll marry Nesta, and we can honeymoon in Montesere.”

“You know, I was willing to look past Amren, but this might be too much.” Rhys was right behind her and set out small plates and forks on the kitchen counter. Helion followed and leaned against the doorway.

Rhys lifted himself to sit on the counter, “Enlighten me, how did you managed to make the acquaintance of this heathen?”

“We...met at a party.”

“An orgy.” Helion grinned.

“A party that turned into an orgy.” Nesta explained, “Most of which I wasn’t there for.”

“Most?” Rhys repeated, turning to Helion who opened his mouth to speak when Nesta shot him a look.

Nesta slid a plate of cheesecake towards Rhysand, “You can have your house back if you stop asking questions.”