#the second I saw it I gasped and went 'elain!'
Text
I love my girl Elain with long hair and know she's 100% a long hair girlie but I saw this picture on Pinterest and am thinking about her needing a drastic change. She channels her inner I'm Just a Girl ™️ (because almost all of us immediately need to do something with our hair the second we feel something) and she does a big chop, living her "short hair don't care" life for a while. She rocks it.
#elain archeron#the second I saw it I gasped and went 'elain!'#She grows it out and I think she'll always keep it at least to her shoulder blades but she's always been a long hair girlie to me#but this cut feels so her!!!#lucien loves it ofc#he keeps running his hand through her short hair and then letting his fingers slide to her neck#watching her shudder/shiver every time before she swats his hand away lololol#gp#gigi headcanons
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Highland Fox and The English Rose
Summary:
Elain Archeron, the middle daughter of an enterprising English merchant, has been raised with one goal in mind: become the wife of a respectable Englishman. Everything else—her interests, her desires—didn’t matter. But when her father convinces her to enter into an arranged marriage with a brutal Scottish Laird to save their family from ruin, Elain is suddenly forced to reevaluate everything she thought she wanted in life.
As the newly appointed Laird of a derelict clan with a crumbling castle, marriage was the last thing on Lucien’s mind. His entire life is thrown into disarray when he is forced into a marriage contract he didn’t sign, to an Englshwoman he’d never met.
But Lucien harbors a dark, ruinous secret that affects more than just himself, and he is determined to resolve the issue at hand. Together, the Highland Fox and the English Rose will go on a journey that will force Elain and Lucien together—or drive them apart.
Read on AO3 Masterlist
XXX
Chapter 2: Oh tell me what was on yer road, ye roarin' Norlan' Wind
As far as weddings went, it wasn’t completely horrible.
Had Elain pictured something a bit more… illustrious whenever she daydreamed about her wedding as a child? Of course—what little girl, perhaps with the exception of Feyre, hadn’t been mentally planning their dream wedding since they were old enough to understand that marriage was the only fate that awaited them when they grew up? Elain had already decided on what flowers and dress she’d want at her wedding with Graysen before he’d even proposed.
Instead, as soon as Elain and her sisters arrived at the Clan Macpherson keep, sore after days of riding in a rough carriage, they were whisked into a side chamber of the aged castle, where a number of women immediately began dressing Elain in her wedding dress and fiddling with her hair.
“I didn’t realize we were in such a rush!” Elain gasped as a woman tightened her corset.
“I know, my dear,” her father sighed from across the room. Elain, Nesta and Feyre were hidden behind their dressing doors. “But you know these Scots—they have no patience for anything, and place no value in having any manners for guests.”
Elain gulped. And she was to marry a man like this?
“A word, my dear Elain.”
Elain nodded towards her sisters as she went to her father. He was dressed in a handsome new outfit: a dark burgundy suit jacket with shining gold buttons, slick black shoes and an impressive velvet black hat. She had never seen him wear anything so nice. Elain fingered her own gloves; silk, bought second hand, and already fraying around the edges.
“I just wanted to prepare you for your husband,” her father began gently. “He is… well… disfigured, to be blunt.”
“Oh,” Elain sighed, disappointed. “In what way?”
“He’s missing an eye and wears a horrible eyepatch. The side of his face is mangled as well.”
“What happened to him?”
Her father shrugged. “Who knows? Probably got in a drunken brawl, you know how these people are. Can’t go one day without nearly killing each other.”
Elain’s stomach dropped.
“Don’t fret too much, my dear,” her father said soothingly, seeing her suddenly pale face. “I just wanted to warn you before you saw him and ran away screaming. I wouldn’t blame you, but, as Englishmen and women, we must always show benevolence and grace to those below us.”
“Of course Father,” Elain agreed quietly. This was true. As the daughter of a gentleman, she was duty bound to show kindness and compassion to others, even if they were savage Scots.
And what was her Scot, her soon to be husband, like? Her sister’s words from the carriage ride, as well as her own knowledge and her father’s information, rattled through her brain as she was led towards the intimate chapel tucked away in the back of the castle. Elain’s hand gripped her father’s arm, a buoy in the tumultuous sea of her emotions.
Somehow, they were already standing outside the doors of the hall, waiting for their signal to enter. Elain wasn’t sure where the past few minutes had gone but then she heard her name being announced, and she was walking toward her future.
Elain’s first thought was that Lucien was much younger than what she was anticipating: her age, or only a few years older. She was relieved. Her second thought, on the heels of the first, was that her father greatly exaggerated his injury.
As Elain slowly walked down the aisle, her father at her side, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from her soon to be husband. Without a doubt, Lucien was the most handsome man she had ever seen. He was tall and lean, but held himself with such confidence and poise that Elain knew he must have hidden muscles under his attire. He had a thin face and one gorgeous brown eye, which was staring above Elain with as little emotion as possible.
His other eye—or where an eye should have been—was indeed covered by a brown eye patch, but neither the eyepatch nor the silver scars running down the side of his face detracted from his beauty. Instead, it just made him look wild and untamed in the best way possible.
Perhaps his most distinguished feature, even more so than his missing eye, was his luscious red hair. Someone had braided a few small sections of his hair away from his face, and it only made him more handsome. Lucien’s hair was long, perhaps even longer than Elain’s own hair, and so smooth and soft looking she was instantly and irrationally jealous that a heathen like him would be blessed with hair so fine.
Elain wasn’t even aware of being given away by her father. She didn’t know where Feyre and Nesta were, and didn’t care to look for them. All she could see was her future husband.
Lucien wore a large piece of emerald green, cobalt and dark gray wool plaid, belted at his waist and hanging just above his knees so as to give Elain a small peak of the muscles in his legs. The rest of the fabric was pinned on a broad shoulder so it flowed down his back. A long sleeved, white shirt that complimented his hair and golden brown skin beautifully was under his great kilt. Tall leather boots covered his calves. Lucien perfunctorily offered his hand when she approached the dias.
She took his hand; his skin was warm, like an inferno was blazing just below the surface. Finally, he lowered his gaze towards her own. His countenance was still bland, but his eye contained such fire, such fury, that she momentarily lost her breath. His gaze dipped behind and he glared at something before he schooled his face into the same bored mask he had been wearing before.
Elain puzzled over the anger in his eye the entire ceremony until the priest, with an obvious cough, broke her out of her thoughts. She said her vows and “I do,” and suddenly, she was a married woman.
She was still thinking of her new husband hours later, seated at the high table on a dias in the castle’s great hall next to her husband—Lucien, she thought to herself. He hadn’t said a word to her yet and hadn’t even looked at her since their ceremony.
Elain looked down at her finger. Lucien had slipped a silver ring on her finger during the ceremony. The band was composed of two intertwining pieces of metal designed to look like tree branches, with small leaves and flowers branching off. It was elegantly simple, and more refined than Elain thought any Scotsman capable of providing.
A single drum beat ripped through the air and silenced the few assembled people already sitting at the long tables throughout the cavernous room. The great wooden doors opened and the castle’s herald began announcing the lairds and lords who had been invited to the wedding.
Elain watched as a number of lairds entered the hall, each with their own distinct plaid and ornaments. Besides her, she felt Lucien tense up as more and more people entered, his mouth tight and his hand gripping the wooden armrest of his chair.
“Whatever ye do,” he whispered roughly to her, his deep voice sending chills down her spine, “doona talk to anyone here. Stick to yer sisters.”
She frowned. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to any of our guests?”
“They’re no’ our guests.”
“They’re here in your hall, celebrating our marriage!”
“The only reason they’re here,” Lucien gritted out, “is because there would be a war if we didna’ extend niceties to them and invite them. They are no’ our guests or our friends. Stay away from all of them—especially them.”
Elain looked to the two groups that Lucien pointed out. A tall, slim man with red hair the exact same shade as Lucien’s was sitting below their own table. He stared at Lucien with a cruel smirk on his face while Lucien steadfastly ignored him. The red haired man looked over at Elain. To her shock, he looked her up and down and winked at her.
At the other side of the room, in the corner, a large contingent of people with dark hair and brown skin were settling into place. Their laird, a man with almost violet eyes, was staring towards the front of the hall, where her sisters sat at the table near her and Lucien’s.
When everyone was seated, the herald swiftly made his way to the front of the hall. “Introducing,” he boomed, “Laird Lucien and his wife, Elain Archeron!”
The two of them awkwardly stood up. Elain suddenly felt adrift again as she looked out at hundreds of unfamiliar faces staring intently at her. Everyone was politely clapping, and there were some whoops and cheers from a nearby table, but she could feel the judgment radiating from the crowd. Narrowed eyes appraised her—her face, her appearance, her English-ness—and she knew she was left wanting. Elain tried to grasp Lucien’s hand, anything to prevent herself from drowning, but he shook her off, and they woodenly sat back down.
Dinner passed in a haze—she had no appetite—and then tables were pushed to the sides of the hall to create a large mingling and dancing space. Several musicians set up in the front of the hall, and the rich sounds of a drum, fiddle and harp floated over the room.
“I’m going to turn about the room,” Lucien said abruptly. “Remember: doona talk to anyone except yer sisters.” He didn’t give Elain a chance to argue her case as he swept across the hall.
Elain sighed as she watched Lucien retreat. Despite what she felt for him at the moment—annoyance, frustration—she couldn’t stop her gaze from sweeping over his strong body like she had done earlier that day.
She shook herself. She wouldn’t be caught ogling Lucien at her own wedding. Slightly embarrassed and hoping no one saw her, she looked about the room.
Below her, Nesta was using all of her patience towards convincing Feyre to stay at the table and not join the crowd. She heard snippets of their whispered argument—“Who comes to a wedding and doesn’t dance or talk to people?” “Us, because we’re two single English women surrounded by a crowd of barbarous Scotsmen!” “But the men here are so handsome!”—and kept gazing about.
She noticed her father wasn’t sitting with Feyre and Nesta—odd—but she saw Lucien talking excitedly with a regal woman with flaming hair and bright blue eyes. A tall man stood next to the woman, looking between Lucien and the woman and the rest of the room with a pair of sharp, calculating eyes.
A flair of jealousy washed over Elain. She didn’t know Lucien, and realized the weak bond of their marriage was the only thing holding them together. Despite that, she was unreasonably angry at the proud woman smiling at Lucien, and Lucien smiling and laughing back.
Perhaps it wouldn’t be so horrible if he wasn’t so handsome when he smiled, Elain thought bitterly.
It took all of her willpower to rip her gaze away from her husband. He mentioned the various Lairds weren’t here as valued guests, but why invite them? She saw one of the Lairds—a hulking blonde man with a stern face—talking to a dark skinned Laird. The blonde man was casually stroking the head of an ax belted to his body as he regarded his fellow Laird. Elain shivered; the casual violence on display unnerved her.
Another Laird, pale, with hair so fair it looked white, sat stiffly with a blonde woman, surveying the room with glacier cold eyes. Elain studied the man. He looked foreign, even compared to the Scots around him.
“They say those from Clan MacDonnell are descended from the Norsemen from the East,” a quiet voice said behind Elain. “Kallias there certainly looks like he belongs on a longship raiding coastal villages, rather than journeying across the Wall to destroy English towns.”
Elain whipped around. The red haired man, the one Lucien told Elain to stay away from, was standing right behind her. He smirked at her but there was no warmth in his cold eyes.
“If the rumors are to be believed, y’ken,” the man went on. Elain stared in shock at the man. “I think the old Viking viciousness has long been bred out of the MacDonnell’s.”
Elain glanced around her. No one was paying her any attention. “Who are you?”
“Eris Vanserra, heir apparent to the Vanserra clan.”
Elain stared at him. He towered above her, with a hard, rugged face littered with small scars and cuts. His long, red hair hung behind him in a straight sheath. Like all the men in the hall, he wore a unique tartan kilt, belted around his waist and slung over a shoulder: various shades of brown, orange, red and yellow crossing in an intricate plaid pattern. A large sword was belted at his hip. Elain gulped.
“I was hoping the new Laird would take the time to introduce us all to his lovely new bride, but obviously no one explained to him proper Scottish wedding etiquette,” Eris went on, his narrowed eyes looking Elain up and down like a piece of meat. “Eejit. I’m no’ surprised—I doona believe he has too many people here at the castle under his employ that would tell him what to do.”
Elain nervously looked around. She didn’t particularly care about obeying Lucien’s request to not talk to anyone, but she was also keenly aware that she was an Englishwoman surrounded by vicious Scottsmen and women. It seemed making polite conversation with Eris was the safest option.
“Well, er, what does proper Scottish wedding etiquette entail?”
“Ye’d actually be introduced to all yer guests, rather than put on display like a prized coo.”
Elain gasped. “Excuse you! That’s completely inappropriate!”
Eris shrugged. “At least a prized coo could have gotten the Laird more money and use for this run down keep than whatever yer probably worth. I suppose yer passably attractive though.”
For perhaps the first time in her life, Elain snapped. “Fine words, coming from a backwards, barely literate brute skulking about in a skirt to harass women!” She snapped her mouth shut and looked at Eris in shock. She had never been so rude to anyone in her life.
She braced herself for a retaliatory strike in some form, but was surprised to hear Eris softly chuckle. “I suppose there’s a bit more fire to ye than I thought.”
“I’m sorry—“
“Doona apologize,” Eris interrupted her harshly, frowning. “A word of warning: yer no’ in sweet England anymore. Most people here will do anything to make yer life a living hell, just based on where yer from. Ye need to toughen up if ye want to survive.”
Elain stared at Eris. The words and phrases he used—living hell, toughen up, survive - rang in her ears. Perhaps Feyre had the right idea all along; maybe Elain should have let her sister whisk her away while she had the chance. The sinking feeling returned to her, but instead of drowning, she realized she had been swimming in shark infested waters the moment she stepped foot in the castle.
But Elain needed this. She remembered the cautious excitement she’d felt on the journey here, when she realized that this marriage in this wild land could give her the freedoms she’d always lacked in England. If she needed to toughen up, as Eris put it, to thrive here in her new home, to fit in and discover her own interests and desires, then so be it.
And damn whatever her new husband had to say about it.
Elain took a deep breath. “Perhaps some of Clan MacDonnell’s fabled viciousness could help me now.”
Eris gave her a savage grin. “Now yer speaking like a true Scotswoman.”
“What else can I do to… acclimate to Scotland? Survive, as you put it?”
Eris stroked his jaw. “Speak yer mind plainly. Us Scots doona have time or patience for veiled niceties and double meanings.”
Elain frowned; that would be difficult. “Anything else?”
“Aye, get used to drinking. Anyone this far north should be able to drink their body weight in ale, men and women. Wouldna hurt to learn how to handle a dirk as well, just in case. And don’t be so… quiet. Ye’ve clearly got a great wit to ye, make sure to use it.”
“So I should just change everything about myself and how I was brought up, is that it?” Elain asked sarcastically.
He shrugged. “Ye asked. Ye doona need to change everything about yourself to fit in, just sharpen your soft bits.”
Elain hummed thoughtfully. Perhaps she had judged the Scots too harshly. Yes, they seemed far too familiar with violence for her liking and spoke their mind far too much, but they were far away from the uncultured savages she had pictured.
“Thank you for the advice, but who exactly are you?” Elain asked suspiciously. “And why are you even talking to me?”
“Aye, Eris, why are ye talking to my wife?”
Lucien emerged from behind a pillar, a murderous look on his face. Elain froze, terrified at her husband’s expression, though she relaxed slightly as Lucien stalked towards a still grinning Eris.
“Congratulations on yer happy nuptials, brother,” Eris said with relish, looking over at a fuming Lucien. “How sad Mother would be to see how yer treating yer new wife.”
Elain quickly looked between the two men. Now that he said it, Lucien and Eris were obviously related: they had the same red hair, brown eyes and lean, pointed faces. But Eris said he was from Clan Vanserra, and Lucien was Laird of Clan Macpherson—did Scots have a different definition of brother than the English?
“Brother?” Elain stuttered, looking at her husband. “This is your brother?”
“Unfortunately,” Lucien said, “and he was just leaving, weren’t ye?”
Eris walked up to Lucien and gave him a hard slap on the back. “Aye. I’ll let the happy couple become better acquainted.” Elain watched Eris lean down and whisper something in Lucien’s ear; whatever he said made Lucien glare at his brother.
“Get out,” he snarled.
Eris sent an ugly look back at Lucien, then he nodded at Elain before briskly walking away.
The party was still going on around them but it was just Elain and Lucien alone at the top of the hall. Lucien awkwardly cleared his throat. “Are ye alright? Did he… say anything to ye?”
“Er, not really, I suppose. We were just… talking.”
Lucien rubbed the back of his neck. “Right, good.”
Elain hummed back noncommittally, looking anywhere but the reddened face of her new husband.
Lucien’s eyes suddenly narrowed as he looked at her. “And why were ye talking to him?”
Elain scoffed. “He came to me and started the conversation. I could hardly tell him to go away.”
“Ye most certainly could have, and should.”
“Why do you even care who I talk to at my own wedding?”
“Because,” Lucien growled, “the people here—“
“Yes, yes,” Elain rolled her eyes. “Your brother already warned me that the people here hate me and that I’ll need to toughen up if I want to live here.”
He sighed. “People here don’t hate ye.”
“They don’t know anything about me other than my name and that I’m English,” Elain replied hotly. “Perhaps they’d know more if you bothered to do your duty and introduce me to anyone here.”
“It’s better for ye to not know any of the Lairds here by name, especially Eris and the Northern clans,” Lucien warned, gesturing to the dark haired guests he’d previously pointed out. “They're all dangerous.”
“At least Eris was willing to keep me company at my own wedding, unlike my husband!” Elain snapped. “You just left me alone and told me to keep my mouth shut, like a dog!”
Lucien’s face turned a shade of red not unlike his hair. “Maybe ye could do to learn a lesson from the dogs down at the stable—they’re never as loud or bother me as much as ye already are!”
Elain curled her lip. “Well, husband, unlike your dogs, I won’t blindly follow whatever orders you tell me!” Not giving him a chance to reply, Elain stormed out of the hall, uncaring of where she was going.
Her beautiful Scottish husband was a complete ass. Just her luck that she’d be married to an overbearing Laird with apparent family issues and an attitude that rivaled Feyre’s.
She slipped outside into a surprisingly manicured garden and sat on a stone bench. Gazing up at the moon, Elain reflected on what a truly terrible day it had been. From the rushed ceremony to the boring and disastrous reception and Lucien’s abysmal interest in her, she wasn’t sure what else could have gone wrong.
Maybe Feyre had the right idea of it—maybe it would have been better to abandon the carriage on the way up and fight their way back home to avoid this sham of a marriage. Elain truly hadn’t been expecting much, but she hadn’t anticipated being compared to a dog on her wedding night.
“There you are. Needed a few minutes to yourself?”
A soft rusting of skirts, and then Nesta sat down lightly on the stone bench next to her.
Elain sighed, unsurprised to see her eldest sister. “Something like that. Are you enjoying yourself?”
“More than it appears you are,” Nesta replied, looking at Elain out of the corner of her eye.
Elain chuckled bitterly. “Certainly not the wedding I imagined for myself.”
Nesta sighed, then wrapped an arm around Elain’s shoulder, bringing her close. They sat in silence for several moments, letting the cool night air linger on their faces.
“Did you come out here for a reason?” Elain asked some time later.
Nesta winced. “To check on you… and get you ready for tonight.”
“Tonight?”
“With Lucien.”
Elain blushed. Although her mother had passed away when she was younger, some kind aunts had explained what happened between a married man and woman on their wedding night.
“I’ll admit, I forgot about that.”
Nesta took her hand in a reassuring squeeze. “That’s understandable. Are you ready to come in?”
Is it too late to say no? Elain thought. Not just for the evening ahead, but all of it: living in Scotland, running a castle, and being married to a man who seemed completely at odds with her.
Elain sat up a bit straighter. There was nothing she could do about her marriage now. She needed to toughen up if she wanted to live in Scotland and find herself; this was just something she needed to do to get herself there.
“I’m ready,” Elain said with more conviction than she felt. Nesta led them inside to a large room filled with maids, and they all began preparing Elain for her first night as a married woman.
X
From the first moment his bride to be turned the corner into the little chapel, Lucien knew he was fucked.
Elain was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. A true English rose, with those giant brown eyes framed by thick eyelashes and luscious hair cascading down her back in soft waves and framing her pretty heart shaped face perfectly. Her cheeks and lips were petal pink; he wondered where else on her body was that lovely shade of rose.
Likening her to a single rose was an insult to her beauty: the woman in front of him was more beautiful than the finest bouquet of wildflowers, more lovely than a crisp autumn morning in the Clan Vanserra woods, and breathtaking like plunging face first into a cool loch on the first day of spring.
She was petite—he doubted she graced his shoulder—with generous curves under her dress. Lucien bet his hands would fit perfectly in the dip of her waist, over her breasts, between her legs…
Lucien looked away from her and shifted slightly. He hadn’t expected to become stiff at his own wedding, and he willed his cock to stand down, thinking of anything that would divert the blood in his body elsewhere. He hadn’t been expecting much, really, but Elain Archeron was already somehow better than what he was expecting.
This woman didn’t deserve this, Lucien thought bitterly. Shackled to him, a man forced into marrying her because her father cared more about lining his pockets than the happiness of a daughter. It sickened him to know Mr. Archeron thought so poorly of his daughter; based on the small smiles she sent her father’s way, Lucien guessed Elain had no idea she had been sold like livestock to a cornered bidder.
Lucien glared at the man responsible for all his misery, trying to convey all of his hatred into one eye. Mr. Archeron didn’t look upset at all by the proceedings, nor did he seem particularly bothered by the fact that his own clothes were nicer than that of all three of his daughter’s combined.
After what felt like one prolonged heartbeat, Elain was in front of him. She took his offered hand with one of her own, and he finally lowered his gaze to her.
He tried to not let the anger he felt on her behalf show but knew, based on the slight widening of Elain’s eyes, that he wasn’t successful. Lucien spared one final glare towards Mr. Archeron then focused back on his wife.
This near to her, Lucien could make out the freckles dusting the bridge of her nose and cheeks. Her eyes were an even more intense brown than he thought, pulling him in like a siren at sea. Elain blushed and looked away, her tongue darting out to lick her lips.
She was as innocent as a fawn, and the realization hit him suddenly: she was going to be eaten alive here.
The Lairds of the Highlands were always plotting against one another, whether for more territory, better resources, or because they were bored on a particular Tuesday and thought starting a war with a neighboring Laird would help pass the time. Lucien, as the newest and one of the youngest Lairds in the Highlands, was already a target from neighboring leaders for the few bountiful lochs and fertile fields within his borders, not to mention the new trade routes that would benefit his clan. A new, young, pretty wife would make those Lairds even more envious.
His stomach lurched. Just imagining Elain surrounded by the other Lairds and their cohorts, their malicious eyes gazing over his wife’s gentle face, their minds scheming to ruin her, made him sick. Some of the Lairds—Vassa, Tamlin—could be trusted more than others, but he felt cold with the idea of any of them getting near his wife.
His wife who he now had to protect. All he could think, as the priest rattled on and on, was that his hands and brain were already full of one mission to save someone; how would he add shielding his delicate English wife to his already full plate?
He was still puzzling over that later, long after the ceremony had ended and the reception began. It only got worse when the lairds of the land began filing in with their retinues.
There was Tamlin Stewart, hulking and brooding as ever. His lands were far to the south, and it comforted Lucien to see a friendly face at this farce of a wedding. They sent brief nods to each other across the hall before Lucien focused on the rest of the Lairds flowing in.
Laird Tarquin Lamont, from the West Coast, entered next, followed by Kallias MacDonnell. Both of them had tentatively agreed to trading contracts and routes with Lucien—routes that his new father in law was going to exploit, he knew. Lucien couldn’t keep the scowl off his face.
To make matters worse, Lucien saw Eris stroll into the hall, wearing the familiar tartan pattern that Lucien had spent his entire life up until a few months ago wearing. His heart briefly ached, quickly replaced by rage when Rhysand Sinclair and his so called “inner court” sauntered into the hall.
Finally their guests—Lucien could think of several words he’d rather use to describe the people occupying his hall at the moment—settled in. The castle’s portly herald rushed to the front of the hall.
“Introducing,” his voice rang out, “Laird Lucien and his wife, Elain Archeron!”
The two of them awkwardly stood up. Lucien made sure to send steely gazes to the assembled Lairds before him, willing all the mutual anger and disdain he felt for most of them into his remaining eye. He felt a small fluttering by his hand; some of the frayed threads on the cuff of his well-worn shirt quickly mended before the ceremony must have come unraveled. Shaking his arm to dispel the loose threads, Lucien sat back down heavily with a final leer around the room.
Lucien had little appetite, choosing instead to brood over his ale. He spared a glance at Elain. It seems she wasn’t fond of the food, as she pushed her potatoes around her plate.
The firelight in the hall caught his glittering finger. His wedding band, a simple piece of iron no doubt thrifted by his new father-in-law, mocked him from its new place on his hand. It spoke of his future: tarnished, heavy, and bound to someone he didn’t want.
Lucien couldn’t breathe. He needed to get away from this stranger before he said something he’d regret. “I’m going to turn about the room,” he said abruptly. “Remember: doona talk to anyone except yer sisters.”
Elain may have tried to say something, but he didn’t wait to find out, leaving their table and walking directly towards Vassa and Jurian.
“Here comes the man of the hour himself,” Vassa said, an impressive eyebrow arching as she watched Lucien thunder up to the pair. “Yer looking far more upset on yer wedding day than any man should be.”
“Och, stop it,” Lucien snapped. “We all ken this is a joke of a wedding.”
“Joke or no’, ye just married one of the most bonnie lasses on either side of the wall. That alone would have any other man in this hall smiling from ear to ear.”
Lucien scowled, thinking the lairds assembled would do much more to his innocent English wife given the chance. “That lass is nothing but a burden and a liability—“
“As is the curse of women everywhere, hm?” Vassa asked, her lips turned down and that all too familiar fire lighting up her eyes. “Nothing but burdens for the men around them.”
Lucien deflated, Vassa’s words making his face redden. “I’m sorry. Yer right, of course. None of this is her fault. It’s that damned father of hers—!”
“Keep yer voice down!” Vassa scolded, smacking him lightly on the arm. No one else but Vassa could get away with that. “Ye’ll frighten Elain to death if a fight breaks out on yer wedding day!”
“A fight might be helpful,” Jurian said lightly, eyeing the different factions gathered under Lucien’s roof. “Let the lairds work out some of the tension between themselves.”
Lucien quirked an eyebrow at Jurian. As a former English military man who absconded from his home country the moment he laid eyes on Vassa Fraser, it was helpful to have an outside perspective on Scottish clan life. “Have ye been hearing things?”
“Rumors of Laird Sinclair tightening up roads and access into his territory, as well as stationing more men of fighting age near and around Sangravah.”
Lucien’s stomach dropped. “Do ye think—?”
“No,” Jurian responded quickly. “I don’t think it has anything to do with… that. I’ve heard something valuable is hidden there, but I’ve no idea what.”
“How did he even manage to make it down here on such short notice?”
“No doubt that Spymaster of his heard some rumblings on the wind and informed him of a wedding that he should attend, to remind the rest of the Lairds of his presence,” Jurian sneered.
Lucien cursed. “What is that bastard planning? Why now?”
“Perhaps he’s planning something with the English crown again,” Vassa said darkly, shooting a dark glare towards Laird Rhysand Sinclair. “Allying with them in exchange for safety for him and his lands.”
The three of them exchanged dark glances.
“Perhaps we should—“
“No,” Lucien interrupted Jurian, his voice tight. “I’ll have to breach Sinclair lands one way or the other; backroads on foot is still the fastest way.”
Jurian was silent for a moment, then shrugged, taking a sip of his ale. “Better you than me—I’d be hanged on site if the English or their agents catch me. Traitor to the crown and whatnot.”
“Don’t worry, my dear,” Vassa crooned, lightly stroking the back of Jurian’s neck, “the only thing that will ever be around yer neck will be my plaid or my hands.”
“Ugh, not in public, you two,” Lucien groaned. “Heathens, both of ye!” As much as Lucien detested their public displays of affection, his own heart panged with jealousy. With his new marriage to Elain, the chances of him having that kind of easy familiarity with another person was slim.
“Maybe once ye get to know yer bonny little wife a wee bit better she’ll be more than willing to do the same for ye,” Vassa said, with such an exaggerated grin and wink that Lucien couldn’t help laughing with her.
“Thank ye both for attending at such short notice,” Lucien said quietly. “It’s been… challenging, but having ye here has made it a bit better.”
“Wouldn’t miss our dearest friend’s wedding if the Gordans, Grahams and Grants were knocking at our doors,” Vassa said fondly, and for the first time in days, Lucien felt like not everything was falling apart around him.
“So, how’s that business with yer loch coming along?” Lucien asked, changing the subject to Vassa’s recent bird infested lake.
This was how it should be, Lucien thought wistfully as he listened to Vassa complain about the aggressive birds tormenting her. No English wife, no horribly conniving father in law, no castle threatening to crumble around him at any day’s notice, and no one needing him to play the hero. Just relaxing at the Clan Fraser keep, talking and drinking with his friends, without a care in the world.
“How’s Eris doing?” Vassa asked suddenly, staring off into the distance.
Lucien frowned. “Er—not sure. I saw that he was here on Beron’s behalf but I didna exactly feel the need to talk to him.”
“Ah. Well, it seems he’s made a new friend in Elain.”
Whipping his head around, Lucien stared in open-mouthed horror as he watched, like time had slowed down to taunt him, his eldest snake of a brother talking to Elain, alone. To her credit, she wasn’t cowering like he expected she would, but seemed… thoughtful, if a bit annoyed at his presence.
“Shite!” Lucien blurted out. “I have to go!”
Leaving a chuckling Vassa and Jurian behind him, he made his way back to the front of the hall, where Eris had drawn Elain into a corner. He heard Elain ask Eris who he was and why he was here, and Lucien was interested in the answer as well. “Yes, Eris, why are ye talking to my wife?”
Eris grinned unapologetically at Lucien, giving him some cockamamie answer about congratulating them on their marriage and their disappointed mother. Lucien saw red—for him to speak of their mother now…
Elain was certainly surprised to learn a relative of Lucien’s was at the wedding, her gaze comically darting between Lucien and Eris. He would almost laugh at her reaction if Lucien wasn’t so terrified of what Eris might have revealed to Elain.
Eris finally excused himself after some not so gentle pushing from Lucien, but not before his older brother got the last word. “Include her in yer plans,” Eris hissed in Lucien’s ear. “She’s smarter than she looks—“
“Get out.”
Eris shot him a deep frown then left without another word. This couldn’t get any worse.
But it could, as Lucien got into an argument with his new wife. An argument, he reflected later while sitting at their table, alone, in which he had compared her to a dog. What was wrong with him?
The chair that Elain had sat in earlier moved back and Tamlin sat down with a heavy thud. He didn’t say anything to Lucien, but sat there drinking his ale and looking over the hall, still filled with laughter and dancing.
“Bit of a rough start to the marriage?” Tamlin asked.
Lucien snorted into his cup. “To say the least. Damn England and everyone from it!”
“Well, they’re not all so bad,” Tamlin murmured. “What do ye think of Elain’s younger sister, Feyre?”
Lucien looked at Tamlin, astounded. He’d known Tamlin nearly his entire life, the Stewart’s land being south of Clan Vanserra’s. The family’s were always on friendly terms with one another. Like Lucien, Tamlin held no love for the English any more than he did.
“Uh, a bit… spirited, that one,” Lucien answered diplomatically. The eldest, Nesta, possessed a coldness that rivaled Kallias, and Feyre reminded him of Rhysand Sinclair himself with how devious, lethal and clever she appeared to be.
“She’s quite interesting, Feyre,” Tamlin went on, still looking about the room. “Had a good discussion on hunting techniques a little while ago.”
“Alright,” Lucien said, unsure why Tamlin was telling him this or why he decided to talk to Feyre in the first place. He had had enough talk of the English today, and didn’t want to hear one more word about them. “I’m going to talk to some of the others here.”
Tamlin grunted noncommittally and Lucien leapt to his feet. He didn’t have long to dwell on the odd conversation as he moved from table to table, talking with guests and working out the final details on a few of his new trade routes with some Lairds.
“I’m ready for bed, Dougal,” Lucien said hours later. He stumbled out of the hall—he hadn’t realized how much he had drunk. All he needed, he thought to himself as Dougal helped him to his room, was a nice, peaceful sleep and a hearty breakfast in the morning.
“I got it from here Dougal, yer dismissed,” Lucien yawned, throwing open his bedroom door and slamming the door closed behind him.
Someone had lit dozens of candles around the room—odd, since he usually let the light of the moon bathe his room with light, rather than deal with the hassle of candles. And there was something moving on his bed—
“There you are! I’ve been waiting for hours!”
“Sweet hell, woman!” Lucien shouted, stumbling backwards and nearly falling on his backside. “What are ye doing here?”
“This thing called ‘consummating the marriage’,” Elain sneered at him from the bed, his sheet pulled up to her chin as she sat up. “I was told that’s one of the few wedding customs we share.”
“Ach, hell,” Lucien groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. “It’s been a long night—“
“Have you been calling your guests all kinds of horrible names as well, or was that honor just reserved for me?”
“That was wrong of me,” Lucien began, leaning against his dresser for support. “I ken this…situation isn’t yer choice—“
“It’s not, but I’m—“ hiccup! ”—at least trying to make this work!”
“Have ye been drinking?” Lucien asked incredulously.
“The maids may have given me something as they were preparing me,” Elain admitted. Lucien could see the light pink blush on her cheeks and she licked her lips. “Said it was to settle the nerves and make it easier for me.”
“No’ like this,” Lucien said wearily. “It’s no’ right, to take ye like that if yer no’ ready.”
She glared at him, standing up and taking the bedsheet with her. “Who says I’m not ready? I’m a grown, married woman—I can decide these things for myself now.”
“We haven’t had the best start, yer in a new land—yer overwhelmed—“
“Would someone who’s overwhelmed do this?” Elain asked, dropping the bedsheet so she stood completely naked in front of Lucien.
If he were a better man, Lucien would have turned away immediately, left the room and sent in a maid to make sure Elain slept comfortably and was safe. Hell, if he were the best type of man, he’d have left the room immediately when she admitted she had been plied with alcohol to make her endure their first coupling.
Lucien was not a good man. He stared, empty-headed, at the sight of his naked wife’s beautiful body in the soft glow of the candle light. Her breasts were small and her nipples peaked, the same dusty rose gracing her cheeks. She was just as curvy as he knew she was, with a tiny waist his hands could grip as she bounced in his lap, her hips wide and perfect for his hands to plant themselves on when he fucked her on all fours, her thighs soft when she’d eventually wrap them around his waist as he pounded into her, or even better, clenched around his head when he buried his face in the brown curls between her legs.
“Oh shite, yer naked,” Lucien stammered, closing his eyes and swiftly turning away, only to launch himself into his solid wood clothes chest. His forehead cracked against the wood and his knees hit the hard, stone floor with a thud and he rolled on his side, curled up pathetically on the ground.
“Lucien!” Elain called.
“Doona!” he gasped, screwing his eyes shut and forcing himself to stand on shaky legs away from her. If it wasn’t embarrassing enough that he ran into a dresser and possibly concussed himself, his cock was standing at full mast under his kilt, the head of his length rubbing uncomfortably against the scratchy wool.
“Take my bed for the night,” he called out, reaching for the door handle.
“Do you need—?”
“No!” Lucien growled with more force than even he was expecting. He turned his head to see Elain staring at him, wide eyed with shock that quickly morphed into a glare. “Ye’ve done enough for one night. Just… stay in here for the night. Please.”
Lucien thought he heard Elain mutter something under her breath but he didn’t wait to listen to hear. Wrenching the door open, he fled the room. He didn’t have a destination in mind—just far away from the woman who was now his wife, his future, his everything.
Perhaps if he ran far enough away, Lucien thought, he could outrun all of his problems.
#elucien#elucien fanfic#elain archeron#lucien vanserra#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#my fic#my fics#pro elucien#elain x lucien#gotta move this shit along#the god thing with an arranged/forced marriage trope#you just get the wedding over with
38 notes
·
View notes
Text
Shadows Dance (Azriel x Elain)
** Mentions of sort of suicidal thoughts, self loathing, negative self talk.**
************************************************************************
Another long night stretched ahead of the shadow singer. Cold sweat trickled down his temple, and the room felt like it was shrinking. The walls were closing in fast. Azriel leaned against the bathing tub behind him, his head thrown back so his throat could open completely. He gasped for air, gulping down breath after breath. His eyes burned from holding them open, but this was one of those nights where even blinking allowed the darkness to rush in, allowed too much in.
Not ten minutes ago, he’d been tucked into his bed, asleep and dead to the world. The way he felt like he was best anymore. He’d been through these downtimes before. Where no matter what he did, everything just felt… dull. The sun seemed dimmer, the stars didn’t shine. Nothing felt worth the trouble. But this time? It seemed so much harder than the rest.
Azriel jumped at the quiet knock at the bedroom door. His mind whirled. The bathroom was tucked back into his bedroom, in the corner closest to his bed. Rhys and Feyre were at the cabin with Nyx, Cassian and Nesta rarely stayed at the River House, besides the holidays. There shouldn’t have been anyone here tonight but him. Bracing himself, Azriel sent his shadows racing away to investigate who stood outside his door.
The shadow singer was just pulling himself to his feet when the door cracked open. Sparkling gray-blue eyes peeked around the deep wood door, a coil of golden brown hair falling to her side.
“Are you alright?” Elain asked, her voice soft and gently probing.
His shadows swirled around her shoulders for a moment, like a dog showing him their catch. Before he could blink again, they disappeared like smoke on the wind. Her scent of fresh grass and roses in full bloom tickled the inside of his nose. So sweet that his eyes nearly watered.
Azriel crossed his arms over his bare chest. “Of course, I’m fine. What are you doing here?”
Elain studied him for a second. She leaned in the crack of the open door still, like she was holding a shield in front of her, ready to run at the drop of a pin. Then her eyes roved over the small bathing room. Her nose wrinkled.
“It smells like vomit in here, are you sick?”
She pushed the door open farther and stepped into the room, closing it behind her. The majority of her long, thick locks were pulled into a loose knot at the nape of her neck. Small tendrils had worked their way loose, and fell to frame her face. Azriel locked his eyes to her face, knowing that he couldn’t handle taking in the rest of her body, dressed only in a fitted, pink satin nightgown.
“No, I’m not sick, I uh-“
Elain shot him a small glare and marched across the room, into the bathroom where she stood over the toilet bowl. The chamber lighted as she walked in and saw what was slopped down the inside of the bowl. The pretty female cringed and stepped back.
“if you’re not sick, there’s obviously something wrong with you. Go back to bed, I’ll be there in a minute.” She ordered.
Azriel’s mouth fell open. Of all the time he’d spent with Elain at this point, he didn’t know that he had ever heard her give a command before- not one so direct at least. She stared at him expectantly, and he felt nearly trapped by the authority in her gray eyes.
The Illyrian listened to the small female though, and walked over to the edge of his bed where he sat down. Azriel cringed as he scented the air, he ought to change the sheets before he went back to bed. The tousled covers reeked of fear sweat.
Elain walked over to stand in front of him with her hands on her hips. Azriel couldn’t meet her eyes, nor could he stand to look at her deliciously curvy body tucked into that nightgown, so he stared at the floor between his feet. The long, loose legs of the black lounge pants he slept in pooled around his ankles. They might have been Cassian’s- who cared.
With a sigh, Elain leaned close to him and tucked a long, slim finger under his chin. She tugged at him for a moment, the side of her fingernail scratching against his stubble. He gave in a heartbeat later and allowed the little female to tilt his head up to look at her.
Azriel’s heart stuttered at the sight of her. Inky black midnight surrounded her face while the light from the bathroom highlighted her face. The golden glow shone across the planes of her soft, round cheeks and tipped her delicate nose. Light danced across her full lower lip and twinkled in her pale eyes.
Without warning, Elain leaned in and placed her lips against his forehead, holding her mouth there. Azriel knew he should jerk back, insist that she leave. This was a female that had a mate who was desperately pursuing her. Rhys had even warned him against her. But…
Just this moment. He would savor just this moment. With Elaine’s lips still against his forehead, he leaned into her a bit and closed his eyes. The shadowsinger breathed in the soft scent of her and imagined her as his. It was easy, with her here. Everything with her always seemed so easy. His wings that had been folded in tightly behind him relaxed, drooping to the mattress behind him.
Elain pulled back, a small crease between her thin eyebrows. Azriel craved taking her face in his hands and kissing that line away.
“You don’t have fever, does anything hurt?” She asked, still concerned.
Just my heart, because I know that no matter what I do, what I want, I can’t have you.
“No, honestly. I probably just had something bad to eat.” Azriel answered, pushing her away.
Elain stared him down, and Azriel’s stomach twisted when he realized that she knew he was lying. Never had Nuala and Cerridwen served them soured food, in all the years that they had served him. Besides, Fae healing was strong enough that food poisoning was rarely a problem- the stomach would take care of the problem with just a bit of mild discomfort.
“I’ll go make a cup of tea then. Usually that-“
“You really don’t need to, just go back to bed.” Azriel interrupted. The idea of her caring for him like he was special, that he meant something tore at his heart.
Elain stared him down for a moment in silence before spinning on her heel and leaving the room without another word. She shut the door softly behind herself.
Azriel watched the door for a long minute. Once his shadows whispered to him that he was alone, that Elain was gone, Azriel let out a long breath and put his head in his hands.
Why am I like this? Why couldn’t I have been anyone else?
A thousand thoughts all in the same vein screamed through his mind, overwhelming his ability to think. Nausea started to roll through Azriel’s gut as he thought of all the terrible things he’d done- all the lives he’d taken.
The shadow singer stood from the side of his bed and stumbled a few steps, lightheaded. When was the last time he’d eaten? With bile rising in his throat, he staggered into the bathroom and only had time to brace a hand against the cool stone of the bathroom vanity and lean over the toilet as he emptied his stomach once again.
The vomiting subsided once nothing but a thin yellow liquid dripped in thick, mucous-y strings from his lower lip. His breath sawed in and out of his chest as he wiped his mouth on his forearm and turned to the bathroom vanity.
Azriel braced himself with hands on either side of the sink, trying to catch his breath around the strained burning in his throat. Tears leaked from the inner corner of his eyes and he looked up into the mirror.
Through the sweat soaked black clumps of hair, Azriel met his own eyes in the mirror. Hazel irises surrounded by bloodshot white stared back at him. Hatred filled his heart. The male in the mirror was a monster. A monster that deserved to be caged up again. His step father knew what he was doing when he locked Azriel in that basement all those years ago. The creature that stared in the mirror was a danger, less than the fae who surrounded him.
Why am I still here? Why can’t I just-
“Az?”
Her voice was soft and raced up Azriel’s spine to wrap around his heart. The shadow singer didn’t bother to turn and look at Elain. If he ignored her for long enough, she would get the idea and leave.
Elaine’s soft footsteps padded against the floor as she crossed the carpet to the bathroom where he stood.
In his peripheral, he saw her pale hand set a teacup on the counter top. Surely, she was just going to leave him to a cup of tea and the demons in his head.
The hand retreated, but a moment later a gentle pressure sunk into the muscle between his wings. Elain stepped closer to the shadowsinger. She kept the one hand pressed against his scarred back as she stood between his enormous wings. A heartbeat later, those wings began to droop until they laid against the bathroom floor like flower petals fallen from a wilted flower.
When Azriel didn’t move, didn’t push her away, Elain carefully stepped around the dark, membranous wings that pooled around her and stood directly behind Azriel. She let her hand that pressed against his flesh trace down his back, tracing the trail of his spine. When it reached the waistband of his pants, Elain pulled her hand away but gave in to what her heart was telling her to do.
Elain stepped as close as she could, relishing the soft spicy scent of him. The small female pressed herself against his back, resting her cheek against the roughened flesh. Her arms wrapped around his waist and she hugged the male against her, embracing him with all the muscle she had.
“Please, tell me what’s wrong,” she whispered.
#acotar#acofas#acomaf#acosf#acowar#azriel#fanfiction#elain x azriel#elain archeron#elain acotar#pro elriel#elriel
18 notes
·
View notes
Text
Is The Blood Thicker? A short story.
A/N: this is what happens when you get a lot of time away from your own OCs. Words flow freely.
CWs: none.
WC: 835
Summary: Elaine is tired of people thinking they know her.
----
Elaine had never been fond of those movies for teenagers. Those featuring high schools and prom slow dances and of course, the famous power of friendship. She could only scoff at the thought of staring for one hour and a half at a screen, watching as the nerdy main character was given a so-called glow up (they took her glasses off and straightened her hair, but of course! there was hotness underneath!) to finally, finally make the star quarterback notice her.
The soundtrack was mediocre at best, the dialogue was an adult’s fantasy version of how teenagers talked and the characters were flatter than a sheet of paper. Yes, there were values the movie was trying to teach (we’re all in this together, right guys?), but the message could have been made without depicting the most idealized and furthest from the actual truth version of high school ever.
And yet her first thought when she went inside the Biology classroom for the first time was how awfully similar everything was to those productions. She saw friends hugging after the summer and students running to take seats together; guys throwing paper balls at each other and laughing; people who still needed to wake up, slumped against the desks, catching up on a few sleep minutes before the teacher started the class.
The girl stood against the door, assessing everything. She knew almost every single student of the small high school, knew who they were and what their parents did for a living and if they slacked in class or went around being teacher’s pets. She knew everything about everyone, and she would’ve known anyways, no matter the little scar behind her ear, shaped like a keyhole.
“Good morning, Blood- Elaine!” a voice at her back made her turn. It was loud, and the owner, a girl with glasses and glossy hair, wore a really fantastic attempt of a genuine smile to match. She pushed forward a paper cup. “I brought you coffee! I didn’t know how you like it, so I ordered what I-”
“I didn’t ask for it.”
It was too early, too damn early and still there existed people in that building willing to try and kiss Elaine’s ass just to win a reputation. Reputation that was worthless, but hey, who could blame a seventeen year old for thinking high school days were the most important part of their life?
Her smile faltered and her brown eyes widened a little. Elaine was about to wrap the conversation up and take a seat (third row, closest one to the door, so as to be noticeable to the teacher but not clearly wanting to be; and to be the first one to exit the room), but the stranger talked again, her voice once again bubbly:
“I know, but I thought it would be-”
“Nice? You thought it’d be nice?”
Another beat of silence. The Blood Witch saw how everyone had quieted down and was now looking at the both of them.
Feasting on the scene.
The infamous Blood Witch, bullying to tears to yet another freshman who was just trying to be nice with her. How could she.
What a bunch of filthy little sharks, she thought. Breathed in deeply once. Then turned to the freshman girl.
This time, with a smile of her own.
“You were right. It was nice of you,” she complimented, and, to her own satisfaction, heard the small gasp of a classmate. “I’m sure it’s good however you take it, …?”
“Adela. Adela Renan,” she finished, as Elaine took the coffee from her shaking hands.
“Adela. Well, thank you very much for this and…” She snapped her fingers, then, as if the thought had just occurred. “Tell me, do you have anyone to sit with at lunch?”
Second wave of surprise. Adela looked stunned, petrified even, as if Elaine had just asked her if she wanted to go murder a bunch of kittens later.
Even if it had been like that, Elaine was sure she would’ve said yes.
Come on, pretend a little with me here, she begged in her mind.
“Yes! I mean, no!” The freshman all but screamed. “I mean… no, I just transferred here. My parents work for your grandfather at the library.”
“Well, then you are invited to sit with me. Anything for the people who helps the Da Villes.”
The bell rang. Adela Renan went to her own class beaming. Elaine Da Ville, the Blood Witch, took her seat (third row, closest to the door). The lesson started.
She took her phone from her purse and sent one single text:
“Isaac, if you manage to fire the Renan and make them leave, I’ll put Sol to work at the library.”
Yes, she would have lunch with the girl. No, it would never happen again. She couldn’t have the luxury of having friends.
Sipping on the coffee, she typed a second text:
“We will pay for their moving out, new apartment and school. The coffee was good.”
----
Is The Blood Thicker? Taglist (ask to be added or removed!):
@writing-is-a-martial-art @the-orangeauthor @enchanted-lightning-aes @rose-bookblood @lockejhaven @moonlitinks @writerfae
#my writing#wip:¿tls?#wip:itbt?#oc: elaine da ville#am writing#writeblr#writers of tumblr#short story
18 notes
·
View notes
Text
Waves of love (2)
Part II
So here's the second part of this :D
-> Part 1
@blairsanne, @laurfilijames, @deanobingo
Prompt: Show me + Praise kink
Words: 1,3k
Warnings: Nudity, slightly NSFW, trauma, sadness
She hadn’t thought this through, Elaine thought hazily as Barnaby decided to cling to her as if to a life-saving buoy.
“Do we want to try and sit?” she asked gently, smoothing one hand over his short hair calmingly; it had the opposite effect and he pressed against her even more ferociously, trembling like a leaf tossed about in the storm raging outside of the rattling bathroom window.
“I can’t do it,” he moaned, burying his face in the crook of her shoulder.
“It’s okay, baby, we can get out?” Elaine proposed, telling herself that it was the proximity to his actual name that had made her slip into the use of a pet name rather than the fact that he was indeed different from her usual customers in the sense that he was young and adorably handsome.
“No,” he groaned, “no, it’s too dangerous.”
She wanted to tell him that nothing bad would happen, that she showered every day in her flat, that she had never had an accident, but she knew that he would not believe her.
His skin was warm and dry against her shivering, clammy body and – moved by the contradiction between intense suffering and boundless courage – she leaned her forehead against his temple.
“I’m here,” she whispered softly. “It’s all good. What do you want to do?”
After a few seconds of silence, he declared that he’d try to sit down in the tub. Unfortunately, this meant that he’d slide down her body while she had to grip the rod to which the showerhead was attached.
Something warm and stiff grazed along her thigh and she gasped.
“I am so sorry,” Barnaby mumbled, “I am…was a married man, but erm…lately, my wife has not been able to have marital relations on account of her permutated form and hence…”
Even if he might only have been able to see her blurrily, Elaine’s perception of his naked form was crystal clear and what she saw drove the chill right out of her blood and bones.
Despite all his troubles, Barnaby was a dream come true as far as looks went: broad and strong, his chest was covered in dense, curly hair and his carefully outward flexing thighs gave her a good view on rippling muscle and a thoroughly impressive erection.
“No need to apologise,” she tried to assuage him, but her voice sounded choked and breathless all of a sudden.
“I was quite a good-looking man once upon a time,” Barnaby lamented, his vague gaze directed approximately at the vicinity of her face – or of her bosom, she could not be entirely sure – and a sad smile spreading on his handsome face. “Betty, my late wife, always said that I was a fair sight.”
“You still are,” Elaine croaked, ashamed of her loss of control; usually, she managed to stay perfectly professional and courteous with her clients but – as she had discovered and repeated many a time by now – Barnaby was quite unlike any other customer she had ever taken care of.
Immediately, another twitch made his features blur and undulate for a second before they rearranged themselves into an almost boyishly charming grin. “Do you really think so?”
He was starved, Elaine realised, desperate for kind words and understanding and – kneeling down between his open thighs despite his protests – she allowed herself to cradle the base of his skull tenderly.
“Yes, I do. You’re handsome and kind, generous, thoughtful, and sweet.”
“And crazy,” he sighed dejectedly. “You can say it; I won’t hold it against you.”
“You’ve been through a lot and it has left you shaken,” Elaine answered cautiously, “but I don’t think that you’re insane. Forgive me, but I truly feel that you’re mostly just lonely.”
He pondered her words for a second and then nodded.
“It is nice talking to you,” he admitted, “and it was nice having a real body to hug.”
His ass – shapely and plump – was by now safely in the water, but he seemed too preoccupied with his company to fret.
“You may touch me more,” she invited, elated with the change she was witnessing. “Go ahead!”
His hands wandered up her arms, caressing her skin lovingly, before cupping her breasts with a little gasp of shock and pleasure.
“Is this really okay?” he breathed, unsure of himself, and then said, “I used to be really good at those things.”
“Show me, pretty boy!”
Elaine’s head fell back as his thumbs started rubbing across her nipples teasingly, drawing her closer to him as if by magnetic force until he could let his lips explore the curve of her exposed throat.
Heat was being absorbed from the shallow pool she was kneeling in and coursed through her veins now and she couldn’t hold back the stifled moan of nascent lust when his tongue traced her clavicles in a warm, wet stripe.
“Oh, so good,” she praised softly, gripping the back of his neck, and squeezing it helplessly.
“Is it? Am I?” he asked breathlessly, his eyes alight with a determination that shocked and aroused her, before curling his broad, rough hands around her ribs and pulling her flush against him.
Again, that sensitive, quivering mouth found hers as he was caressing the back of her thighs that were unfortunately trapped between his own; the urge to spread her legs and invite him to lavish his careful, meticulous strokes on the centre of her need was overwhelming and she whimpered softly.
“You’re doing so well…Let us have that sponge bath then,” she stammered, plunging her hand into the water beneath her and letting a few drops fall onto his beautifully hairy chest.
He flinched back slightly, his fingers tightening around her ass, but – as she nestled against his skin once more – he relaxed.
“May I touch you?” Elaine asked politely, drawing back reluctantly to see the acquiescence in his eyes when he nodded sharply; his breath was a wild staccato now and she could feel him trembling a little.
“It’s all right,” she reassured him, sliding her wet hands up his calves to his thighs and back, “I am right here. Nothing will happen to either one of us.”
Scooping up a bit of lukewarm water, she again let it dribble down his stomach before wiping it away tenderly again. Thus they proceeded to gently clean him, little by little, taking breaks whenever it got too overwhelming.
The back of her hand brushed against his erection, and he gave a small cry of yearning and penned-up tension.
“How are we doing?” she inquired, mindful to check in with him at every stage of this new and undoubtedly frightening experience.
“I’m…I’m good,” Barnaby muttered. “Are you cold? Maybe we should get out of the water?”
This was good enough, Elaine decided, he had sat here for long enough and he had not panicked.
Placing her hand gently on the nape of his neck, she pulled him against her once more and started to get up slowly.
“Just stay with me, Barnaby,” she whispered fervently. “Focus on me.”
Her hands slid along his thigh and he lifted one foot out of the tub obediently; hence she directed and steered his warm, solid body until they were both standing on the cold bathroom tiles once more.
“Well done,” she praised, “you’ve been so brave.”
He seemed to grow under her approval, filling out to be more than that shadow of a man she had found huddled behind the door, and she was mesmerised by the sight.
Blindly, Elaine groped along the wall to get the fluffy towel she had put on the radiator and wrapped Barnaby in it tightly before sliding the delicate glasses back onto his nose.
“Off to bed with you,” she chirped and shoved him towards the door; within a few hours of her arrival, she had seen major progress and she had to hand it to Dennis that he knew his brother well.
“Can you stay with me a little?” he asked, a note of insecurity slipping into his voice.
“Yes, baby,” she chuckled, “I would not leave you alone.”
As you can see, I have cut it into three parts muahaha
Lots of love from me <3
-> Part III
#brokenwood mysteries#barnaby buchanan#deanobingo#dean o’gorman#barnaby x OC#nudity#therapy#being there#hydrophobia#deanobingo2022#nsfw-ish#Better be safe than sorry
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
Dreamer of Light
Masterlist
Word count: 2.9k
Chapter 3
"Unwelcomed visitors"
She smiled widely when she saw us, looking overjoyed and yet, I felt absolutely sick to my stomach, as I grieved and mourned for her to this very day, and here she was, alive and yet the phantom of death loomed over her and that told me what I needed to know. The old Feyre was dead. There was no doubt about it. She seemed healthier and happier. And I was glad, but a part of me was also saddened.
Elain gasped beside me and jumped into her arms, leaving out a laugh, while Nesta and I simply stared in shock and disbelief. After a couple of seconds that seemed to be hours, she turned towards us, looking at me with wide eyes, regret and worry taking over her features. After all, I looked miserable, still had my curves but my skin was incredibly pale, embellished with scratches from the night she died, with dark circles and looking sickly. Frail. Weak. But I was also angry. And incredibly hurt, that she was hurt, died and that she moved on. From us. From me.
She raised me more than anyone else, took care of me, fed, clothed and sang. And then left. Tears stung my eyes as we looked at each other, she tried to call out to me. "Sienna-". But I've already left.
.
.
"Sienna, open up." Nesta's authoritative voice left no room for questions as I opened the door. She had one of fathers rarer wines and two glasses in hand. I wordlessly motioned for her to come in as she continued speaking. "She brought three fae males with her. I believe that one of them had a feature you were looking for." I stopped in my tracks as I processed her words, closing the door before turning towards her. "Who?" I looked intently at her, raising a brow.
"The one with violet eyes." That's it. I knew he was important, for what? My mind started running around for something, anything. I haven’t sensed anything else besides Feyre in the house yet, but that's probably because I can't recognize him yet.
"His name is Rhysand. High Lord of the Night Court. Do you know him?" She looked at me curiously while filling both of our glasses.
"I do. He is something to her, but it's more than mere feelings. I can't quite put my finger on it." She rolled her eyes at that, sipping from the glass before confirming some of my suspicions." Please. He looks at her as if she hung up all the stars in the sky. It's ridiculous."
"If he makes her happy then it's none of my concern." I shrugged my shoulders before drinking out of my own glass. She hummed in agreement. We both sighed as we continued drinking and chatting over more mundane, simple matters, such as Elain's engagement with Grayson. She has always been beaming when talking about him and we both shared small smiles at our sister's newfound happiness.
A couple of hours later, Elain enters our room quietly and, reddened all over the face, I understood immediately what she meant, as the staff was on mysterious leave once again, there was no one to cook. And so I covered Nesta up with a blanket as she drifted off, and went on straight to the kitchen. My sister took a seat at the counter and watched me cook, while talking about the most trivial subjects she could find, I knew this was her way of beating around the bush, so I decided to lessen her suffering. "You're agitated, Elain, what plagues your mind?" She huffed and pouted.
"How come you always know?" She rested her head on her hand and gave me a questioning look, she seemed confused.
"You're an expressive person, Elain, and I can also feel it." I smiled lightly at her while she beamed back at me.
"Well, it is true, you have one hell of an instinct." I was shaken by Feyre's interruption, I didn't even hear her come in, she smiled lightly as three other males, her supposed companions, rounded up behind her. One was more classically beautiful, but carried on thousands of burdens, as he feels cold, but not winter cold, more as if you were under a shade at night, hm, shade, shadows. The other was more cocky and smiled smugly besides them, and yet held some sort of edge, he'll never forget the things he has done. Both had beautiful sets of wings, bat-like. And their eyes were those of ambers in the sunlight. I knew them.. And then, the violet eyes that I have been waiting to meet, standing tall and proud, not letting anyone see any kind of imperfection as his cool black exterior which left nothing to doubt.
But I only nodded towards them before turning back to my own devices, only replying the harshest I could to Feyre." Killer instinct, huh? When did you discover that, Feyre?" She had only discovered I was right before she died, of course and yet, I could not say it yet, that she died. It would make this whole thing real.
"You wish to hear that you are right? Because yes, I died, but I still came back. Can you not handle it?" Her voice started rising, as she took a couple of steps towards me. I never said it after that night. Nesta never did. Elain never knew as we never said a word, she now gasped loudly. "Sienna, why did you never say anything?" She also took some steps towards me as I turned back to the pot, stirring everything in it as I tried to breathe, although I felt as if they were walls, coming closer and closer, sucking the air of the room, and my height didn't help. I can't breathe.
"Why would you hold something so important from me?" Elain said with her heartbroken voice as she took another step, and then another. So did Feyre. They were closing in more. "Why did you, sister?" she added.
"Stop it, Feyre." Now tears stung in my eyes as I did not stir anything anymore, only gripping the wooden spoon as a way of steadying myself.
"Why would I? When you dreamt of it. Of it all? Amarantha. Tamlin. Rhys. What happened in your dreams I wonder?" Then I saw it with my eyes, memories, which were not my own but hers. The blood woman, death, ashwood daggers. Guilt. Pain. Suffering. "Stop. It."
"Have you seen this before and never told me a thing?" She seethed, anger rolling up on her as she dumped all of her memories and feelings in my head. It was hurting more and more as black claws shredded anything in their path, without knowing that I began screaming and felt something drop on my hand, burning.
I have no idea how much time went on a second or an hour as, when I did come back, I was kneeling on the floor in Nesta's arms, who was screaming at everyone as she applied some sort of ointment on my hand, which was burning intensely and yet, I had no more energy to express my pain as I watched Elain sobbing, one of the fae males rested a hand on her shoulder in support, the other one missing, The High Lord also had his hand on my other sister's shoulder, gripping it lightly yet steady, holding a weary expression. But not towards us, while she looked at me in shock, as if she didn't believe what she had done.
In the time I had to make sense of my surroundings Nesta was finished wrapping my arm as she helped me stand. I only sighed. I was tired. "Wait in the dining room. I'll fix something up." There was left no room for arguing as everyone left, the one with the shadows, looking back, a perfect mask of nothingness. And yet eyes can tell. They always can.
"I'm not letting them near you ever again." She was fuming as she stood by my side, leading me to the counter. "I know." I hugged her, needing it or I think I'm going to break. "The things she went through, Nes. The pain is indescribable." I began sobbing as I heard the door from the dining room close and Nesta held me tighter.
"And it is hers to bear. Not yours. You aren't responsible for any of it. You tried to warn her, and she still went. Do not feel bad anymore, you already bear the scars from it. It's not your fault." I only cried harder at that.
.
.
One hour later, dinner was once again ready, as Nesta and Elain helped with carrying everything as I wasn't able to. I was lucky that the burn wasn't too bad yet it still has a chance to scar.
As we finally entered the room the atmosphere was still tense and after we sat down, the only thing Feyre could do was stare at my arm. One of the males cleared his throat and spoke. "Thank you for making us dinner. And receiving us despite the fact that we barged in." The bigger one of the two wind ones smiled warmly while giving his thanks.
"You're welcome. It's not much, but I hope it tastes fine." I smiled back. He felt as warm as the sun on a breezy summer day.
"It does." And they began eating, the winged males eating everything on their plates as if it were their last meal and, as the cook of this dinner, it was one of the biggest compliments I could get. While The High Lord ate, Feyre could only stare at the plate. "Eat what you like, Feyre, there are more sortiments. I also made your favorite." She smiled sadly at me while nodding "Thank you." And then, The High Lord intervened. "It's just that our food is different from that in the mortal lands. You'll see it when you come to Velaris." Nesta looked as if she were about to jump over the table and strangle Rhysand to death. And to add to the pressure, unintentionally, of course, Feyre started to tell us about Hybern and their plan of attack, and revealed their plan with The Mortal Queens and made the courageous request to host the meeting with them here.
"Find somewhere else." Nesta sounded cold and dismissive. "Find another place. I will not tolerate any Fae in this house. Not around Sienna and Elain. If anyone finds out, we can forget everything. Our status, our possessions, Elain's wedding-"
"Elain's wedding?" echoed Feyre, her eyes widening.
"She is to marry the son of a lord. His father has devoted himself to hunting fae-of your kind."
"Nesta. Feyre has done nothing but give for years, provided for us. It's time for us to give something back. We can help." Elain put a hand on Nesta's knee.
"It's not up for debate." Nesta replied firmly. She then turned to look at me, most probably to see if we agreed, but I could only sigh.
One of the winged men, the warm male eyed Nesta up and down and when she noticed his gaze she hissed, "What is there to see?"
"A person who watched her youngest sister go into the forest every day while she herself did nothing. A person who put a fourteen-year-old girl in danger. Your-" He shivered, as if he was containing his anger.
"Your sister died- she died to save my kind. She would die for You, to keep You from living through a war. So don't think I'm going to sit here and listen quietly to you despise her for something that was never in her hands- and insult my people to boot!"
"That's enough." I said, not raising my voice, but taking on a more firm tone. "No one is trying to make a triviality out of some else's hardships. The past shall stay where it is as it cannot be changed, blame us for it if you must, however you can not expect us to take this lightly. Up until today we thought your kind to be cold-blooded murderers that would harm humans just for sport. Your request for us to accommodate in a couple of hours is simply ridiculous. " My gaze hardened as I shot the male a cold look. Everyone at the table looked stunned, besides Nesta, and The High Lord cleared his throat awkwardly before replying.
"You are right. I owe you my apologies." His expression was one of understanding, I hummed in response as the fiery male from earlier seemed unhappy.
"You can't be serious." He scoffed, fueled once again with a rage I only saw in my sister.
"I am." His tone left no room for arguing. "However, we really need your home for this. If there were another option, we would have taken it." I nodded in understanding.
"Maybe we can make room." Elain tried to intervene but Nesta immediately shut her down.
"Elain." Her tone was cold and sharp.
"I believe we can." I hummed while closing my eyes, and yet I could still feel her gaze cutting through. "How about this? At the smallest sign of danger from you, leave the Mortal Lands and never come back. Does that reassure you more Nesta?" She only nodded, finally giving in. The High Lord also sighed in relief.
"Good. Let's continue dinner, then. The food must be getting cold." Everyond complied.
Suddenly, I felt something dripping from my face as I touched it, only to find blood on my hands, with no sign to stop. Nesta gasped as she ran around the table to me, cleaned my face and took me from the dining room before anyone could comment, asking Elain to clean up the dinner.
.
.
"Is it still going on?" Nesta asked while she changed another set of bloody cloth, one hour after that disaster of a dinner. I hummed as she looked rather agitated besides me, while I was starting to feel lightheaded. "Do you feel anything?"
"Magic. Lots of it. The smell was unbearable yet it called out. To me. And not to mention, you know I get nosebleeds when stressed out." She nodded and yawned. "Go to sleep, Nes, I'll wake you up if it gets worse." She seemed to get the approval she needed when she nodded off, completely exhausted from today's events for sure. But I, for one, was incredibly thirsty as I got up and tried to make my way to the kitchen, tried being the key word, as my vision was hazed and I had to hold myself up with the walls' support. But, on the positive side, my bleeding seemed to stop.
The kitchen was a mess as I entered, all of the plates left dirty, I took them and started cleaning everything. I was so concentrated on my task that I didn't hear the male come in until he spoke.
"I wish to apologize for earlier." Violet-eyed High Lord. Hm, interesting.
"There is nothing to apologise for, everyone simply lost their footing for a while. I still consider the dinner a success though. We were lucky no one was killed." He chuckled at that. But I had a question that seemed to plague my mind. "Will you care for her?" He looked at me for a while with an indescribable gaze, deep and thoughtful. "Will you protect her?"
"With my life." I nodded and turned back to my devices. "We are in agreement, then, High Lord."
"Please, call me Rhys. And I had some questions for you, actually." He made a pause which I assume was a way to ask for my approval, I only hummed in response. That seemed to be enough. "Feyre told me about your dreams. About how you dreamt of us?"
"I did, and still do. The bane of my existence, that is." I finished and joined him at the counter, taking a seat across from him. "And why is that?"
"Well, when it's great, everything's well, but the nightmares are.. not so great." He only nodded, encouraging me to continue." I dreamt of the one you call Amarantha. Of her torturing you, Feyre and and a girl, one of our neighbors, Claire. And of Tamlin, that golden beast. That he closed Feyre in his shattering castle. There was also the worst of them, one of many that was proven to be true, I dreamt of Feyre's death three months after she left." That seemed to leave him speechless as he stared at me in shock. "It was horrible." My voice broke as I tried not to burst into tears. He put a hand on my shoulder in support.
"I can only imagine. But know that no matter what, she still holds all of you close to her heart. Especially you." I chuckled weakly at that .
"I thought for a second that I lost my place as the favorite if I'm being honest." He gave me a serious look while replying." Never. The first time I met her, the first thing on her mind was seeing you, checking up on you."
"I see. It's late to say this, but it's nice to meet you, Rhys." I smiled, him returning it with the same brotherly comfort I felt in my dreams.
"You too, Sienna."
"Now, let's go see about that letter to the Mortal Queens, hm?" He nodded while I led him to the library.
There Feyre and the other males waited, and when she saw us entering, she smiled wildly, seeming content before she tried to make her way towards me, but was blocked by the two males that made their way upfront to present themselves.
"I am sorry for earlier, things had gotten out of hand. I'm Cassian." I nodded while mustering a blinding smile. "It's nice to meet you Cassian, I am Sienna, even though I am sure you already knew that."
"I'm Azriel." I nodded in greeting as the stiff male tried to seem friendly, quite the sight.
"Good, now that the introductions were made, despite their tardiness, we can start."
And that was what we did until the early hours of the morning, as I fell asleep on one of the chairs, but woke up in my room late in that
afternoon.
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
Who to Trust? 8
I looked around the room checking the responses of the 5, for now I will rule out Aurel and Annabelle as they can vouch for each other. (Ein) “Sora can you prove you didn’t go to the pool at night?” both Tetsuya and Kyoya looked like they were annoyed at me. Sora’s response is key to finding out the truth though, (Sora) “Yeah because me, Haruma and Laura were at the cafe!”. (Ein) “I see but one more thing, did you know about the body announcement rule?”. I saw the shocked expression on his face, (???) “Why does that matter if we know the three of them can vouch for each other?”. (Sora) “It does matter Elaine...you see I knew if 3 of us found Yuga dead then Hedgy would tell everyone about it. I um asked him what we would have to do if someone were to be killed and when Yuga was not around I had my suspicions where he went”. I wasn’t sure if I fully believed what he said but for now I will assume he is innocent for finding Yuga’s body!
(Yuri) “Since we know Ein most likely was asleep due to his door being locked can we mention....the pool cue”. I looked over at Ellie and she still seemed like she doubted me, (Yuri) “I can confirm a second one was taken from the shop so does anyone know who took it?”. I had a suspicion but I can’t afford to throw out an accusation just yet, no one seemed to have any idea. (Ein) “Does anyone know if Yuga took the second cue? because I found it in his room”. (Maria) “I can confirm he took a pack of paper so unless he returned it for the cue he wouldn’t of”. Ugh I should of paid attention to his room more maybe....(Gina) “When me and Ein went into Yuga’s room I saw a sketch he was working on. I would guess he most likely started it before going to the pool!” This should prove that someone else took a cue so I think its time I explain my side of the story!
(Ein) “Unfortunately the host can’t confirm this but when he visited after Yuga’s death I picked up the cue as I thought it was an attack. However when I went back to my room it was gone, I think whoever attacked Yuga moved the second cue from my room to his”. (Aurel) “I see, but let me ask you something important why was Yuga the one you were most likely to kill Ein?”. I felt nervous.....I guess I have no choice but to explain, (Ein) “I wanted to be a painter in the past but due to circumstances I followed in my fathers foot steps!”. (Tetsuya) “But you already knew that right Laura?” (Haruma) “Why would she know that....” the hesitation explained what happened. (Laura) “Yeah...my room is closest to the living room and I decided to go to the cafe the night he mentioned it”. Haruma started to shiver....(Ein) “Haruma, were you Sora and Laura at the cafe the entire time or did one of you arrive a bit later?”
(Haruma) “N...no Laura arrived a bit later while me and Sora were there during the in....incident”. (Laura) “Why are you hesitating Haruma, I was re organising my albums” (Ein) “You mean the albums you pretended had fallen on the floor so you could act like you were worried someone else had entered your room”. Everyone else gasped, but I can let up now (Ein) “At that moment you switched the pool cue’s didn’t you!”. I personally didn’t notice the different coloured ends but she banked on either Yuri or Ellie noticing! (Yuri) “Now that I think about it I did see you walking past when Ein took the cue”. (Laura) “So what if I happened to over hear Ein and see him take the cue that doesn’t mean I killed someone”. (Tetsuya) “In that case why not go take something from the shop” (Laura) “Huh why? we are in the middle of a trial” (Kyoya) “Cause the shops rule is you can only take one item at a time, if you took the cue you wouldn’t be allowed to take a second item!”. She went silent.....(Laura) “Haruma I’m...sorry h....how was I suppose to know everyone else’s lives would be on the line?”
0 notes
Text
Meeting Eve (The First Time)
Summary: Azriel’s POV of A Court of Pain and Pleasure! This chapter follows Az as he meets the Archeron sisters for the first time to convince them to help with the mortal queens.
IF YOU HAVE NOT READ A COURT OF PAIN AND PLEASURE, DO NOT CONTINUE. YOU CAN DO SO HERE: Chapter One
Word Count: 4.5k
Warnings: Cussing, Az thinks with monke brain but that’s abt it
Notes: I plan on continuing this as I continue ACoPaP so stay tuned! I did my best to write how I think Az functions but if there’s anything you disagree with or any suggestions, please let me know!!
Next: The Second Time
ACOPAP Masterlist
---
The first time I saw her, it was as I was standing behind Rhys and Feyre, focused entirely on ensuring the safety of the manor we were in. My shadows had quickly fed me information about the house - entrances, exits, how many people were there.
I had ignored the three humans in front of us, especially after my shadows said they weren’t threats until Feyre introduced them.
Feyre had done her best to debrief us on her sisters and I, of course, had done my fair share of reconnaissance, but I was unaccustomed to this side of being in Rhys’ Court.
I had always been good at staying behind, remaining in the shadows, and watching what went on. As far as negotiation, I usually yielded to Cassian or Rhysand, letting them deal with the interpersonal relationships and politics.
I didn’t show how uncomfortable I was as I surveyed the Archeron sisters.
I could tell immediately which one was Nesta, based on the icy glare she was giving me and my brothers. The second eldest, Elain, was… softer. She seemed much more gentle than her elder sister. She was lovely with her delicate human features and an ever-present blush on her cheeks.
The third… The third was the most devastatingly beautiful person I had ever laid eyes on. She was just as tall as Nesta, but resembled Feyre more, even in her High Fae form. She had beautiful cat-like green eyes, decidedly different than her sisters’. Her face was as stony and gaunt, she was fuller and not quite as thin as the others. She didn’t have the same sense of frailness as her sisters, perhaps their years in that cabin hadn’t hit her as hard for some reason.
Her face was filled with inexplicable joy, despite how intimidated I’m sure she must have felt. Her eyes were full of wonder as she took in the three of us behind her sister and I noticed her gasp as she took in Cassian and I’s wings. Her perfectly shaped mouth fell open and into an ‘o’ shape. As hard as I tried not to, I couldn’t help but stare at her as Feyre continued introductions.
Evelyn. Evelyn.
I repeated the name in my head, noticing the way my shadows, though hidden from the human sisters by Rhys’ glamour, seemed to dance in response.
A brief conversation was exchanged before Nesta stalked off to the dining room, Cassian close on her tail. I could tell my brother was fascinated with the aloof nature of the eldest Archeron and scoffed in my head. Typical Cass. You put a beautiful female in front of him, especially one who doesn’t seem to like him, and hardly anything could pull him away. Though I suppose I was doing something similar with the other Archeron… A beautiful female with an air of mystery and inexplicable joy…
I moved to follow Cassian to the dining room but quickly caught movement in the corner of my eye. The youngest of the three human sisters cried out and began to fall. My body moved instinctively to catch her before she hit the ground. It took my mind a moment to catch up with my body and I realized Evelyn had tripped somehow and was now resting comfortably in my arms a foot above the floor.
For a moment, I allowed myself to relish the way she fit so perfectly there, almost as if she belonged. She opened her mouth to speak as her green eyes searched mine. Though only a few moments had passed, it felt like a lifetime, but I registered the stares of Rhysand and Feyre on us. I realized the compromising position we were in and wondered to myself where my decorum and stoicism had decided to fly off to.
I quickly righted her, keeping a hold on her until she seemed steady enough to stand on her own.
“Are you alright?” My voice came out a bit shakier than intended, but only Rhys seemed to notice as he shot me a look, one eyebrow raised. I ignored him in favor of the small figure in front of me.
She seemed to be having problems steadying herself. I briefly wondered if she had some sort of injury because Feyre hadn’t mentioned anything about any of her sisters that would explain this.
“I um… I have trouble walking sometimes,” she said so softly and I felt as though my heart could have exploded right there. She was just so… human. And broken. Something I could tell ashamed her.
I nodded, before brushing off Feyre, who moved forward to help her sister. It was the least I could do to help her walk to the dining room.
I offered an arm to Evelyn for support, softly saying, “Here.”
I didn't what her to feel as though I pitied her. I knew what it felt like to feel ostracized like that and I resented the pity I received. A small part of me also just wanted to spend more time with her, even if just the walk from the foyer to the dining room.
When I caught her, it had been as if everywhere her fingertips touched on my arm sent sparks through it, even through the tough Illyrian leathers. I didn’t dwell on it - it had been centuries since I last interacted with a human, perhaps I was even rustier at that than dealing with Rhys’ politics.
She gingerly took my arm and I continued to ignore Rhys’ intense stare - he could meddle in someone else’s business.
The smile she gave me as she sat down was worth whatever interrogation or scolding Rhys would give me once we returned home. It was ethereal. Her entire face lit up and her eyes sparkled. I felt my breath hitch a bit in my throat and hoped no one had noticed.
I wasn’t used to receiving looks like that. In fact, most of the time when people saw me their faces only contorted in fear. It was… refreshing. And confusing.
I went to go stand in a corner or sit next to Cassian, trying to decide which would be best if something happened. As I stood, I saw her hand dart out and felt her hesitant touch on my arm and I couldn’t disguise the shock that crossed my face. Not only was she not terrified of me and Cassian, as her elder sister, Elain, seemed to be, but she was willing to reach out and stop me from leaving her side.
Then she invited me to sit next to her.
I looked at Rhys, a question in my eyes. Either I sit with her or move to a position that would be better for defense, in the case of something unexpected.
I wanted to smack the stupid smirk off his face but I kept my face neutral and eventually, he nodded a bit. He knew damn well that this was a gorgeous human female and I was unsure how to handle this situation. I could almost hear his taunting of how awkward I seemed, despite my mental shields in place.
I pulled out the chair and sat. I struggled a bit with where to place my wings. Cassian and I shared an annoyed glance as we noted Rhys struggling not to laugh at our predicament. Cassian grinned at me, knowing that I was thinking the same. Rhysand would pay for that.
I shifted my focus to the conversation between the others and tensed as Cassian lashed out at Nesta. Not that I didn’t agree, I wasn’t exactly fond of Feyre’s oldest sister who had left her to support the entire family on her own for all those years, but this meeting was supposed to convince them to help us.
I snuck glances at Elain, intrigued with how she remained quiet. I noted the way her small hand clenched around the fork in its hold. It was amusing - The way she thought that would help her despite the power in the room.
She remained quiet, focusing intently on what everyone was saying - Until she blurted out a question about flying. I would have laughed but instead answered her seriously, not really sure how to act around Feyre’s sisters in a way that would convince them to work with us.
One looked ready to kill us all, the other was about to faint, and the one next to me just sat pleasantly and seemed genuinely interested in what was being discussed. Clearly, Nesta needed the most convincing, so that’s where Rhys focused his efforts.
Nesta eventually relented and agreed to host a meeting between us and the human queens.
Rhys sent a message between the three of us, giving us orders on how to proceed and what to expect tomorrow. I sent him a mental confirmation back as he took Feyre upstairs to draft a letter. Cassian’s hungry gaze followed Nesta as she stood at the head of the table, “And Evelyn, don’t think I forgot your little impromptu trip to the Wall. That discussion can wait until tomorrow, but it will be happening.”
I blinked. Then glanced at the small human next to me, noticing the way she shrunk into her seat. This broken, mortal female who could barely take a step had… journeyed to the Wall on her own?
Cassian and Nesta left, followed by Elain. She rose from her seat elegantly, with all the grace of a Lady of a court, and met my eyes. Her brown eyes sparkled against her pale skin. She had since dropped the fork, much to my amusement. She almost said something as she stood at the table but nodded to me and left.
I stayed with Evelyn. I’m not sure why, but something deep inside of me told me I had to. I wanted to know more about her, especially since Feyre seemed to have left so much out.
I watched her as she shifted nervously in her seat. My shadows reported to me that she was in too much pain to stand, noting the ways her hips were deformed compared to normal human anatomy. It wasn’t an injury… This was something that she must have had for a long while. So I sat with her, unsure if I should offer to assist her or not.
She glanced at me and the look in her eyes was so raw and worried that I couldn’t help but stare at her.
“I, um. I wasn’t always like this, you know?” I nodded. I understood. The things that set us apart from the others… that made it more difficult to achieve what they had… I understood what that was like.
“It happened slowly. I didn’t even really start to notice it until I was 12. Nobody knew exactly what to call it or what it was, but from there it’s gotten worse. I, uh, tried to fix it myself but I never could. When Feyre was taken or uh, left I guess, I trained every day to be strong enough to go to the Wall and look for her. That’s where I was today, and why the pain’s gotten so bad…”
I sat still during her story. She really had gone to the Wall alone. Despite her obvious disadvantages. I looked at her in awe, despite my years fighting alongside humans in the War I had never seen such persistence and bravery in someone who had been unable to do things without pain her entire life.
I knew what it was like to be disadvantaged and have to learn to do things differently. Those years in that cave and having to learn how to fly…
I’m not sure where it came from but I couldn’t stop the words as they tumbled out of my mouth, “I understand. The urge to do something that people tell you that you can’t. Most Illyrians learn to fly from birth. I wasn’t afforded that luxury. I had a lot to teach myself but Rhys, the High Lord, and Cassian helped. One thing I’ve learned in my time as Spymaster is to never underestimate someone, especially not based on their physical capabilities.”
She thanked me as I slowly got lost in thought… Who was this girl? This human girl who had pushed herself so hard, who wasn’t scared when three Fae and her sister came to her home, and who seemed to be happy despite everything she had been through. I looked at her, searching her face as though it held the answers.
She clearly wanted to leave the table but couldn’t get her body to cooperate. I contemplated offering to help her upstairs, not wanting to overstep my bounds or insult her in any way.
I could have died when she said my name. In over 500 years of life, I had never heard my name sound that sweet and gentle. It came from her mouth like that’s exactly where it was meant to be.
She asked me if I wanted to say something and I was surprised at how easily she had read me, despite all my time trying to keep my thoughts and emotions hidden.
So I offered. I asked if she needed help, not in a pitying way but… I wanted to help her.
She made a joke about crawling her way upstairs and it was enough to make me want to vomit.
This beautiful creature… had been reduced to crawling on her hands and knees because no one would help her…
I lifted her into my arms without a second thought. She was so light, I was afraid I might break her. I held her firmly, the thought of her falling out of my hold made my insides twist a bit. I wasn’t really sure where this affection or concern came from, especially considering I had just met her. I knew she would never ask for help, but needed it. I just wanted to extend the kindness and patience that was never given to me, no judgment or harsh remarks.
She directed me to her room and I made sure to carefully place her on her bed. She stretched her aching limbs and I couldn’t stop myself from laughing at her antics. She smiled like a child who had been caught doing something bad and slipped under her covers.
I went to leave but heard her thanks and my heart, and shadows, leapt. How could I ever judge someone as determined and sweet as her?
I watched as she fell asleep and stepped outside, alone with my thoughts. How had she found her way past my mask… my walls, so easily?
—
The next day, I watched as Rhys and Feyre prepared to leave. Since becoming Fae, Feyre had gained powers from each of the High Lords who had Made her. Rhysand was going to try to help her hone them so that, hopefully, they would be of use to us in the coming war.
Of course, I was aware of my role in this. Something had been hunting us from the moment we left Night Court lands and Rhys was hoping that leaving Feyre alone in the open would help lure it out of hiding. I was to wait for Rhys’ signal before going to them and taking whatever it was in for… “questioning”.
I hovered near the doorway, waiting for Rhys and Feyre to leave, and couldn’t contain my wince as Evelyn lashed out at Feyre. Again, I wasn’t sure what drove me but I intervened-
“Evelyn, would you show me where your family keeps the glasses in the kitchen? I’m sure all of us could use some water or tea,” she whipped around and I could see the guilt and desperation in her face. She sighed and the tension disappeared from her body as she realized I was giving her an out.
My chest swelled with pride at being able to calm her so quickly but I pushed it down as I noticed the look Rhys gave me. I shot a glare at him and sent an offensive gesture toward him in my mind.
Rhys and Feyre finally left and I stood with Evelyn in the doorway. She turned towards me, hands on her hips, and said snarkily, “Now do you really want tea or was that an excuse to shut me up before I said something even more harmful?”
She was the most adorable thing I had ever seen. I mentally smacked myself. “Adorable”? Who am I, Rhys?
I snorted, both at the idea that I would ever be as whipped as Rhys was for Feyre and at the words that left Evelyn’s mouth, “I could actually use a drink, though I’m afraid I’m not entirely familiar with human beverages.”
She laughed and made a passing comment about food in Prythian and for a moment, I let myself imagine it. This beautiful female, making tea in a kitchen - not a kitchen I had been in before but one all our own. I could almost hear the way she would hum as she watched the water boil and spin around the kitchen, dancing to music only she could hear. I shook my head slightly.
Fuck, maybe I was just as bad as Rhys. Thank gods he hadn’t returned yet and my shields were intact or I’d never hear the end of it.
I almost glared at Evelyn herself, wondering how in the world she had made me think of such things.
I tried to hide my disappointment as she invited her older sister to join us, but could see the female’s sigh of relief at getting away from Cassian and Nesta. Cassian shot me a look of jealousy, presumably about being alone with the two gorgeous Archeron sisters, but I looked at him knowingly, arching an eyebrow. We both knew he’d rather stay with the eldest.
It was sweet the way Elain joked with her sister and teased her. She was just so quiet and sweet-tempered, such a contrast from the company I usually kept. She reminded me of a doe in the meadow, completely vulnerable and unaware of the danger that lurked around the corner.
The three of us, an unlikely group, I thought, made our way to the kitchen.
I tried not to laugh as Evelyn tried to reach the teacups. The way she stretched had her dress pulled taut across her body and a myriad of dirty thoughts crossed my mind. This time one of my shadows pulled me from my daydream. As inappropriate as it was to picture Feyre’s sister making tea for me and only me… this was even worse.
I brushed the thoughts from my mind and walked over behind her, grabbing the cups she was still trying to figure out how to get down. She turned around with a huff as she was dwarfed by my large figure behind her.
“I could have gotten it,” she said, her bottom lip puffing out in a pout. I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to take it in between my own or laugh at how determined she was.
“As entertaining as it would’ve been to watch you climb onto the counter, I am more than happy to help you reach something,” I said and meant it. Whatever she needed, I was willing to do for her.
She turned back to her tea-making and I moved to a corner of the kitchen that allowed me to see all of the exits.
“So what do you do for the High Lord,” Elain’s soft voice asked.
I turned to her, “I work as Rhys’ Spymaster.”
I watched as she stiffened, obviously alarmed. “Do you… watch us?” She asked.
I wasn’t sure how to answer her. Did I tell her that I almost always had one of my spies or my shadows watching the manor? That ever since Rhys had brought Feyre to Velaris - and even before - I had kept an eye on the Cursebreaker’s family? I tried to think of a way to balance telling the truth with keeping from her just how frequently I saw what was going on.
“Sometimes, if Rhys or Feyre asks me to check in. Lately, I’ve been mostly… preoccupied with the Queens of this land, though.”
“Oh,” Elain answered, her delicate features contorting a bit. “I’m not entirely surprised, but it is a bit unnerving to know that the Fae realm can so easily see what us humans are up to…”
I was shocked at how easily she accepted the reality and a bit off-put at her insinuation about the Fae. I wondered if she was worried about us or about the news of potential danger we brought with us. I looked at Evelyn, her back to us but her head was tilted to the side a bit as she listened to our conversation. I wondered if she shared her sister’s concerns about faeries or cared that I had been monitoring them.
“I would never let anything happen to you or your sisters. Feyre is becoming an integral part of our court and it is my duty to her to protect you all,” I said, mostly directing it to the younger of the two sisters.
Elain sat down and her dress flowed around her legs. I watched her tension flee her body at my response. “Are all faerie males so…” she paused, “kind and dashing as you three seem to be?”
My shadows were in a frenzy around me, though I knew the two humans couldn’t see them thanks to Rhys’ magic. This beautiful female had just called me both kind and dashing, something I had never heard before. I was working to think of a response but Evelyn’s harsh voice cut through the kitchen.
“Elain, let’s not forget your engagement to Graysen. How shamed his family would be to hear you’re considering leaving him for a faerie male, of all people,” the venom in her voice surprised me.
“Oh please, Evelyn, mere curiosity is not enough to end what Graysen and I have. I was simply wishing to understand if all the tales we had been told were incorrect,” she turned to look at me, “We’re told tales of Fae who cross the Wall to steal babes and kill as many of us as they can. Those with scales and inhuman faces who haunt waking nightmares. Not… charming males who look similar to us.”
“Elain, I’ve told you time and again of my research and the lies and half-truths that have been taught to us. I’m unsure why you insist on believing what I’ve told you to be untrue.” She gestured to Elain’s iron ring, “We’d be better off finding out the truth than trusting what the humans of old have passed down.”
I took a moment to process the interaction, the dichotomy of thinking between the two sisters.
Evelyn had researched us, that much I had known both from my spies and Feyre, but the voracity with which she defended us and wanted humans to know the truth about us… It was inspiring. It reminded me of those humans we had fought with, the ones we knew were worth dying for.
“Forgive me, Azriel,” Evelyn’s voice suddenly said, “This is not an appropriate conversation to have with company.”
I watched her turn back to the tea and then serve it to us. She poured it slowly, making sure not to spill a single drop. I heard Elain discussing her gardens and parties her family had thrown, making sure I had the appropriate reaction to each of her words. I let my senses cast outwards in the house, sensing Rhys had returned and knowing I had to spring into action as soon as he called.
Nesta called for Elain and threatened to snap Rhys’ neck and I snickered a bit, imagining how well Cass and Rhys were faring with the hard-headed Archeron.
Elain left and I studied Evelyn, sitting with her cup of tea clutched between her small hands. She had a dark blue dress on that stood stark against her pale skin and I might have been content to stare at her for hours. But I wanted to hear her melodic voice again.
“I agree with you that humans know far too little of our ways and lands,” I said, both to show my appreciation for her efforts and to get her to speak.
“I spent years researching Prythian and faeries when Feyre was there. These pesky villagers refuse to listen to what I’ve learned, but I suppose the knowledge is power, even in just my hands.” Power, indeed. I had made my life on learning everything I could.
“What did you learn?”
“Far less than I’d like to have. I could relay to you things you already know, but I’d rather ask you a question if that’s alright?” She asked.
I was hesitant to hear her question, unsure of where she was taking this. I expected something about Prythian, the queens, Feyre, or even Rhysand, not, “Why do they call you Shadowsinger?”
I had already shared so much with this female - this woman - that I could allow her to see this. I only briefly hesitated, knowing that this was the much more… unsavory part of me, aside from the scars. Her comments from earlier and willingness to accept Fae when the rest of the human world refused was what drove me. I smiled, excited to show her this and see her reaction.
I sent a message to Rhys through our connection, letting him know to uncloak the shadows that floated around me. He didn’t question it, just reminded me to be ready when the time came.
I watched as her eyes lit up in amazement and she gently reached her fingers out to meet them. They shouted their joy at me as they met her fingers. Her skin was so soft and her touch was so kind and gentle, they kept telling me.
I just studied her face, her plump lips parted slightly as she marveled at the shadows. She smiled to herself and whispered, “Beautiful.”
No one had said that to me before, especially not about this. I opened my mouth, the words “you are, too” almost coming from it but closed it swiftly as I got a message from Rhys.
Attor was all sent down the bond and I knew it was time to act.
I didn’t have time to waste on wishing Evelyn goodbye and instead abruptly departed to go deal with the Attor.
As I took the Attor back to the Hewn City, a twinge of guilt passed as the remaining shadows told me of her disappointment at my sudden absence, but I had a job to do. A job that was too brutal and bloody for anything as perfect and pure as her.
Once Rhys was satisfied with the Attor’s information, I disposed of its broken, but living, body before slinking back to my room.
That night as I laid awake in bed, my shadows filling the room, I sent a few, just to check on her.
They reported to me that she was in her room. A book laying open next to her. And I wished her goodnight, an apology for not saying goodbye earlier.
What was it about this human woman?
#acotar#acomaf#feyre archeron#nesta archeron#elain archeron#azriel#azriel shadowsinger#azriel x reader#azriel x ofc#a court of pain and pleasure#acopap
170 notes
·
View notes
Text
Infinity
Word count: 3.8k
pairings: Alex(dunkirk) x Reader
Warnings: Angst, panic attacks, SMUT (don’t judge it's my first time writing it)
You knew Alex for years, When you first met him you were eight years old when you found yourself moving next door to him. Your father and mother had just opened a diner which was the reason the family moved in the first place.
“Come on honey we should meet the new neighbors plus we can give em some food to help spread the word about our diner” your mother smiled gripping your hand as she walked you out the front door. You were nervous as you approached the door your eyes were trained to your feet as you clung close to your mother. You heard your mother knock on the door, and a couple of seconds later it opened. You glanced up to see a woman about your mother's age who had a smile on her face.
“Hi, we just moved in next door and thought we would be neighborly and introduce ourselves, my name is Elaine and this is my daughter Y/n” your mother beamed to the woman.
“Oh it is so nice to meet you, my name is Anne” she exclaimed and she bent down to look at you. “My son is about your age let me call him down, and come on in” she smiled and your mother guided you into the home. “Alex, come out of your room the new neighbors are here” Anne shouted, and you heard footsteps coming from further into the house, revealing a brown-haired boy with a lopsided smile missing a front tooth. He came running up to you immediately with excitement.
“I’m Alex” he exclaimed. “Do you wanna come look at my trains” you looked up nervously at your mother unsure of whether you should go but she gestured you towards the goofy boy. You took a deep breath before looking at the boy and nodding.
“I’m Y/n, and I would love to see your trains” you smiled, and from that day on you and Alex were inseparable doing everything and anything together.
As the years went on the two of you made other friends, but the two of you remained best friends. You and Alex even worked at your parents' diner together during your teenage years. You were there for Alex when his mother died of cancer when the two of you were sixteen. You held him on your bed while he cried into his arms. You watched as his father turned to alcohol, and Alex found himself and your house more and more which you had no problem with. Everything was perfect until the war hit. The world was filled with fear of bombings causing blackouts where you couldn’t use a single light.
The first blackout you had been home alone as your parents were stuck at the diner. You sat in the dark curled into a ball on your bed as the shadows distorted into terrifying figures. Although you were eighteen the dark still managed to scare you, and that's when you suddenly heard a knock at the door causing you to spring from your bed, heart racing. You grabbed a candlestick holding it as you made your way to the front door. You slowly opened it to reveal Alex. You sighed in relief.
“Jesus Christ I thought you were a murderer” you gasped.
“You are very dramatic, love” Alex laughed as he entered the house. “I saw your parents weren’t home so I thought I would come over so you didnt have to spend the blackout alone”
“Well aren’t you the sweetest” you laughed as the two of you walked towards your bedroom.
Alex hopped on the bed, and you went to turn on the radio to listen to the updates on the war. You snuggled next to Alex as the both of you listened to the radio. You felt yourself beginning to fall asleep upon his chest when something caught your ear.
“Men between the ages of 18-41 are required to register for service, and if chosen to serve they must oblige,” the voice over the radio said, and once you realized what it was saying you shot up.
“What does that mean Alex” you questioned and he looked at you with sorrow in his eyes. “Did you register” you pushed?
“Y/n I had to but that doesn’t mean I’ll actually be sent into the war” he assured, and you grabbed his hands.
“Right you probably won’t actually get put into war the odds are slim” you agreed, but deep down you felt a pit in your stomach. Alex pushed his body up, turning the radio off before pulling you into his arms the two of you falling asleep in the darkness.
-
3 days later
You were sitting in your bed doodling when you heard a knock on the door.
“It's Alex” you heard from the other side of the door. You smiled as you flung the door open to be met with Alex who did not have the same happy face as yours. His face was covered in sorrow and anxiety. His eyes were red and puffy as it seemed he had been crying. You frowned grabbing his hand and pulling him into the house leading him to the couch. You sat down next to him as his eyes were trained to the floor.
“Alex what's wrong” you cupped his cheeks tilting his head to look at you.
“I got drafted” he whispered and you felt your heart sink. Your body went numb, and your mind felt like it was spinning. You had no words for him, you didn’t know how to make this better. You felt tears swell in your eyes, and instead of saying a word you just wrapped your arms around him pulling him close to your body. You felt him begin to cry into your neck his body shaking as he choked out sobs. You felt your heart shatter into pieces as you hadn’t heard him cry like this since his mother died. As much as you were hurting you knew you needed to stay strong for him. You soothingly rubbed his back trying to comfort him.
“I’m scared Y/n, I don’t want to die” he choked out and you felt tears flow down your face silently. You took a deep breath.
“It’s okay Alex, I know you’re scared, but I know in my heart you will be fine” you whispered trying to stop yourself from breaking down. It had been pretty late, so once Alex had calmed down you led him to your bedroom and he laid on your bed.
“I’ll be right back, I just need to use the bathroom,” you said softly and he nodded burying himself under your covers. You walked to your bathroom your body shaking. You quickly close and lock the door before leaning against it as you let the tears freely fall from your eyes. You covered your mouth to silence the sobs. You slid down the wall putting your face into your hands curling into a ball. You wondered why this was happening, how could the universe take away the person you care about most, but you knew you needed to hold out hope, you knew that he was strong enough to live. You took a deep breath wiping the tears from your face. You exited the bathroom going back to your bedroom. You jumped into the covers snuggling into Alex’s warm chest. He held you tight and you listened to his heartbeat until you fell asleep.
-
He had one week before he needed to leave, and you spent almost every moment with him, clung to him. On the last night, he had dinner with his father and you sat on your bed in silence gazing out your window. You held one of Alex’s shirts holding it to your chest. You couldn’t lose him. If he died you would die along with him. You needed him. You loved him. You loved him more than a friend, you loved him from the first time he showed you his trains, and you were going to tell him because you couldn’t let him leave without knowing. You launched yourself from your bed throwing on some shoes and walking out your front door past your parents. You walked to his front door taking a deep breath before knocking on the door with determination. Alex opened the door smiling when he saw you.
“Are you done with dinner?” you asked quickly and he raised an eyebrow at you.
“Yes it finished as soon as he passed out an hour ago” Alex laughed as he had learned to cope with his father with humor. “You wanna come in,” he asked, and you nodded as he led you into the house. The two of you walked into his bedroom passing his father who was passed out on the couch. Once you entered the bedroom Alex sat the edge of his bed assuming you would sit down next to him, but you didn’t. You paced back and forth playing with your hands, and Alex frowned.
“Hey what’s wro-” he started.
“I love you” you blurted out stopping in your tracks. You watched his green eyes widen.
“What” he gaped.
“Sorry this was stupid you obviously don’t feel the same way so let's just forget-” you rambled but you were interrupted by him getting up and placing his lips upon yours. This time it was your turn for your eyes to go wide as the man you loved cupped your cheeks kissing you with passion. You relaxed into the kiss wrapping your arms around his neck pulling him closer. He slipped his tongue into your mouth exploring the way you taste. His arms moved to your lower back bring your hips together causing the both of you to moan.
“I love you too” he whispered against your neck as you started to kiss and suck causing you to arch into him. You felt your breath become heavy as his hands found your bottom as he backed up towards his bed. He removed his lips from your neck to get onto the bed, and you practically jumped on top of him placing your lips back onto his moving your hips against his causing him to moan into your mouth. You let your hands roam his back as grasping at the fabric of his shirt as his lips moved against yours. You moved your hands towards the hem of his shirt lifting it over his head. Alex dove right back into your lips his hands squeezing every inch of your body leaving each place he touched scorching.
“This okay,” he asked softly as he played with the buttons of your blouse and you quickly nodded before grabbing his face connecting your lips once more. You felt Alex smirk against your lips as his shaky hands worked to unbutton your top. Once he got the last button you pushed him off removing your shirt leaving you in your skirt and bra.
Alex’s eyes went dark as he scanned your body. You hopped on top of him moving your lips to his neck kissing softly. Alec grabbed your face holding your cheek in his large hands.
“You’re so beautiful” he whispered causing heat to rush to your face and you buried your face back into his neck to hide the blush that consumed your cheeks. Alex lightly traced your hips before his hands went to the back of your bra. You nodded against his neck letting him know it was okay to take it off. Once your bra was off Alex almost drooled. He immediately latched his mouth to the hard bud swirling his tongue around causing you to squeal and pull his hair.
Alex released your breast with pop and you slowly moved your hands down towards his belt. You quickly unzipped his trousers pulling them off his legs leaving him in his underwear.
“Fuck” Alex groaned as your hand grazed over his hard length. You slowly pulled him from his boxers and a long moan left his lips. Your eyes widened slightly when you saw how big he was. “Y/n, you don’” he started.
“But I want to, I need to” you whispered wrapped your hand around him pumping him slowly causing Alex to throw his head back his hands gripping the sheets. You slowly lowered your mouth to his swirling your tongue around the head licking the salty precum that had already leaked out. You looked up at him seeing his knuckles turning white as he held onto the sheets. You grabbed one of his hands placing them in your hair causing him to moan. You then fully took him into your mouth taking him as far down your throat as you could. You bobbed your head up and down as Alex let out a string of curses before pulling you from his length.
“I don’t want to finish yet” Alex breathed, and you nodded wiping the spit from around your mouth. Alex grabbed your hips flipping you onto your back. He quickly slid down your skirt revealing your pink panties and he let out a groan. He then slowly kissed up your thigh nipping at the skin causing you to gasp.
“Alex please” you begged as you felt his breath on your throbbing heat.
“Please what” he smirked against your inner thigh.
“Touch me” you whined.
“I am touching you” he stated matter a factly causing you to roll your eyes.
“You know what I want” you replied back.
“I’m not sure I do” he smirked slowly pulling your panties down your legs with his teeth, and you thought you might just orgasm at the sight.
“Alex I swear to god” you started but ended with a squeal as he wrapped his lips around your swollen bud sucking softly. He then suctioned over your clit causing you to cry out and grip his hair making him groan the vibrations of the noise-causing your legs to shake. You then felt his finger inside of you moving slowly with his tongue the stimulation causing your head to go blank as breathless pleas left your mouth.
“You taste divine” he smiled against your throbbing heat adding a second finger going fasters as the heat in your stomach began to swell up Alex used his free hand to keep you pressed against the mattress as you squirmed feeling your orgasm closing in. After a few more motions Alex felt your shake pulsating on his tongue. He continued his motions until you were pushing his head away from the stimulation.
“Holy shit” you breathed out, your chest heaving as Alex moved on top of you his hot breath on your neck as he ground his hard length against your soaking core.
“We don’t have to do anything else if you don’t want to,” Alex said softly.
“I want you” you stated placing your hands on his cheeks pushing your lips on his.
“Are you sure” he mumbled against your lips.
“I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want you” you moaned out as he slowly pushed himself inside of you, your nails raking down his back as he slid into you entirely. You stayed like that for a moment adjusting to his large size. The pain slowly passed as you whispered for him to move. Alex began slowly thrusting into you his forehead resting on top of yours his eyes boring into your soul. Your hands grip his back trying to pull him as close as possible.
“Faster” you breathed as you felt the coil in your stomach beginning to grow once more. Alex moaned picking up his speed a layer of sweat forming atop his skin. His head moved to nuzzle into your neck his hot breath.
“God Y/n I love you” he whispered causing your heart to swell gripping his hair tightly.
“I love you too” you cried out as you felt your orgasm coming quickly. “Alex please I'm almost there” Alex then moved his hand to rub circles on your clit causing you to squeeze him tightly making him groan biting softly into the skin of your neck. Soon you felt yourself shaking around him the coil exploding as you let out a long moan, Alex working you through trying to make your orgasm last as long as possible. After a few more thrusts he pulled out releasing over your stomach letting out the hottest noise you had ever heard.
Alex collapsed next to you both of you panting as you stared at the ceiling. You heard Alex walk to the bathroom grabbing a towel to clean you. Once you were clean he came back into bed pulling you close into his arms. You laid your head on his chest gripping him tightly as you felt tears sting your eyes.
“Baby it's okay” he rubbed your back as he looked down seeing tears fall from your eyes.
“Promise me you will be okay” you sat up tears streaming down your face.
“I promise,” he said softly knowing it was a promise he wasn’t quite sure he could keep, but he know that he would do anything to make sure he came home, he needed to come home for her.
-
The drive to the train station was quiet. His father had still been passed out in the couch in no shape to take his son so here you were your mother driving while you and Alex sat in the back seat.. Alex rested a hand on your thigh his eyes remaining on you the whole drive as he tried to remember every feature of your face. When you arrived at the station parking your car you both sat there for a moment gripping each other hand. You felt Alex loosen his grip opening the car door, as you slowly followed behind. Your mother stayed in the car letting you say goodbye on your own. Your hands were clammy as you held his hand both of you walking towards the train station filled with dread.
Once you reached the platform you felt your legs get shaking your head spinning as Alex turned to look at you. You fought the tears that threatened to fall from your eyes. You then jumped into his arms wrapping them around his neck crying into his shoulder taking in every last moment with his hands on you. He wrapped his hands around your lower back tears falling down his face as well as the two of you stood there clinging to each other never wanting to let go.
“I love you” he cooed placing his hand on your cheek using his thumb to wipe the tears from your eyes.
“I love you so much Alex” she choked out placing her lips against his both of them tasting each other's tears.
“Drafted Soldiers the train is leaving in 5 minutes” you heard the announcement. The kiss was passionate and slow, full of love. When you released your forehead was upon his your noses still touching.
“I promise I will come home to you” he whispered before releasing his hands from your face pulling from your body leaving you cold as you watched him walk towards the train as your body fought panic. You felt yourself begin to breathe quickly your chest heaving as tears freely flowed from your face. You gripped your chest as you ran to your mother who was waiting for you outside the car. She opened her arms for you and you broke down in her arms sobbing the both of you falling to the ground.
-
It had been three months since you had seen Alex, and you were a wreck. When you were working at the diner you were in your bed crying or staring out the window praying that the man you loved was okay that he would be home soon. You knew he wouldn't want this for you but all you did was worry. You had finally got a letter from him learning he was in Dunkirk not too far from England. You were glad to hear that he was alive until you became aware of what was happening there. They were trapped, the germans bombing them at random as they tried to evacuate them. You spent nine days in your room listening to the radio hoping for some kind of announcement that they saved the men there. You waited nine days in agony wondering if Alex was alive, and with that, you knew that if he was alive what he was going through was most likely worse than death and it killed you.
On the ninth day, it was announced that they had saved around 300,000 men and that they would be coming home to their families. You wanted to be relieved but you didn’t even know if Alex would be coming home.
The day of the soldier's arrival you found yourself at the station as early as it opened sitting on the bench waiting for the train to arrive. Your mother sat beside you gripping your hand assuring you that Alex would come home. You were terrified. If Alex didn’t get off that train you didn’t know what you would do. You didn’t know how to live without him. You needed him. You stood up pacing around the other families waiting to see if their loved ones were alive. You chewed on your lip as hours passed your feet aching from all the pacing you had been doing when you finally heard the train. When the train finally came to a stop people rushed forwards and you were standing you your tiptoes to see if you could spot his fluffy brown hair.
The soldiers began filing of the car as you heard people shouting and crying. Your heart was racing as you scanned the room trying to find the man you loved when you finally spotted him exiting the train. You felt tears of joy slide down your cheeks your body relaxing as you felt relief after three months of pure agony. You shoved your way through the people your eyes trained on him as you watched him look around the room, looking for you. When you finally made it to him you both froze for a moment a smile overcoming your face before you ran into him jumping into his arms wrapping your legs around his waist. He hugged you tightly nuzzling his head into your neck as you cried in relief. Alex then released you from his grip your legs hitting the ground. Alex looked into your eyes wiping the tears from your face his smile from ear to ear.
“God I missed you so much” he sighed connecting his lips to yours his hands gripping your face. You melted into the kiss wrapping your arms around his neck pulling him as close as possible. You then thread your hands through his messy locks causing him to smile into the kiss. You moved your lips together until you were out of breath going right back into a hug enjoying the warmth as happiness flooded your body.
“Let's go home”
-
-
-
AYOOOOOOO anyways haven’t written in a hot minute but Mr. Harry Styles inspired me
#harry styles#harry styles imagine#harry styles x reader#harry styles smut#harry styles dunkirk#alex dunkirk#alex dunkirk imagine#alex dunkirk x reader#alex dunkirk smut#dunkirk imagine#dunkirk smut#harry styles fluff#harry styles angst#harry styles x you
374 notes
·
View notes
Text
Life As We Know It {Chapter Three}
Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.
Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.
Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both my and Tara’s blogs! >> @tacmc.
Life As We Know It Masterlist
Shelby’s Masterlist
Tara’s Masterlist
Nesta sat across the kitchen table in Azriel and Elain’s kitchen, looking at her sister.
“I mean, I just don’t get it,” Nesta continued, shaking her head. “Me and Cassian… Why didn’t they choose you and Azriel? You’ve been together forever and want a big family.”
“You’re second guessing taking care of Nyx?” Elain asked, with no judgement, just curiosity.
“No, of course not,” Nesta began, sighing. “It’s just… Me and Cassian?”
“They did try to set you two up all those years ago,” Elain said, propping an elbow on the table and dropping her chin in her hand.
Nesta raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. “And how well did that work out?”
Elain rolled her eyes, but sighed. “Feyre was right though,” she said, looking at the letter from Rhys and Feyre, laying face down on the table. Nesta had brought it over for Elain to read, which had just made them both start crying over again. “You have the fiercest heart. Nyx needs you in his life.”
She blinked away the tears lining her eyes again. Silently, she wondered when she’d be able to think about her sister, about Rhys again, without dissolving into tears. She knew it would be a long while.
Finally, she said, “I know he does. I just don’t understand why Cassian has to be involved. That’s not going to be a healthy environment for him to grow up in.”
She could already see it, she and Cassian at each other’s throats. He knew how to get under her skin, loved to do it, did it as often as he could. It would be all Nyx saw as he grew up, his guardians screaming at each other.
“He needs to be somewhere happy and loving and peaceful. Like here, Lainy. He’d flourish here, with you and Az and Seph.”
Elain gave her sister a long, wistful look. Her eyes were soft and misty when she said, “We’re just learning to take care of one, Nes. I can’t… We can’t take on another infant. And, besides, it wasn’t what Feyre and Rhys wanted.”
“They probably wrote that the second they got engaged,” Nesta said, knowing that wasn’t true. “They didn’t know what they wanted.”
Elain glanced at the open letter that sat on the table between them. “I read it. They knew exactly what they wanted for Nyx in case something happened to them, and I think that they were right. Just because you and Cassian can’t see it doesn’t mean that it’s not a good idea.”
“The lawyer will disagree with that,” Nesta muttered, remembering Tarquin’s words from their meeting. I tried to advise them against this. She shivered. “The thought of living with Cassian and playing house has me nauseous. And pissed off. So pissed off that I’m nauseous.”
Elain sighed again. “He really is a-.”
“A good guy,” Nesta interrupted, letting her head fall into her hands. Her fingers tugged in the roots slightly. “I know. You keep telling me that. Feyre always told me that. Everyone keeps telling me that. But the two of us?” She looked up at Elain, letting her see into those eyes that matched Feyre’s perfectly, letting her see the slight panic in them, letting her see everything. “We aren’t compatible. Everything about him, it throws me off.”
A cry from down the hall had both of the women standing, but when Nesta realized it was Nyx, she hurried out of the kitchen. In a flash, she was in the spare room, crossing to the small crib Elain and Az had set up for Feyre and Rhys when they found out they were pregnant.
Nyx’s blue eyes were wide and he let out another tortured wail and Nesta tried to soothe him before he was even in her arms. “It’s okay, bubba,” she cooed, holding him against her chest. He kept crying, though the volume of his screams lessened. Instead they were more akin to what Nesta would have almost called sobs.
“It’s been a long day,” she breathed. “I think we should go home, yeah?”
She gathered his diaper bag from where it laid on the bed and when she entered the living room, Elain was sitting on the couch, reading over the letter again. Quiet tears slid down her cheeks.
“I’m gonna get him home,” Nesta said, softly. She repeated, “It’s… It’s been a long day.”
Nodding, Elain folded the letter back up and wiped at the tears on her face with the back of her hand. “Right.” She held the letter out to Nesta, who took it, careful not to jostle Nyx who had finally quieted down, though Nesta could tell he was still awake.
His little hand was pressed to the side of her neck, and she could feel it moving gently.
“Call me if you need anything,” Elain said, carefully hugging her and pressing a kiss to the top of Nyx’s head. “Az and I will help you move what you need to into the house, so don’t hesitate to ask.”
Nesta could only nod, still unsure of how she was going to do this, how she was going to live her life, while also taking care of the far more precious one in her arms. She silently left, driving home and getting Nyx inside and settled, letting him sit in the Bumbo seat she’d found in the kitchen atop the counter while she cooked dinner.
After putting him down for bed, Nesta found herself sitting on the balcony off of Rhys and Feyre’s old bedroom. She looked out into the small wood that made up their backyard, over the pool and chairs that had been set up for the approaching summer, but her eyes were drawn up to the stars that Velaris was famous for.
“I don’t know how to do this,” she whispered, not sure if she was admitting it to herself or to Rhys and Feyre, listening to her wherever they were. “I’m so scared I’ll do something wrong.”
The sounds of crickets and other manner of nighttime creatures were the only reply she received.
“I know you believed in me, in us, but I don’t. I want to make you both proud but I don’t know if I can do that. I just need something to tell me that I’m not making a huge mistake and-.
She softly gasped as a shooting star went blazing across the sky, a second one following it right after.
Her lip trembled as she nodded up at the night sky, understanding, knowing who had sent those stars. She almost felt like she could feel them there, as if they were telling her that it would be hard, but she could do it.
And she… she didn’t have to do it alone.
*
Cassian wasn’t at Az and Elain’s for thirty seconds before he crossed to the mini-fridge Azriel kept stocked in the garage.
“There’s no way they thought this was a good idea,” he said, pacing around, Azriel silently watching him. “It’s a sick joke, just like all of this is. There’s another letter somewhere that says just kidding, wouldn’t that be funny though?”
He cracked open the beer and drank it all in one go.
“I mean, Rhys and I always messed around and shit, but…this is too far,” he went on, tossing the can in the garbage and reaching for another one.
Azriel crossed his arms as he said, “Too many of those and you may think it’s funny, too.”
Cassian shot him a look as he drank from his can. “This isn’t funny. None of this is funny.”
Azriel took a deep breath before saying, “Did you stop to think that maybe they knew exactly what they were doing?”
Cassian said nothing as he propped himself on a stool and shook his head. Azriel didn’t push him. Eventually, Cassian said, quietly, “I want to help Rhys. I want to be the man that he thought I was. I mean, shit, he left me in charge of his child. And I would die for that child. But, Nesta was right, you know? I have no idea how to take care of a kid, especially one as young as Nyx.”
“You think I did, when Seph came along?” He asked, leaning back against the workbench. Cassian was as comfortable in this garage as he was his own, had created just as many beautiful things here as he had in his own cramped space. But he focused on Azriel’s words, sighed as he listened to his brother.
“I was scared shitless, but that didn’t mean a thing to her, or to Elain,” he went on. “Because they both needed me. They needed me to get my shit together and figure it out, and that’s exactly what I did.”
Cassian didn’t say anything, he just looked down at his feet, at his dirty work boots and silently drank from the can in his hands.
Azriel crossed the garage and pulled out a beer of his own, cracking it open and taking a drink. “So read the books, do the research, go online, do whatever you have to do, but Cassian, listen to me.”
His brother rarely used his full name, so he looked up at him, nor expecting to find the tenderness on his face or the silver lining his eyes.
“If you think for one second that Rhys and Feyre didn’t know what they were doing, you’re wrong. No one loves that little boy as much as you do. Yeah, you’re probably going to fuck up once or twice, but it’s okay.” Azriel placed a hand on his shoulder. “It happens and as long as you learn from it, that’s all that matters.”
Cassian wiped at his eye with the back of his hands. “I’m fucking scared, man.”
“I know you are,” Az replied, his voice dropping, almost gentle. “Not to mention we’re all still hurting. But you and Nesta are going to be fine, Nyx is going to be fine.”
Cassian clamped his eyes shut. He groaned. “It wouldn’t be so bad, I know I can learn to take care of Nyx, but Nesta? They expect me to live with Nesta?”
Azriel actually hesitated. “Yeah, that sucks.”
Cassian, despite himself, laughed quietly. “Yeah.”
“But, believe it or not, I think she’d be good for you,” Azriel said, keeping that quiet tone.
“Now you’re trying to set us up?” Cassian asked, wiping at his eyes and the tears that had nearly fallen.
Azriel shook his head. “No. But, Nesta Archeron gets shit done. And she loves Nyx, too. The two of you together….different parenting styles? Yeah. But, you’d be surprised at how well two opposites balance each other out when it comes to parenting.”
Cassian thought of Azriel and Elain. They were both gentle and kind, but they were pretty opposite, too.
“And if it’s a complete failure?” Cassian asked.
Azriel sighed as he watched Cassian. At last, he said, “It won’t be.”
Cassian wanted to believe him, wanting to feel confident in the words Azriel said, but even his third beer hadn’t lifted his confidence.
He let his head fall back, staring up at the ceiling, at the garage door that was raised to allow the cool, night breeze in. “I have to live with Nesta Archeron. The Mother thinks she’s funny. The Cauldron is laughing at me. Fate is rubbing its hands together and laughing maniacally.”
“No,” Az chuckled. “I think that might be Rhys.”
Cassian snorted, but the door to the house opened and Elain stuck her head out. She smiled softly at Cassian, who raised his drink in greeting. “I thought I heard you out here. You gonna stay for dinner?”
His alternative was grabbing something from a drive through or searching through his fridge for something that wasn’t completely freezer burned, so he smiled and said, “Sure, Lainy. Thanks.”
She beamed at them both and the door clicked shut behind her as she turned to go back to the kitchen. Cassian looked over at Azriel to find him still smiling like a fool at the door.
He sighed quietly as he realized he would probably never have that, would never have someone he could stare after and gaze at as fondly as Azriel did Elain. Not if he was to spend his life shackled to someone who wanted absolutely nothing to do with him.
As soon as he thought the words, he chastised himself, stepping out into the driveway. She was just as miserable about the whole ordeal as he was. But for Nyx, they could try and make it work. They would make it work. They would do what they had to.
He sighed, gazing up into the night sky.
Shaking his head, he wondered if there was some sort of afterlife. If there was, he wondered if Rhysand and Feyre were somewhere in the sky, looking down at him, trying to encourage him, trying to get a message to him during this horrible, hectic, anxiety-ridden unknown time.
He hoped they were.
He could use it.
That encouragement.
That love.
Cassian began raising his can to his lips, but then he froze.
A shooting star shot across the night sky.
Then another.
Cassian’s hand fell back to his side as he stared at the bright Velaris starlight, completely in awe.
They were watching, they were there with him. They were there with all of them.
Of course they were.
Cassian swore under his breath as he fully gave into the ridiculous notion of moving in with Nesta, of co-parenting with the most frustrating, stubborn woman in Prythian.
But for Nyx, he would.
For Rhysand, for Feyre, he would.
#life as we know it#snacmc lawki#nessian#nessian contest#nesta archeron#cassian#snelbz tacmc collab#acotar#acomaf#acowar#acofas#acosf
239 notes
·
View notes
Note
"truth is that i'm so damn in love with you that i don't know what to do with myself" - for lucien please!!
I'm so sorry I've fallen behind on prompts! I will be answering them all with a vengeance this upcoming week. Also, I hope you wanted smut.
This is NSFW, 18+, you know the editing vibes (non-existent).
--
Friends. That’s what Elain had said almost a year ago when he approached her. I don’t want a mate…but I could use a friend. Lucien had jumped at the chance to spend time with her. After all, something was better than nothing, right?
Wrong, he realized practically a month later. Even without the mating bond, Lucien thought he would have been utterly obsessed with her. Who knew how lively Elain could be? Or funny? Smart, and sharp and witty…she was everything he could have hoped for and much, much more. Friends. The word tasted sharp and metallic in his mouth, like blood pouring down his throat, threatening to drown him. He wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her. I don’t want to be your friend! He thought even as he smiled and escorted her from this court or that. He had made her a promise, and Lucien thought it was better to have her however he could get her than to not have her at all. Still, sometimes when she looked at him with those soft, brown eyes, the edges creased with fondness, he could pretend she loved him too.
Because Lucien was in love with Elain. Stupidly, head over heels in love with the female in a way that both terrified andthrilled him. She was all he thought about, all he dreamt of. Her smile made his bones ache and her laugh threatened to consume him with burning, passionate fire. They were back in Velaris, their time together officially complete. Rhysand had nothing for the pair of them and so Elain was unpacking as she chattered animatedly with her sisters and Lucien lay down the hall, face down into a pillow. Tomorrow he’d continue on his own, leaving her behind and why shouldn’t he? They were friends. Friends didn’t need to spend every waking moment together.
He didn’t move even when Feyre knocked for dinner. He heard the door open a second time when the sun went down and smelled Elain even before he saw her.
“Tired?” She asked softly, sitting on the edge of the bed.
Waiting for death to take me, he thought as he turned his head to face her. “A little.”
She brushed his hair out of his face with her fingers and Lucien tried to pretend the gesture had no effect on him.
“Tomorrow is going to be strange,” she murmured, her eyes meeting his. “You leaving…me staying. Who will make my tea in the morning?”
Lucien’s insides shriveled to dust. “I’m sure you could ask one of the servants.”
She nodded, her eyes becoming glassy with thought. “Yeah…it won’t be the same, thought.”
Lucien could agree with that. Come with me! His mind screamed. Instead, he closed his eyes as she continued to stroke little pieces of hair off his face, the pads of her fingertips zapping electricity through his veins.
“Will you come to dinner with me, at least?” She asked gently. Lucien would rather eat his own hand than pretend everything was fine.
“I’m not hungry,” he told her petulantly. She withdrew her hand, biting her bottom lip.
“I knew it. You’re angry with me.”
Lucien pushed himself off his chest to sit on the bed. “What?” He asked dumbly.
“You’re angry. Why?” She asked, her chin trembling.
“I’m not angry,” he assured her, standing quickly. She looked up him with defiance.
“Then come to dinner with me.”
“No,” he replied, fear bubbling in his blood.
“Because you’re mad—”
“Fuck, Elain! The truth is I’m so damn in love with you that I don’t know what to do with myself!” He all but shouted, fisting his hands at his sides. Her mouth fell open, but Lucien couldn’t stop not that he’d started. “You want a friend and I want to be that for you, but I don’t wantto go downstairs and pretend I’m not gonna miss every single inch of you when I leave. We can go back to friendship in the morning but right now, I want to be alone.”
Her eyes were glassy again, her cheeks burning red, and he wondered if he’d taken things too far. He took a hesitant half-step towards her. “Elain, I’m—”
“Finally,” She breathed before launching herself into his arms, her mouth covering his before he could finish his apology. Lucien clutched her against his chest, groaning into her mouth with both suppressed need and his exuberance. Kissing, kissing, mate is kissing—
His mate was also quickly unbuttoning his pants, he thought, his tongue sweeping into her mouth.
“Took you forever,” she gasped against his lips, letting him pick her up, his hands bracing her ass like seat. “Started to think—ah, Lucien—you didn’t like me at all.”
He nipped down her neck, her legs wrapped around his waist, dress bunched up to expose her underwear to his aching, now freed cock. The position was awkward; his pants tangled around his legs, his shirt covered his chest and yet Lucien could not be bothered to fix any of it. Now,the mating instinct screamed. Have her now.
Elain pulled the scrap of fabric between him and her to the side and Lucien slid in, hissing at the slickness already pooling between her thighs.
“How long?” He demanded, pressing her back against a wall. Elain squeezed her thighs around his body.
“Forever,” she replied, her eyes closed. “Since Winter at least.”
God, he thought, his eyes rolling in his head. That had been nearly seven months ago. He’d loved her just as long. The knowledge that he could have had her as he was taking her then, up against a wall because he couldn’t stand being parted for the few seconds it would take him to walk back to the bed, was enough to drive him to madness. Lucien thrusted into her as Elain clawed at his hair, tangling her fingers in what was left of his ponytail.
“Should have told me,” Lucien grunted before kissing her with all the pent up, scorched heat he felt. Elain gave him as good as he got, her tongue already in his mouth establishing her dominance. She could have him however she liked.
“Didn’t want to mess everything up,” she gasped, her breath sweet against his face. Lucien’s arms ached from holding her and his cock throbbed, unable to fully bury himself within her.
Lucien snarled even as he pulled out, tossing her to the bed as he kicked himself out of his pants. Elain was fumbling with the buttons of her dress, as though he cared about that. Lucien spread her legs as wide as he could, growling softly with approval at the gleaming wet he found looking back between bright pink lips.
She began to pull the dress up over her head, her hips shimmying as though she meant to escape him. It felt like running and Lucien couldn’t help the way he reached for her, dragging her pussy to his face and burying himself in it before she got away. Mine, you are mine—
Elain squealed, still trying to free herself from the fabric. Lucien had no inclination to help, licking her with desperation. She tasted good,better than he’d imagined, somehow musky and sweet.
“Lucien,” she gasped when his tongue swiped over her clit. She ground against his face like she knew what she was doing, drawing her knees up and pinning him in place. She reached for his hair and pushed, demanding he stay where he was. Lucien’s hips bucked involuntarily, rubbing against the soft fabric of the bed to alleviate some of his arousal.
“Lucien,” she gasped again, her thighs quivering. He withdrew his mouth with a smirk and lifted her legs in the air, holding them against his chest. He rubbed the crown of his cock against her dripping cunt before pulling off his tunic and shirt.
“Close?” He asked, arching a brow. She whined, trying to pull him in. Lucien took himself in his hand and rubbed deliberately, using her own slickness and the head of his penis to rub slow circles around her quivering, swollen clit. She arched her back with trembling breath.
“Yes,” she gasped and Gods how he wanted to watch her fall apart like this.
“Do you want to come?” He asked. She nodded her head, biting her bottom lip. Up, up, up, she keened only for Lucien to withdraw his cock and sheathe himself inside her. He replaced the tip against her clit with his thumb, fucking and he rubbed. She was breathy, eyes open and locked on his face and so damn loud.
There was no mistaking what was happening in his room. He was sure the whole house could hear them, not that Elain seemed to care. Close, he could tell she was close giving how she was rhythmically clenching around him and how she panted through her pretty red lips.
“Lucien,” she whispered, a warning. He wanted it, wanted to knowwhat she felt like when she was lost to ecstasy. He pumped, her wet heat killing him with each stroke. Nothing had ever felt half as good in his life and he didn’t believe anything ever would, again.
She came with a scream, her cunt sucking him deeper, leaving him no breathing room, just his cock and the walls of her pussy he felt stretched over him. She yanked on his arms, pulling him down to kiss her as he continued to thrust, overwhelmed with the sensations. So much was happening; he could still taste her on his mouth, could feel nothing but how incredible it was to be inside her and yet the kissing only heightened that.
He was building, too. His muscles tightened and Lucien let himself go. She swallowed his cry as he pushed as far as he could go, trying to become two souls that shared the same flesh. She dug her nails into his ass, holding him there.
Lucien collapsed carefully, withdrawing himself so he wouldn’t crush her. “Fuck.”
She giggled, nuzzling her head into his chest as he yanked blankets up over their bodies. “That was nice.”
“I love you too, you know,” she whispered, kissing his shoulder.
Lucien smiled.
#elucien fic#elucien one shot#elucien#elain x lucien#lucien x elain#i just know a scene like this is coming in the elucien book#this will one day be canon and you will all regard me as a prophet
97 notes
·
View notes
Text
Labor Day Bonus Update: The Raven and the Songbird
Nothing like a holiday giving me an excuse to post the next chapter early. It's one of my absolute favorites.
Read on AO3
Chapter 5
Gwyn yawned, her entire form stretching and tightening. She knew it wouldn’t go unnoticed by Nesta and Emerie, but she just smiled serenely. She had needed this – time to talk and laugh and enjoy good food with her two closest friends in the world. The fae lights were dim, casting the private library in dusky shadow. Book spines were barely visible on the shelves, but she was content to sit and enjoy the conversation. She sighed before turning her focus to her Valkyrie sisters sitting on the floor, finding Nesta with a skeptical eyebrow raised.
“What?”
The eldest Archeron patted her hand on a tufted woolen floor pillow, green like a spring meadow. “Sit, Gwyneth. We need to talk.” Unease coiled in her stomach, but she slid down from the couch, clutching another throw pillow to her chest.
“What do we need to talk about?” Gwyn’s voice was tinier than she’d intended, and she knew the question was ridiculous as soon as she asked it.
“You’re tired. You’re sad. Nesta knocked you on your ass today,” Emerie answered, concern glowing in her dark gaze.
“That doesn’t mean something is wrong with me,” Gwyn giggled, but she knew her mirth was unconvincing. “You both are skilled fighters. Maybe Nesta has just gotten better than me.”
“I haven’t and you know it.”
Gwyn turned her attention to a very interesting tassel on the pillow she held. She could feel the pressure stinging her eyes and tried so hard to push down the tears that had so quickly threatened. She felt gentle fingers at her chin, pulling her gaze until she met Nesta’s gray stare.
“Gwyn. Talk to us. You are our sister. We love you. We’re worried about you.”
Her sisters. The knowledge that she had Nesta and Emerie had kept her going these past weeks, kept her stubborn heart and eyes from giving up. And now it was that care and comfort that unraveled her. She felt the hot trickle down her cheeks as Nesta’s calloused fingers brushed tendrils of hair away from her face. But she couldn’t say the words. She wasn’t one of those females that needed a male to be happy and thrive. She was a powerful warrior, strong and skilled.
“Is it Azriel, Gwyn?” The voice came from her other side, along with a feather-light brush of fingertips down her back. Emerie. Gwyn blinked and took three steadying breaths, allowing the patience and care from her sisters wash over her. It took a few moments before she felt she could form the words she needed.
“He started avoiding me, after the necklace,” her face cooled when Nesta removed her hands and reached down to grasp one of her own. “I let it go on for a few days, but I missed him. We were friends, and he… he helped me when I couldn’t sleep. Sometimes we would talk, most times we would train. After we found out about the necklace he stopped coming out to the ring at night. He would come to the door, and when he saw I was there he would leave. So I cornered him one day after training. It was all so stupid and I just wanted things to go back to normal.”
“What did you say to him?” Emerie asked, her voice soft as velvet.
“I told him that the necklace was a stupid thing to do, but we all do stupid things. I said that Elain and I had both deserved better, but I knew he would be better. I told him that I missed him, that all was forgiven, and then I asked if things could go back to normal.” Gwyn looked back up to Nesta, then turned to Emerie. “He said we were friends, and that everything would go back to normal.” She took a shuddering breath, earning a squeeze on her hand.
“And then he just… disappeared.”
She felt the burning return to her eyes and her throat, recalling that night in the rain when she had desperately wished he would come to her.
“That’s when you started zoning out at training. And punching the post until you were bruised and bleeding,” the Illyrian female realized.
“I knew it was bad when Cassian made you stop,” Nesta mused.
“Twice,” Gwyn confirmed, tears welling again. “I trained hard during the day, harder at night. The effort and pain helped distract me from the loss of his friendship… and from the nightmares.” She stared down at their interlace hands, noting how the low light made Nesta’s and Emerie’s skin contrast so deeply to hers and letting the tears fall in earnest.
“I thought they were better, Gwyn.” The worry lacing Nesta’s voice was thick, and suddenly the priestess felt guilty for keeping it from her… from them. She couldn’t look at them, but clutched their hands.
“They were, but now… it’s been really bad these last few days.” Gwyn sniffled and pulled her hands away from the comfort of her chosen family, opting instead to clutch the tasseled pillow to her chest again. She needed that grip, as if it were the only thing that could hold her together. “Almost a week ago I was in the training ring at night. It had been a difficult day, my hands were throbbing, Merrill was being… well, Merrill. It was raining when I walked out the door, but I needed time and space so I went out and sat in the middle and just let the rain wash everything away. Azriel came to the doorway, the first time since I’d cornered him that day. And… he barely spoke to me. I even said I’d had nightmares almost every day. And… and he told me I should go inside and then he just left.”
Gwyn tucked her knees up to the pillow against her chest and covered her face with her hands. Her body shook, much like it had that night when he’d left her – when something had shifted. Her throat felt so tight around her words. “It’s like something broke then. I stopped going to the training ring, and started working extra to distract myself. And the nightmares,“ she sobbed. She wasn’t ready to admit the terror of her changing dreams, but she was also desperate to tell someone how she had been suffering. “I have the same one every night – of that day at Sangravah. But… but when the general is done, when he tells the other males to continue taking from me…” Her breath sawed in and out of her and she could feel herself tremble. She could barely make her voice work as she uttered the terrible turn that her dreams had taken.
“He doesn’t come for me,” she whispered. The air was so still that she could feel Nesta’s sharp gasp stealing it from the space. “That moment when Azriel slaughtered them – when he saved me – no longer exists. And I have to face the terror of knowing what is coming. The fear and the pain and the horror and the desperation… it all feels just as real as it did that day.”
A pair of strong arms crushed her, and then a second embrace. Gwyn let go of the pain and the fear of those nights alone, afraid of sleep and unable to seek comfort from the only person who had helped keep those dreams at bay. Fingers combed through her hair, stroked up and down her back, soothing her as she cried.
That was all there was, for how long she didn’t know. She just knew heat in her cheeks, trembling, comforting hands at her shoulders, on her back, and in her hair. Then fingers gripped her wrists to pull her hands away from her face. She was sure her skin was red and splotchy, but she looked up to find Nesta’s own watery gaze.
“Gwyn, we will always come for you. All of us, including Azriel. You know that, right?”
“Of course I do,” the priestess answered with a nod.
“Good. As for the rest of this,” Nesta wiped her eyes and donned an expression not so unlike the days when she was brimming with the power of death. “Azriel is a fucking idiot.” Emerie burst out laughing, causing Gwyn to join with a chuckle of her own.
“I’m so glad I don’t prefer males.” The winged Valkyrie’s eyes glittered with mirth and concern, earning a nose-crinkling smile. Nesta pulled Gwyn’s attention back, pushing her jaw with a finger.
“Azriel is an idiot, but he cares for you. I’m certain of that. I haven’t known him too terribly long, but Cassian has. He’s different with you.”
“Maybe that isn’t a good thing.” Gwyn shrugged. She had thought so, too. But now he seemed to treat her with the same brooding aloofness that he reserved for practical strangers.
“No, I don’t think you understand,” Nesta insisted, reaching up to brush the wetness away from her cheeks. “Cassian and I have had this conversation more times than I can even count. ‘Berdara made Az laugh today’. ‘He couldn’t stop grinning today’. ‘I’ve never heard him banter like that’.”
“Why do you have so many conversations about that?” Gwyn couldn’t help but laugh at the strangeness of that thought, that Nesta and the general would be so invested in her interactions with the spymaster.
“That’s not even the point, Gwyneth,” Nesta huffed. Gwyn stuck her tongue out, still feeling Emerie’s hands softly at her back. “I’m going to kick Azriel’s ass back into line, but…” The priestess could see that Nesta was trying to choose her words, lips pursing and eyes staring above her. Then those icy eyes came back, full of determination.
“Do you care for him, Gwyn? Or, I suppose, how do you care for him?”
She just stared into Nesta’s eyes for a long moment, trying to find the right things to say. How to express what was churning in her heart. “Of course I care for him. He has become a dear friend.” Her friend’s gaze didn’t falter, daring her to say what she hadn’t admitted to anyone, not even to herself.
“And?”
Gwyn jerked her head, surprised that Emerie also seemed to know that there was more. The Illyrian’s countenance held that same caring determination, waiting with barely concealed expectation. Gwyn could only sigh.
“I… I don’t know. I trust him. Implicitly. He’s the only male I’ve never feared. And he’s beautiful, of course.”
“Yes, he certainly is,” Nesta sighed wistfully. Gwyn giggled and swatted her friend playfully on the shoulder.
“I feel… drawn to him, like we understand each other’s darkness. I should be terrified of him, theoretically, but I can’t be. And if… I don’t know what romance is supposed to be, what a relationship looks like. But I think, if he wanted to try, I would say yes. Without hesitation. Even after what happened at Sangravah,” she admitted. “But first and foremost… I just want his friendship. If that’s the only thing I can have then I’ll be happy.” And that was the truth. She would have him in her life, in whatever capacity. His absence was far too difficult to bear.
An enormous yawn pushed out of her lungs and she clapped her hands over her mouth, eyes wide. Nesta and Emerie laughed, Nesta pushing herself to her feet before offering her hands to Gwyn.
“You need to sleep. Hopefully tonight will be more restful,” she said as she pulled Gwyn to her feet and swiftly gathered her into a hug. She felt Emerie at her back, enveloping her as well. Gwyn could only smile and release a contented sigh, reveling in the love of her chosen sisters. She felt lighter, relieved to have shared the struggles she’d been facing. But then she yawned again, the exhaustion in her bones suddenly the only thing she could feel. Her eyelids drooped and she felt herself losing her battle with sleep even as she stood there, still wrapped in that Valkyrie embrace. As her body became heavy, yet weightless, she couldn’t comprehend the words she heard.
“Ready to crash boys night, Em? I might actually kill him.”
~~~
Azriel, Cassian, and Rhys lounged in the study, each nursing crystal glasses with varying amounts of amber liquid. Azriel studied the cut angles in his glass, the firelight reflecting kaleidoscopes of brightness off the liquor. He’d already had more to drink than usual, not typically one to lose his wits from alcohol. But tonight he had partaken in a bit extra, perhaps in the vain hope that the libations would settle his mind. The roaring thoughts still stormed through him from earlier in the day – guilt, stubbornness, anger, shame.
Of course, the alcohol staunched none of it.
“You seem particularly broody tonight, Az.” Cassian’s amused voice broke through that cyclone and Azriel fixed him with a narrow-eyed glare. His brother just smirked victoriously at him, knowing the truth in his observation. “Wouldn’t have anything to do with that sleepover at the house, would it?”
“Sleepover at the house?” Rhys turned his starlit gaze toward the shadowsinger, but Azriel didn’t have any intention of answering. Cassian, however, so enjoyed irritating him.
“A certain redhead priestess has been acting strangely and Nesta is determined to figure it out,” he drawled, pointed amber gaze fixed on the spymaster. “I think it has something to do with our tall, dark, and brooding brother here.”
“Gwyneth Berdara?” Azriel flicked his eyes toward the High Lord whose brows were arched in surprise. “Why would that have anything to do with you?”
“I’m pretty sure,” Azriel groaned when Cassian began to answer, sinking deeper into the velvet tufts of the oversized armchair, “that the two of them want to be friendlier than friends.”
“Gwyn and I have a professional, platonic relationship. Nothing more,” Azriel growled. He wasn’t in any sort of headspace to deal with Cassian’s ribbing, or to explain it away to Rhys. He looked up to find the Illyrian general had set down his glass and was leaning back casually, crossing his arms.
“Is that so?” Azriel wanted to slap that smug grin off his face. “Is that why you can never keep your eyes off her at training? Is that what’s happening when you grin at her when she gives your shit right back to you? When she makes you throw your head back and laugh?” He could feel the heat rising up his neck and into his cheeks.
“Laugh? Out loud?” The High Lord balked and Azriel rolled his eyes.
“I laugh, thank you very much.”
“Not like that, you don’t,” Cassian countered. Azriel just shook his head as his brother turned to Rhys. “You should see it, Rhys. I never thought I’d see the day – “
“WHERE IS HE?!” A female voice echoed from down the hall.
“Nesta?” Rhys wondered aloud.
“Where is that idiotic overgrown bat? I swear on the Cauldron I’m going to kill him.”
“Yup, that’s Nesta,” Cassian confirmed with a groan. “What the fuck did I do now? I wasn’t even at the house –“
The study doors burst open as Nesta pushed through, gray eyes shimmering with rage. Azriel leaned forward as her gaze fell on him.
“YOU.”
“Me?”
“Him?” Cassian gawked, but then grinned wickedly. “Oh, this is a nice change. I could get used to this.”
“Keep your mouth shut or you’re next,” Nesta snapped as she strode in front of Azriel’s chair. “Azriel, would you care to tell me why I just spent an hour comforting one Gwyneth Berdara while she sobbed in my arms? Any ideas?” His eyes grew wide and his face went slack, unable to comprehend exactly what was happening.
“Nothing to contribute, Shadowsinger? How fucking convenient. Maybe you could tell me why you avoided her even after you told her that things would go back to normal and that you were friends? Or perhaps you could explain why you left her alone in the rain the one time you did actually talk to her, even after she told you her nightmares were bad again?”
“I –“ He didn’t get a chance. Nesta stepped closer.
“Not done, Az. Not even close. Maybe you have an explanation for her working herself into exhaustion at the library to avoid time alone? Or the reason she doesn’t go to the training ring at night anymore?” Azriel just stared, dumbfounded at what she was saying. He pressed himself back into the chair as the honey-haired female placed her hands on the armrests and leaned in so far they breathed the same air.
“Tell me, Azriel,” she whispered, voice thick with emotion and ice, “why every night for the last week she has dreamed of Sangravah. And in that nightmare when that general is finished hurting her, she has to feel the soul-crushing terror of watching the next soldier take his place because you don’t come to save her.” And Nesta pulled a hand back and slapped him.
Azriel knew his eyes were wide as saucers as the breath punched out of him. He barely registered the tingle of pain in his cheek, absorbing what she had told him. Gwyn’s nightmares. Every night. And they had twisted into something even more horrifying.
How could any part of her think that he wouldn’t come for her?
He looked back to Nesta who had backed away. Cassian had risen to comfort her, brushing tears away from her cheeks and murmuring into her ear. Azriel got to his feet and took a measured step toward them.
“Nesta, I –“
“You care for her, don’t you?”
Azriel knew they could see the wetness in his eyes, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He had been wrong to leave her, wrong about so many things. And he was done denying.
“Of course I do, Nesta. More than I think I can explain right now.”
“Then fix this.” Her voice was colder than his could ever be, a warning that he wouldn’t like what would happen if he didn’t make it right. But he had every intention to.
He was miserable without her.
Azriel gave Nesta a curt nod, turned on his heel, and stalked out of the study. He kept his surprise masked as he passed Emerie, who was leaning in the doorway, also wearing that expression – promising violence for hurting one of their own. He nodded to her, too, acknowledging his part in all of this. Then he practically ran down the hall and through the entrance of the river house, only taking three steps in the night air before taking to the sky.
Straight to the House of Wind.
Comment or DM to be added to the tag list!
Tag List: @tealnymph-writes @trashforazriel @secretlovelybeauty @meher-sumedha @imsointobooks @flora-shadowshine @positivewitch @tanvee1231 @imwritingthesewords @camreadsum @vikingmagic33 @shisingh @gwynrielsupremacist @deedz-thrillerkilller16
#gwynriel supremacy#gwynriel#gwynriel fanfiction#gwynriel fic#fanfiction#AO3#gwyneth berdara#azriel shadowsinger#gwyn x azriel#acotar fanfiction
67 notes
·
View notes
Text
Have you lost your mind?
summary: Azriel gets lectured by Rhysand and Cassian about his constant flirting with Elain, not knowing that she was hiding in the closet.
authors note: hello! This is my second one-shot (I might make this into a small series) This was inspired by a certain scene in The Office ;) and I’d like to thank @shedoessoshedoes for listening to my random ideas and giving me feedback and making this so much better!
Warning: English isn’t my first language.
Azriel didn’t like change.
He really didn’t. But something had changed about his mornings. He used to love to wake up to the smell of black coffee, but that had changed since he met her. His new favourite thing was waking up to find Elain tucked in between his shoulder and his chest, sound asleep.
He would never get bored of watching her sleep, he looked down at a sleeping Elain. He didn’t want to move and accidentally wake her up, even though he missed her big brown eyes looking up at him.
“What are you doing?” She asked, pulling Azriel out of his trance. She pushed herself up, sitting up against the headboard. She pushed her long honey-brown locks away from her face and threw it in a ponytail.
“Enjoying the scenery,” He simply responded before he sat up, leaning against the headboard.
Elain dipped her head, she was blushing a thousand shades of red. He hooked his index finger below her chin and gently tilted her head up, to look at him. He smiled, a loopy one nonetheless, and began to smother her face with light and tender kisses. “Az!” She squealed, squirming as he pulled Elain under him.
“I gotta show some love somehow, don’t I?” He murmured as he began to press kisses along her jaw and down her neck.
She giggled, a bright smile on her face. She found herself growing excited as his grip on her hips began to tighten as she began to tug off the shirt she was wearing which she had snagged from his closet. Before they went any further, a loud bang broke the silence that had occupied the house. He recognized the footsteps that marched up the stairs, it was Cass and Rhys, who had gotten married to Elain’s sisters recently and were Azriel’s college mates in Velaris University.
The fuck? What are they doing here?
Azriel kissed Elain’s cheek before he pulled his shirt over her shoulders and rolled off of her, hopping out of the bed with Elain close behind him. She realized it was her brothers in law when she saw Azriel’s eyes widen, she quickly pushed herself into his closet, hiding in between his hoodies before her brothers-in-law walked into Azriel’s room.
Two weeks ago, after Nesta and Cassian’s rehearsal dinner, Azriel confessed his feelings to Elain. God, it terrified him when he admitted his feelings to his best friend. He didn’t want to ruin what they had. They met in University, before Elain opened her flower shop, and had became very close friends.
What if she didn’t reciprocate his feelings? He worried, every rational fear flew through the window the minute Elain went on her tippy toes and kissed him.
Ever since that night, they have been together, in secret. Suspicions began to arise when Azriel and Elain to quietly flirt between themselves and began to sit next to each other every time the family went out. Small touches here and there, a hand on the small of her back, an arm around her shoulder.
One time when everyone went out for dinner, he slipped his hand under the table trying to tease her, but his hand landed on Amren’s thigh.
He didn’t know if he was going to make it alive tonight when Amren’s piercing gaze fell on Azriel’s face. One brow raised at him and he quickly retracted his hand in fear in fear while a small laugh erupted from across the table from Elain. They were a bit tipsy, but the mother, Azriel could've gotten drunk on the sound of Elain’s laugh.
He didn’t forget what she had done. He raised his brows, in challenge and nodded. Oh she was to pay for this, he would make sure of it.
Nesta Archeron was always the mama bear while Elain was the cub but it was Feyre who noticed the occasional hand around her waist, the sly smiles and winks that were thrown across the table. She talked to her husband, Rhysand, and told him of her suspicions, which led them to this moment.
Azriel shut the closet door, making sure Elain wasn’t visible and then quickly sat back on his bed before Rhysand and Cassian welcomed themselves into his room. “She is like my little sister!” Rhysand exclaimed as he glared at Azriel. “I don’t want to see you sniffing around her anymore. Boy, have you lost your mind? Cause I’ll help you find it.”
Azriel's gaze shifted to the closet, where the said sister, Elain, was hiding.
“What are you looking at? I’m not going to hold Nesta back when you cuts you to pieces, The Mother could come through that door and she’s not going to help you if you keep flirting with Elain!” Cassian exclaimed.
“Can I know what I did to earn a lovely lecture at-” He looked at the alarm that sat on his bedside table. “At nine in the morning?”
“Feyre talked to me and said that she thinks that something is going on between you and El.” Rhysand explained, his violet eyes glaring at him as his arms crossed across his chest.
“And if something was going on between us?”
“Then good luck, because Nesta will kill you in your sleep.” Cassian shrugged. “Nes and Feyre love Elain, and they will happily kill you if you dare break her heart. And Mother! I would help them do it!”
“God, I would never break her heart. I love her.” Azriel declared.
The two men stood in shock and a small gasp was heard from the closet. Rhysand’s brows flew to his hairline when he heard the gasp, he made his way across the room and opened the closet door to find Elain standing there.
Only in his shirt.
“The fuck?” Cassian exclaimed as he took in Elain.
Azriel clenched his jaw, not because their secret was now out, more like he didn’t like the way their relationship was exposed.
“You love me?” Elain whispered as she climbed out of his closet and towards him.
Azriel just nodded, he loved her. And Mother did he hope she loved him back. “I love you Elain, you have bewitched me body and soul, I love you.” He let out a shaky breath.
“Did he just quote pride and prejudice?” Rhysand whispered to Cassian, who nodded.
Elain ran to Azriel, who pressed a kiss on his lips. “I love you too,” She smiled as a happy tear escaped her. “I love you, and I’m never gonna stop.” She mumbled.
Azriel wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed a kiss. It wasn’t a tender kiss, it was the type of kiss where she felt devoured.
“That’s our cue to leave.” Cassian mumbled as he grabbed Rhysand’s wrist and dragged him out.
She let out a big laugh when they left. Azriel flashed Elain with a smile only she would have the privilege to see. Her heart melted as she looked at him and his big grin that rarely graced his face.
“I love you, Az.” She hugged him.
“Say it again.”
“I love you, Azriel Knight.”
——————————————————————————
authors note: I’m a big office fan, if you can’t tell already ;) hope you enjoyed reading this, and don’t forget to share, like, and give feedback!
#elain x azriel#pro elain#elriel#fanfic#modern au#cassian x nesta#Azriel#rhysand#acotar#my fic#acotar fanfic#elriel fanfic
61 notes
·
View notes
Text
Save A Founder, a Three Adventurers fanfic
Based on The Three Adventures and the Founder Threepwood AU, a what-if scenario if Link went to save Guybrush...
Can be read here on AO3
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He snuck into the mansion in the dead of night after recognizing the monkey sigil on the outside. It took him some time as he found himself running around the massive buildings, avoiding any colonists or guards and getting confused where he was, but eventually he found what he was looking for. Admittedly, in comparison to the other mansions, it was not nearly as massive, but it was still large. He surveyed the building, trying to find an opening (since he figured going through the front door of the bullet-ridden and slightly burnt and collapsing building was going to warrant him a bullet or an arrow between his eyes) when he found a weak spot in the form of a window loosely open. Looking around to be sure no one was watching, Link grabbed the ledge and swiftly leaped inside the building, ducking from sight and counting to ten before moving forward.
The interior was fine, sans the broken vases, glass and discarded blades, but Link’s hands kept twitching, kept itching for the hilt of the sword as he tried listening carefully to his surroundings. He made it this far without being spotted and frankly had zero intent on being caught now.
Quietly moving, Link made his way to what he could only hope was Guybrush’s office based mainly on the papers strewn about the room. One paper in particular, one that did not look to have been cast aside, laid still at the desk. Curiosity got the best of him as the Hylian stepped closer, picking up the parchment with a letter of a meeting, signed with a sigil of an arm and a cutlass. He skimmed through it once, twice, three times before he heard a click from behind.
“You have five seconds to step away before I put a bullet in you.” An angry and tired British voice threatened.
Recognizing who it was, Link dropped the parchment and raised his arms up, showing no ill will. “Elaine?” He tried to turn his head but felt the nuzzle of the gun pressed up against the back of his head.
“Don’t move.” She hissed.
Link nodded, not wanting to press his luck exactly. “If you need me to prove it’s myself, I’ll be more than happy to oblige.”
A pause of silence lingered in the room “Right… turn around. Slowly.”
Once more, he nodded and turned around, his arms still up. He had to refrain from gasping as it had been far too long since he last saw her. The exhaustion in the form of bags under her eyes were obvious as that familiar light was gone, streaks of grey littered her red hair that was pulled in a loose bun. But more than anything, the one thing that grabbed Link’s attention was the anger that replaced the kindness he was so familiar with. But for a brief moment, for a sliver of a second, it came back as she barely lowered her gun.
“Link…?”
“Hi.” He gave a sheepish wave.
“What…” she clicked the safety back into place and stepped back, looking to be debating if this was real or not, “what in the seven hells are you doing here? More… more importantly, how are you here?”
“I followed some clues after thinking like a pirate and found this place. Was a fun challenge though.” Link tried to joke, to make light, but when he saw she wasn’t budging just cleared his throat. “Um, can I lower my arms now?”
She permitted with a nod, pocketing her weapon.
Doing as such, Link continued. “The truth is, I was looking for you all. Graham and I got worried when we hadn’t heard back from Guybrush and I decided to go find the man myself. Asked around and heard about a supposed Paradise, which then had me going across the globe as I followed the clues and, well, here I am.”
Elaine stared at him. “You came to rescue him?”
“Well, more like finding so I can yell at–” Link froze. “Wait. Rescue? Where’s Van Winslow? What’s going on?”
“I was on my way to rescue Guybrush… Winslow is on the ship ready to sail out.” Her eyes lowered, looking at the parchment on the floor with the arm and cutlass insignia. “We don’t have much time… but if you’re here to help, then I think we have a chance at saving him. Here’s what happened…”
—-
He hid in the foliage as the guards walked by, his fingers twitching ready to reach for the hilt of his blade should they look his way. Instead, he slowly exhaled, relieved that they marched on by, unaware of his presence as they continued to talk about a topic he was clearly unaware of, and made his way towards the largest mansion sitting at the top of the hill.
Link went over his loose idea of a plan in his head once more, trying to make sure he got what he wanted to do down pat that his body didn’t need to do more than to go off muscle memory: Get in, get Guybrush, get out. Simple, clean, and hopefully effective. This was the best case scenario of a plan should the room be empty and with no guards, because it would mean it would be a quiet and easy escape and if he was even more lucky, caught the pirate before anything more severe were to happen.
In the worst case…
He shivered. He didn’t want to think of the worst case scenario. If spotting that letter at Guybrush’s mansion, if anything Elaine told him and overhearing those guards in the kitchen were any indication, these poor Founders were about to meet an untimely demise. And one of them, to Link’s horror, was Guybrush.
No, he couldn’t let that happen. He refused to let that happen. The Hylian made two promises before he set off on his solo adventure. One was to find and rescue the missing prince, Alexander. The other was to bring back his friend. And while the former was proving to be more challenging than he initially thought (there were barely any clues or sightings of the young prince), finding Guybrush proved to be shockingly easier. And who knows, if he was extremely lucky, perhaps Alexander was on this island as well… but deep down he knew it was too much of a longshot, otherwise the pirate would have been back at Daventry, prince in hand.
But that was assuming the best case scenario.
Link shook his head and continued his trek through the hidden path, trying to get his thoughts quiet so as to focus on his surroundings.
—-
He hopped down from the window and quickly rushed to hide behind a pillar, hoping none of the guards spotted his entrance. He was thankful that they were, for the most part, oblivious to their surroundings as they continued to stay put… they were pirates through and through, he guessed as they talked about a pile of gold waiting for them. Guess you could never take the pirate out of the guard, he thought, keeping a close eye on them and waiting for them to move. If he had to guess where he was, and based on the guards standing there, he was only a room away from entering the dining hall. Where Guybrush was. He was so close that all he wanted to do was kick the door down and make his way in, but he knew that was a reckless plan. He had to be smart and patient about this.
However, when he realized that the two guards were not going to budge, he frowned and tried to think of a new way to the main dining hall.
Think, Link, think. He looked around the hallway, trying to see if there was perhaps another entrance in. He didn’t have the luxury of just standing around and wondering about a new plan, especially when he smelled something foul not too far away and heard muffled voices, slowly rising, slowly fading.
The clock was ticking and he needed to get moving, especially when the plan was under a fairly tight schedule. He dug into his bag, trying to see if he had anything that could help when he felt the hard exterior of the deku nut and pulled it out. The small seed was an effective weapon, as when it was tossed and the shell cracked, it released a blinding light, temporarily stunning the enemy and giving the throw a brief window to run in or attack. The drawback was that if the thrower didn’t cover their eyes, they could be stunned as well.
Link looked to the hallways at the bored but alert guards, rubbing his thumb on the seed’s shell. He could stun them, knock them out and run in. Or he could toss it and draw their attention away.
Both terrible plans as there were too many factors that could go against Link. But he furrowed his brow and gripped the seed.
It was going to have to do.
—-
Link slammed the door open, hand on the hilt of his blade as he was ready to strike when he saw the grand dining room. The equally grand table was littered with the bodies of other pirates, none of them moving, none of them reacting. But at the end of the table, reclined back, was the pirate that had the Hylian's heart drop.
He was barely breathing, his lips having turned into a slight shade of blue. ‘Corpse’ was the word that popped front and center as he watched Guybrush’s chest barely move, straining to get any air in.
Link knew that time was of the essence, that he couldn’t just sit and stare as Guybrush’s life was rapidly slipping away right before him and reached into his bag to pull out the small vial containing an antidote. It was a small amount compared to the chalices that laid about on the table. If the quantity of the poison was drunk compared to the vial, the antidote was not enough to heal his friend entirely, but it would be just enough to bring him back from the edge of death. And that’s what he needed. He needed Guybrush conscious enough to carry out back to the hidden ship.
Looking around to make sure that the room was truly safe from any guards, Link uncorked the vial and gently moved his hand behind Guybrush’s head. It was terrifying how heavy it was starting to feel but he pushed aside those bubbling worries and swiftly placed it against the pirate’s lips, tilting his head slowly so that he could properly drink it and not accidentally choke. The last thing he wanted to do was accidentally speed up Guybrush’s end by having him choke on the antidote while being poisoned from the inside out.
“C’mon…” Link muttered to himself, hoping that the effects would kick in sooner rather than later, he knew that potions and the such in Hyrule and Daventry were rather potent, more powerful than in most places but even still, it was never a guarantee it would work. He could only hope that whatever it was that was keeping an eye on Guybrush decided to be merciful to him instead of insisting on being cruel. Even hoping that the Goddesses were watching over and would offer their aid. With the vial emptied, Link tossed it to the side and carefully made sure that not a single drop was spilled or spat out, keeping his eyes on the pirate and listening to anything irregular pass his raspy breathing. He decided to count to ten before thinking of maybe pumping his chest, maybe to help expedite the antidote, but for now decided on holding Guybrush’s hand, giving it a small squeeze. “C’mon Guybrush, wake up…” he began pleading, “you can’t go down like this. Not here. C’mon…”
The sounds of heavy breathing slowly came to a crawl and Link felt his heart drop, rationale and faith went out the window as franticness took over the Hylian.
“No, no no no, c’mon!” Link pushed his hands over Guybrush’s chest. “You can’t go, not now, not when we’re so close to going home!” He began pushing his hands. “We can’t lose you too, get up!” He hated the sound of how terrified his own voice sounded, but the thought of losing his friend struck something fierce in his heart. “Get up… get up!” He knew the antidote was a fifty-fifty chance, he knew that the amount he had was probably not enough compared to the chalice, he knew finding Guybrush before the meeting was an absolute long shot, yet he could not let go of the off-chance that the pirate would make it, that against all odds Guybrush would beat Death yet again.
Link was chosen by the Goddesses, he was fated to be the Chosen Hero who would protect the people, act as the sword and shield for Hylia. He was told time and time again how his destiny was a selfless one, yet it was befriending the pirate that made him reconsider that blindly following what he was told wasn’t always everything. That sometimes it was perfectly fine to be selfish. And right now, at this very instance, Link so selfishly wanted Guybrush back. Ever since the end of their last adventure, Link found himself missing the pirate. He missed his quips, his sarcastic responses to serious situations, the way that he found some way to alleviate the crushing weight of everything using either his words or lending a shoulder. He did not want to say goodbye to that, not if he had the chance to save him. He refused to say goodbye.
He kept pushing, kept pleading, kept blinking back the burning sting in his eyes as Guybrush remained still. “Get up… wake up… please just wake up…!” Link begged, giving one final and powerful push against the pirate’s chest.
The Hylian fell back on the ground, startled as Guybrush let out a loud gasp before coughing violently, gripping onto the armrest of his chair as he kept hacking. Link blinked once, twice, before getting up quickly and grabbing onto Guybrush who still looked horribly frail. He moved his hand on Guybrush’s back, slamming as hard as he could against his spine as if the pirate was choking a good handful of times before Guybrush leaned over and let out whatever was in his system. It reeked and it took a lot out of the Hylian to not gag, but the sense of hope that had his body shake overpowered the disgust.
Guybrush leaned back against his chair, gasping for air as he tried to blink his eyes into focus while Link grabbed from his pouch a canteen filled with water, moving himself to help the pirate drink. He didn’t take a lot, in fact he spat it back out to the ground, but the pirate looked over at him, his eyes still distant and glazed over. It took him a minute, like he was trying to piece the name with the face before squinting his eyes. “...Link?”
There wasn’t any time for any of their usual wake up banter, not like how it was done in the past, but there was just enough time for Link to wrap his arms around Guybrush and hold him tight, unable to stop himself from shaking. “Y-yeah, yeah it’s me. It’s me.” He kept reassuring, his distant demeanor vanishing at the sound of hearing the pirate’s voice again after so long. “It’s me.” He rested his face in the crook of the pirate’s neck, ignoring the fact that he was at a table filled with dead pirates, former colleagues of Guybrush, relishing the fact that his friend was back and felt arms around him holding him fairly close, though not nearly as tight as his own hug.
“I don’t…” Guybrush struggled with his words, seeming to gasp for air. “Elaine…?”
Link pulled from the hug, as much as it pained him. “She’s fine. So is Winslow. I’ll explain everything but we need to leave.”
Guybrush looked at him confused with what he was saying and looked at the table before him. His eyes widened as he was able to put together quickly what had happened. “A… Avery… he–” Guybrush stopped and began coughing once more, leaning forward with each heavy cough. “Poison… he tried to…” Guybrush rasped.
He also tore down homes from what Link saw on his way here, but that was something the Hylian kept to himself, instead helping the pirate sit back up. “We can talk about it later, but we really need to move… Can you walk?” That was a dumb question, he thought, of course he can’t. He can barely speak, what makes him think he could walk? But he supposed that was just muscle memory that kicked in to ask. He saw Guybrush try to move himself, to try and stand, but quickly fell back into his seat, looking more like a puppet without its strings from the way his lanky arms flailed against the armrest. The pirate shook his head.
Tired blue eyes looked at him, the fog was still covering his sight, but at least he looked to recognize Link. “I can’t…” he tried speaking, “can’t leave…”
No… no no no, he came too far to give up now. Link frowned and bent down. “Yes you can, I’ll help. C’mon.”
He moved an arm around Guybrush’s waist while moving his other arm around Link’s shoulder. His ear twitched for the sounds of distant voices and footsteps, his stomach twisted in a fierce knot at the idea of fighting. It was easier to face the guards alone, he could take them down one by one with ease. It was significantly harder when he had a barely conscious pirate leaning their entire weight against him and unable to fend for himself. Guybrush, however, let out a tired and pained groan as Link tried to lift him, his legs truly not cooperating but the pirate wasn’t fighting back against the assistance either.
“Stop…” Guybrush moaned. “Link… stop…!”
“No can do, we need to go.” Link argued. He frowned when he felt Guybrush weakly tug away, trying to go back to that accursed seat. “Wha– we don’t have time–!”
“Move…!” With all of his strength, Guybrush shoved Link aside as the sound of a gun fired off, barely grazing the Hylian’s face as the bullet penetrated the wall in the back.
In that moment, in that instant, Link knew he was caught. The worst case scenario was in effect. Quickly turning around, Link looked at the bulking pirate with the smoking gun pointed his way. He could hear Guybrush’s raspy breath quickening while the pirate before him took another step closer with a hand on his hilt. Link, in turn, gripped the handle of his own blade, ready to draw it out.
The two locked eyes, staring each other down in silence. Link contemplated the various methods he could do against this potential foe: negotiation was out the window as the pirate fired at him, so all that was left was to render the man unconscious or to strike him down, then and there. Behind him, he heard Guybrush trying to sit up but failing.
“A… Avery… Avery, stop…” Guybrush weakly pleaded.
Link’s heart dropped to his stomach. Before him was none other than the monster of Libertalia Elaine had mentioned earlier. The one who tricked and encaptured pirates from all over with the grand delusion of a utopia. The one that, as he sees it, tried to kill his friend. “Henry Avery…” Link hissed under his breath.
“Aye, that’s me.” The pirate responded, almost proud. “The real question is…” he pulled back the safety, “who are you? And why are you reviving the dead?”
Something began bubbling in Link’s chest, it was more than determination or obligation… it was something else, something raw. The more he looked at Avery’s demeanor, the way he threw his weight around, the more Link wanted to see this titan fall. The word, shortly after, began to flash in his mind what that bubbling feeling was: Rage.
Staying silent, Link drew his blade and fell into position, anger burning in his eyes as he stared the pirate down. He was leaving Libertalia, and he was leaving with Guybrush. Alive. Whether this monster liked it or not.
And the only way to do that was to aim the gun at himself, away from Guybrush.
Link reached for a plate on the table and tossed it at Avery who predictably shot it, watching it shatter into a thousand pieces. And that made the gun unusable as it was out of bullets. He charged at the pirate, his sword ready and struck the pirate, quickly blocking as Avery drew out his own blade and swung it at him. The two swung a few more times but each hit was met with another block, another hard spark. He knew Guybrush to be one of the best fighters he had the honor of sparring with, but he had no idea that Avery would be just as capable as with each strike, the pirate would block.
Eventually realizing the striking strongly was not getting him anywhere, Link shifted himself to try and swing from below upward, which was enough to have Avery stumble backwards, startled for a brief moment before swinging the butt of the gun into Link’s head hard enough to fall on the floor and see the room spinning. It definitely did not help when he felt a sharp blow to his face that came in the form of Henry Avery’s boot. He hardly had time to block the incoming pistol, let alone kick, but he was still conscious enough to scream at himself to get up, to grip his sword and strike.
Tossing the gun to the side, he saw Avery pull out a second pistol, hearing the telltale click of the safety. He watched in horror as the pirate aimed it at Guybrush, who could still barely move, point blank. The room was a spinning whirlwind and all he wanted to do was close his eyes, but he knew if he did that, if he hesitated for another second, neither of them would be leaving alive.
Link stumbled himself into standing up, trying to push down the growing nausea he was feeling, and let instinct take over. And that instinct screamed to protect Guybrush at all costs.
He charged as fast as he could towards Avery, tackling the pirate off kilter and grabbing his arm, aiming it upward and forcing him to fire his gun to the ceiling.
“You pathetic excuse of a brat!” Avery shouted, backhanding the Hylian off of him and to the ground, he aimed his gun at him and clicked the safety off. “See you in hell.”
The Hylian glared bitterly, when suddenly he heard a voice break through.
“You first.”
The sound of another gun firing off rang the room, the shot having forced the pistol out of Avery’s hand and clatter to the floor. Avery gripped his wrist, cursing a storm as Link turned his head and saw in the entry Elaine standing there, a smoking gun in one hand and a cutlass in the other.
“Elaine!” He gasped and stood up, the room still spinning but at least there was help.
“Get your sword!” She ordered, her eyes not once moving from the pirate.
“What, no chance for mercy?” Avery mocked, his sword aimed at her. “Isn’t that the idiotic ideology your husband kept spewing?”
“From the looks of it in this room, to give you that would be an insult to the ten here.” She hissed. “No, the only way you’re leaving this room is as a corpse.”
Link tried to push himself to grab his sword, tried moving away from being in the cross center of their weapons. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Guybrush moving his arm, reaching for something but the massive seat made it impossible for Link to see what he was grabbing.
“I always knew that you were what made him weak. He would have been the greatest pirate were it not for you.”
“You would have killed him regardless of me as you have so easily slayed your brethren so spare me your meaningless words and your breath and perish like the vermin you are.”
“I would have given them Paradise had they not betrayed me.” He snarled.
“How dare you speak more lies over their corpses.” She threatened.
“You know what you are, woman? You’re just like your pathetic husband. A nothing. A nobody. A leeching, lying, manipulative, thieving whor–” Avery stopped and let out a loud scream and Link looked over, noticing the knife that was plunged into the pirate’s back.
For a moment, for a sliver of a second, the look in Guybrush’s eyes was not the usual rational one he was so familiar with… instead it was replaced with something raw. Something feral. And it scared him to his very core.
“For God and Liberty, you bastard…!” Guybrush said, his words sounding almost hollow.
With one hand, Avery struck the hilt of the blade against Guybrush to get the pirate off of him, rendering the blond unconscious in his seat as he tried gripping his wound. “You bastard…! You thieving traitorous bastard!” He raised his sword and aimed it at the unconscious pirate.
Time slowed down as Link grabbed his sword, charging as fast as he could towards Avery and barely able to deflect the attack against his friend.
“You stay out of this, you unholy abomination!” Avery hissed. “You have nothing to do with this land!”
“I don’t, but I won’t stand by idly and watch.” Link raised his blade, standing between Guybrush and Avery. “I’m ending this.”
Before Avery could speak, before he could retort, Link charged and began striking at Avery, some strikes landing, some deflected, but the more he fought, the more he pushed the pirate away from Guybrush. The two kept going, blow after blow, until sparks were all that could be seen with each strike. He wanted to end this, to finish this once and for all, but for Avery to match his every hit and with the room spiraling, it was proving to be impossible.
The Goddesses must have shown their love as soon Elaine came charging in with her own sword, helping Link fight against Avery. Each strike was being met into the monster more and more, deeper and deeper. It looked closer to that of a dance with the way the two of them moved around Avery in a whirlwind of blades until finally, eventually, they both struck him down from the front and from the back. He collapsed to let out a choked garble… his venomous words caught in his dying throat as he looked over at them. Link’s ear twitched as he heard a gun click, turning over and saw Guybrush gripping the table, barely standing and brandishing Avery’s abandoned pistol in his hand. He shouldn’t be moving, he shouldn’t be able to, but Link could only watch as Guybrush, who had hatred in his eyes, aimed the gun at Avery.
“Send… the Founders my regards…” Guybrush condemned.
“Traitorous thief.” Avery spat.
The room rang loudly as Guybrush pulled the trigger and the once leader of the Founder fell to the ground, lifeless. Link couldn’t help but jump… he grew to hate the sounds of gunfire, but he looked and saw Guybrush back in the seat, the smoking gun barely held in his hand. He made a run for the pirate with Elaine by his side, noticing his head lolling to the side.
Link gently shook the blond. “H-hey, you still with us?”
He let out a tired groan, but opened his eyes to look at the two. Guybrush barely shrugged before closing his eyes again.
“Guybrush?” Elaine brushed back a strand of his hair, taking the gun out of his hand. “Link, what happened?”
“Avery poisoned him. I-I gave him an antidote but it’s not enough. He needs help. Proper help.” Link looked at her. “Help me carry him.” He sheathed his sword, scooping his arms once more to help the pirate up again.
“Right, up we go.” She moved her arms, helping the pirate finally stand.
He hated seeing how Guybrush’s head hung low, but even the small grunts and moans was enough for the Hylian to know that he was still here. Still alive.
The three of them began to move, with Elaine and Link doing most of the walking as Guybrush was just barely able to lift his feet up. They walked past the corpse of Henry Avery, stopping for a moment to look at the lifeless look in his eyes…
“For God and Liberty.” Elaine spat.
Link’s ears twitched as he heard the sounds of footsteps and distant voices, looking at Elaine. “They’re coming–”
“Don’t worry, this way. I cleared the path for us.” She said, guiding them out of the forsaken mansion. “Winslow is waiting for us.”
—-
Link sat at the steps by the throne, his gaze being at the floor thinking of everything that had happened. It was all a blur on how he got from Thomas Tew’s mansion to Graham’s castle honestly. But he knew that if it weren’t for Elaine helping clear the path, weren’t for the fact that Winslow made sure any of Tew’s or Avery’s men were gunned down and away from the ship, weren’t for the fact that Graham swung the doors to his castle wide open simply because Daventry was closer than Hyrule… he would have seen an end alongside Guybrush right then and there in Libertalia.
But even with knowing all that, whether or not his antidote fully worked was still an enigma. Guybrush was breathing on the journey here, true, but he did not wake once. And that worried him… worried Elaine.
If only he was faster or arrived sooner, maybe he could have prevented the pirate from ever drinking from the chalice– no. Stop. He rubbed his face, trying to stop thinking about the what ifs. It didn’t help anyone, especially himself.
The door opened and Link looked up, spotting the now king of Daventry walk over to him, rubbing his eyes. Link immediately stood up, ready to rush over.
“H-how is he? Is he okay? Is–”
“Guybrush is fine… don’t worry. Did you reach out to Zelda?” Graham then asked, putting a hand on the Hylian and sitting him back down on the steps and joining him.
“I– yeah, I did. She should get word soon that I’m here.” Link shook his head.
“Okay, that’s good.” The king nodded. “You um… haven’t been sleeping.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you’ve been up since you came back.”
“No I…��� Link saw Graham raise a brow at him. “Well, maybe, but so has Elaine and Winslow.”
“Eh… not true.” Graham shrugged. “They’re finally asleep. Granted, in the same room where Guybrush is, but they looked to be at ease once they realized he’ll be alright.” He paused. “Physically, anyways.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Link, what happened back there? Elaine started talking about it but she keeps stopping… and I don’t want to push her on the subject. Not when it’s raw. But I need–” he put a hand on his arm, “I want to know what happened.”
Link ran a hand through his hair, taking a breath. “You said he’s okay? He’s going to be fine? You’re certain?”
“Yes. The doctors gave him the proper medicine and herbs after what you and Elaine explained and he should be fine after some proper sleep. They’re going to keep a close eye on him and see if there are any changes with him, but for now… for now he’s fine.” He gave a small smile. “I have Kyle and Larry on guard to let me know when he’s awake so we can go see him together.”
Link stared at him for a moment before looking away. “Remember how I said that something was wrong with the last letter Guybrush sent? Turns out I was right. I should have gone right after that letter, and thankfully, I was lucky to have found him as it happened.” If Graham was this calm, this rational, then perhaps Guybrush was truly okay. And if so… it never hurt to share, he figured. Besides, he distinctly recalled Guybrush critiquing him in the past that his storytelling was terrible since he never started from the beginning. He took a breath. “It started when I heard of pirates talking about Paradise…”
He wasn’t sure how long he was telling the tale, but Graham never stopped him once. His attention was undivided which made the Hylian feel guilty since he was keeping the king’s attention away from the kingdom… away from the search for his own missing son. But he would be lying if he didn’t admit that telling the story, getting it off of his chest, felt good.
“After that… we rushed our way to Winslow, we looked at the map and found Daventry to be closer than Hyrule. Which, again, thank you for taking us… taking them in like that.”
Graham looked taken aback. “Like I was going to close the door on you all. I’ve said before in the past that the doors to Daventry are always welcome. To both you and Guybrush.”
Just then, the door opened and Larry rushed in, taking a breath.
“Larry? What’s wrong?” Graham asked, on guard and bracing himself.
“Sire– Graham, he’s awake. Guybrush is awake and talking… Mrs. Threepwood is asking for the two of you.”
The two looked at one another for a moment, taking in the news. But quickly with no hesitations, the two stood up, and without having to talk, without having to plan, the two ran out of the throne room to where Guybrush was residing.
They had a lot to catch up on.
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
All I see
Heyyy everyone!! Another one :) Kinda cute, so enjoy!!
• I don’t own any of Sarah J. Mass’ characters or any of her plots, I’m just a fan having fun. Also I do not own the images. This is story is mine though, so please do not copy •
WARNING! none
(omg i love her i just had to)
Author’s P.O.V.
Azriel was grumpy that night. His mission had failed. Elain, the lady he loved chose another over him. And, worst of all, every single one of his friends had someone to be with.
He loved them dearly, of course, but the loneliness started bothering him quite a while ago. Seeing them with a significant other made him long for one as well, especially after Feyre’s sister had given him hopes and ripped it away a moment later.
But here he was, out for drinks and dancing in order to give Mor’s Slowly getting over heartbreak speech a try. She said that there would be a new singer tonight a Rita’s, who “sang last week and enchanted everyone”.
The table was busy with drinks, snacks, and Cassian’s dreadful jokes. He smiled once in a while, but his feelings, intense and turbulent, kept him from enjoying the night out. And yet, for whatever crazy reason, he stayed.
Soon enough, the lights dimmed and Mor requested their friends silence. A female stepped onto the small stage and looked to the crowd, which gave her little attention. Clad in a backless velvet dress and red-tinted lips, she looked stunning. Sitting on the tall stool, she clears her throat, raises her chin, and the band starts playing. Her eyes flutter closed and a small smile forms in her lips.
Then, she sings. And it was fantastic.
The world stopped after hearing her voice. The crowded room and even Velaris itself never heard such voice. Her powerful tone echoed in the bar, nothing but her singing. The music rises into a crescendo and she starts grooving to the sound.
As the chorus starts, she opens her eyes once again, and his heart stopped in his chest. Stunning wasn’t enough to describe her. A goddess descended into this very city, and sang in front of him. Her eyes find his in the midst of all the others, looking into his soul and hitting the richest notes he’d ever heard with perfection.
The song went on, and he couldn’t stop gawking at her. He was sure he was drooling, and yet all he found himself capable of doing was staring. She reached its final part, the band slowing down, and her low notes sent chills up his body.
Her eyes met his again. And only one word passed between them.
Mate.
The music went up again in a crescendo, unexpected and thrilling. They never looked away from each other, her brown eyes tantalizing him every second… Mother save him.
The song reached its final words, and she smiled broad and brightly, while the bar applauded furiously. She looks away, lowering her head in a thank you, eyes glinting with pride and satisfaction.
The shadowsinger, now out of his trance, abruptly stands up and leaves, unsure of what to do. A mate, the one for him, to love and cherish. His, as he would be hers. The happiness he expected wasn’t there, overtaken by the shame of having someone so beautiful shackled to him, scared and ugly. Broken beyond repair, and underserving of it.
As he headed, to the House of Wind, he did not notice that she followed, similarly plagued by her own thoughts. Y/N struggled to keep up with his long strides, and started calling out for him.
“Wait! Please, just let me talk.” Her breath was raspy and she gasped “Slow down for a moment please!” But her cries sounded on deaf ears, and Azriel was drowning in his own worries.
“Oh for the Cauldron! Can't you just stop for a damn second?!”
He froze, turning to the source of the female voice.
“Thank you”, she says calming her fast breathing “for waiting.” She approached him slowly, afraid to scare him away.
“I’m Y/N.”
And, in that moment, the world shifted. Words failed him completely, and she went on.
“I saw you in the middle of the crowd, back at the bar.” Still hesitant, she keeps her small steps. “I felt the bond.”
He meets her halfway, also slowly. Clearing his throat, he agrees. “I felt it too.”
Their eyes lock.
“Azriel. I’m Azriel.”
The lovers, now finally united, stared into each other.
And nothing else mattered.
Back at the rest of the Inner Circle’s conversation, they were astonished by what they had witnessed.
“That was an intense staring between those two. Sparks most certainly flew right there” said Feyre, after the shadowsinger left.
Mor opened a gentle smile, leaning against her lover Emerie, “ They looked like mates, right?”
All agreed, and Rhys also chimed in, saying “I hope they were, they would look fantastic together. I’m happy for him, for them.”
Amren scoffed, “I would pray for the girl’s sanity. She is bound to stand all of you, since you people are his family.”
Cassian couldn’t help but retort “ Well, little accent one, I’m afraid you will be the main cause of her future madness. After all you are —
“Do not dare Cassian, or you favorite parts will be ripped from your body”
Their banter and laughter echoed into the night, while a certain pair, in another part of town, shared their first moments together, a preview of the many more that would come.
- From A.
Make your requests y'all <3
136 notes
·
View notes
Text
Elriel Month 🌸🦇
Day 8:
Elain woke up with a cry, clutching at her stomach as a piercing pain exploded in the right side of her torso. Her vision went spotted and she had to shut her eyes closed to keep from getting dizzy.
Azriel.
She patted her right side and, just as she somehow knew, there was no arrow sticking out, no knife burrowed in.
Azriel.
He’s hurt.
“Elain?” Feyre stood by the flap of Elain’s tent, drawn by Elain’s whimper, and was was soon by Elain’s side. Her voice quivering a little as she asked, “What is going on? What happened?”
Elain forced the pain away and stood as much as she could. She felt a pulsating sensation near her ribs, like the weak beating of a heart.
He’s hurt.
Then she was running out her tent, hurrying to where she knew his was, ignoring every instinct that told her to be quiet, to keep her steps silent. Instead, twigs snapped beneath her feet, rocks crunched, her steps echoed around the glade. But that was not important now. She reached his tent and pulled the flap open.
Empty.
Elain breathed in gasps, fear becoming a living, breathing thing in her chest. She approached his cot, touching his sheets. Still warm. She had the certainty that he was not in the forest with them. Was he even in the continent still?
Koschei.
This was a nightmare, it had to be.
History tends to repeat itself, sweet face.
Soon you’ll understand.
Elain turned to see Feyre looking around the tent, brow furrowed in confusion. Elain clutched her arm and shook her with urgency. “Get Rhys over here right now!”
Feyre’s eyes widened at the authority that rang out in her sister’s voice, but she nodded. “What is going on?”
“Get him here first.” A tear slipped down Elain’s cheek and Feyre frowned at it with concern. “Please, hurry.”
Feyre was out of the tent by the time Elain’s second tear slipped out. Elain sat down on Azriel’s cot as she waited for her sister to come back with her mate. She tried not to let her mind take her to any dark place, but Elain was scared.
The pain remained, duller now but still there.
Is he dying? Is he conscious?
Elain reined in her sob.
Is he dead?
***
Azriel woke up with a start as someone splashed a cold bucket of water at him. He shook his head and blinked his eyes, trying to make sense of his surroundings.
His right side was screaming in pain, and it was that pain that centered him.
He remembered.
He had been sleeping when his shadows woke him. Their whispers had been alarmed and euphoric, but he had understood well enough.
Elain.
He had barely opened his tent flap when something had materialized in front of him, winnowed into their glade. Winnowed in. It should have been impossible, Rhys had put wards around the glade.
Truth Teller had been in his hand in a matter of a second, but Azriel’s knife wouldn’t have stood a chance against who had been standing before him.
“No amount of warding can keep me out, Shadowsinger,” Koschei had said, as if reading the direction of Azriel’s thoughts.
Azriel had not answered, just analyzed his best options for warning his family and getting to Elain before anyone could harm her. The rest would come after.
“Here I was, thinking finding you would have been difficult, but you came to me.” Koschei had begun moving, circling around Azriel. “Do something stupid, Shadowsinger, and the girl dies.”
Azriel’s breathing had altered. His instincts had told him to kill, kill, kill—
“None of that, no.” Azriel’s shadows had been preparing to strike, gathering in the air fiercely, to land a blow. “I have males stationed just outside and inside your female’s tent. Even if you tried to incapacitate me, you’d never get there in time.”
Stand down, Azriel had ordered his shadows, though everything in him had wanted to let them attack.
Koschei’s gaze had been appreciative, as he regarded how the shadows reluctantly retreated. “Good, boy.” Koschei had gestured with his finger. “Now come with me.”
Thinking only of Elain’s safety, his heart pounding with fear, he had followed after the death god. Azriel’s shadows had seen the males that had surrounded his flower’s tent and when he himself saw them, he had fisted his hands.
But all hell had broken lose when the male from the carriage had come out from inside Elain’s tent. His hands holding one of the pins she used in her hair when she slept.
Azriel’s heart had stopped beating for a second. His focus had narrowed down to that hand, to that pin. His mind had gone quiet. And then shadows had exploded from all around. All aiming towards that male. That male who had gone into Elain’s safe space. That male who had put his hands on her, removed her pin.
Azriel was going to kill him.
“I’d thinking better about that if I were you.” Then his shadows had frozen in the air. Azriel himself had frozen. He had not been able to move, but his eyes remained on the male just outside Elain’s tent.
Koschei had rolled his eyes. “It’s time we get moving.” All the males had come closer, forming a tight circle around Azriel and Koschei. The male from the carriage had smiled a nasty smirk at Azriel.
Inside, Azriel had been screaming, telling that male how he was going to kill him —slowly. But Koschei’s control over Azriel had kept him still.
With a flick of his hand, Koschei had sent them all winnowing until they had reached a dark room. And when they had gotten there, he had said, “I did warn you, Shadowsinger.” He had jerked his head towards the carriage male. “Pay him for the shadow show he put on.”
The male had enjoyed stabbing Azriel’s side.
Now, both Koschei and the male stood before him. Azriel’s hands were chained to the ceiling. His side aching as his skin pulled tight, but his wound had been somewhat healed.
“I won’t say anything to you,” he said to Koschei. “Torturing me will be a waste of time. You’re better off killing me.”
“Oh, I do not need to get any information out of you, boy.” Koschei came closer. “I just need you.”
And then he was controlling Azriel again. In his mind, Azriel heard the death god say, You’ll do what I want whether you want to or not.
***
“What happened?”
Elain looked up to see her High Lord approaching her. Behind him were the rest of the inner circle, save Morrigan and Azriel, almost all of them disheveled from sleep.
Elain stalked towards Rhys and grabbed fistfuls of his night shirt. “You need to save him!”
Rhys’s eyes skimmed her face and then around Azriel’s room. “Where is he?”
“I don’t know, I— I don’t know,” she sobbed. Her hands had begun shaking at one point.
Cassian strode closer now, studying Elain and the tent. “Did you give him a mission? Told him to scan the perimeter or something?” It took a second for Elain to realize he was asking Rhys and not her.
“No, I didn’t.” Rhys sighted, running a hand through his hair. “It’s possible he decided to do it on his own. It won’t be long before he—”
“No! You’re not listening to me!” Elain shoved Rhys back. Feyre put her arm out to steady him. Everyone turned to Elain in shock. Tears were flowing freely down her cheeks now. “He is not here. Not in this glade, not in this forrest.” She gestured to Azriel’s cot. “He was lured out. He was hurt.”
For a moment, everyone just looked at her in the dark. Elain knew that her hair was undone —one of her sleeping pins missing— and her eyes were blotchy from crying. She looked half-crazy.
But Amren strode past Rhys and past Elain to Azriel’s cot —her body still dressed in the gray suit she had on yesterday— and grabbed his pillow. She sniffed it. Her eyes met Elain’s, wide with shock. “Fear.”
Elain felt her heart break. What could have been strong enough to make the Night Court’s Spymaster have fear in this warded glade? What could have been scary enough to lure him out of this tent and allowed for Koschei to get him —hurt him?
What are you most afraid of?
The dark.
Could it be that Koschei used the darkness of his past against him?
Red shined in the room for a second before disappearing. Elain glanced to her side to see Cassian’s Illyrian leathers appearing over him. “Rhys, what are we going to do? Where do I go looking for him?” Elain saw the fear in his eyes, heard the strain in Cassian’s voice.
Cassian and Rhys are my brothers. It is not blood that determines that sort of thing, no matter who says otherwise.
Rhys was clenching his jaw, his eyes studying the floor. He reached his hand back for Feyre and she took it, giving him comfort. He met her eyes and they looked at each other in silence, a conversation occurring between them.
Then he frowned and looked towards Elain. She swallowed. “How did you know?”
She knew he meant about Azriel. “I felt him. I felt his pain.”
Amren raised an eyebrow. “You felt his pain?”
Elain nodded.
Nesta glanced between Amren and Rhys, her face wearing the same troubling expression as Feyre. “Is that possible? For her to feel someone else’s pain?”
Rhys stared at Elain, his eyes searching something in hers. “It only ever happens with—”
“We’re wasting time here, Rhys!” Cassian had begun pacing. Nesta moved closer to him, but did not stop him. She just followed his movements with her eyes, a gleam of worry and sympathy shining in them. Almost two years ago, it must have been her pacing and crying over—
Elain felt something inside her stir. And her surroundings vanished.
All around her was dark. She could not see anything, but something slithered around her feet. Something seemed to breath down her neck. She had become used to the feeling.
Shadows.
Then a light appeared at the end. A door? A window? She was never sure, but the light was as blinding as always. Shadows congregated near the light.
Her vision. The one she could never escape from. But this time the voice that spoke was different. She knew this voice.
I won’t say anything to you.
Elain sobbed.
Azriel.
Torturing me will be a waste of time.
Elain put her hands over her mouth, covering her whimpers. She needed to listen, to hear what he was saying.
You’re better off killing me.
Elain’s head went quiet. Her thoughts cleared out. Her tears stopped coming.
Oh, I do not need to get any information out of you, boy. I just need you.
A voice she had yet to know spoke, but it was not hard for her to piece together who was talking.
You’ll do what I want whether you want to or not.
The floor she stood on begun to shake. Shaking with fury and fear and hate. She felt emotion after emotion take root inside of her. And when she felt like she had her footing again, she let those emotions crash into her. Let them assimilate with who she was.
She became one with them, with Azriel’s pain, fear and fury.
She caressed the shadows that had become his friends. Her friends. The shadows that had helped him when no one else had. The dark that had kept him company while the light had been stolen away from him.
She would make sure he saw that light again.
The light at the end of the way pulsed once, then twice more. The shadows that congregated at its feet began to swirl in motions of frenzy. She heard their voice.
Follow.
Then a string of light shot out from the end straight at her. She reached out her hand, her feet still unable to move, and touched it. That was when she felt herself fall forward.
Her foot took a step to stop her fall.
And she opened her eyes to the tent with her friends and family. They all looked at her.
“What did you see?” Feyre asked.
Elain’s hand was still closed, the feeling of that golden thread still palpable in her palm.
Her heart was beating with a new purpose, with a new direction.
Follow.
Where are you, my love?
Follow.
Elain squinted her eyes, tilting her head.
Follow.
There. A shadow lingered outside of the tent. Waiting for her.
“I know how to get to him,” she announced to her friends.
Nesta reached for Cassian’s hand. He pulled her close, his hands shaking with fear. With fury.
She understood. She wanted to kill Koschei herself.
Follow.
I will.
“I’m getting him back.”
#elrielmonth#elrielmonth21#elriel#azriel#elain#elain archeron#elriel endgame#pro elriel#elriel fanfic#elriel oneshot#my writing
99 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
heyy-its-rj
What
emojis-for-weirdness
Emoji Blog
luvssuk
nina uwu
rebelgirlriot
Quinn Flynn Mcbinn
husynzadee
HUSEYNZADEH