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impossiblescissorspeachpaper · 5 months

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The Heart of a Wanderer VII

Clifftop

Previous chapter can be read here

If you need a complete refresher or would like to jump into this story, the masterlist can be found here

4.4k words. Very light sexual themes.

Azriel had flown them back to the edge of Persepolis in silence before winnowing them the rest of the way home. His face had remained a stoic, stony thing. Hard hazel eyes scouting their path meticulously but always carefully remaining averted from her.

She thought she felt his gaze burning the side of her face a few times, sensed his chest constricting as if he were about to say something, but then he’d stop himself. If he was going to apologise for his outburst then she would accept, but she wasn’t going to beg for it. Nor make it easy for him. He’d acted like an ass, and she was sick of letting people get away with it. The entire way home was such a stark contrast to their flight in.

They had stayed only one night in Helion’s palace, needing the time to rehash her vision with the High Lord and then devise a plan to assist in anything they may need to avoid allowing Beron to be successful in the matter of the looming Spring Court invasion.

Helion, graciously, had agreed to provide aide, in whichever way he could. And she and Azriel had played their parts well. They had agreed the citizens of Spring couldn’t be left to defend for themselves against the might of the Autumn armies, and that their safety would be of utmost importance, along with stopping Beron from successfully taking over the fraught territory. Impeding Beron’s triumph in turn seemed imperative in protecting the humans who inhabited the land just below Springs’ borders, too.

After all matters of importance had been decided upon and planned for, Helion had invited them to drink and dine with him in his private parlour that night. Elain accepted graciously, but Azriel had politely declined, claiming he had reports to complete that had become pressing.

She tasted the lie in the air, knowing the Shadowsinger was avoiding her, as he had been since their argument in his room. She had been deflated that they had found themselves back in this awkward territory after seemingly coming so close to being friends again. But she decided not to wallow, not to let his broodiness seep into her own attitude. If she had just one night here, out from under the watchful eyes of all of those from the Night Court, then she would damn well enjoy it.

She had changed into a more comfortable but no less stunning dress for the evening. A flowing gown that still resembled the Day Court fashion, but less stuffy and embellished, the colour a deep jade. Its bodice still hugged her torso and the skirts billowed around her slender legs, but the added gold embellishments were stripped, leaving her more relaxed to eat and lounge with the High Lord’s company for the night.

There were perhaps two dozen High Fae gathered in Helion’s private parlour when she joined them that evening, the room dimly lit with flickering glass lanterns strewn across the marble floors. Males and females alike dressed in gowns and robes in a kaleidoscope of deep jewelled tones were lounging on puffy, cloud like cream-coloured cushions, or draped across low-lying, deep-seated settees.

Some attendees were already entangled in varying degrees of lust and desire, whilst others merely enjoyed the view and ambiance or discussion around them. Swathes of fine gold organza draped and folded from the low ceiling, giving one the sense that they were nestled within a giant ornate nest, the delicate fabric muffling the sounds of neighbouring conversations and impassioned touching alike.

Crystal decanters of ruby, sapphire and emerald held various wines and liquors. Females in billowing magenta pants and exposed bellies floated around the room offering trays of plump dates, rosewater and orange-blossom flavoured jellies, and a sweet flaky pastry treat called baklava. Brass platters of fresh figs, soft cheeses and olives were spread across the scattered tables around the room.

It was all so decadent and lush. And although Elain usually shied away from such scenes of debauchery, she found herself once again drawn into the thrall of the Day Court customs. Emboldened by the absence of anyone who reallyknew her.

Here she could be anyone, here she could enjoy something she would normally not care to want, if even just for just a little while. It wasn’t something she longed for often, not at all. But on the occasion, it felt like a refreshing change. Like she could slip on a different mask and play make believe for just one night.

She had spent that evening in Leto’s company, her sandals kicked off and strewn about on the floor before her and her legs tucked beneath her on a soft, cream loveseat. They had not spoken or seen each other since the last time she had been in Day, which had been months ago, and she had forgotten how easy he was to talk to. She had forgotten how charming his smile was, how his rich olive skin seemed to glow from within, how his pale green eyes peered so intently at her as she spoke. But despite all of this, of how truly lovely this male was, she found her thoughts wandering up to the room beside hers. The room that she knew was currently occupied with the brooding shadowsinger.

After his outburst, she figured Azriel must have been jealous of Leto. That he had sensed something between them and surmised some sort of scenario for himself. Never mind that all that had happened between them was a few kisses and heavy petting when she had last spent time here. Having indulged in a few glasses of Day Court wine had left Elain feeling lightheaded and a touch rambunctious.

Sure, they were very hot and heavy kisses that still made her blush when she remembered them; how she had brazenly straddled his lap, how his hands had grazed across her burning skin, how his tongue had traced wicked paths up her throat and along her collar bones. She had explained to Leto that she was just looking for some light-hearted fun, nothing serious. He had merely replied that she was a beautiful young female, and she was entitled to do as she pleased. That there was no judgement in the Day Court.

She wasn’t sure if he knew the status of her mateship. Not that it meant anything to her. But she didn’t bring it up and graciously, neither did he.

During that first visit, they had indulged in a night of laughing and drinking and passionate foreplay, Elain draped over Leto’s lap as he ravished her lips, chest and neck. She’d never done such a thing, her human sensibilities always holding her back- but she found the more time she spent with the fae, the less she cared about trivial things such as decorum and propriety. She was free to do as she pleased, and she’d be damned if she was going to let a couple of stubborn males dictate what or who she should be doing. She belonged to no one.

So, she had enjoyed herself this visit too, although she had refrained from partaking in anything physical with Leto this time. He didn’t push her and seemed genuinely happy to just enjoy her company, talking with her into the early hours of the morning. When people started dispersing; either retiring to their quarters alone, or to finish what had been started with one or several partners, they too turned in for the night.

Leto had walked her to her door and left her with a sweet kiss on the back of her hand, wishing her a restful sleep.

Entering her room that night, Elain hadn’t heard a single sound coming from the occupant next door. And yet a restful sleep was far from reach.

Elain sat on a plush leather couch in the main library of the river manor, a small fire crackling before her as the weather had finally started to turn colder. The looming clouds outside had been foreboding enough to have her forgo any of her gardening duties today, instead opting to hunt down any books about Seers, controlling one’s powers, and how to strengthen one’s mind to the onslaught of various magics.

The books she had collected were currently sat in a stack beside her on a small brass pedestal, a heavy tome open in her lap, but the words before her swayed in and out of focus. Her mind was unable to fixate on the topic before her, ironically. The broody Spymaster incessantly floating into her mind instead.

It had been almost a week since they had returned from Day, and beyond their initial meeting with Rhys upon their immediate return to Velaris, Elain had not heard a peep from Azriel. She wasn’t even sure if he had been staying at the river manor, let alone if he was anywhere in the entirety of the Night Court.

It seemed every time there had been some sort of conflict between them, they would choose to run away. Her to the far reaches of Prythian, Azriel to the Mother knows where. She hated it. And she was sick of having to tiptoe around males. It was bad enough when Lucien imposed his presence upon her during his seldom visits to Velaris, but the thought of needing to avoid Azriel too? She could no longer stand the thought.

Snapping the book shut with a loud thud, Elain stood, flinging the leather-bound pages behind her on the cushion she had previously sat in. A small groan of frustration left her lips as she paced, back and forth, her feet wearing a path across the plush rug along the face of the fireplace.

Elain was fed up, aggravated of this cat and mouse game, the unpredictability of this situation between herself and Azriel. They couldn’t continue avoiding each other forever, and further to that she had the nagging suspicion that there was something he wasn’t being completely honest with her about. She was tired of the restless nights and simply of not knowing. Of not knowing where he was, when he would return, if he was safe, how he felt, how she felt. It was growing tiresome and once again she decided that she couldn’t wait.

She couldn’t wait until an appropriate time to corner him, to speak with him. She couldn’t wait for him to come strolling through the door in his worn leathers, his face weary. She wouldn’t.

And so, she once again closed her eyes. Delving further and further into that mysterious well of power that rumbled deep within, she allowed the pull of the void to lead her along the path to Azriel as she winnowed.

Before Elain had even opened her eyes, she felt the cold, harsh wind whipping against her skirts, tangling in her long hair. She hadn’t thought to don a cloak in her urgency to go, and truth be told, the bite of the icy air only bolstered her resolve.

Cracking her eyes open to reveal the scene she had winnowed to, she learnt why the wind was so arctic here, why it so ferociously whipped about her.

Standing near the edge of a rocky cliffside, she peered around her, spotting Azriel about twenty paces ahead. His back was turned to her, his mighty wings a strong dark force against the strong gale. He stood deathly still, the only movement was his raven hair that whipped wildly about his face, and a few lone shadows that swirled about his feet, caressed his neck.

Elain couldn’t help but stare, mesmerized by him, the mighty warrior on the edge of the jagged cliff. His strong thighs planting him securely to the ground beneath his feet, the two siphons upon those brutally scarred hands the only source of brightness in the otherwise moody scene before her.

A shadow coiled about his ear before disappearing, and Azriel turned, a look of mild surprise lining his face as he beheld Elain standing in the knee length grassy meadow at his back. Before he could turn around completely, Elain’s feet moved. She was grateful she hadn’t winnowed to directly on top of him this time, but she didn’t let the insecurity of that dredged up memory show as she closed the distance between them.

His deep voice floated over to her on the back of a strong gust of wind. “How did you find me?”

Once she was within a few paces of him, she halted, standing before him with her shoulders thrown back. Elain chose to ignore his question. She wasn’t sure how she had found him anyway. It was as if some part of her knew where she could find Azriel, where she could always find Azriel. But she wasn’t going to admit that. She’d never admit the pull she felt toward him, the bright, invisible thread that seemed to bind them.

“I winnowed,” she responded instead. A vague enough answer that perhaps alerted him to her hedging but provided enough information to the Spymaster that confirmed they remained alone. That no one had brought her here. That they could speak freely.

“Is everything ok?” he responded. She spied a few shadows darting away, no doubt off to gather information about any happenings he should be aware of, any danger.

“Everyone is fine. I just wanted to speak with you.”

His face gave nothing away, even as his eyes bore into hers unwaveringly, seemingly trying to read her expression in return. “What about?”

Elain scoffed at the question somewhat unkindly, his seemingly feigned naivety grating on her patience. “What about?You have been avoiding me since the day we arrived in Persepolis. Barely three words have been uttered. You cannot be that obtuse, Azriel.”

His eyebrows bunched together as a dimple appeared in the tan skin of his smooth cheek. She couldn’t tell if he was annoyed with her last remark or trying to hide his surprise.

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” he murmured adamantly, clasping his hands behind his back, a muscle in his neck twitching.

“Oh yes you have, you haven’t been home in over a week, nor present at a single meal,” she bit back, her muscles now tensed against the ice cold winds.

“I’ve been busy with the looming conflict in Spring. I…I’ve been coming home late and leaving before you rise.”

“So, you’ve been avoiding me.”

“As I said, I’ve been busy,” he bit out, not conceding to her inferences.

“Well, we’re here now, and I’ve had enough,” her temper was rising at his petulance.

“Enough of what?”

Enough of what? Elain heard her own heartbeat pounding wildly in her ears, her temper flaring with every passing word Azriel uttered. She exploded, her voice coming out louder than before, her arms splayed out wide. “Of running! Of you running, of me running. I’ve had enough!”

“I haven’t been running—"

“Oh, come off it, Azriel!” she shouted, cutting him off from telling more lies.

“What do you want me to say?” He too was growing exasperated now. Good. She’d had enough of his stoic composure. She’s gladly see him unravel if it meant he was honest.

“The truth! Tell me the truth! I know there is something you are not being honest about.”

Azriel’s jaw clenched, the only sign that she had said something with some certainty behind it. Even still, he seemed reluctant to speak his mind.

“Is it really that bad? The thought of kissing me?” She had uttered the words so softly; she couldn’t swallow them before they had come tumbling out.

His face cracked, his shoulders softening slightly, his hands flinching at his sides as if they ached to reach for her. It was clear he hadn’t expected such candor from her, nor had she expected to let that admission free from her private thoughts.

His voice came out as a croak, his eyes peering down upon her beseechingly. “No. it’s not that. Elain…”

His words drifted off, fading into nothing, but his chest was rising and falling rapidly, the scars on his hands stretched over his clenched fists. His eyes darted across her face, his expression giving nothing away, and yet something charged went taught between them. That mysterious thread once again pulling.

“Azriel…”

She started the sentence but truly wasn’t mindful of how she’d finish it. But no sooner had his name slipped from between her lips he was stalking toward her. His long legs ate up the space between them in just a few paces and in the next moment he had reached out with those beautiful hands and buried them into her hair.

Before she could register his intentions, he had swooped down and captured her lips with his. Azriel kissed her so desperately, so passionately, that the air had been knocked from her lungs. He had utterly caught her by surprise and she couldn’t react, her body wilting in his arms. Melting hopelessly into his embrace.

Her arms hung limply at her sides as he pulled away slightly, his face still so close to hers, lips swollen from their kiss, his bright hazel eyes churning as they searched her face. In vain he searched for an answer, for a sign that what he had done was ok, that she too, had wanted this.

Before he could pull away, she had grabbed the front of his leathers, tugging him down toward her and this time Elain kissed him with back the same amount of gusto. The same amount of aching need leaching from every swipe of her tongue, every bite of her lips, every sweep of her hands dragging along his neck, asking a question she desperately longed to find the answer to.

He answered, leaving no query as to what his intentions were.

His kiss consumed her, like flames licking languidly at her very soul, slowly devouring her until there was nothing left. Elain threw herself into the kiss, allowing her hands to wander down his hard chest, around his shoulders, the nape of his neck. He groaned in response, a bestial thing born from his gut, his very essence singing in answer to hers.

Her slight hands inched beneath the collar of his leathers, and he shivered as the pads of her fingers caressed along his hot skin. She was burning and burning and burning in his arms. So many months of longing, so many moments of visceral need, so many feelings pulling at her from every direction.

And yet… she still did not know. She didn’t know what this all meant, why he had pulled away all those months ago, why he chose now to act on his feelings. Did he in fact feel anything for her? Or was this merely a physical need? Did he care for her at all? He had, once again, ran away from a problem.

Before the fire burning low in her belly could completely douse the dwindling clarity in her mind, she tore her lips away from his. As painful as it was to do so, they couldn’t leave this conversation lingering once more.

“Azriel… Az— wait,” she gasped as he latched his lips onto the side of her neck, his tongue laving at the skin there, pulling and swirling across the length of her throat as if he couldn’t stop himself from tasting her. A groan escaped his throat as he continued sucking at her and she couldn’t help the flutter of her eyes at the deep sound, the vibrations against her neck shooting straight through her centre.

“Azriel,” she moaned at a particularly delicious swipe of his tongue against her burning skin, “stop—” she mewled weakly.

No sooner had that final word fallen from her mouth, Azriel had flung himself off her. Snatching his hands away from her body and dragging them roughly through his hair he panted, remorse etched painfully on his face.

“Elain, I— I’m so sorry. Please, forgive me,” he spluttered as he continued to back away from her as if she had bitten venom into his veins. Self-hatred lined his face, truly believing he had done something wrong, something she did not wish.

“Azriel, no- that’s not what I meant. Its ok, I wanted this. Just, stop retreating. Stop running away. I only mean— if you cannot speak openly with me, then you have no right to my body, either.”

He turned pleading eyes toward her, his face stricken, still believing he had done something wicked, had forced himself on her. Seducing her into something that she didn’t wish.

She knew no words would be able to lift him out of the spiral he was currently plunging into so instead she showed him. Showed him that she trusted him, that she longed for his touch, that she wished for it day and night. But before she could completely succumb to those desires, she needed an explanation. She needed an understanding of where they stood, what she meant to him, why he had left her so abruptly that Solstice.

Stalking up to him and grasping his hands in hers, she looked up into his face, hoping to portray nothing but sincerity, trust, comfort in his near presence.

“Azriel, please. Just tell me. Tell me what it is. What it all means. Why you’re jealous of Leto, why you avoided me for all those months, why you called me a mistake…”

A chocking sound escaped his throat. He looked stricken, his shoulders sagging with the weight of a secret she knew not. His eyes had closed but as he opened them his hazel irises burned brighter than she had ever seen them, appearing almost golden in the light of the setting sun.

“You are not a mistake Elain. You have no idea how abhorrently those words haunt me. How my actions haunt me, just. Please. Please try to understand.”

“Understand what? Azriel, stop evading speaking your truth! Please, just say… something.”

“I can’t—” a rasping sound clawed its way to his lips, as if the words were chocking him.

“Elain, I’m sorry. You deserve better.”

Pulling his hands from hers he inched backwards once more, edging closer and closer to that cliff.

“Azriel! Stop running!” she cried, her mouth twisting in pain despite her attempts at willing it not to.

His hazel eyes guttered at the sight; the same devastation she felt reflected on his handsome face.

As if his legs moved on their own accord, he stalked back to her, reaching for her like a man finding nirvana. He cupped her cheeks in his hands, tilting her face up to his, her doe eyes wide as she peered back at him. He held her tenderly as if he had possession of the most precious thing in the world in the palm of his hands. His thumb traced her jaw and he looked down upon her as if he wished for nothing more than to simply exist in her embrace. “I’m not running, Elain. But please, let me…let me fix something first. I’ll see you at home. I promise.”

With those words, he pressed his lips to her forehead for one long, pointed moment before he retreated again and stepped off the edge of the cliff. Elain gasped, forgetting herself before his wings shot out from behind him, catching a current and carrying him away.

Elain lifted her fingers to her lips, feeling they were indeed swollen from his passionate kisses. That this all just wasn’t a dream, a vision cruelly planted in her mind to torment her further.

She stood on that blustery cliff edge watching him fly away until he was but a dark speck upon the horizon in the far distance, high above the lights of Velaris, just winking to life as the sun set upon the city she called home.

Hours later Elain was being woken up by an urgent hand shaking her shoulder. She hadn’t realised she had fallen asleep, spending hours tossing and turning in her bed back at the manor. She had awaited Azriel’s return, straining her ears to hear any movement from his room down the hall, but such a thing never occurred. Her younger sisters’ tattooed fingers dug into her shoulder as her eyes adjusted to the first rays of morning light.

“Elain. Elain. Wake up. Beron has made his move. His armies march south.”

Elain bolted up in bed, the words clanging in her brain like a clapper pounding against the inside of its bell.

Elain scrambled within her bed sheets, fighting to free herself from the tangle of quilts and furs.

“I’ll get dressed immediately; I just need a minute,” she babbled, her voice thick from sleep.

“No Elain, wait. I need you to stay with Nyx, protect him,” Feyre instructed, the voice of the High Lady making its request. “Rhys and Az have already gone ahead. Cassian is gathering the Illyrian troops. Nesta and I are leaving shortly to meet them, and Mor is on her way too. Amren will stay behind with you to protect the city.”

Elain wanted to argue, wanted to insist she go with them. Help them in any way she could. But she knew why her sister asked her of this. She wasn’t a warrior. Was not trained in combat. Although no one could settle and care for Nyx outside of his parents like she could, something still twinged in her heart about being separated from them all during this time. But she knew this is where she was most useful.

Elain nodded her head just once, her sister seeming to sag in relief that Elain hadn’t put up more of a fight.

“Thank you,” Feyre breathed, “Send word with the twins if something comes up.”

“We’ll be fine, I promise,” Elain vowed. Feyre saw it for what it was; that Elain would protect Nyx with her life. Today and always.

Feyre squeezed her shoulder before turning away, her long braid swinging down her back against the leathers she had already donned. Time and time again her family had gone into battle, had been flung into conflict and danger and terrors beyond her wildest dreams. Elain couldn’t help but wonder when their luck would finally run out.

“Feyre?” Elain called from her bed, the urgency evident in her voice.

Feyre turned; her blue grey eyes bright with concern. “Yes?”

“Please make sure you come home. All of you.”

Feyre nodded solemnly before she turned back, and Elain could do nothing but watch her sister retreating from her room for what she desperately hoped wasn’t the last time.

*******

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#elriel #t writes #elriel fanfic #the heart of a wanderer #elain archeron #azriel #acotar #elain x azriel #elriel fic #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fanfiction #my writing #sorry if this is fraught with errors #I couldn’t look at it any longer and just had to hit publish

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supa-lonely · 2 months

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Say Something Stupid…

(Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Miguel didn’t need this right now, an anomaly was on the loose, with his watch. Now he was here in a universe set in the past with a girl who won’t stop bugging him, no matter what dimension he travels to. God, he really didn’t need this, he didn’t need you.

A/N: don’t know how many chapters this will be, but hopefully you have a fun ride. Basically y/n is an oblivious ray of sunshine for Miguel’s brooding stormy weather. (Also my first fic, I’m very excited.)

Chapter 1: What Watch?

Considering how edgy your mind seemed, you never understood why life was so hectic. Always grab and go, never slowing down. The saying I'll sleep when I'm dead has become less of a little quip and more of a lifestyle for you. Of course, you weren't always like this. Growing up, you were a giddy little thing. Curious and outspoken. Never leaving one soul unventured in grade school. Then high school rolled around, and your curiosity was turned quiet. Friends were fading away, and strange looks were all you knew then. All you had at that point was assignments and work.

The isolating behavior made you anxious, questioning every movement that wasn't yours. At times, you even put yourself under the microscope of your own paranoia. Judging everything about yourself, from your face to your stomach and how disfigured you thought it looked. Sure, you had a bit of a belly, probably enough to be considered slightly chubby- nothing to be ashamed of, right? Hell- even the tiny mole on your inner thigh was under inspection, even though it looked more like someone had placed a black dot on your skin with a Sharpie marker than it did a mole. It still caused you to cringe at yourself. High school had not done you any favors in that regard. God, high school was a nightmare for you. That whole span of your life was a nightmare.

College was supposed to be less shitty, and while it was considerably so, it had its challenges.

Even though popular girls and cliques were no longer a threat to you now, somehow, classes had become your biggest antagonist. Every day, you sat in class. Listened intently to lecture after lecture, struggling to keep up and take notes. You'd miss essential points that your professor insisted were on the test but were too scared to ask anyone for help. So there you'd sit, waiting for everyone to leave, just to awkwardly ask the instructor if they could email you the PowerPoint. Feeling stupid and hoping no one was silently judging you.

Tests, Finals, Essays, Assignments... Everything was being piled onto you. That wasn't even the most hectic part of your life.

Your job was the vain of your existence.

You worked at a local coffee shop, and while people would always romanticize the occupation. The pay was good, but there were better places for a meet-cute.

The cafe was always busy, which you guessed was great for the owners. They were a lovely middle-aged couple whose two little gremlins were barely starting middle school. You weren't a bitch by any means; you were honestly happy for the success the couple's coffee shop was having. You'd been working there since they had just opened about a year ago, and surprise, surprise. Who knew your newfound peace would be obliterated by an on-slot of teens and young adults wanting to try a new trendy coffee spot they saw online.

Now that Dutch Bros. was old news, you had customers left and right, taking orders and making drinks. Half the time, you felt like you couldn't even think for yourself until closing; the contents of your mind were filled with orders you'd soon forget the moment your head hit the pillows of your bed at the end of the day. However, you'd been able to cope with the obnoxious trials of life with a little thing called routine. Yes, if you could just focus on completing the day's tasks every day. Maybe your existence on this only habitable planet will be bearable for the rest of your life.

So that's what you did, for almost two years, that's what you've been doing. Besides the occasional surprise spam caller, everything had been going smoothly. It felt like nothing could go wrong and that nothing might ever go wrong again. This could work. Sure, It was lonely, but it meant less drama for you, no conflicting parties, no attachments, and no loss.

•*¨*•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

It was a Tuesday night. You had a typical day: classes in the morning and a fifteen-minute nap before work in the afternoon. On Tuesdays, it was your turn to close up shop for the night. It was already late, and the clock on the wall showed 10PM in bright red typewriter font. A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you sluggishly walk from behind the register and up to the double doors of the cafe, eyelids heavy with a desire to sleep. You reach to lock them before any last-minute night owls in need of coffee come and force you to clean the machines again. Suddenly, a hand from behind the glass doors reaches for the handle; you look up to see a skinny man with stubble, pale, and a bit rugged, a tired expression taking hold of his face. You pulled the door open with hidden reluctance; you knew it was game over once you made eye contact with the customer.

The disheveled man seemed to walk inside quickly, pulling his hood over his head, which surprised you, but you didn't mention it. Maybe he was just a fast walker. Plus, it was kinda cold in here. When you followed him toward the register, you noticed the bag he was holding in front of him, almost like he was trying to hide it; it was a regular backpack, nothing out of the ordinary, and it looked exactly like your own. A black bag with crimson tassels on the zippers. A muffled noise was coming from the bag, a beeping sound; it didn't sound like any ringer you'd heard before.

"Uh- can I take your order?" You ask, not paying any mind to the annoying beeping.

He clears his throat. "Yeah- yeah, um..."

His eyes wander towards the breakroom behind you. Your backpack was packed and ready to go by the room's door once you dealt with this last customer. The blond man looks back at you, not wanting to arouse suspicion. "Can I just get a muffin?"

You ring him up, 2.72, just like it always was. He hands you his credit card, his eyes flicking from your bag to you and the darkness of the night behind him. His voice sounded shaky, but you didn't pay any attention to it either; you just wanted to get home. To get to your routine. This whole situation was making you a little anxious. At least the beeping had stopped.

Once the man got his muffin, he sat at one of the open tables in the suppose-to-be-closed-5-minutes-ago cafe. He opened his phone, calling someone to come and pick him up; a nervous-sounding conversation that you didn't really pay any attention to as you grabbed a tablecloth and spray from the back and began to clean; you had your suspicions of course, which is why you decided to clean with only one earbud this time instead of two. It didn't really stop you from spraying, wiping, and jamming out to yourself as the man behind you ate his muffin and called his friend. Making sure every table was spotless, you overheard your manager discussing raises earlier today, even if the pay was good. Money was money, and a little extra couldn't hurt to have. It would be one less thing to worry about.

As you turned around to clean the rest of the tables, you saw that the man was gone, muffin untouched. The door's little bell rang, signaling that the strange man had just walked out. Your head turned towards the sound; you shrugged and walked up to the doors and locked them.

Not wanting any more weirdos coming in and making you anymore late to your nightly routine.

You picked up after the man, keeping the muffin. Aw, yes, free food—a simple pleasure no human could refuse to indulge in. Technically, you weren't stealing; someone paid for it. Plus, with how he acted, it didn't seem like he was coming back. Placing the muffin in a brown paper bag, you go right back to wiping down tables, the time reading midnight once you finish.

"Damn it." You say to yourself, slinging one of the straps of your backpack onto your shoulder. Reading the time almost made you want to burst into tears. Maybe it was just frustration or the sleep you lacked that was putting a lump in your throat. As much as you liked the tranquillity your little routine provided, you were sad and lonely and so, so tired. It was starting to become overwhelming.

You took a deep breath, ignored the clock on the wall, and turned off the cafe lights. The sooner you got home, the better. All you needed was sleep. That's all you need.

Beep-!

What?

Your head whips around, trying to find the source of the repetitive noise. It was the same sound that was admitted from the man moments ago. The bright light of your phone illuminated your features as you turned the device on, checking if it was your phone possibly making the noise.

No notifications, definitely not you.

What was going on? It was late, you had a long walk home. You didn't need more problems. As you groan in frustration, you set your phone in the pocket of your sweats and look up at the ceiling defeatedly. It was settled; you've become insane. You pat yourself down in a feeble attempt to find the noise, even looking around the cafe, but nothing was found. You assume the noise is coming from your bag. Hopefully, your laptop isn't taking its final breaths, and the beeping was a sign for help.

You walk towards the glass doors of the coffee shop, ready to just give up and leave; at least you had your muffin, the only saving grace of the night.

"Forget it, this is pointless- Just go home, get some sleep... go home- get some sleep, go home- get some-" The beeping suddenly stops, and as you go to sigh in relief, your breath catches in your throat as you look up from the now unlocked door, a figure standing a few feet away from the doors, red- bright red crescents looking at you. The figure is encased in the dark. You stumble a step back, and the man takes a step forward, then another. Struggling breaths forcefully leave your mouth as you try and lock the door. Your hands are shaking too violently to lock the door, so you abandon the idea for a better one. Run.

You sprint for the backdoor, sliding along the clean wooden floor as you turn to go past the register counter. Almost tripping over yourself, you could hear the door swing open harshly and big, broad steps coming up behind you. Getting faster and faster to keep up with you- no, to catch you. Tears prickled at your eyes as you pushed through the backdoor into the alleyway. The man's hand barely grazed your skin as you ran, trying to grab you. A deep groaning of irritation could be heard behind you, which didn't help your palpitations. Your slowing speed only worsened your panic until he finally reached for you again and, this time, succeeded in gripping you.

"Ah-!" You slammed the ground harshly, the man's muscular body atop you, holding you by your biceps. The grip stung, almost like he had claws; it caused you to wince, a small noise of pain escaping your lips. "I- I'm sorry, I shouldn't have taken anything!" You cry. "The guy didn't- seem like he wanted it!" At this point, you were trying anything to get him off you.

When he spoke, it sent shivers down your spine. A voice so deep and menacing that you thought it was the devil himself talking to you.

"Damn right, you shouldn't have; now, where's the watch!" He said, a rough snap in his tone.

You paused, sniffling. "W-watch?" you asked timidly, the answer practically squeezed out of you.

"Yes. The watch-! What else would I be talking about?" The masked man says, his irritation boiling with every word.

"A pastry?"

#miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #miguel x you #miguel 2099 #miguel x y/n #t writes #miguel fanfic #miguel o’hara fanfiction #atsv #supalonelywrites #female reader #sunshine x grumpy #oblivious reader #golden retriever energy #fanfic #fanfiction

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eddiexfreakxmunson · 2 years

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Eddie can’t help but deflate when you excitedly admit to him you finally lost your virginity to someone else, heart sinking as he plasters a smile onto his face, nodding when appropriate, laughing when prompted.

It should’ve been him, he thinks. You should be telling all your girlfriends that Eddie Munson took your virginity, it should be him making your cheeks red and flushed with the memory, it should’ve been his cock that made you cum for the first time.

He might not have been your first, but hearing you talk about it, he promises himself he’s gonna be the next.

#possessive Eddie anyone?#eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things season 4 #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things s4 #stranger things season four #t writes #eddie munson smut #Eddie munson thirst #perv!eddie munson #perv!eddie

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costilyev · 1 year

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I quickly did a thing based on this art i posted earlier

here are the…vague tags

#ghostsoap #soapghost #ghostsoap🔞#ghost x soap #ghostsoap fanfic #ghostsoap fic #soap x 141 #PriceSoap #GazSoap #soap x task force 141 #t writes

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nancythebisexualslutwheeler · 1 year

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But is this not the cutest shit you’ve ever read:

When she came out, her outfit had been laying on the bed, a baby blue paisley dress with a matching hairbow, and she heads downstairs to greet them. Ella Rose is in a matching outfit and she laughs, grabbing her out of her swing and bouncing her.

“Morning my Ella Bella, look how pretty we look! Do you look like Mama today?”

Steve’s wearing a shirt the main color of their dresses and white cloth shorts, hair messy, he’s already sweating,

“The car is packed.”

“I could have helped,” Nancy scolds, flipping Ella Rose upside down on her thigh so the baby squeals in delight.

Steve kisses her shoulder,

“Not today.”

#Mother’s Day fic #Stancy #Stancy fic #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #stranger things #t writes

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punkrockmanpain · 21 days

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Hi everyone! Not really sure where to start with this, but I was reblogging some posts from the Choctaw tag last night/early this morning and wanted to talk about it, I guess? Basically, if anyone is up for talking about Choctaw or indigenous culture at any point, feel free to message me. If you’re not Choctaw or indigenous, you’re still welcome to like and reblog this post so hopefully someone who is can see it!

It’s a long story, but I found out very recently (as in a couple of days ago) that my family’s connection to Choctaw heritage is…more substantiated than I had thought? I went to a powwow last year and got flooded with a bunch of childhood memories about how family members used to tell me that we had some Choctaw heritage on my dad’s side. I eventually just tried not to think about it and rounded myself up to white, because it was through my paternal grandfather and he was never around much for my dad or his grandkids. And I am typically perceived as white, and all of my living blood relatives are white, so…it seemed like a no brainer.

The powwow made things come back for me, but I tried to ignore it again. And then my friend who’s mixed Native/white came to stay with me this week, and we’ve been talking about a lot of things, including Native identity. So I couldn’t really ignore it anymore, and I ended up texting my dad to ask if he knew anything about this, or if it was anything he’d ever explored.

My dad said that as far as he knows, he’s 1/16th Choctaw, and our ancestors were on the Trail of Tears and relocated to Oklahoma. Our last name was given to them to put them on the Indian List at the time. (At least that’s what my dad called it; after doing a bit of reading, I’m not sure if he means the Dawes Rolls or a different list.) And I am…having a hard time figuring out how to process the fact that my literal last name is from my ancestors being forcibly removed from their homeland and placed on a government list.

It makes it even more complicated that like…regardless of this, I still am mostly white and perceived as white. I don’t know how to identify or how to label…all of this. *gestures vaguely* I don’t want to appropriate anything or take something that isn’t culturally mine. So I guess I am just putting this out there in case anyone is open to talking with me, either in reblogs/replies or in DMs, about their experiences with Choctaw or Native culture and identity.

Again, you’re totally welcome to like and reblog this even if you’re not Choctaw or indigenous, so hopefully a person who is might see it. Thank you so much for reading!

#choctaw #signal boost #indigenous #native american #t writes

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hotchs-bitch · 2 years

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Hello hello! In honour my brain kicking into gear and letting me actually write stuff, I’ve officially started to make headway on…. 🥁🥁 part 2 of the Breaking Up Slowly trilogy.

It’s not a super popular work but it’s one of my favourite things that I’ve written, and if you’re a fan of it I hope you enjoy the ride that I’m about to take these poor bastards on <3

To inspire me (and to give you a little taste of angst), please enjoy a teaser for Part 2- Love You Anymore

It’s been nearly two years since the beginning of the end; shouldn’t it be done hurting by now? Shouldn’t it have… well, ended?

Okay, so maybe that isn’t completely fair. You hurt a little less now than you did after that weekend, the one where you walked away from a less-than-perfect life with the perfect man.

That doesn’t mean you’ve healed, though. For the most part, you’re fine. You go out with your new coworkers, you go for walks around the park near your apartment two or three times a week, you’ve gone on a few dates that ended in nothing except you dodging calls the next day. For the most part you’re fine, just like you knew you eventually would be.

Missing Aaron and Jack is in the little things. It hits you the hardest on sunny mornings when you take your coffee out onto the terrace, remembering when that was a tradition you held with Aaron. You see Jack’s face in every laughing little boy at the park, and you see Aaron’s in every staunch businessman at the bar who obviously doesn’t want to be there.

You go grocery shopping and find yourself reaching for Aaron’s favourite brand of chips, or the chocolate chips you used for the pancakes Jack begged you to make on the weekends. You’re fine, you’re alright, until you’re standing in the baking aisle of Walmart with memories flooding you and tears begging to be spilled.

It’s hard to believe it’s over, even all this time later. Nearly two years, and you can’t even see an ad for Rolexes online without thinking about your ex. Pathetic.

You haven’t been to your favourite coffee shop in years; not since the day Aaron bought breakfast from there, brought you flowers, and you retaliated by breaking your own heart. It’s hard not to wonder what could have been- what would have been, if you hadn’t done the selfless thing.

That’s become your new mantra. You did the selfless thing.

You did the right thing, the hard thing and walked away, leaving behind a family and a life and the best job you’ve ever had, and you did it for a reason. You did it for Aaron, and you have to remind yourself of that fact every time it gets hard to remember.

On the nights when grief hits you like a wave trying to drag you under, you bear it and hold onto the hope that he found the life he wanted, the one you left him to pursue.

Maybe by now he has a new girlfriend, and Jack has a mom who knows how he likes his sandwiches; crusts taken off, and shaped with the dinosaur cutter.

Maybe by now Aaron doesn’t remember your face, your voice, the way you held him whenever the nightmares got a little too real. The way you loved him and he loved you, and the way your devotion to each other was unwavering on the nights where neither of you felt worthy of any kind of love.

Maybe he’s doing just fine now, and you can’t quite decide how you feel about that idea, so you shove it down whenever it bubbles to the surface. It comes out of nowhere, despair slapping you across the face just because someone at work offers you a piece of Hawaiian pizza; Jack’s favourite.

Maybe they’re happy without you.

It’s an unspoken question that you don’t want answered

#hotch x reader angst #aaron hotchner x reader #< i suppose #500 words of internal angst rly #anyways validate this I’m begging #t writes #my writing #t’s blurbs

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theindependenttrentcrimm · 1 year

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What is Love aka queerplatonic buddie

It’s after dinner at his place, Maddie sitting at the table nursing a glass of wine while he cleans up. Chimney’s at home with Jee-yun so the Buckleys can have their weekly sibling gossip session - Maddie refuses to call it that.

“Wait,” she says as Buck is loading their plates into the dish washer. “Would you marry Eddie?” Buck shrugs, not entirely sure how they got to this point. He’d been talking about Eddie and Christopher but he always did that.

“Maybe? For the benefits,” he replies, closing the dishwasher and turning back towards her.

“For the benefits,” she repeats, deadpan. He thinks it through as he makes his way back to the table and pours himself another glass of wine.

“Yeah, you know, like if he dies I’d have legal claim to Christopher.”

“I thought he already put you in his will as Christopher’s guardian.”

“Ah,” Buck says, raising one eyebrow and pointing a finger at Maddie, “but you see, I was researching that-“

“of course you were.”

“-and I don’t actually have any claim to Christopher. It’s more of like… a suggestion than a contract.” He swirls the wine around in his glass. “If Eddie died, his parents would be much more likely to get Christopher and I know he doesn’t want that.”

“Okay,” Maddie says but he gets the feeling she’s just humoring him. “What else?” Buck brings the glass to his lips and takes a long, slow sip.

“It’d be nice to have someone to share life with and I mean we already spend so much of our time together,” he trails off as he realizes Maddie is giggling into her glass. She looks up at his silence and attempts to sober her expression.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just that’s usually why you get into a relationship with someone.”

“Yeah, we’ve seen how well that works out for me,” he mutters darkly.”

“Fair point,” Maddie responds but there’s something more sympathetic to her expression. She pauses, her own fingers playing with the stem of the wine glass. “Hey, do you think-“ she trails off, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. She starts again. “Maybe, hmm how do I want to ask this?”

“Do I want to fuck him?” Buck asks, mimicking her deadpan from earlier. Maddie lets out a surprised laugh. “I was going to ask if you were in love with him.” Buck thinks about Eddie, his smile, his laugh, his quick cutting remarks, and his over exaggerated facial expressions. The way they move in the same space like they had been doing it their whole lives. Something warm blooms in his chest but it doesn’t feel like the passionate, all consuming love that he had been told it would feel like his entire life. It feels like comfort and home and being settled.

“I don’t think so,” he says and then, quieter, “I don’t know if I’ve ever been in love with anyone.” “Oh, Buck,” Maddie smiles softly at him, reaching a hand out. Buck takes it. “I just know that whatever my future looks like, I want Eddie in it.”

#this got away from me lol #t writes #queerplatonic buddie #and I will die on this hill #buddie fic #911 #911 fic

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thecowboykatsuki-anon · 1 year

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“Oh now it’s ‘more, touya’, ‘please, touya,’” he sneers, nose pressed to your cheek as his warm breath fans over your skin. His fingers dig harder into your face, keeping you turned away and unable to kiss him. It’s humiliating as he pulls more sounds and pleas from you, knowing you want nothing more than to shut yourself up with his mouth.

“What happened to all that fuckin’ venom from a second ago? What happened to ‘I hate you, Touya’?” He snarls, hips slowing as you press your lips onto a thin line, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of hearing you cry out for him again.

His teeth sink into your cheek hard enough that you hiss in pain, fingers gripping his hair to yank his head back, twisting in his grasp to glare at him, both of you panting, teeth bared.

“I do fucking hate you,” you hiss, and his hips snap against you hard in retaliation, his cockhead smashing into that spongey spot inside you. Your eyes roll back as he forces all the air out of your lungs, whatever hateful words you had ready dying on your tongue as your brain goes fuzzy. He’s quick to notice, angling his hips to hone in on that spot, his pace quickening.

“Hate you so fucking much,” you manage to choke out as that coil in your stomach tightens faster and faster, and your cunt tightens around him.

He knows you’re close, and for the third time since he’s shoved you up against the wall, he snatches your orgasm from your grasp, his hips stilling.

A broken sob crawls it’s way from your throat and you squeeze your eyes shut to stop the tears from spilling down your cheeks.

He taps your cheek firmly with one finger to get your attention, your face still firmly in his grasp and you level him with a glare filled with as much hate as you can muster. He’s completely unbothered, but you do notice his blue eyes softening as he leans forward, peppering kisses over your cheeks.

“Oh, sweet girl,” he sighs out, tracing an invisible path along your face with his lips. “I promise I’ll let you cum as soon as you stop lying to me,” he breathes, lips ghosting over yours. His mouth twitches in a grin when you inhale sharply, when you tilt forward a little bit, eyes fluttering shut at his soothing tone.

“Just admit you love me and I’ll make you cum on my cock.”

#in need of some toxic hate sex right now #just need to blow off some steam #mha #cowboy anon writes #t writes #thecowboyanon writes #dabi #touya smut #dabi smut #dabi x reader #touya x reader

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jeeyuns · 2 months

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writing patterns

tagged by @exhuastedpigeon ✨

rules: list the first line(s) of your last 10 8 posted fics and see if there's a pattern!

Buck's Coma vs. Real World Checklist

0.3k | rated G | multimedia art Turn over & look at the digital alarm clock. If the numbers can all be read, this is real. Try to breathe through a fully closed nose. If impossible, this is real.

morning glory

2.6k | rated E | buddie non-linear: the morning after the night before He wakes up slow as molasses trickling out of the pan. A line of warmth is searing down the length of him from the back of his neck to the ticklish points behind his knees. Buck can tell the sun is up too by the weak bands of light creeping their way over the bed and just inside his field of vision.

hope is a sword

5.5k | rated T | whumptober 2023 prompt #5, debris, pinned down, "It's broken." The next call sounds through their radios and A shift is in the engine as one in the next minute, all jammed in like sardines with sweat trickling down their backs, grins and bellies sharp with hunger. There’s no other place in the world Eddie would rather be (aside from his couch with his son and Buck, but that’s a story for another time).

proof of concept: ach tagais 'nós na hoíche

part 1 of a series | 8.2k | rated E | eddie helps buck through a bad drop Buck’s just closed his utensil drawer as softly as it will let him, hardly gripping the edge of the kitchen counter with his other hand, when his phone chirps. The unexpectedly piercing ding of his message tone rends straight through the eardrums, making him gasp and lose his grasp on the edge of the granite.

slouching towards bethlehem to be born

ch 3/8 | 23.7k | rated M | eddie is haunted by memories that don't belong to him Awareness blows through his eardrums and he’s rudely yanked back into the ability to chronicle two of his senses. “Come on, Eddie! Eddie, hang on. Eddie–” the pleading, formless voice blooms out and begs him.

eros

3.1k | rated E | buddie feelings realization and a demonstration They find themselves, like any other easy, lazy night, on Eddie’s couch. Buck looks over from his usual sprawl, attention already drifting past the moody resolve of John Wick choosing violence over the death of his dog Daisy on the Diaz’s TV screen.

slip like freudian

4.5k | rated T | slightly cracky: eddie is taught a lesson by a witch After a rather sideways, unusual morning, Eddie finally makes it to the station parking lot. He’s somehow five minutes early, so he allots three whole minutes to lightly smacking his head against the steering wheel.

how life goes on the way it does

ch 12/12 | 39.6k | rated E | buddie & past lives movie au Ravi’s just finished collecting the last of the devices ready for the probie charging pool when a woman with a wild halo of curls strolls into the station’s engine bay. “Hi! Can I help you with anything?” he calls out to her.

definitely love to set the scene with descriptions that i always hope can help you visualize...feel like you're plopped right in the middle of a scene with a character. also like to switch povs every time i switch fics. indivdually, i can't do multiple povs within one story though. i feel like i take my cues from screenwriting more than anything when i set out to put words on the page. this is making me hungry to blow dust off my fics again!

no pressure tagging: @kitkatpancakestack, @transboybuckley, @shitouttabuck, @eddiebabygirldiaz, @devirnis, @malewifediaz, @spagheddiediaz, @puppyboybuckley, @pirrusstuff, @cal-daisies-and-briars, @pantsaretherealheroes, @lemonzestywrites, @thewolvesof1998, @captain-hen, @rewritetheending, @athenagranted, @butchdiaz, @housewifebuck, @honestlydarkprincess, @homerforsure, @anakinfallen and anyone else who wants to! it's been an age and a half since i tagged anyone for anything. mwah! 💞

#t writes #t creates #writing patterns #buddie #wow. 7 months since i wrote my first fic!#but really 4 months since i've published on ao3 #youchhhh

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tarjapearce · 9 months

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I snort your fics like crack

And I shall keep feeding you crack ♥️✨

#Thanks for the compliment ♥️♥️#t writes #asks and replies #♥️♥️♥️

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impossiblescissorspeachpaper · 7 months

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The Heart of a Wanderer VI

Jealousy is a Curse

Read the previous chapter here.

4.1k words. Azriel POV. Language, adult themes.

Azriel paced the foyer of the river manor whilst waiting for Elain to emerge from her rooms before heading off on their mission. He was ready to go, dressed in his Illyrian armour, the metallic scales polished to within an inch of their life. Truth Teller was strapped securely to his thigh, and he had sheathed his Illyrian sword down his spine too, lest anyone get any ideas as he and Elain made their way to the Day Court.

They would be able to winnow to just outside the wards of the capital city of Day— the Central Palace about a thirty-minute journey from there— and then fly in the rest of the way as a courtesy to Helion. Usually, High Lords did not permit outsiders to winnow directly into their palaces or places of residence. So, he was going to take all necessary precautions, particularly with Elain in his care.

Before Azriel had heard her footsteps descending the staircase into the foyer, her melodious voice alerted him to her arrival, the few shadows that had lingered about his shoulders skittering back at the sweet sound.

“Sorry I’m late. I couldn’t find the dress I wanted to wear. I bought it in Day the last time I was there, and I couldn’t remember where I had put it, but its more suitable to their climate in comparison to anything else I have and— is that what you’re wearing?” Elain had halted halfway down the stairs as she interrupted her own sentence, having finally glanced up and taken him all in where he stood several steps below her.

Azriel had to tear his eyes away from her at her sudden question and look down at himself in confusion. Had he forgot to put on pants? Was he missing a chest plate? A quick glance told him his armour was in working order and his pants were definitely on. No one needed another eyeful of his naked fucking ass.

Elain however looked resplendent. He had never seen her in such a dress before, and yet it still felt like her. Her gown was a soft ivory at the top, gradually bleeding into shades of sky blue and then deeper sapphire as it neared the floor. It was long, a small train of fabric trailing behind her, but a high split travelled all the way up her left thigh, almost exposing her hip bone that jutted out lusciously as she walked. Ribbons of delicate fabric wrapped across her torso, hugging her breasts and waist deliciously, crisscrossing in a way that made his mouth water as he thought about slowly unravelling that mass of crepe, exposing inch by inch of her smooth delectable skin. She wore matching gold cuffs around her exposed, slender biceps, veils of the lightest chiffon attached to the back of them that trailed behind her wistfully, as if floating on a phantom wind. He couldn’t help but think they looked like wings.

Elain looked like a Cauldron-damned angel and his mouth had dried up just staring up at her. He could tell it was Day Court fashion, and yet she had made it so unquestioningly Elain. He couldn’t help but stare in awe. Not just in admiration of her undeniable physical beauty, but also in utter marvel at the way Elain was able to fit in so effortlessly almost anywhere. Like a shadow slowly bleeding into the darkness, Elain seemed to seamlessly blend into any surrounding that was required of her.

He also had never seen quite so much of her skin on display.

Is this what she had worn whilst in the Day Court on her travels? Had others been privy to seeing her this exposed? An oily feeling slithered its way into the pit of Azriel’s stomach. It felt oddly similar to jealousy. He tried not to scowl at the thought of other males’ gazes lingering on all her dips and curves, lusting after her attention.

Remembering Elain had asked him a question, he tore his eyes off the swell of her hips and schooled his face back into one of indifference. He hoped she hadn’t noticed his jaw had basically been hanging open.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Azriel threw back his shoulders and stood with his feet apart, his wings splayed slightly behind him.

As she descended the final few steps, she gave him one more once over, her chocolate brown eyes travelling down and back up his form before landing resolutely on his face. He thought he spotted a glimmer of appreciation in her gaze. He beamed internally, a glimmer of male pride rearing its cocky head. Her view couldn’t be all that bad, then.

“The Day Court days are always rather warm; won’t you feel uncomfortable in all that leather and armour? Also, we’re not going into battle,” she teased with a delicately hitched eyebrow.

Ah. She was questioning his attire, poking fun at his seriousness, and yet something within him preened. He tried to control his idiotic thoughts, the ones that suggested Elain wanted to see more of his skin, that male pride so nauseatingly pleased with itself that he couldn’t help but flare his wings further. Reign it in you bastard, she’s concerned about the weather, not getting an eyeful of your chest.

“I’m used to it. Plus, this armour is for your protection as much as it is for mine,” he answered simply, after clearing his throat and pushing those self-indulgent thoughts from his mind. It wasn’t his first time venturing into Helion’s territory, and certainly wouldn’t be his last.

“Are you anticipating an ambush?” she asked earnestly, staring up at him with those big doe eyes that threatened to send him careening to his knees.

“I like to be prepared, in any case.”

Elain merely shrugged as she approached him, gathering her skirts in one hand and holding out the other to wrap around his neck as he bent to carry her.

“Suit yourself. Just try not to mess up my hair, please,” she replied with a small grin.

Her hair did look lovely, left loose and cascading down her exposed back. Twin gold pins shaped liked serpents held back the hair off her face and he noticed the eyes of the snakes were bejewelled with small sapphires. He liked them.

Hoisting her effortlessly into his arms, he waited until Elain had adjusted her skirts around her legs before he glanced down at her, held aloft in his embrace. They’d winnowed and flown like this many times before— her arm draped around his neck, fingers absently brushing the sensitive skin of his nape, her supple curves pressed against his chest and torso— but it never failed to make his skin hot, make it feel like it was stretched too tight over his bones. She was always just herself, but she never failed to make his breath catch, to force his mind to go wandering…

“I’ll do my best,” he supplemented with a small smile, secretly pleased that the ease between them had started to settle back in. He longed for the days before that Solstice, before he had ruined everything. Before he lost her.

There was hope yet.

Azriel winnowed them to the edge of the glittering capital, the many parapets of the city’s libraries dissecting the crisp blue skies above the Day Court. He hadn’t bothered to land, simply appearing mid-air about a thirty-minute flight from Helion’s residence where he held court and trusting his wings to catch the current and carry them the remainder of the way.

The city was set amongst the mountainous elevations on the east coast of the territory, white waterfalls splashing into winding rivers so turquoise they looked like glittering jewels from this height. Grand, bleached, limestone buildings held up by mighty white and gold trimmed columns dotted the mountainside, and the winding stoned streets of the massive city bustled with Day’s occupants.

“I never got to fly in from the north over Helion’s Court. It’s so beautiful,” Elain mused, leaning over his arm as she peered down over their flight path.

“Very beautiful,” Azriel conceded, not taking his eyes off the side of Elain’s face.

Glancing back toward him, Elain noticed his gaze on her and blushed, dipping her eyes demurely to her lap. Seemingly steeling herself, Elain peered into his face again, her bottom lip warrying between her teeth. If he hadn’t been carrying her he would have pulled that lip from her bite with his thumb, feeling the plushness of it, perhaps pressing his own lips to it, tasting her sweet mouth…

“I want to apologise,” Elain started somewhat trepidatiously.

Elain’s unexpected statement knocked him from his torrid fantasies. Did she say she wanted to apologise? To him? Azriel couldn’t think why.

His eyes darted to her open face. “Apologise for what, Elain?”

She blushed; the apples of her cheeks dusted a soft pink he couldn’t help but admire. She bit her lip again and it took every ounce of his strength to tear his eyes away from her lush mouth.

“For the other week. The other morning. When I came back home, and I intruded on your…private time.”

Oh. That. When Elain had winnowed right into his bath, which wouldn’t have been so bad if their entire family hadn’t then come barrelling in one by one, following the sound of chaos only the members of the Court of Dreams could appreciate.

Azriel had never minded his nakedness, not really. After years of training under brutal Illyrian warlords, too many rotations in war camps, and even their yearly tradition of a session in the birchen following the snowball fight with his brothers, there really was no time for bashfulness when it came to his form. Illyrians were trained for combat in any climate, from the freezing temperatures of Winter to the arid heat of Summer.

Their training had included stripping them down to their skin and marching the legions across blisteringly hot desert plains to endure the harsh sun burning their backs. It included shedding them of their combat boots and armour to climatize to the freezing conditions of blizzards and glaciers. Being naked was not a daunting concept to an Illyrian. But for all his fantasies, he had never pictured the first time that Elain would see him naked to be closely followed by her two sisters seeing his bare fucking ass minutes later. Or for Nesta and Feyre to see it ever, for that matter.

He had also prayed to the Mother, or whatever unfortunate deity that was assigned to watch over him, that no one noticed the scent of the jasmine oils he had added to his bath. That no one would make the connection of why he used those particular oils— that particular scent— every morning for months. The only silver lining of Elain winnowing in when she did was that had she appeared even minutes later he was sure she would have seen him in a much more compromising position.

She had been plaguing his thoughts all night as he had tossed and turned, struggling to sleep. In fact, she plagued his thoughts most nights. And try as he might to fight off the allure of her intoxicating appeal, his resolve was thoroughly unravelled come the morning. He was certain that if he had been left alone for a few moments longer— her scent wafting around him deliciously— he would have said to hell with it and succumbed to his basest desires to fist his cock with her image in his mind and her name on his lips.

But sensing Elain’s nervousness in this moment Azriel let loose a small chuckle, his lip quirking up at the corner to ease her concerns. “No harm done, there is no need for an apology.”

“Yes, there is. I… I should not have appeared there unannounced,” she responded somewhat stiffly, clearly needing to air her regrets of the situation.

Azriel smirked, a sly thing that had his eyes lighting up with glee. “So, are you saying that had you first announced yourself, you would have felt better about appearing in my bathtub at that very moment?”

Elain’s face snapped to his, her mouth open in a small O, her lips parted as she floundered for the words to say. She squirmed in his arms. She was flustered. It only made his smirk grow.

“No! I just mean, it was intrusive and an accident. And I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

Azriel just let his smile stretch further across his face, he wasn’t this open or playful with many people, but Elain seemed to draw it out of him so easily. She was so easy to work up, laugh with. He couldn’t help it.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable. Although I would have preferred if everyone else hadn’t barged in afterwards,” he muttered.

It was Elain’s turn to grin, a feline smile blooming across her full lips. “But you didn’t mind me barging in? Interesting…” she teased.

“Well, truth be told, it was hard to be cross with you in that moment. You looked like a fawn stumbling, taking its first steps. The way you were rooted there, staring and gaping,” he countered dryly, his lips still quirked up at the corner.

Elain’s face twisted into one of indignation. “I was not gaping!”

“Ah, so you were staring.”

“You’re impossible. I didn’t look at it- at you! I didn’t look at you,” she corrected before groaning and burying her flaming cheeks in her palms.

Azriel laughed as Elain’s hand came up and swatted at his chest in exasperation, her mouth quaking in an effort to suppress the smile he knew she so desperately was trying to not let free.

He silently cursed his armour for suppressing the touch of her hand upon his skin, but he kept up the steady beat of his wings as Helion’s palace drew closer and closer.

“Lady Elain, my sweet friend. Welcome back to Persepolis. It seems like only yesterday you were here gracing our halls, entrenching yourself in all its delights,” Helion regaled, a wide grin spread across his handsome face.

“High Lord,” Elain responded with a demure smile, adding a small curtsey as the male in question approached.

“None of that, Lady. As I’ve told you before, Helion. There are no formalities amongst friends.”

“Perhaps so, but this time I visit on official court business, Helion,” Elain responded, indicating with a wave toward him at her back, reminding the High Lord of his presence.

Helion’s amber eyes flashed with mirth as they glanced at him over Elain’s head, seemingly unperturbed by the dark shadow he threw over the scene.

“The feared Shadowsinger is seldom forgotten, dear Elain,” he murmured conspirationally before turning towards him. “How fares my favourite Illyrian warrior?”

Azriel snorted. “Don’t let Cassian hear you say that. His ego may never recover.”

Helion threw his head back and laughed, a deep rough melody ricocheting off the ivory stone pillars of the great hall they were welcomed within.

“He is rather egotistical, isn’t he,” Helion mused.

“He can definitely give you a run for your money.”

Again, Helion’s laugh boomed across the hall, clapping his shoulder in a firm grip.

“You’re lucky my courtiers aren’t around to hear the cruel way you speak to me, Azriel. It may incite their own insolence,” he jested.

Azriel just threw him a crooked smirk, knowing Helion was anything but proper and stuffy. His shadows had also told him the fae that currently scuttered in and out of the great hall were far too busy with their own business to be eavesdropping on theirs, for now.

“You must need some rest, Leto with show you to your rooms,” Helion continued, looking around the great hall for his most trusted aide.

Elain bowed her head graciously before squaring her shoulders and addressing Helion once more.

“Thank you Helion, you are always so courteous toward me. But I do have one request, and it is a matter of urgency. I seek your council at your soonest behest, if you please. It is of utmost importance. Rhysand has sent us to discuss a pressing matter in his steed.”

“Why of course, Lady. Settle into your rooms and I can meet you in an hour, Selene will be up to fetch you both and bring you to my private office.”

Azriel watched her breathe a sigh of relief. Reaching out to grasp Helion’s large golden hand in her own small alabaster one, Azriel couldn’t help but be amazed at her boldness. It wasn’t just anyone that had the nerve to reach out and touch a High Lord.

“Thank you, Helion. Truly,” she implored, clasping his hand in two of hers.

Just then a slightly younger fae came strutting across the great marble hall, his white robes billowing about his muscled legs, the rich olive skin of his chest and arms gleaming as he made a beeline for them. Azriel sensed Elain stiffen beside him, the apples of her cheeks flaming.

“Ah, here he is. Leto, please show our guests to their rooms. Elain, Azriel, Leto will be at your full disposal for the length of your stay,” he gestured as the handsome fae male approached.

Without another word Helion turned and went back to his duties, but not before throwing a knowing grin toward them both.

Elain’s blush deepened as Leto bowed his head. She seemed to have stopped breathing, her eyes glued to his as he bowed, his mouth descending. Reaching for Elain’s hand and bringing it to his mouth, Leto pressed his lips softly to the back of it. The Day Court males’ eyes, in turn, didn’t leave hers. A glint of heady desire glimmered in Leto’s pale green eyes, and Azriel felt as if he was intruding on a deeply intimate moment. He fucking hated it. He was sure his face looked almost murderous, but Leto paid him almost no mind, as if completely entranced by Elain. He couldn’t blame him.

“Lady Elain, it is so lovely to see you again,” Leto purred, rising once more to his full height. Azriel noticed he was a few inches shorter than him, but the male still towered over Elain.

Elain seemed to not know where to look, her wide doe eyes bouncing from himself and back to the Day Court male. Azriel was overcome with the urge to punch Leto in his stupidly handsome face. He was almost certain there was something between them, or there had been. He racked his brain trying to remember how long Elain had spent here on her travels, if Feyre or Nesta had mentioned anything. But he had been stubbornly trying not to pry.

Serves him fucking right. Now this male was here, making Elain blush, wrapping her small palm around his forearm as he led her to their rooms. Azriel could do nothing but trail behind them pathetically, staring daggers into the back of the male’s head, imagining how many ways he could break the arm that dared to touch Elain Archeron.

It had been twenty minutes since Leto had showed them to their rooms; separate but side by side and connected by an internal door. The rooms were large, light and lofty. Adorned with a grand canopy bed and plush white sheets, the gauzy curtains fluttered in front of the floor to ceiling windows that opened to a narrow balcony. The rooms were ostentatiously decorated and Azriel expected nothing less of Helion’s palace.

Having removed his Illyrian sword and splashing his face with water in the adjoining bathroom, Azriel heard a knock on the door that connected directly to Elain’s room. Sending a shadow to open it, he dried his face on a fluffy white towel with golden thread and meandered back to his room to meet her.

“I thought we should go over how to address Helion,” Elain begun, striding in, still wearing that devastating sapphire dress, her creamy thigh peeking out with every step she took.

“Sure.”

His answer was clipped but she barely seemed to realise, clearly distracted with the task at hand. Azriel knew he was being pissy, unjustly bothered, but he couldn’t help his sour mood. The insidious thoughts had wormed their way in, and it was proving near impossible to cast them aside.

Taking a seat on the edge of his bed he let his wings drape behind him lazily, his palms resting in the soft covers as he leaned back.

Elain had removed her sandals, pacing barefoot on the intricately designed rug that cushioned the floor before him. She prattled on and on, devising a plan and turning over each point, but despite his efforts to concentrate, Azriel was losing track of the conversation as his mind wandered further and further away from the point of rationality.

What had happened between the two of them? He didn’t need his shadows to discern Leto was interested in Elain, and perhaps she in him. She didn’t often give males her attention. In fact, he had never seen her even blush in front of another male before. Certainly not her mate, nor any other preening high fae that had turned their attentions on her. Before today, he had only ever seen her express any remote interest in…him. Or so he thought.

Jealousy coiled in his gut like a cunning serpent, bidding its time, watching from the shadowy depths until it was ready to strike. But it swelled and swelled, ensuring his mind grew foggy with nothing but the image on those broad olive hands running over Elain’s smooth alabaster skin, lips that weren’t his caressing the delicious flesh of her elegant throat. He glowered at the floor, not realising his shadows had been swirling around him, half-shrouding him in darkness as his incessantly acrimonious thoughts clawed and shredded at his sanity.

“Azriel? What do you think?”

His name uttered from her lips pierced his pitiful little bubble of jealousy, his shadows dispersing quickly as he pinned her with gleaming hazel eyes.

“What happened between you and Leto?” he chocked out, the words tumbling from his lips before any semblance of rational thought could stop them being spoken aloud.

“I beg your pardon?” Elain clearly looked taken aback. Her eyes widening and shoulders straightening at the surprising line of inquiry.

“Leto, why does he look at you like that.”

“Look at me like what?”

“Like you’re his next meal and he can’t wait to devour you,” Azriel spat out.

Elain scoffed. “He does not. We— we’re just friends,” she spluttered.

“Does he know that?”

Azriel knew he was being a bastard. He knew it. But his foul mood had thoroughly taken over his usually calm demeanour. Like a stampede of wild beasts, those relentless images of Elain and Leto could not be stopped.

“What are you getting at? And why do you care?” Elain retorted, growing defensive.

“We are here on Court business Elain—”

“And you are being an ass, Azriel.”

“We are not here to make eyes at pretty fae males.”

“His name is Leto. And at least he never thought of me as a mistake!” she threw back at him, her chest heaving with the weight of her panted breaths.

He startled, not having expected her to react that way. To see the hurt in her eyes. To still think on those abominable words after so many months. They still haunted his thoughts, of course. He cursed his very existence for speaking those words aloud when all he had wanted was to crash his mouth into hers, taste her, touch her, make her feel so fucking good.

But…he had truly thought she had forgotten about him. Moved on. She had travelled for months, never having written to him, barely speaking to him for the months that preceded her departure. He thought she was done. That she had left him behind, and gladly so. He never thought she still harboured any feeling toward him, nor thought anything of that night.

A knocking sounded through the interconnecting door in Elain’s room, drawing their attention.

“That will be Selene. We need to go,” Elain murmured dejectedly, turning in place and stalking back to her room to put her sandals on.

He hated that crestfallen look on her face, hated the slight slump in her shoulders, hated he hadn’t been able to keep his idiotic male ego in check and not be affected by Leto. Elain wasn’t his, she owed him nothing. So why was the thought of her with anyone else so gut wrenchingly painful to even think about? He groaned, cursing himself for not having the control to keep his temper in check.

Raking a scarred hand through his hair, Azriel closed his eyes, exhaling heavily before following Elain and Selene out of their rooms to complete the mission they had come to carry out.

*******

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